#'oh wait a second;' she said; watching him saunter after a butterfly and tripping on his own feet as he did so 'oh shit; shit no come back.'

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

He was like a basset hound: the sweetest guy you'd ever meet, but also the stupidest guy you'd ever meet.

Characters being compared to dogs always use terriers or pitbulls or something for their metaphors. “They grab on and they don’t let go” “They keep worrying at it until it’s dead” etc.

Anyway, I want to see collies used as metaphors. Albert Payson Terhune style. “He was like an attack dog–making slash-and-run attacks, cutting them up worse every time, never staying in range long enough to get hurt but circling back over and over.”

[amerrierworld]

Curtain. (viii)

Carol (2015) fan fiction

Pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 

Word Count: 2,048

Thursday.

Nothing could foul Therese’s good mood today. Not the expired coffee that she had, not the cold and wet morning weather, not her persistent headache. She gladly welcomed it. 

Go get her tiger, Dannie had texted her, making her grin stupidly at her phone. She’d woken far too early, jittery with caffeine, wondering what could get her through the day the fastest before 3pm rolled around.

She decided to spend the day in her darkroom, which was just her smaller, second bathroom storing various chemicals and photographs, with the windows and door taped to block out all light. First, working on her photos from the night before, she snorted at the ridiculous photos of Dannie, stuffing his face with tooth-rotting candy. It was rare she used her film camera, but it had felt like the perfect opportunity as her good mood and confidence were spiking. 

The drizzly rain had disappeared by the time she headed out the door, arms loaded and feeling prepared for the first time this whole week.

-

Therese breezed in at 2:56pm, waiting patiently as Mr. Tucker’s class lined up for the bell. Feeling bold, she waved at him. His sour glare only barely dampened her mood. 

A couple of eager kids helped her set up the room the way she liked, distributing easels and pulling out the class’ art folders.

As the class slowly got started and more kids sauntered in, Therese greeted each and every one of them, but her eyes were watching for a blonde. Rindy came in, excited and oblivious to Therese’s nerves about her mother, and took her seat at the front just like yesterday. 

It was 3:17 when Therese worried Carol wasn’t going to come at all, and then hurried footsteps came through the door, heels clicking. In came a flustered Carol, still impeccably dressed, pulling her driving gloves off her hands.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she sighed, breathless, “traffic was-,”

“It’s alright,” Therese smiled, who couldn’t even imagine feeling angry or disappointed at the sight of her, “here, give me your coat.”

She draped Carol’s coat over her own on the back of her chair at the main desk, fingers trailing over the fabric, and introduced Carol- Mrs. Aird to the class. Many of them recognized her as Rindy’s mom, or the lady who was always at PTA meetings and fundraisers. 

“I didn’t realize you were so famous around the school,” Therese chuckled, her cheeks a bit rosy as they got started. “If I had known, I would have made your introduction a bit more dramatic.”

Carol smiled, running her hand over her deep blue skirt, smoothing the fabric. She wouldn’t want Therese to know her hands had gotten sweaty at the sight of the slim teacher drowning in another painting shirt, beaming when she’d walked in. 

Traffic hadn’t been the issue, not at all. It had been her own racing mind stopping her from getting out the door, wondering if her outfit was okay, wondering if her hair was in place, wondering what Therese would have thought of it.

“You look lovely,” Therese commented, as if reading her thoughts. Carol realized she hadn’t responded to her previous comment, and mentally kicked herself.

“But, you’ll need this,” Therese handed Carol a large, cheap button down like her own. “I wouldn’t want that silk to get paint on it.” 

Carol nearly blushed at Therese’s notice of her blouse’s material. It was such a small detail, she felt flustered and proud that Therese had noticed it. She took the shirt from Therese, slipping it on awkwardly. It felt bulky, but not uncomfortable, and she felt more at ease now that her and Therese were practically matching, and ready to take on any flying paint splatters.

Her safe haven was sitting by Rindy the first day, watching her paint and watching Therese flit about all the other kids. She’d never been this speechless around any women before, not Abby, not any other flirty opportunity she’d had over the years. 

The rest of the afternoon went by quite quickly and quite uneventfully. A few kids kept asking questions, and Therese took every opportunity to help and guide them. Part of her was nervous to have a moment to breathe and then be faced with the hawk-eyed blonde sitting in one of the ridiculously small chairs. 

But once she looked at Carol, really looked at her, she realized how nervous the both of them were. Her face was neutral and stoic, but her toes tapped on the ground, her legs shyly pressed together as she hunched over her daughter, laughing and smiling. 

This was her classroom, Therese realized, subconsciously puffing her chest; and no one, not even the adults, should feel uncomfortable in her classroom. 

So, she approached Carol with a spare easel in her hands, and paper in the other. 

“I see one person who isn’t doing our daily art task, isn’t that right Rindy?” Therese addressed the young girl, but was looking at Carol, who glanced away and willed herself not to blush.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with a paintbrush, Ms. Belivet,” Carol confessed. “Rindy is the artistic one at home.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that. Rindy, why don’t you show your mom how to paint?” Therese asked, setting the easel in front of the older woman, who began protesting but realized quickly it wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

Therese grabbel a brush from Rindy’s tiny water cup and pressed it in Carol’s hand. Their fingers were clasped for a split second before Therese stepped back, breaking the spell.

“I wouldn’t know what to draw!” Carol exclaimed.

“Just do as I do, Mommy,” Rindy said, with a tone of adorable frustration, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Therese giggled behind a hand clasped over her face and left the mother-daughter duo to paint together, feeling triumphant.

-

As the kids began filing out at 5, Mrs. Morgan had stopped by, checking in with Therese, and delighted to see Carol with them. Small talk between the three women left them being the last ones in the room, Rindy fidgeting in her chair, waiting for her mom to be done. 

Carol was about to leave with Rindy’s hands in hers when she eyed the young teacher stuffing her things in her bag, the classroom drearily empty all of a sudden. She didn’t see or hear the familiar jangle of car keys anywhere near Therese. 

“You have a ride?” she inquired, hoping she sounded as nonchalant as possible.

“Oh, yes, I usually get a cab,” Therese said, picking at a dry patch of paint on the back of her hand. 

That clearly didn’t satisfy Carol, because she took a step back in the room and  said, “Let us drive you home. It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Aird, you don’t have to worry about me,” Therese tried to wave her offer away. Carol wouldn't have it, tutting and walking back towards Therese. 

”Nonsense. Here, I’ll help you carry some things.”

That’s that. Carol picked up one of the heavier bags with ease and held Rindy’s hand in the other. Therese watched her, a bit startled at her forwardness. The art teacher supposed she had no other choice but to follow. Her eyes were drawn to the way Carol’s calf muscles tightened as she marched confidently to the parking lot, and she nearly tripped.

“Seatbelts on,” Carol ordered as they slid into their seats. “You can put in your address on the GPS, Therese. Here.”

She pushed a few buttons and the dashboard screen lit up. Therese carefully put in her address, wondering if Carol knew the area, wondering if she judged how and where Therese lived.

“Oh! I know that neighbourhood.. lovely place. Do you live in that apartment building there then?”

“Y-yes,” Therese stammered. 

“There’s an ice cream shop just down the street there where we go sometimes, isn’t there, sweet pea?” Carol turned to glance at her daughter, who was fidgeting with a spare crayon in her hands. 

Rindy shrieked with excitement, and began demanding they get ice cream for Miss B. 

“I suppose you’re trapped in the car, so you don’t really get a say, hm?” Carol’s eyes twinkled mischievously at Therese, who sucked in a breath. 

“Really, Miss Ross,” Therese blushed but found her courage, “dessert before dinnertime?”

Carol looked at her, and for a second Therese thought she overstepped, before the blonde tipped her head back and laughed. Rindy joined in, not knowing why her mother was laughing, but excited nonetheless.

Carol was still chuckling by the time they pulled out of the parking lot, and Therese felt a sense of pride beaming in her chest.

It was barely warm enough to enjoy ice cream, but they huddled back in the car with their sweets and ate away in the nearest parking lot, a minute down the street from Therese’s home.

Rindy was bombarding Therese with stories and questions, and Therese answered happily. She noticed how Carol had ample opportunity to stop their conversations and go to drop her off, but didn’t. Her belly swirled with butterflies at the thought.

So she kept talking with Rindy, kept talking with Carol, enjoying her cherry ice cream in her sprinkled waffle cone like she was eight years old again. 

“I suppose I should eventually drop you off, shouldn't I?” Carol asked after their ice cream was gone. Rindy was drowsy in the backseat, and the sky was darkening slightly.

“Oh, of course, yes,” Therese nodded, hiding her disappointment. “I’m sorry for keeping you.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything, darling,” Carol said as she pulled out the parking lot again. Theres blushed. “It’s just that this one needs to get home for her afternoon nap.”

“Right, no, you’re right,” Therese shot a glance at Rindy, sleeping quietly. “She seems exhausted.”

There was a pause and Therese looked back to questioningly meet Carol’s gaze. Her grey eyes shimmered with delight.

“I meant myself, Therese.”

“Oh!” Therese went red. Carol threw her head back and laughed. 

“When you get to be my age, one restless night can throw off your whole day,” Carol pointed out as they neared Therese’s apartment building.

She didn’t sleep well last night, Therese noted. She wanted to ask if she was alright, if there was anything she could do, if there was anything at all she needed, but instead,

“I hope a giggling group of toddlers didn’t make it worse.”

“Not at all, it was lovely,” Carol smiled. 

“You’re welcome back any time. In fact, since you know the school so well, if you have any ideas for the class, we can definitely try to make something of it. Lord knows I barely know what happens around Frankenberg’s.”

“That’s just because you’re new, sweetheart,” Therese blushed again at the endearment, cursing her body for reacting so quickly, and looked out the window. Carol, thankfully, kept her eyes on the road. “You’ll get used to it in no time. I see you’ve met Claire already.”

“Mrs. Morgan? She’s a saint. It’s nice to have some allies,” she said, thinking of Mr. Tucker and his brutish behaviour.

Carol hummed in agreement and pulled up as close to the front door as she could. 

There was a buzz in the air between them. Therese didn’t want to get out, Carol didn’t make her get out. The blonde glanced at her daughter in the backseat, busied herself with her gloves. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Therese squeaked as she unbuckled herself, keeping her eyes down. “It’s nice to see a familiar face at the school. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Therese,” Carol said.

“No, no I do,” if there was one thing Therese couldn’t stand, it was feeling like she owed people. “At least for the ice cream.”

“I suppose you’ll have to make up for it next time,” Carol teased. 

Next time. Therese looked over at the driver by her side just as she opened the passenger door. Carol looked bacn her, with an unasked question between them. Something daring, something shy, something hopeful.

“Next time,” Therese beamed.

She hurried quietly out the car as to not wake Rindy and went to the front door. Only when she was stepping inside did she turn back to see Carol waiting in the car, watching her.

She raised a bashful hand to wave goodbye, and Carol sent her the most brilliant smile that blew all the cobwebs out of Therese’s dreary life, before the car revved and headed down the street. 

A/N: ice cream date! because I miss going out for impromptu snacks and food right now... let me know what you think!! <3

[henry-cavill-baby]

To Study (Insects) │ 1

Pairing: Clark Kent (MoS) x Original Female Character

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Connie and Clark, two peas in a pod. She didn’t know if it was his soft blue eyes or his Mother’s sweet blueberry pie that had caught her eye, but boy howdy, was she caught. 

A/N: Nothing! Enjoy!

The best thing about living in Kansas was that nothing ever happened.

There was a mile wide sprawl of corn that was breathtaking to few; it had started out as nothing much but rows upon rows of dirt that now bore sprawls of golden richness that could truly blind any tourist with its beauty.  Most of it was picked and sold—Kansas was full of rural farmers and farmers markets, but some just stayed for show.

And the Farmers Market typically consisted of stay-at-home mothers trying to sell their overpriced sugary sweet lemon bars to any sucker who would pay seven dollars for four measly pieces.

Most of the teens at the local high school got rides home from their parents, but Connie Mayfield knew that you couldn’t pay her Father, Walter, to pick his daughter up from school. If he did, then he’d no doubt miss a rerun of Baywatch, and that simply couldn’t happen.

A tune that rivaled the airiness of a flute flew from the 14 year olds mouth on her long walk home. Connie Mayfield whistled a nonchalant melody as her uneven pace took her closer to home. 

The young girl had a lot on her mind; there was a test on Friday that was covering another form of division that looked to confusing to follow, and Alice’s birthday party was on Saturday and getting a gift for the little girl who had everything was harder than it seemed. The years of gifts consisting of dolls and bright hairbrushes were long over. Maybe she’d like a new bracelet or a set of earrings.

An irregular rock bumped against the tip of her shoe and she grinned, lobbing it off into the cornfield, a little thud echoing through the golden maze. 

It was tempting—the idea of taking the not so short shortcut through the tall stalks, if just to feel a little more free for just a moment, but the sounds of distress just up ahead had her little sneakers speeding up. She turned to the bend and grew furious at the sight of three boys throwing around her friend.

“Hey!” she bellowed, running closer before screeching to a halt in front of the teen holding up her friend by the lip of his shirt, “Leave him alone!”

Isaiah Matthews grinned with his fist still clutching the younger boy's shirt, “Oooo, is this your girlfriend, Kent?”

Clark Kent sneered up at the taller boy, fists clenching in rage. 

“Leave her alone,” he grit out, watching Isaiah sneer with confidence.

“I didn’t take you for a pussy, Kent, but I guess I was wrong.” He dropped Clark with a grin and sauntered to the near growling girl. 

“Connie, right? My dad says you Mayfield’s are trailer trash, and I can see where he gets that from.”

His eyes gave her a visible up-and-down, “No wonder only a freak would like you.” 

The words had barely left his mouth before Clark launched himself onto the back of the bully, pummeling him to the ground with hateful eyes. The two other lackeys ran, but Connie went and pulled Clark back before he did something he’d regret. The two of them fell away from the older boy, watching him with guarded eyes.

Isaiah spat at ground near their feet, “Fucking freaks.”

Connie waited until he was out of sight, turning to Clark and frowning at his disheveled appearance. “You know, I’m not always gonna be here to save you, Clark.”

He wiped away the sheen of dirt and sweat covering his upper lip, refusing to meet her eyes. “I didn’t need your help. I could’ve handled it.”

“Oh yeah, you totally had it under control,” she mocked with pursed lips.

He frowned at her sarcasm and picked up his dirtied school bag, looking down the path home. It was a quick walk to the farm, and mom had probably already started dinner, which is why it made no sense when he turned and muttered, “Can I walk you home?”

Her eyes went wide at his question, upper teeth nibbling on her pink lip, shrugging, “Sure, if you want.”

They both nodded and started a slow walk to the Mayfield’s. Connie’s fingers twitched at her side while different conversation starters nearly passed through her lips every few seconds. The urge to ask why he never fought back, why he let people call him a freak raced through her mind, but only silence hung between them. It was almost annoying that he never stood up for himself.

There was something mysterious about Clark that intrigued her 14-year-old brain; no one had ever let him live down that time he’d locked himself in a closet (and torched the doorknob till it was bright red). 

He was just the guy who kept to himself most of the time.  

And still she kept on eye on him the entire time, watching his own twitching fingers pick at the loose lining of his jeans, lip biting in a matter similar to her own, brows furrowing in thought, though they always did that. He looked cute when he was deep in thought.

Cute? I think Clark is… cute?

A deep redness flooded her cheeks and her lips pursed into a thin line, trying not to visibly speed away from the other boy, but Clark noticed everything. There was something keen about the way his mind worked; almost predatorial. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, the cute furrow in his brow deep as she faced him while willing away the redness of her juvenile cheeks. 

She nodded but didn’t meet his blue eyes. They were like oceans—I’d swim in Clark’s eyes if he’d ask—and her stomach always fluttered when he looked at her.

She expected them to fall back into silence, now halfway to the Mayfield farm, but Clark piped up, “Are you excited for the field trip tomorrow?”

A flutter of excitement rang through her veins, but she held back and simply nodded. “It’ll be a nice change from sitting inside all day.” Clark nodded along with her running words, “I heard the museum has a section on insects and their habitats, and I hope they have a butterfly display. Or—or maybe a real entomologist will be there.”

Now bugs- those were cool. Anything from crickets to butterflies to beetles, each one more interesting than the last…except arachnids. You could keep those eight-legged freaks as far away as humanly possibly.

Clark slowed their pace but kept his distance, “Is that what you wanna be when you grow up?”

She grinned and tried to slow the internal monologue of bug talk.

“I think when I grow up, I’ll leave this place behind and follow my dreams.” She said.

“And I guess those dreams do include insects of all types. They really do get a bad reputation sometimes. I think they’re just as delicate and interesting as humans.”

“Really?” Clark wrinkled in his nose, “My dad sprays the fields for bugs in the summer.” She hit his shoulder as he let out a snort, “I think I’ve squashed a few flies for mom too.”

She shook her head and couldn’t see Clark staring at her golden locks as they shined in the sun. “You’re the worst, Kent.”

The both chuckled and came to a halt in front of the Mayfield farm. It was more run down than the other houses in the area and the roof could’ve been mistaken for caving in, and she knew it looked worse on the inside. The moldy green color of the roof had seen better days, and the porch could barely hold the old rocking chair that her dad liked to sit on in the mornings. Clark would never know how the inside looked even worse.

“Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?” She asked with a soft smile, taking no offense as Clark tried, once again, not to meet her eyes. The swoop of his brown hair was nearing the tops of his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t inclined to cut it. He didn’t buzz his hair like the other boys.

“I…” He paused, foot kicking the uneven dirt under his shoes. He bit his lip lower lip and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, met her honey eyes.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath and lightly shrugged, “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know who I am. I think I wanna figure that out first, ya know?”

No, she didn’t know but asking Clark to explain how he felt could feel like pulling teeth. Golden honey stared into the aquamarine sea, two sets of young lips wet and wanting, and Connie picked at her pants, nails bending with surprising force.

The door to the Mayfield hold slammed with a grotesque force, and the two teens jumped away from one another as Walter Mayfield grunted his way to them, to Clark.

“’Thought I told you to stay away from my daughter, Kent!” Walter bellowed, nearing the fourteen-year-old clear-eyed boy who showed no sign of backing down with his head held high and chest jutted out. 

“I don’t want you lookin’ at her, touchin’ her—“

Connie finally yelled, “Dad!” and stood between him and Clark, protecting her friend from the unjustified anger of her dad. She felt Clark’s fingers grip the back of her shirt and tug her closer, just as Walter stood over them with beady eyes and steam shooting from his ears.

“Get in the house, Connie.” Her dad growled, never looking away from Clark.

But she shook her head and pushed against her dad’s chest, ignoring Clark’s fingers still gripping the back of her shirt. “We weren’t doing anything, go back inside, please.”

A startled yelp left her throat as her dad’s strong fist lurched her forward by the front of her shirt, throwing her to the ground and out of Clark’s grip. The air left her lungs and the dirt felt dry under her fingertips, watching as Clark seemed to vibrate in place, glaring deadly at Walter.

“If I ever see you ‘round here again, Kent.” He spat, “I’ll make you wish you were never born. Are we clear?”

The threat hung between the adult and young teen, and Clark tightly nodded and stalked off down the dirt path, not once looking back at Connie, never seeing the tears in her eyes.

Walter stared down at his daughter with a sneer, “Get inside. I won’t say it again.”

The dried dirt caked under her nails as she scrambled to stand and bolt inside, not taking note of the woman asleep on the couch that she’d never seen before, or the beer bottles covering the kitchen counters. The stairs creaked as she fled upstairs and shut her bedroom door, clicking the latch in place. A heaviness sat in her chest as her backpack thumped to the floor.

Beaded tears fell down her thick cheeks and light cries sounded through the room.

“—I want that boy away from my son!” the mother of Peter Ross screeched from the Principal's office. “Am I the only one who understands the situation? That boy lifted a bus from a lake. A bus! What kind of monster are we allowing to walk with our children?”

The meek father of Alice pepped up, “But—But he did save them, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, Martin. I don’t feel safe with him here, and neither should any of you.”

Martha Kent hung her head and left the Principal's office, ignoring the calls from the desperate parents. There was nothing else she needed to hear from them, especially insults about her son. The door shut with a click, and her heels clipped the floor with each step.

She did her best to smile at Clark, but he’d always seen right through that. He sat up straight and looked her in the eyes, his soft voice rivaling his posture, “How did it go?”

She knew Clark had heard every word already and that lying would only make him defensive. “About as well as you’d expect, honey.” She patted his shoulder and ushered him to stand, “C’mon, let’s go home.”

The car ride was silent aside from the tapping of Clark’s blunt nails on the fabric of his jeans, and the shaking of his leg. He was such a nervous boy—her Clark—and it pained her heart to see him to try to hide how this whole thing was tearing him up inside. They normally played the radio, Clark usually flipped stations and rarely settled on just one, but silence was all they heard.

Jonathon Kent watched his wife pull up, and frowned as Clark bolted from the passenger seat and fled into the backyard. He stepped outside just as Martha shut off the car and gingerly stepped out, walking into her husband’s arms with a deep sigh. Exhaustion ran deep in her veins, and Jonathon wished he could take it away.

“That bad, huh?” He muttered into her brown locks, feeling her nod into his chest.

“Talk to him.” She begged, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I think…I think it’s time he…” They both turned to face the barn with heavy hearts, knowing this would be for the best.

Jonathon nodded and released Martha, shooting a thin-lipped smile her way as he made his way to the backyard. His heart thumped as he eyed his son, whose legs were hanging off the back of his pickup, shoulders hunched in his blue hoodie. As he got closer, he could hear the sniffles from his son.

“Clark.” His son turned and wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. “I just want to know what happened. I’m not mad, I promise.”

Jonathon sat next to his son and watched his boys lip quiver. His words came out with a thin veil of pain, “I wasn’t thinking, Dad.” A hiccup escaped his throat. “She was so scared… I just couldn’t let her die."

The water was rising too fast—it was cold and soaked the kids instantly— and Clark watched as Connie grew frantic in her efforts to open the window enough to crawl out, or maybe she was trying her best to keep the water from flooding the already half submerged bus. Cries and screams rang through the drowning bus, and Clark swam, trying his best to make it to Connie

“Connie!” He yelled, reaching forward to snag her shirt and pull her away from the stream of flowing water.

“Oh god, Clark! We’re gonna die!”  Her screams were shrill and almost hurt his ears, but the smell of her fear mixed with the smell of tears and piss coming off the other students had him looking for a way out.  

But the water was nearing the top of the bus, and all he could hear was her cries.

“Son, I thought we talked about this.” He started, patting his own thigh, “We have to keep what you can do a secret.”

“They were all going to drown, how could I have done nothing? They didn’t deserve to die.”

“Clark, I just—“ Jonathon paused, watching the sunshine across the cornfield that spanned miles upon miles. It was an array of reds that shined upon the old graying barn. 

“I just want to protect you, son. And sometimes, when people see something they don’t understand, they get scared and lash out. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

And finally, Clark asked the question that Jonathon had known would always come.

“Why am I like this, dad? Why am I so different from everyone else?”

Memories of finding their son, raising him to be the young man who sat at his side—through all the times he’d been different than the other kids, and knowing all of the hardships that were yet to come. It was almost enough to make him cry.

Almost.

Jonathon stood up from the truck and stood in front of his son, placing both hands on his small shoulders. “I’m going to show you something, son, and it may make things make a bit more sense. But no matter what—“ He pressed his palm to his sons chest and smiled,

“You are my son.”

Part 2

[soranihimawari]

swing sets and clouds

a little daichi story about him realizing he’s in like with a childhood friend who just moved back from hong kong...

tagging: @smolbludandelions​ @m0nstergeneration20xx​

rated: SDF for Sawamura Daichi Fluff.

word count: 3.7K

“oh man, i don’t know why i had let hitoka-chan convince me into writing this letter, but here goes,” my voice is quiet. i glanced out at the snowy ridden land. a soft smile danced across my face.

i sat down on my desk with the lamp lit staring at a birthday card for one of my senior classmates. i was so sure michimiya had a huge crush on  the recipient, but i think it’s honestly because they have known each other since middle school.however, since i was raised abroad in hong kong for a little while, my friends from elementary school continued forming connections during this time. my parents’ line of work for the international bank for japan had allowed such a trip to occur. i came back at the beginning of our first year of high school.my parents encouraged me to take a majority of the entrance exams for the prefecture we were going to be living when we moved back, which i was grateful for. the results came back via e-mail explaining that i was accepted into karasuno high and given my current grade average being converted, i was placed in the college prep courses. 

moving forward, i had survived my first year making friends and catching up with old ones. i had lunch on the rooftops often since i liked how the fire escape ladders were well hidden behind the main building. never really much of a socializer, i sometimes found it easy to skip a few lectures haphazardly especially when i forgot my homework. not even my seniors knew where i had ran off to. that changed during second year when one of the members of volleyball club had jogged up to the trio of boys in my year asking for an extra set of hands. we bumped shoulders briefly as you hollered over your shoulder a rapid, “sorry!” then you vanished for the rest of the day. apparently your kouhai were getting into a scuffle over who’d protect the lady manager. i continued on my day letting you know if fate brought us together by accident, then perhaps, we would become friends point. luckily we didn’t have to wait very long... 

“you moved and you came back?” you asked me blinking wide eyed at the sports festival that year. our classes were grouped together for co-ed costumed relay race. you were elected the third runner while i, for whatever reason, was the anchor. 

“i ran track then too ya’know, sawamura,” i shrugged my shoulders. “i can’t believe you don’t remember me that well, then again.” 

you passed me a bottle of an electrolyte enriched water. i open it and we said a brief, “kampai!” before we took a swig of it.

“we were seven,” you chuckled. “i can barely keep up with all the nuances go-go.”

“ah-ha! you do remember me!” i replied. “you used to call me that on the swingset by our old school.”

you blushed slightly when i poked your cheek. “c’mon, seems like our break time is almost over.”

our race was a close one while our peers began to saunter off one by one. by the time the baton came to me, you were breathing heavily. it was a solid pass; the charcoal stick with white and orange detail was pressed into my palm with a stern look in your eye. i’d never forget how intense your eyes were, sawamura. 

“go!” you yelled out to me as i turned my attention around to face the path in front of me. i took off, gaining speed and momentum with breaking from a speed walk, to a jog, to a sprint as our competitors in the next lanes gained on me. i pushed myself further and came in first. 

“i did it!” i whispered to myself. i raised the baton in the air while my breath was catching up. you nodded in my direction as our classmates passed on their congratulations, but you turned to your back on me to talk to your other friends instead. i told myself to let that action go. i didn’t belong in your world anyways, just as much as perhaps you think you didn’t belong in mine.

==third year==

“who’s that daichi-senpai?” one of the volleyball club first years had asked you.

“oh her?” sugawara’s voice took over a teasing tone. “that’s the girl daichi wants to date.”

“shut it suga,” daichi said while the rest of the team teased him for having his crush be openly outed.

i was probably practicing a few moves from my dance hobby after classes had been dismissed. i had signed up for an adult ballet dance class along with a modern international dance club; i had my music from my smartphone connected wirelessly to the mini-portable speakers i had brought with me. i was attempting a take on a dance i saw online from the renowned magda butterfly competition. my black ballet slippers were worn at the sole, but i pursued the completion of the instrumental ‘lava short’ ballad. 

the song ended as it skipped to the next song a stark contrast while the violins’ solo melody picked up it’s tempo, i leapt into completing a grand jete diagonally across the gym’s faded boundary paints. my hair hung around my shoulders as it flew in the wind behind me. my hair tie was holding less and less of my hair, but i didn’t mind one bit as i took my place spinning around with my eyes closed. i raised my hands above my head and moved my wrists down both sides of my face because both sides of my face, then the song fades. i glanced up at the clock, inspecting the time. i wrapped my chords and placed them in my bag on the stage from the entrance ceremony. i zipped up my bag, not really caring whether i had an audience observing me or not. i stretched my arms above my head once more stifling a yawn. i shook my head side to side as i re-tied my hair in a ponytail.

“mmhm.” i hummed. “perhaps i should call it a day. seems like the volleyball club’s practice begins soon.”

i spun around on my heel to leave the gym via the side door on the eastern side, easily slipping out of sight.

that evening, i received a text from sugawara. we were in the same science class this year, but that’s besides the point.

--[17:10]--

suga-k.: hey hey! i had a question for you... 

suga-k: [mysterydance.vid] is this you? 

go-go: how do you? why do you? ... 

suga-k: ?

go go: yeah. that’s me.

on the other side of the line, sugawara was walking home from practice with his two best friends next to him. he had thanked one of their underclassmen who shot a snapchat video on their phones for him. it was the first app hitoka tapped on and although she deleted the snap, she saved the file first thus sending it to her senpais who had asked her for it (it was just suga who shared it with daichi who was blushing harder in the changing room after practice had ended).

“you should ask go-chan out on a date,” sugawara suggests. 

“eh?” asahi questioned his silver haired friend. sugawara shows him the video clip of the girl who danced so effortlessly before they had practice. “daichi, you should. she’s--”

“i know guys. trust me i’d love to, but honestly, what am i supposed to say suga? hi go-go. i’ve been in love with you since we were seven and when your family moved to hong kong i believed we weren’t meant to be together?”

his two friends stopped walking for a moment as their friend was finally admitting some truths aloud to himself to hear.

“you DO like her,” sugawara clasped his friend’s shoulder. “asahi! you pay for my share of the pork buns mr. double or nothing ace.”

“oh, ok,” the gentlest ace had acknowledged the bed handing his co-captain five hundred yen.

“you guys made a gamble?! on my love life? damn it!” daichi exclaimed kicking the dirt pile closest to his feel while begrudgingly placing his hands in his club tracksuit pockets.

--the next day--

i was roaming the halls during the-mid morning break heading back to my classroom when i saw you out of the corner of my eye asking michimiya-san to borrow the girl’s vbc gym for practice that afternoon. she likes you too, i mused. i suppose if i stayed here in miyagi, you and i would have a very similar friendship. she’s a sweet girl but before you could say your goodbyes, she called out my name.

“h-hey michimiya, sawamura.” 

the lilt in my voice was hiding the sinking feeling i felt my heart do when i approached you two.

“go-go, are you going to watch the game against shiratorizawa?” michimiya asked. she looked so hopeful and i recalled hearing she pulled a victory charm at the shrine the other day. 

“if someone on the team asks me, sure,” i answered. “maybe i’ll ask suga-san.”

michimiya nods in earnest, but when she saw her fellow capitan’s face slightly frown, i had cleared my throat.

“i meant to say as a friend. after all, sugawara and i are in the same science class this year,” i said. i bowed toward them before i left them to converse in private again. 

--classes dismiss at karasuno--

“daichi-senpai’s skipping practice?” hinata asked. sugawara, with the thanks of tanaka and noya, covered for their captain explaining he had a slight-non medical emergency to take care of.

“it’s about go-senpai, isn’t it?” hitoka whispered to her head manager, who nodded. 

--elsewhere off campus--

“oi! go-go!”

twice in one day, someone on the volleyball team called out to me. twice in one day the person who i had developed a crush on, who had gifted me friendship chocolates last year for the first time, called out to me.

“yeah? what’s the matter sawa-kun?” i asked. i had my hershel brand backpack slung over my shoulder. i gave him a few moments to catch his breath. “woah, did you run over here?”

“not really,” he chuckled. “i run with the guys before practice all the time.”

“i see.”

“listen, can we talk somewhere? it’s nothing serious.”

i nodded. “lead the way.”

we walked silently side by side enjoying the ambiance of the early afternoon. we stopped when we reached our destination. it took me a moment to realize where we were. i turned my head to the left and saw the boarded up school with the notice saying it was currently closed for remodelling for the remainder of the school year. from where we were standing, we were inside the parameters of the park in front of our old primary school. 

“you remember this place,” i said softly. i turn to look at him with an warm smile. 

“so do you,” his voice is firm, but there were hints of mischief. “it’s been a long time since we played here.”

“haha, you’re telling me. honestly, i’m touched, truly by this, but why exactly did you bring me here. it can’t possibl--”

“i like you,” his confession interjects my statement.

“i like you too,” i say. the way my head turned around real quick in the autumn air had my brain process what he had said. “it can’t possibly be the...wait.”

his shadow eclipses my face for a moment as his brown eyes studied my features while i took a half step back to brace myself for whatever he did next.

“i know i’m late in telling you this,” his voice faltered for a moment, he gave me a small smile.

“you’re not late, daichi. you’re right on time,” i said running up to hug him. he took a step back when i laughed.

“oof!” he exclaims from the impact, falling into a laughter almost immediately after he embraces me.

“you jerk!” i said burrowing by my face into his chest.

“can’t be, not around you,” he whispers into the my hair. one of his hands combs my hair behind my ears gently; using the same hand i feel him tilting my chin up. i close my eyes as i closed the gap between our lips. if you could taste insurances of timed magic, that is what this kiss felt like. there is a calm stillness between he and I; when the kiss breaks, i giggle at how the boy blushes.

“y’know, you’re not half bad daichi,” i tease. i press my lips to the side of his face. “wanna walk me home?”

==[winter break]==

“write to daichi?” i asked balancing my phone on one ear. i called hitoka & shizumi asking them their opinions on what to get someone you like for the holidays; hitoka suggested i wrote a letter.

“yeah! one for good luck or his birthday,” her voice said.

“ok. thanks,” i said. “oh by the way, are we still up for that trip to the gardens tomorrow? the winter festival i heard was going on...”

“mmhm. meet at campus. night!”

we three hung up, i searched for a card.

==[31/12, 19:04]==

daichi and i since that day at the park had unofficially officially been ‘together.’ everyone on the team knew about our relationship, but to the outside, we were just really close childhood friends who reconnected in high school.

i don’t know why i was so nervous when i stood outside his door. i was dressed in a fancy pants suit my parents wanted me to wear to the party they were invited to, but i asked if i could skip it. when asked why, i told them i had a date to keep. daichi had invited me over for dinner and desserts at his place, so naturally, i accepted the offer.

earlier that day, i stepped out to the bakery & bought a small lemon chiffon cake. i also went to the florist shop and asked for a birthday balloon while picking up a fresh bud for my hair that evening.

sighing, i raised my hand to the door and gave it a steady rapt. i heard his siblings through the door asking if their brother’s ‘pretty date’ was coming over. those siblings of his were a mischievous pair, but alas even they saw how much their elder brother liked me.

“happy birthday dai,” i greeted with a balloon and small cake in my hand.

“thank you,” he says, kissing my cheek taking the cake away. “come in. i’ll make hot chocolate for you.”

“thanks.”

i unbuttoned my jacket while i heard his siblings run around to spot me in the entrance way. shrugged it off and hung it in the coat closet. i also removed my snow lidden boots and had them resting by the door along with the others.

the footsteps grew louder as all three of them approached me at almost full speed. daichi was chasing them yelling something about not getting extra marshmallows in their hot cocoa...

“go-one!” the little one said as they jumped into my arms to give me a hug. “hi hi!”

“hi!” i stifled a giggle. “happy almost new year!”

“happy a’most new year!”

“oi! leave go-one alone, she’s here to see dai-niichan!”

i have daichi a look who let out an exasperated sigh. his sibling in my arms saw how flustered he had become when i placed them back down on the floor.

“we’ll play a bit later, ok? for now, try not to cause too much trouble for your niichan.”

“haii~!” and with that agreement, the two children spun of their heels while making claims who will win the next round of super smash bros in the living room. daichi folded his arms over his chest and i shook my head.

“what’s with that look sawa-kun?” i asked when i walked back further into their house and made my way to the kitchen.

“it’s nothing,” he replies with a broad grin. “so, lemon chiffon cake?”

“yeah,” i said sheepishly scratching the side of face. “it was the only cake they had left at the bakery.“

daichi came up behind me and wrapped his arms around securly around my waist and pressed his lips on to the side of by shoulder blades. 

“you didn’t have to sweetheart, but i appreciate it,” he whispered against my ear before the kettle on the stove started to whistle. he kissed my temple while i pulled out one of the chairs from the dining table. i wonder if he’d bring up the letter... i thought. we enjoyed the hot chocolate conversing about my travels throughout hong kong and on his side he told me about what i had missed out in the decade i was away. afterwards, we played a few rounds of smash bros with his siblings while he cut up his cake. although i think he knew i threw a few of those matches in favor for his siblings (and him) to win a couple rounds. 

“yeah! i won again!” the little sibling from earlier cheered raising the controller above their head. “did ja see? did ja?”

“hah, of course!” i said clapping my hands. “don’t frown,” i talked to the other one sitting in front of me on the floor. “i’ll teach you how to get better too.”

“alright one-san.” the child smiled, “best four outta seven?”

“you’re on ni-chan!”

==[a couple hours later, 23:45]==

the sawamura’s house was filled with dimmed lights while the television in the main room played the international news for the fireworks displays. his parents were busy tucking in the younglings in their shared room, soon bidding me goodnight and happy new year with a red small envelope.

“y-you didn’t have to!” i said holding the envelope since they were persistent in not taking it back. “thank you!”

“happy new year go-chan. daichi, walk her home not too late, yeah?” his mother instructed nodding to the time. daichi agrees with a nod of contentment.

we sat on the couch side by side discussing our plans for the future after the spring tournament. i leaned my head against his shoulder.

“what about you, go-chan?” daichi asked after he explained his goals for wanting to major in criminal justice to enter the police academy in our prefecture.

“i think i might focus on international affairs,” i mused. “maybe find work in a consulate office for japan’s side of things.”

“you’d do great no matter what you choose,” he said rubbing my shoulder with his hand. 

“i know that and you will be a great lieutenant someday,” i muse looking up at him. i studied his profile features from time to time.

“you really think so, huh?”

“of course i do! don’t sell yourself short my captain.”��

his laughter rumbled through his shoulders prior to kissing my temple when it had died down. he lowered the volume on the television and he suggests something i didn’t know he could do.

“dance with me?” he asks softly, his nose nuzzling the crown of my head. “the song doesn’t matter, ok?”

he helps me to my feet taking my hands in his. i put my left hand on his shoulder and his right hand on the small of my back; i held other hand with my right and folded it over the space that occupies his heart.

“you turned out to be a fine person,” i said as we swayed around the living room.

“so did you,” he compliments. daichi looks over my shoulder as he stops for a moment and pulls my body closer. 

“we should stop dancing for a bit,” i suggest. 

“we have stopped.” his breath fans across my face while he raises a palm to my face. his thumb runs across my lips; as our lips pressed on to each other’s, i hear the announcers’ countdown. expelling a puff of air as we both exchanged a smile, i bit my bottom lip before he spun me around. 

“ahah! woah, slo--mmf!”

5...4...3...2...

one more time our lips met. his hand moved slightly away from my back and cliumbed higher to guide my neck into coaxing me to deepen this innocent kiss.i tilt my head more to the side feelling my partner dip me slightly as i meld into his kiss further. our last kiss of the year carried over into the new one thus sealing a childhood promise made on a swing set over a decade ago:

“daichi! wanna go watch the clouds today?”

“go away go-chan! i’m sick.” my classmate coughed a little and wheezed shortly thereafter. his mask had a little cute outline of a bird on the corner.

“aww, ok dai-kun. maybe you can watch from the windows?”

he nods to me and i return it with a nod.

“i’ll see ya tomorrow, ok? feel better daichi!”

at home, my dad asked me how school was and i explained to him how one of my best friends got a real bad cold. i also told my dad i didn’t get a chance to say good-bye so instead, i told my classmate we’d watch the clouds tomorrow, but that day never came since the flight to move was already scheduled for two days after that. i made two paper cranes that night and asked my mom to drop it off at school for me when she got a copy of my teacher’s reports.  

“class settle down please. we have a guest today. this is ana-sama. go-chan’s mom. she has some news to share with everyone...”

==[the letter]==

my first love,

happy eighteenth birthday dai-kun! cheers to you love. you’ve come so far without me by your side for a while, but we’re here together now. and for that, i am grateful. i’m sorry i couldn’t watch the clouds with you when you got better. although nowadays i’m glad you & i hide out in the roof during lunch sometimes, haha. oh! did i tell you how proud i am of you for leading your team to the spring tournament this year? i knew you could do it.

my wish for you this year? for you tomake more memories with not only me, but with the rest of the team. continue to be a good leader. whatever the future holds for us, know that i will always love you most earnestly. win or lose, i’ll always believe in you. don’t forget this feeling of being loved as you are. let’s make this new year a fun one! 

( ･_･)♡ 

go-san 

P.S. care to watch the clouds with me?

[escapingreality1992]

The Competition of Misdirection Ch. 2

Nina’s POV

             The day began as always; with a run accompanied by Steve and Bucky. Thor, Loki, and Strange didn’t join us on the overcast morning. This meant we could go a little longer, a little faster and we didn’t have to wait on anyone. We ended the run with a drink from a water fountain, sweat dripping from us; dark stains appearing on our clothing.

           “So, breakfast first and then a shower. No need to do any other training today. We’re on our own to do anything we please for the rest of the day,” Steve told us.

           “Might I make a suggestion then? Want to go to our favorite café this morning? I’m not sure I want to put up with Loki’s antics or pranks this morning. Besides we haven’t shared each other’s company in a while,” I stated, stretching out my calves, while leaning on Bucky for support.

           “I thought you’d never ask,” Bucky replied. We made our way to The Little Café on Broadway, the spot a secret that we kept between the three of us. It was a small place, the interior decorated with wooden boards that reminded me of driftwood that you’d find at the beach. The seats consisted of tables, chairs, and booths; the colors of each seat a dark shade of blue, the tables charcoal gray.

The items on the menu were standard coffees, lattes and mochas, but not the fancy kind you’d find at any Starbucks. The breakfast items were muffins, scones and bagels, something simple but enjoyable. How I ended up with the two super soldiers as best friends was a mystery to me. Steve and I clicked instantly the first time we met, the friendship growing within the first year. With Bucky, it took a little time to open up and really connect with each other and though the first night created a different kind of bond, he still shied away from me; that was until we were left alone in the compound together for the first time.

           ‘Want to watch a movie?’ I asked Bucky as he walked into the lounge, sporting a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants.

           ‘Uh...sure, what did you have in mind?’ he asked, joining me on the couch. He acted a little standoffish but I figured it was because he only started adjusting to life on the team.

           ‘You pick. I have Princess Bride or Couples Retreat on queue,’ I stated, holding up both DVDs. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, running his hand through his chocolate brown hair.

           ‘Those are certainly hard choices to pick from. Well…hey is that Sixteen Candles? What about that one?’ Bucky suggested, his gaze landing on the shelves of the DVDs surrounding the TV.

           ‘Okay, sure that’s fine. Want popcorn?’ I replied. He nodded and I went into the kitchen to get the bag going. After emptying the contents in a bowl, I returned to the lounge and handed the bowl to him before walking over to the shelves and plucking the movie from its place, popping it in the DVD player. Joining him back on the couch, I placed the popcorn bowl in between us.

           ‘Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn off the lights please,’ I called out, pressing play on the remote as she did so. A few minutes into the start of the movie, I noticed Bucky shivering and decided to do something about it. Moving the empty bowl to the coffee table, I plucked the large, dark gray, fluffy throw off the armrest next to me and unfolded it to drape over Bucky and me.

           ‘Thank you,’

           ‘No problem,’

           We continued watching the movie; halfway through I became aware of Bucky’s arm draping over my shoulders. As casual as it seemed, the feeling inside my heart sent butterflies down to my stomach, my throat suddenly dry.

           ‘Excuse me. I need a drink,’ I croaked out, sliding out from his grasp and going back into the kitchen. I opened the fridge, letting the coolness of it hit my face to calm my nerves. Grabbing a soda from one of the cartons, I closed it and flinched when Bucky appeared on the opposite side of the door.

           ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he told me.

           ‘That’s all right. Did you need…something?’ I asked, getting nervous as he walked me back against the counter, both of his hands gripping the granite on either side of me. He moved one to slip the soda can out of my hands, setting it to the side.

           ‘Why don’t I scare you? You’ve been the first to show me kindness. The others are still…cautious around me,’ he says, the same hand – his metal one – reaching up to tuck my hair behind one ear.

           ‘What about Steve? He seems to be okay around you,’ I stated.

           “He doesn’t count. We’ve been friends a while. You haven’t answered my question,’ he replied, pressing closer still barely enough space between our bodies. He was warm and I felt the hard muscles of his chest pressing into me. My heart beat rapidly in my chest, my breath a little labored at the closeness, my cheeks flaming up at the proximity of him.

           ‘I suppose it’s because I know you’re a good man. Everyone deserves a little kindness Bucky. Including you,’

           ‘Even still, you know my past. What I’ve done. I don’t think I deserve the amount you’ve bestowed on me,’ he responds to my honesty.

           ‘Then I guess it’s because I’d like to get to know you more. It’s true that I know your past but you’re not that man anymore. I would love to get to know the man you are now,’ I commented. Bucky’s lips parted in bewilderment; I don’t think he ever expected those words to come from anyone, especially not mine. Slowly, I ran my hands along his arms, resting them on his shoulders.

           ‘Let’s finish the movie. Then, maybe we can order pizza and watch another one,’ I told him, gently pushing his body away from mine, so I could breathe easier.

              “Nina? Hello? Did you hear what I said?” Steve’s voice cut into the memory replaying in my head.

           “Huh? What? Was it something important?” I replied, biting my lip, embarrassed that I hadn’t been paying attention. Both men chuckled, Bucky draping his arm casually over my shoulders to give me a side hug.

           “I asked if you were finished. We need to get back to the compound,” Steve told me.

           “Oh. Yeah, I’m done. We can go home now,”

           “Where did you go off to? I wish I could’ve been there,” Bucky commented, waiting until I slid out of the booth we were sitting in before following Steve and me out of the café.

           “In some ways you were,” I mumbled to myself.

           “What was that Doll?”

           “Nothing. You know me. I’m always daydreaming, my head floating around in the clouds,” I replied.

           “That’s true. Must be nice. I wish I could escape into a daydream like yours. It’d be a lot more peaceful than what usually goes on in my mind,” Bucky commented. We made the trip back to the compound – a short walk that only took half an hour from the café – said our ‘good mornings’ to other members of the team before the three of us split up to take a shower.

              Once showered and dressed in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, I exited my room to the kitchen to grab some water. Closing the door after grabbing a bottle of water, I jumped back when Stephen Strange appeared before me.

           “Shit! Stephen, you scared me. Can I help you with something?” I greeted him, one hand on my heart from being startled. This seemed to be a recurring thing that happened to me. First Bucky on the night of our movie, then Tony and Loki a couple of times – Tony when he sleepwalked some nights and Loki when he wanted to prank me, Natasha – who had been up from a nightmare and who had crept quietly downstairs in the middle of the night – and now Strange.

           His lips quirked up in amusement at my startled state but got to his request.

           “Would you like to hang out with me this afternoon? I’ve got tickets to go see a musical if you want to come,” he answered me.

           “Which one?”

           “Wicked. It’s a matinee showing. We could grab lunch before we go if you’d like,”

           “Okay, sure. I’ll go change into something better than these sweats. What time is the show?” I accepted, the smile on his lips spreading wider.

           “2 o’clock. What would you like for lunch?” he replied, leaning against the fridge and crossing his arms over his chest.

           “Is pizza okay with you?”

           “Sounds delicious. I’ll wait for you by the front door,”

           I nodded and sauntered back to my room to change into something that wasn’t loungewear. I settled on a red graphic t-shirt that read ‘Read more books’ and blue jeans, and snagged a lightweight jacket in case the theater was cold. Slipping on socks and a pair of Converse, I left my room to meet Stephen downstairs.

           “Ready?” he asked.

           “Yes. Wait, no. I’ll be right back,” I responded, sprinting around the compound to find Bucky, who was currently trying to take a nap in the living room.

           “Hey, before I leave with Strange, I meant to ask you if you wanted to do a movie binge tonight,” I told him.

           “Sure, sounds like fun. Where are Strange and you headed off to?” he stated.

           “Lunch and then a musical. I should be back around six or so. We could grab burgers and fries before we start,”

           “You’ve got to get out of my head. I was thinking the same thing. Have fun with the wizard,”

           “I’m not a wizard,” Stephen’s voice protested when he walked into the room.

           “Sorry. Have fun with the sorcerer,” Bucky corrected himself, cracking a teasing smile.

           “Okay. Let’s go Stephen. This is going to be fun,” I stated, leaving with the sorcerer supreme.

              “You and Barnes are extremely close to each other. Why is that?” Stephen asked me, biting off the end of his pepperoni pizza.

           “We’ve been friends for a few years. You’re bound to get to know someone well. Especially when you live in the same building with them for a while,” I replied, working on my second slice.

           “That’s true but I don’t think I’ve seen a friendship as close as yours with him. I mean I know he had Steve and they’ve known each other since the 40’s but with you he seems very comfortable. It’s like he completely relaxes when you’re around,” Stephen stated, dusting his hands off from the crust.

           “I just help him with certain things. I don’t really want to discuss this with you. It’s kind of personal, sort of private, you know,” I commented. I didn’t know why Stephen wanted to know about the friendship I shared with Bucky, but I chose not to go into details with him. Bucky’s nightmares were part of the reason why we were super close, the other reasons being we kind of fell into a natural state of friendship, drawn to each other like moths to a flame; only not burning alive in the light. Not to mention that I had developed a major crush on him the more time I got to spend with him.

           I had always been there to calm him down, the bond we created growing increasingly stronger the more I went to his room or the times he found his way to mine. It wasn’t like we did anything but cuddle or the times I held him until he calmed down from the constant nightmares, but there were moments where something could happen.

           “Oh, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry. It’s a thing I do. Observe people and those they tend to get along with,” Stephen commented, holding his hands in the air in defense like a shield, but without his magic.

           “Can I see your hands for a minute?” I asked. Hesitantly, he brought his hands down and held them out before me. They trembled, a result from his car accident but I had never seen his scars up front before. Taking one in my hand, I ran a finger over each individual scar leading from his fingers to his wrists.

           “Do they still hurt?” I asked, meeting his bright blue eyes.

           “Sometimes. The pain tends to be worse in extreme cold or heat. Sometimes when I practice spells a lot as well,” he told me, placing his free hand over mine. They were warmer that I thought they would be and soon I released my hold on him.

           “Shall we go to the theater?” I asked, standing up from the table, the chair scraping the wooden floor as I did so. He nodded and we walked to the nearby theater. We found our seats quickly and chatted about other interests before the musical began.

  “Well that was entertaining. Shall I walk you back to the compound?” Stephen commented.

           “Sure. It was enjoyable. Quite a production, I thought,” I replied. I wanted to get back to Bucky to start our movie marathon but I enjoyed the company from Strange for the moment. He seemed like a sweet guy but the way I felt about Bucky had me thinking about Strange as only a friend. As we walked, he had me laughing at some funny experiences he had, a different side to him coming out.

           When we arrived at the compound, Stephen stopped me with a tap on the shoulder.

           “I’d like to hang out again some time,” he stated.

           “Sure. We could grab lunch or maybe I could swing by the Sanctum and you could show me some of that magic of yours,” I commented.

           “I’d like that,”

           “Hey, there doll. Ready for burgers? Maybe we can share a milkshake. Hey Strange. Did you two enjoy the musical?” Bucky greeted us, throwing an arm around my shoulders. The subtle touches Bucky and I shared came natural to us but still butterflies fluttered around in my stomach at his touch, warmth flooding my entire body.

           “Yeah, it was lovely. See you around Stephen,” I responded, walking outside with Bucky. He followed us out and we saw Loki walking around the corner to enter the compound.

           “It’s my turn next week, wizard. I’m pretty sure I can do better than you,” he commented, the remark intended only for Strange. Stephen narrowed his eyes before disappearing into a portal to the Sanctum.  

           “Honestly, Loki. Do you have to antagonize him like that?” I snapped, causing Loki’s eyebrows to rise in surprise, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.

           “Always. If I don’t do it, who will? We’re still on to hang out next week right?” he replied, watching as I slid behind Bucky on his motorcycle, my arms encircling his waist to hold on.

           “Of course. You still should be a little nicer to him. I don’t know what all this arguing is about but it really needs to stop,” I told him. Bucky and I exited the driveway, going down to a little diner downtown that we loved.

              “Two bacon cheeseburgers with fries and a large strawberry milkshake to share,” Bucky ordered when our waitress came by our table.            

           “Two waters as well, please,” I stated, before she left to put in the order in the register and tell the cooks so that they could make it.

           “So, where did your mind really go off to this morning?” Bucky asked, taking my hand in his, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. Again, something natural to us that I thought didn’t mean a thing but friendship.

           “Do you remember when we had a movie night alone together? We watched Sixteen Candles and then we had that conversation in the kitchen…”

           “Oh, yeah. Then we went back in to finish the movie. After that we ordered pizza and watched a couple of comedies. If I remember correctly, we cuddled in my room later,” he replied, his soft blue eyes meeting mine.

           “It was the first night you opened up to me. I loved the cuddle session too. Especially when it was freezing that night and the heating was out,” I told him.

           “I only opened up a little. It was a few nights afterward that we really got talking. It happened during that really bad thunderstorm which cut all of the lights out. That night was pretty bad though, at least for me. I’m glad you were there to calm me down,” he stated, smiling. It was one of those smiles that melted my heart and caused the butterflies to swarm wildly in my stomach.

           “I’ll always be there for you when you need me,” I commented, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

           “What if-?” Bucky began, our food’s arrival silencing him in the middle of his question. The milkshake soon followed and we immediately dipped our fries into it, enjoying both savory and sweetness of the food sitting in front of us.

           “What were you saying?” I asked him, after taking a few bites from my burger.

           “It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it. I lost my train of thought anyways,” he responded, a slight blush on his cheeks.

           “Okay. Well, if you remember it, tell me okay,”

           “Yeah, I definitely will,”

           We finished our burgers and the shared milkshake and left the diner to return home so we could start our marathon.

             Bucky and I retreated to the privacy of the theater room once we got back to the compound and prepared for the movie night. Instead of using the giant couches, we arranged some of the chairs to build a fort, leaving the front open to see the screen. This fort consisted of lots of pillows and fluffy blankets for our comfort. As I finished setting up, Bucky went off and fixed popcorn, coming back with a giant bowl for us to share.

           “Continuing with Lord of the Rings right? I know we just finished with the last Hobbit movie the other night,” he asked, joining me on the floor.

           “Right. Want to try and get through them all or just two and watch the last tomorrow?”

           “Maybe the day after tomorrow? We’re supposed to go see the second IT movie tomorrow afternoon,” he mentioned.

           “That’s right. You sure you still want to go? It won’t be too much will it?” I asked, worried the horror would affect his nightmares.

           “Yeah, it’ll be fine. If not, you can comfort me if I need you to,” he replied, grinning from ear to ear. Another one of his butterfly stirring smiles, but this one also made my knees weak and my palms sweaty.

           “Of course. I’ll definitely be there to provide comfort to you,” I stated, before starting the movies. Like always, his arm would drape over me casually, nothing too special about it. Unlike always, about halfway through the first movie, he pulled me closer to his body, the smell of his cologne hitting my nose. God, how good he smelled, the cologne mixed with an ocean-like scent that I enjoyed most.

           “Are you all right Nina?” he whispered.

           “Yes. I’m more than all right,” I whispered back. His free hand linked our fingers together, the cool metal touching my skin. There was no way he could be hinting at something, was there? I thought to myself. I only though he wanted to hold hands, a friendly gesture that didn’t mean anything. I didn’t think he could possibly feel the same way I did. Boy, I was wrong about that. It was only a matter a time before he would make that absolutely clear a few weeks from now.

[jae-bummer]

Wanna Try Me?

Request: Can I request numbers 2 and 9 with EXO's Baekhyun please? :)

2) “Okay…so like…there’s only a 30% chance that we’ll die.”

9) “I have a question that can make or break this relationship.”

Member: EXO’s Baekhyun x Y/N x (ft. Chanyeol)

Type: Fluff

“Are you going to keep staring or are you actually going to talk?” Chanyeol muttered, stirring lazily at the contents of his coffee cup. 

“Stare,” Baekhyun nodded confidently, readjusting his chin on his palm. “Definitely stare.” 

“I’ve never known you to be the one to watch from afar,” Chanyeol sighed. He leaned back in the small, cafe booth and sent a fleeting look over his shoulder. “You act like you’ve seen the most beautiful person on the planet.”

“Because I have,” Baekhyun cooed, tilting his head like a lovesick teenager. “Don’t you agree?”

“Eh, they’re alright,” Chanyeol grumbled. “Can we go now?”

“Absolutely not,” Baekhyun chuckled, his coffee long since gone cold. “I told you if you didn’t want to spend time with me, you didn’t have to come.”

“By spend time, I thought you meant...you know, do normal things,” Chanyeol mumbled. “Like eat food and...then go get ice cream...and then maybe go pick up some take out?”

“Those are literally all just eating,” Baekhyun sighed. 

“Well, you’ve never complained before!” Chanyeol gasped. “Not until you started coming to this cafe almost every morning you have off. Now you’re suddenly interested in poetry and flowers and...I DON”T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE.”

“Aigoo,” Baekhyun chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Dramatically alone and sad,” Chanyeol pouted. “Now can’t you just please go to the counter and say something? It would save us both a lot of time.” 

“I’ve tried,” Baekhyun sighed dreamily. “But I’ve been shot down every time.”

“You’ve...you’ve been what?” Chanyeol choked. “You’ve been daydreaming away over someone who won’t even see you?”

“Oh, I’ve been seen,” Baekhyun nodded confidently. “Just not acknowledged.”

“Aish,” Chanyeol groaned. “Come on, I’m taking you back to the dorm. Maybe Jongdae can talk some sense into you.” 

“One sec,” Baekhyun whispered, springing from the booth. 

“You’re only going to get your heart broken again!” Chanyeol called after him. “Heart in pieces! Dead on the floor!” 

Baekhyun ignored his member as he strode confidently toward the cafe counter, his eyes never leaving your body. He waited patiently in line, the picture of calm as he took small steps toward the cash register. 

“What can I-” you began, lifting your eyes from the small digital clock before you. You were supposed to get off fifteen minutes ago, but your relief still hand’t arrived. You raised your face, locking your eyes with the patron on the opposite side of the counter. “Oh, it’s you again.”

The handsome boy nodded confidently, a cocky smirk on his face that drove you crazy. He was almost painful to look at because he was so good looking, but you would push that thought to the side. He had been showing up to the cafe you worked at almost everyday for the past week, with staggered visits before then. With every trip, he grew progressively more bold in his attempts to garner your attention, but you remained steadfast. 

Pretty boys like him were nothing but trouble. And you had had your heart broken enough times to know that you should keep him at arm’s length. 

“Don’t sound so excited,” he grinned, tilting his head. His smile was constantly present on his lips as he spoke, his eyes dancing across your face. 

“What can I get you?” you sighed, looking down so you wouldn’t have to look at him. 

He’ll only hurt you, you thought. Everyone leaves in the end, so why waste your time? 

“A date,” he nodded confidently. 

“It’s July 23rd,” you answered just as confidently. “Next in line please.”

“No, I would like to take you, on a date,” he repeated, never growing tired with your ability to play hard to get. 

“Sorry, I’m busy,” you hummed. “Next in line!” 

“I didn’t even tell you what day,” he sighed, a small chink appearing in his playful armor. You felt a butterfly or two flutter along your stomach. You found joy knowing that you could get to him. “Are you familiar with North Seoul Tower? I hear it’s a lovely place for couples-”

“To die. It’s the second tallest building in Seoul and with a swift wind-” you began. 

“Okay, so like...there’s only a 30% chance we’ll die,” he chuckled. “But I’ll protect you, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Still busy,” you muttered. “Now please, next-”

“If you ask for the next customer, I’m going to honestly have a heart attack right in this very spot and you’ll be responsible for killing a customer,” he sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Y/N, please.”

You lifted your brows, watching the line grow behind the steadfast man. The woman behind him looked especially peeved as she crossed her arms and began tapping her foot, the international symbol for impatience. 

But this kid had all the patience in the world. 

“Look, I get off soon,” you whispered, trying to solve the situation as you saw your manager begin to loom behind you. “Wait around and we can talk. No promises.”

With a simple sentence the young man’s entire face lit up. His eyes had found the same amazement they once had when he first approached you. He gave a quick nod to you before he spun on his heel and sauntered back toward the booth he was originally sitting in. You heaved a sigh before running the back of your hand over your forehead. 

Maybe you could escape out of the back door and he would never notice. 

“It’s been like twenty minutes,” Chanyeol grumbled. “Where the hell are they?”

“I told you you could go back to the dorm,” Baekhyun sighed as he scrolled lazily through his phone. “I’ve been given a chance, and I don’t plan on wasting it.” 

“You’re too much,” Chanyeol chuckled, shaking his head. “I would have given up ages ago.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Baekhyun grinned. “Not if you wanted it enough.”

“Alright, fine,” Chanyeol whined. “But I sure as hell would have picked a restaurant with more comfortable booths. My ass went numb a half hour ago.” 

“Maybe if you weren’t so lanky and you’re blood didn’t have to flow to so many inches of your body then you wouldn’t- hey Y/N,” Baekhyun gasped, looking up. 

You stood awkwardly beside the table he had been camped at all morning, your own iced coffee in hand. You wiped a stray stain from your arm onto your dirty apron and shifted your weight. You chewed on your lip absently, waiting for one of them to scoot over and allow you to sit. Your feet were killing you after standing for nine hours straight.  

You glanced curiously toward the taller boy seated across from the one you were so familiar with. He was just as handsome, but in a different, more innocent way. Where you felt that the boy who had been near stalking you for a month had a hidden sultry side, this one looked as pure as they came. 

“Ah, sorry,” the familiar stranger said quickly, a blush finding his cheeks as he stood. “Please, sit!” 

“No, I’ll let you two talk,” the innocent looking one said as he slid out of the booth. You were surprised by his height as he immediately towered over you and offered a small wave. “Nice to meet you...” He squinted at your name tag and looked up again. “Y/N.” 

“Yep,” you said shortly, plopping down in the spot he once sat. Your admirer immediately sat back down as well, waving off his friend as he began to exit the cafe. 

“Alright, I don’t have much time...what’s your name?” you asked, fiddling anxiously with the straw in your cup. 

“Baekhyun,” he nodded with a small smile. He remained confident as he spoke. 

“Okay Baek,” you nodded. “I don’t have a lot of time, so please, enlighten me, what do you want?” 

“Is ‘you’ too forward of a response?” he grinned, batting his eyelashes. 

You didn’t even know men were capable of batting their eyelashes. 

“So, I’m going to get up from the table now,” you nodded, beginning to gather your things. “Nice to meet you Nicktoon.”

“Baekhyun,” he smiled warmly, touching your hand lightly before you had a chance to slide it from the table. You respected his tolerance level. “Y/N, I’ve come to this cafe on every possible day I could, just to see you. I haven’t been able to keep you out of my thoughts when you aren’t in front of my eyes.” 

“You don’t know me,” you sighed, pulling your hand from beneath his soft fingertips. Even his hands were gorgeous. 

“But I want to,” he nodded. 

“You sound like you’re in a drama,” you grumbled, looking toward the window. The tall, puppy of a boy, pouted on a nearby bench. He scrolled through his phone, glancing up every now and again toward the cafe doors. 

“I’ve had some experience,” he chuckled with a wink. 

Whatever that meant. 

You rolled your eyes, readjusting your gaze back to him. You were afraid if you looked at him for too long, you may fall in love. Which was a dangerous thing to do at first sight. 

Or so you had heard. 

“Look,” you groaned. “I really don’t have time to date right now.”

“Good, me either,” he smiled. “We should probably just start this relationship now then.” 

You pursed your lips. You had to admit, he had spunk. 

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, circling your temples with your fingertips. It had been much too long of a day to deal with his enthusiasm. 

“Let’s be honest here,” Baekhyun nodded. “I have a question that could make or break this relationship.”

“Thank goodness,” you muttered. Maybe you could get the “break” answer. 

Even if maybe...just a little part of you...wanted to “make” the best of the situation. 

“Where do you see yourself tomorrow?” he hummed, looking at you curiously. 

“In a mirror,” you deadpanned. “See you around.”

You began to gather your things again, but this time Baekhyun’s found your hand with a new sense of urgency. “Wrong answer, but I can overlook that. Please, when can I see you again?” 

“Are you ever going to take ‘no’ for an answer?” you whispered, your eyes meeting his for the first time. You felt a strange feeling begin to rise from your stomach and into your throat. It felt like someone had tied your tongue into a knot. 

“Have I so far?” he grinned. “You may not want to admit it...but I’m pretty adorable. And if I keep showing up here...every morning...for the rest of our young adult lives, you’ll grow fond of me. So why don’t you make this easier on the both of us and just let me take you out.” 

You closed your eyes, weighing your options. “You’ll really come every morning for the rest of our young adult lives?” 

You opened your lids again to find the man beaming at you. 

“Wanna try me?” 

[sinasterspeaks-blog]

Fallen Beauty (Destiel)

Chapter 1: The Family Men

Jensen (Dean's) P.O.V

 " DADDY! GET UP, GET UP, GET UP " Justice growled in a deep, husky voice as she bounced on my bed.

 I groaned and pulled up my blanket, effectively pushing Justice away. Somewhere off to the right I heard small footsteps thumping towards me but before I could react two small bodies belly flopped onto my still drowsy self, A gasp escaping my lips as their combined weight knocked the breath out of me. Deneel walked out of our shared bathroom and stopped short, laughing at the sight of our kids practically mauling her poor defenseless husband.

I reached out towards Deneel with a pleading look set on my face.

 " Help " I whispered loudly as Zeppelin threw a pillow on my face.

Daneel chuckled and turned away " That's right kids, get daddy, just like we planned "

 " Traitor! " I shouted, slightly muffled from the pillow being pushed in my face.

Daneel laughed and walked towards our bedroom door, watching our little scuffle until finally calling the kids for breakfast. Justice and Zeppelin jumped off and made a mad dash for the kitchen, but Arrow paused and look down at me with a warning glare.

 " You better get up or else I'm gonna call uncle Jared and he's gonna come beat you up " Arrow threatened with her tiny fists raised.

I threw my hands up and gestured for her to put her hands down " Okay, Okay, I'm up " I conceded, watching with an amused smile as Arrow nodded her head once and ran out screaming for Daneel to save her some bacon.

I chuckled quietly and ran a hand through my hair before sitting up and throwing my comforter off.

Jared's (Sam's) P.O.V

 " Hey Hun, do you have your passport and bags packed " Genevieve asked as she kept checking things off her little makeshift list.

I chuckled and grabbed her waist, pulling her in for a backhug.

 " For the fifth time, yes, you know I'm not a child right, " I murmured with an amused tone.

Genevieve huffed and crossed her arms, " You don't want me to answer that and I'm only asking because I want your trip to run smoothly, last time I let you get ready by yourself you ended up going to comic con in my short shorts. "

I laughed and rubbed her arms comfortingly, " Yeah, well, I rocked those short shorts. "

" Ugh, you're impossible " She laughed, but still slipped out of my arms and returned to checking things off her list.

I shrugged my shoulders and walked into the kitchen looking for something to snack on. Thomas was sitting on the counter (A chair had been pulled across the kitchen so he good climb up) shaking his little body while munching on a giant cookie. He froze when I walked in but instead of scolding him I decided to join his little escapade.

 " Ooh, Cookies, can I have one " I asked as I sauntered up to Thomas.

He smiled and offered me a giant chocolate chip cookie. I pretended to tip my hat in thanks receiving a hushed giggle from Thomas. Austin suddenly stumbled into the kitchen holding a big card with scribbles decorating the front. He shuffled over to me and held up the card with a big smile.

 " What's this " I asked curiously as I reached down and plucked it out of his hands before picking him up and resting his small frame on my hip.

 " It's a goodbye card since you're going on a trip " Austin smiled and reached for my half eaten cookie.

 I chuckled and gave it to him before inspecting the card. The front had a small picture of what was supposed to be me holding onto Austin and Thomas's hands while Genevieve held Oddette and for some reason was floating above us. I flipped open the handmade card and read the small messily written message.

I love you daddy. We are gonna miss you lots. Have a safe trip and get back soon.

I smiled at the cute but simple note and slid it into my pocket before turning my attention back to my kids. Thomas looked like he was constipated while he took large deliberate bites out of his cookie and Austin was squeezing his cookie into a small ball of gooey doe.

 " Hey Honey, do you have- " Genevieve started, but stopped short as she walked into the kitchen and regarded the scene before her with surprise.

Thomas quickly jumped down from the counter and bolted out of the kitchen cookie in hand and Austin following suit. Geneveive put a hand on her hip and walked forward with a warning look in her eyes. I quickly turned, grabbed a cookie and held it out in offering, hoping to save my soul. She stared down at the cookie and chuckled.

 " Jared you naughty man child, you're just as bad as Thomas " She chided, but grabbed the cookie and took a bite anyway.

 " Awe you know you love it " I responded and tested my luck by stealing a bite out of her cookie.

 " Hey! Oh, you're in for it now mister, no dessert when you get back, you'll have to watch while everyone else gets ice cream " Genevieve stated, but her stern look broke into a smile as I gave her puppy dog eyes.

 " You wouldn't do that to me, you love me too much, " I said with a pouty face.

She laughed and shoved my chest slightly. " Jeez, it's like your trying to brainwash me. "

I laughed and leaned down, pecking her cheek and quickly stealing another bite of her cookie. Genevieve gasped and moved her cookie out of my reach with a look of astonishment set on her features.

 " Oh my gosh you are such a brat, go finish getting ready before I really get mad. " She ordered while shaking her head.

I laughed and jogged out of the kitchen, heading for our shared room.

 " Oh, and can you please get Odette from her nursery. " Genevieve shouted as I climbed the stairs taking two steps at a time.

 " Sure! " I shouted back.

Riiiing Riiiing Riiiing

I looked down at my pants pocket and quickly fished out my phone just as I reached the top of the stairs.

 Caller ID: Jensen Turdackles

Misha's (Castiel's) P.O.V

 " Misha, come on, you need to go or else you're gonna miss your flight " Victoria giggled as I continued to leave butterfly kisses along her neck and cheeks.

I grumbled something along the lines of 'I don't care' and dove in for another kiss, but I was quickly interrupted by West.

 "Ewwww, daddy, that's gross, mommy has cooties " West said, hiding his eyes behind his hands.

I laughed and let go of Victoria, who looked very miffed by her son's words.

 " Ha-ha, that's right West, mommy has cooties " I agreed, receiving a dark glare from Victoria.

Victoria huffed and turned to West " Sweetie, go get Maison, daddies leaving now and I want her to say goodbye "

 " Okay, mommy " West said and ran back inside the house.

I was currently standing on my porch, luggage surrounding me and a taxi waiting impatiently in my drive way. I was heading to comic Con for a supernatural panel and although I love seeing the fans and the guys I wish I could stay and be with my family.

I glance down at Victoria as she wrapped her arms around me in a sweet embrace. I smiled and hugged her back.

 " Have a safe trip okay and promise me you'll come back " Victoria asked in a small voice.

I pulled away and frowned at her words.

 " Why ask something like that, you know I'll always come back " I reassured.

Victoria looked down and bit her lip for a second before returning her gaze to me.

 " I know, ignore me I'm being silly " Victoria said, dismissing whatever thoughts she had.

I smiled reassuringly and placed a kiss on her nose.

 "Daddy! " West shouted, running towards me, Maison stumbling after him.

 " Heyyy. " I greeted, smiling and crouching down with my arms open.

West and Maison collided into me with a brutal force.

 " We love you Daddy. " West said as he snuggled into my arms.

 " Mommy, I wanna go with Daddy. " Maison whined, clinging to my arm.

 " Come on Maison Daddy has to leave now, maybe next time " Victoria said as she gently pulled West and Maison away.

I shot a thank you look to Victoria and turned away from my family, picking up my luggage and walking to the cabbie who had honked at least four times. I quickly loaded my luggage into the trunk and with one last wave to my family I slid into the backseat and settled in as the cabbie switched gears.

I sighed and watched the scenery outside my window slip away and with it my consciousness.

Word Count: 1,543

[internetgremlin-writes]

Of Punks And Nerds

YAAAAS I got my first request! This one is for @frizzy2ne1 who requested a Billie Joe Armstrong imagine.

Prompt/Summary: Requested - High School era Green Day. You are a high achieving student with an unfortunate crush on your delinquent homeroom classmate

Pairing: Billie Joe Armstrong x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drugs/underage drinking

Word Count: 3933

I don’t know when it got so bad, but then again you never really do. Heck, I don’t even remember when it all started. I sigh and stare out of the window, a million thoughts a second racing through my mind, mostly of him. I scold myself: I need to stop thinking about him so much, but I can’t help it. He’s become everything to me, and yet I don’t even exist to him. I’m vaguely aware of my best friend, Lindsey, whispering my name, but I decide she can wait, my daydream taking priority over mindless gossip.

A sharp elbow to the ribs makes me flinch and I shoot a dirty look at Lindsey. “Fran,” she hisses again. I blink a few times and readjust from my sulky daydream to miserable reality. “What?” I hiss back. “Frances?” Mrs Peterson calls from the front of the room. “Yes, Miss?” “Are you present today?” “Oh, er yes,” I mumble, the blush must be obvious on my face judging by the fact that my ears feel like they’re on fire. My voice is a mere squeak, embarrassment eating me alive as I shrink back into my seat.

I’m too afraid to look over at him, I don’t want to see him laughing at me with everyone else, even if it is a sign that he knows I exist. Lindsey sends me a look that says “Sorry, I tried to warn you,” I shrug and chance a glance over at him. Typical, this would happen on one of the rare days that he decides to show up, but my panic is calmed. He’s not looking at me, he didn’t even giggle with everyone else. His eyes are wide and glazed over, and he’s staring blankly at the ceiling. A small smile flickers across my face and again I curse myself. I can’t be this obsessed with someone like him. Lindsey catches my look and smirks at me, wiggling her eyebrows and winking for effect. I flip her the bird under the desk.

Technically, this is all Lindsey’s fault. At one of her sleepovers a few months back we had been up late and giggly on wine coolers and were discussing boyfriends, or in my case lack thereof. Like a lion with a piece of meat she refused to let the subject go, determined to find out who I was crushing on and like any best friend she refused to take no for an answer. With help from the others and lots of probing and pushing she had managed to extract my “type”, which in all honesty I didn’t really know and so to keep the beast at bay I began randomly listing features.

“Billie Joe Armstrong,” she said with a triumphant smile, leaving me to snort loudly into my drink. “W-what?” I spluttered, cooler running down my face. “You described Billie Joe,” “I most certainly did not,” I snapped venomously and told her exactly where Billie Joe could go. That boy is nothing but trouble, he’s been in my homeroom since freshman year at Pinole Valley and on the rare occasions that he feels like showing up (and even rarer on time) he’s either stoned, hung over or just plain rude. He’s got a gang of friends that dress like he does - skinny jeans that shouldn’t be so tight, beat up Chuck Taylor’s, flannels and shirts with bands on them or other vulgar symbols. He is loud and obnoxious, you’d hear his laugh from a mile away and his voice is very distinctive being slightly more southern than most Californian scents. Billie Joe Armstrong is the type of kid who thinks he’s above teachers, and he makes sure that the teachers know it.

Because Lindsey had mentioned it, the following Monday I kept a watchful eye for him, and on Tuesday and Wednesday when he didn’t show up. On Thursday he strolled in twenty minutes late without so much as acknowledging Mrs Peterson, whose face was growing red as she scribbled out a detention slip. Billie Joe had thrown himself into his seat at the back of the room and was lounging with his feet up as if he owned the place. “Mr Armstrong, feet off the desk please,” he had stared at her with the same interest that one would give a dead fly. “Bite me,” Peterson’s face was a picture as she stormed over, batted his feet with a rolled up newspaper and slammed two detention slips on the desk. He picked them up, the look on his face amused and careful, maintaining eye contact with her as he very pointedly ripped the slips to shreds. “That’s it! Get out!” She flipped and Billie Joe stood up, knocking the chair over and sauntered out of the class, hands stuffed into his pockets. “My pleasure,” he grinned.

He didn’t show up the next week.

Unfortunately, that only piqued my newfound interest in the delinquent. Over the next few weeks I started to notice things about him, the fact that his hair was out of control but it totally suited him, the reddish brown colouring looking unacceptably good, how those skinny jeans made his legs look like heaven, how he wasn’t particularly tall but still had all the airs and graces of a ringleader, how his teeth were crooked but his smile was still dazzling, the fact that he was stoned a lot was suddenly funny rather than disgusting, his bad attitude and habits became endearing, how his shirt always hung off him in a way that only made me desperate to know what’s underneath.

Before I knew it my school days were spent scanning the corridors for any sign of him, heartbeat wildly out of control with anticipation waiting for him to walk through the door, stomach flipping somersaults every time I did see him. It was ridiculous, getting this silly over a boy, and a delinquent one at that, but here I am nauseas and more nervous than usual and desperate not to make a fool out of myself in front of him. Fortunately, we don’t share any classes otherwise I would never be able to concentrate, and if I want to stay on track for Valedictorian at the end of the year I need to.

I stumble through the rest of the week, as usual barely seeing Billie Joe and feeling like an idiot when I do. I always seem to see him when I’m doing something embarrassing like readjusting my clothes, fighting with books in my locker, tripping over my own feet or just leaving the bathrooms. At least he never looks at me, otherwise I think I would die. “Frances?” “Huh?” “Seriously you have to stop zoning out so much. It’s not healthy man,” Lindsey tells me off on Friday. I glance up from where I was idly twisting my pasta, if that’s what you could call it, thoughts on the group sat across the cafeteria as per usual. “Sorry, what’re we talking about?” I looked up, pushing my glasses back up my nose with a guilty grin. Lindsey rolls her eyes in good nature. “Party, tonight?” I titter nervously and fiddle with the hem of my shirt, a bad nervous habit. “Uh, I don’t think so. I have a shit ton of homework,” “We all do,” one of my close friends, Jessica, pipes in. “C'mon, Fran, one night won’t kill you,” Sarah adds from where she’s sat beside me. “I, I’m really not sure, you know I’m not the party type guys,”

Lindsey’s eyes flicker across the cafeteria as a loud guffaw and various whoops and shouts echo through the room. The table that had just erupted seats Billie Joe and his friends, and apparently one of them had cracked a well approved joke because they’re in uproar, fists banging on the table and hyena noises filling the large space. Billie Joe’s laugh hits me and I fight the smile on my face, his laugh makes me happy, even when it’s at someone else’s expense which judging by the minuscule freshman who’s stood picking his lunch off his shirt, it is. “His band is playing,” Lindsey says to me, distracting my attention away from the scene back to the conversation. “Oh?” I feign polite interest. In reality my pulse rate has just gone through the roof, I can feel the butterflies beginning to build up in my stomach and already my mind is working on all of the best-case-scenarios of Billie Joe and I at a party. “So, you coming?” I don’t want to seem too keen, as far as Lindsey and the girls are concerned, my crush on Billie Joe Armstrong was invented by them and is nothing more than a funny joke that they like to wind me up about. I refuse to let them know that he’s wound his way into my head and is seemingly not leaving any time soon. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” I offer, before gathering my books and heading off early to double history.

I convince myself to forget about Billie Joe and the party, knowing already what a bad idea it is, and instead drive myself home in my ancient car and focus on actually getting some work done this evening. Or at least, I try to until less than two hours after I arrived home, Lindsey and the group are walking into my room with various bags in their arms. “Guys?” I ask “We’re getting ready here, going to the party and then sleeping over at yours,” Lindsey states casually, throwing her stuff down on my bed as if she had been planning this for weeks. “I’m not going to the party,” I remind her. “You said you’d ‘think about it’ that’s a yes,” Jess pipes up.

Lindsey wants to play makeovers, but I’m not in the mood. I don’t really want to go to the party in the first place let alone allow the girls to make me up like a clown first. I throw on a pair of shorts with a white top and a flannel. It’s fairly warm so I don’t bother with pantyhose or hoodies, I fish out a pair of white pumps which I decide will do. Lindsey manages to wrestle me into a chair and make me sit still long enough for her to shove a necklace around me, neaten up the loose curls in my hair and smudge some eye makeup on. After what feels like forever of watching everyone change their outfit god knows how many times, we finally leave and head out. I offer to drive, but Lindsey insists we walk so we can all have a drink.

When we get there I instantly feel sick, this isn’t the usual kind of party I get dragged along to. The parties Lindsey usually goes to are held by the rich kids, they’re usually in Berkeley or Pinole or anywhere outside of Rodeo, where I live, they’re held in big houses with big driveways and no neighbours near enough to worry about. Tonight we’re in deep Rodeo. The place is a small family home, the front yard is scruffy and littered with kids toys and beer cans already, the music is so loud the sidewalk is pulsing and it looks like it might fall down any second. I’m instantly glad I ducked out of Makeovers 101 because the group look very overdressed.

Never losing her smile, Lindsey waltzes in and immediately is greeted by a big burly guy with a mohawk. “Hey guys, this is John, it’s his place,” Lindsey introduces us briefly and I smile tightly at him. I have no idea how Lindsey knows a guy like John, she’s very sociable but we all tend to avoid the punks. It’s not too bad though, most of the senior year is here so I know nearly everyone, although there are definitely a lot more punks here, so I’m guessing it was one of Billie Joe’s gang who’s throwing this thing. I notice that there are also people here who look a lot older than me, but I try not to let it bother me.

“AW FUCK! Alright who wants to hear some real music!?” A rough voice rings out loud and clear after a second of shrill white noise as the microphone attaches to the amp. There’s a cheer and a lot of shouting and suddenly a furious guitar begins followed by equally enthusiastic drums, bass and vocals. If the house seemed to be pulsing from the radio music, this live stuff was making the place shake to the point of near collapse. I snort a laugh to myself and turn to tell Lindsey, but notice that I am alone.

On instinct I walk away from the loud music, although you can hear it clearly from any room in the house. I stumble across the kitchen which has been transformed into a self-service bar and spot the rest of my group already chugging something a lot stronger than wine coolers. Trying not to be a pooper and ruin the mood, I make myself a spritzer and cradle it pathetically. The music changes slightly from furious to more upbeat and I can feel my body thrumming with it. Whoever the band was, they were great. Lindsey catches my eye from where I’m floating on the periphery and I motion that I’m going to the music.

Following the sound is very easy, and I end up in a basement. Thinking ahead, I down the spritzer before descending the narrow staircase, it wouldn’t be great to spill my drink all down myself at eighteen years old. The first thing I smell is sweat and booze. The band are barely visible at one end of the room, while the rest is a mosh pit which is majority punks. I give in to all my inhibitions and let my sudden adoration for this music to control me as I dive into the pit. The band sound great, you can’t understand most of the lyrics to the songs, but it doesn’t matter, the singer shouts enough to get the general meaning of each song across. Everything is ferocious and energetic and I wonder why I haven’t ever listened to this style before, I feel great. I don’t even mind that I’m being virtually crushed by guys three times my size, I’ve worked out that it’s easiest to move with them, pushing and jumping in a large circle that takes up most of the room. If you try to stand still you’ll get crushed. I wonder briefly if this is Billie Joe’s band that are playing, but I discard the idea. This band is too good to be a high school band, they’re talented and electrifying and clearly professionals, that John guy has probably booked them especially. All too soon the set finishes up and the band draw to a close. Everybody stops moshing and aside from being drenched in sweat, heads back upstairs as if nothing had happened. Considering that I’ve never done anything like that before, I’m not so adept at recovering and instead let the crowd wash over me as I stand hunched over and gasping for air. Eventually the room clears out and I can feel the fresh air from the open windows beginning to infiltrate the hot, recycled air.

I’m not really aware of the fact that it’s just the band and I in the room until there’s a gentle tap on my shoulder. “Frances?” I spin round to stop, face to face with green eyes. Instinctively I push my glasses up my nose. “Here, thought you could use it,” the person says and I feel a sudden cool relief. I look down to see that he’s pushed a bottle of ice cold water into my hand. I snap the lid of and down the contents immediately, the liquid soothing the burn in my throat and brining my temperature back down a little. “Yeah, thanks,” I gasp once I was done. The guy gives me a low chuckle in return. In the dim lights I take a second to actually get a look at the guy. Looking over his shoulder I can see someone disassembling the drum kit and someone else packing away the guitars, so I guess that this is the lead singer. I have to admit, he’s very cute, with his sparkling green eyes and messy hair that’s fairly short, but long enough to run your hands through and bleach blonde. He’s got a sweet but cheeky smile, and his skin is dewy and flushed from playing which makes him glow. Even his sweaty clothes that are hanging off his body and make him gorgeous. “Wait,” my tired brain catches up. “How do you know my name?” I question, certain that I’ve never seen him around before. If I had then I would definitely be obsessing about this guy, not stupid Billie Joe. “Uh, Frances, we have homeroom together every morning,” he says in the kind of voice you use when you’re talking to someone very slow. My eyes rake shamelessly over his body again, trying to pick out a feature I would remember. I know that I’m a daydreamer and spend a lot of my time zoned out, but I thought I knew everyone in homeroom pretty well. I frown a little and tilt my head, as if it will help, and slowly it starts to dawn on me. That figure, those eyes, that smile. “Oh my god, Billie Joe!” I gasp and his rich laugh echoes across the small basement. “You didn’t recognise me? I’m offended,” he pouts and suddenly my face feels like I’m sat next to a fire and I want the ground to swallow me whole. I can’t believe I didn’t even recognise him. “And for fuck’s sake please, it’s just Billie, or BJ. I’m only called Billie Joe when I’m in trouble,” he adds as I’m still stood, eyes now fixated on the floor.

“You, er, you changed your hair,” I offer meekly. For the second time in a minute his laugh bounces off the walls. “I guess I did. It needed cutting ages ago,” he mimes his old big hair and I find myself tentatively laughing with him. “I like it. I mean, it er, suits you. Your new hair I mean. Blonde looks, yeah, I like you blonde,” I stutter my compliment awfully, but it seems to have the desired effect because Billie runs a hand through it and shrugs, muttering a thanks to the floor. I want to die, I want to die, I want to die my mind is screeching at means begging to get the hell away and never show my face near him again, but I can’t seem to make my body move. “Good, uh, I’m glad you like it y'know,” I smile shyly, but my brain is mush. I can’t seem to comprehend anything other than the fact that he knew my name and was voluntarily talking to me.

“Your band is very good,” I blurt before thinking about what I’m saying. My brain has definitely turned itself off. “Thanks,” he responds with a lopsided grin, his teeth flashing in the dim lights. “I’m really glad you made it, y'know,” Billie’s voice is completely different to the one he used on stage, it’s soft now, and almost sweet. My whole system seems to have gone into shut down and I can’t seem to control anything. “Really? Me?” I pull a face. “Yeah, you. That’s why I got John to throw this thing, because he’s friends with Lindsey and I hoped she’d drag you along,” Billie is rubbing the back of his neck, and staring at the floor as he speaks. I can’t understand what he’s saying, my mind is in total whiteout and I’m not processing a thing. “I’m sorry, I’m not follow-”

I’m cut off as Billie steps towards me, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me into his body, one hand cupping my face as he pushes his lips against mine. Instantly my knees go weak and I melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck on instinct, pressing back against the soft heat. He moves his mouth slightly and I follow suit. The world could be sucked into a black hole and I wouldn’t notice right now, the current situation completely overwhelming my senses, the musky scent of boy and sweat combing in the most delicious way, my eyes are closed but Billie’s image is burnt into my brain, his skin is on fire under my hands and smooth to the touch, the soft tendrils of his hair begging for me to run my hands through it, the thumping sound of the party above us is all but white noise and all I can taste is his mouth on mine, the both of us taste faintly of alcohol and something personal that only makes me crave him more.

As soon as I feel his tongue, hot and wet and just as wonderful as the rest of him, I pull back slightly. Although this isn’t my first kiss (it’s most definitely my best one) I’m not one to full on make out with a guy I’ve barely spoken to before, crush or not. “Billie,” I begin, my voice small and breathy as I slowly drag my hands off him, much to my distaste. “Frances,” he responds in the same hushed tone, then something snaps in his eyes. “Fuck, Frances I’m so sorry,” he gasps and immediately my stomach falls through the floor. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, well I did, but y'know not yet anyway, but fuck you just look so good and oh god I’ve fucked up,” he groans, words blending into each other as he buries his head in his hands. “Don’t be sorry,” I say as I peel his hands away from his face, immediately getting lost in his eyes. In the light they’re a dark green shade in a small ring around hugely dilated pupils that make him look almost puppy-like. “You’re not mad?” “No,” I almost whisper. A small smile makes its way back onto Billie’s face. “Good, because I know this is fucking stupid and we’ve literally never spoken before, but I can’t help but notice you and everything about you and fuck labels and cliques and all that shit, do you wanna hang out sometime?” The grin on my face must be huge, but I try to remain reserved. “Depends what you mean by hang out,” I challenge. “Fuck, I dunno. Whatever you wanna do, go to the movies, the diner, Gilman Street - that’s the music club - fuck even the mall if you wanna, my house to listen to records? I don’t fucking care,” he rambles.

“All of the above,” I murmur, my voice only loud enough for him to hear. Billie closes the small gap between us by gently grabbing my face and planting a chaste kiss on my lips, before interlocking our hands. “C’mon, don’t wanna miss the rest of this shit thing. If we’re lucky they’ll just be starting seven minutes in heaven,” and with a cheeky smirk he pulls me back up the basement stairs to join the rest of the party, my mood beyond elevated.

———–

Read more of my work here: Masterlist

There ya go! I really hope you enjoyed it, please feel free to send feedback!

Submit or Ask me requests!

Rage and Love, Le Gremlin :)

[cupidschance-blog]

Cupid's Chance

Chapter One

The list grew smaller and smaller each year. Too many people developed a pattern of rushing into relationships that didn’t fit together. They would either give up all together or compromise on their compatibility and values.

The worst culprit for bad relationships were the dating apps, terrible decisions at their fingertips. Everyone was so busy swiping left or right, not bothering to pay attention to the surrounding opportunities. They did not understand what or whom they could miss out on. All of this made the Cupid’s work almost impossible. Some lucky fools got a second chance while others missed out on finding their soulmate all together.

Spring arrived early in the middle of February, bringing a warm breeze into the San Francisco Bay. Archer Valentine looked up at the street sign of the intersection, then glanced back down at the names on his list:

Match: George Roberts and Tabitha Walker Location: Ray’s Diner–Market Street Time and Date: April 14th, 2015 12:33 pm

George Roberts–33 years old joined the police force after spending two years in the army. He comes from a good family that believes in showing love and affection for one another. George’s favorite thing about his family was every holiday and special occasion, no matter how minor they gathered together to celebrate.

Tabitha Walker–26 years old, a runaway at 16, she escaped an abusive mother that blamed her for her father leaving. Even though she was homeless, she stayed with friends when able, and still got up every morning and go to school. She found a job and took care of herself. After graduating high school, she ended up with the wrong guy and got married. She became pregnant but lost the baby after a violent fight with her husband.

Archer closed his eyes and released a sigh, able to imagine where her story went from there. He hoped fate remained on their side and allowed him to bring these two people together. He glanced down at the timepiece he wore on around his wrist. A slow, crooked smile formed on his face, almost time… any second now.

The loud thumping of his heart and the radiant warmth that flowed from his body and filling the restaurant proved the match was perfect. It didn’t matter how many times Archer brought two people together, each was like the first. His heart pounded so in his chest, and the butterflies invaded his stomach.

Archer closed his eyes and concentrated, his wings pushed through the narrow slits in the back of his clothing and unfurled, stretching out around him. The wings of pristine white gleamed in the afternoon sun folded against his back, tail feathers brushed the ground.

He tucked them over his shoulders; his frame seemed to pulse like a heartbeat as particles of colors shimmered in the air swimming out of focus. Less than a second later, he sat in the rear of a police car, listening to the conversation between the driver and his partner, invisible to the world.

“Hey George, there’s Ray’s Diner, let’s stop in for a coffee.” Officer Barns wagged his thumb toward the small corner diner as they drove down the street.

“Ha, coffee, right Rich, you want to flirt with Janice. You realize one of these days you will get yourself into trouble. Let’s try out that new taco truck instead.” George turned to glance out the driver’s window of the squad car to hide his grin as if he already realized how Rich would react.

Worried that George might continue to argue with his partner, Archer pulled a plum colored bag with a golden string from his coat pocket and opened it. The bag contained a pale pink dust that sparkled like tiny crystals. A small pinch of the dust shimmered in the air as it floated toward George.

Free will still course through George, the powder only meant to help influence him in the right direction. The choice of whether to follow the guidance was up to him.

“You know damn well my stomach can’t handle that spicy shit. Look!” Rich slammed his fist on the dashboard “There’s a parking spot right in front, pull over man.”

George chuckled and pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. “20 minutes, no longer. I don’t want to be late logging out tonight, gotta head to Fremont for my nieces birthday party.”

The bell over the door jingled as George and Rich walked into Ray’s Diner, George paused just inside the doorway, not realizing Archer slipped in behind him. Rich slapped George on the back and chuckled as he walked past and sat down at the counter close to where Janice stood.

George smirked and took the stool next to Rich. Archer walked to the other side of the diner and stood next to an elderly gentleman who enjoyed grabbing peoples bottoms. A faint grin touched Archer’s lips as he tossed a small pinch of dust onto the customer.

“Oh, Tabby? Another cup before you head out,?” called out an old man at the other end of the diner. He held up his cup and gave it a quick tilt back and forth, the grin on his face made Tabitha’s smile twitch a little.

“Sure thing Ernie,” Tabitha  said.

Archer watched as she sent an exasperated glance to Janice, her shift replacement. Janice and the officer seemed oblivious to everyone outside their bubble. Tabitha kept her smile in place as she approached Ernie and filled his cup.

“Here you go, sir. If you need anything else, Janice will be more than happy to take care of you.”

She didn’t step back quick enough, and Ernie’s hand landed on her calf and was working its way up to the hemline of her knee length uniform. Tabitha gasped and took a step backward.

Tabitha’s gasp caught George’s attention, causing him to turn around just as she stepped backward. Archer tossed another pinch of dust, causing her to trip and fall back into George’s waiting arms, catching her and preventing her from spilling a single drop of coffee from the pot. Once he righted her, she turned around in his arms and gazed into his eyes.

“Stop,” Archer whispered and everything came to a standstill as he paused time itself.

The Cupid reached into the pocket of his black trench coat and pulled forth a small dark green bag, secured with a silver drawstring. Archer opened the bag and took a small pinch of red and lilac colored dust and blew it in George’s face, then another small pinch and blew it into Tabitha’s face. He stepped back and whispered, “Let love find love, begin.”

Only after she realized she was gazing up at a handsome police officer, she lost her footing again, spilling coffee on the both of them.

She gasped for the second time in less than a minute. “I am so sorry, I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

The officer held onto her waist, to help steady her and smiled down at the top of her head. “Don’t worry about it, guess we’re lucky it wasn’t boiling.”

The emotions that ran through the two overwhelmed Archer. The dust, meant to help open their eyes to the possibility of love, but when a match was as perfect as the one between the cop and the waitress, it was amazing to see how it played out. Archer stepped closer to the two, placing a hand on each as he listened to their hearts and minds.

Tabitha lifted her gaze up to meet the officers and the moment their eyes locked, her breath caught in her throat. There was something about this man that made her heart thump like it would beat out of her chest and stop beating at the same time. She could sense the color rising in her cheeks as he continued to watch her. She realized she should say something, she knew he was waiting for her to say anything, yet she stared into his eyes and forced herself from giving in to the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

George was staring down into this woman’s beautiful blue eyes and saw the color touch her cheeks, which made her even lovelier. He led her over to the counter and helped her up onto a stool, then regretted it because he no longer had an excuse to keep his hands on her waist. George set the empty coffee pot on the counter than offered his hand. "I’m Officer George Roberts"

It took Tabitha a moment for everything to catch up in her mind, but when the warmth of his hands left her waist, she seemed to freeze, then the warmth returned when he took her hand.

She glanced down at their joined hands and then back up into his green eyes and smiled. “I am pleased to meet you, Officer Roberts, I’m Tabitha Walker.”

She pulled her gaze from his and glanced over her shoulder as she spoke. “I’m sorry about that, I am normally steadier on my feet.” As her gaze swung back around to meet his, she confided, “And usually quicker too.”

Though this time she was thankful to Ernie for his attempt at manhandling her and letting her fall into this handsome man’s arms.

“Tabitha, you had better not be sitting on your ass while you are on my time!” The owner and cook of Ray’s Diner glared at her through the small serving window.

She glared right back at him, annoyed that he had butted into her conversation with the handsome Officer George Roberts. “I clocked out 10 minutes ago Micky.”

“Then what the hell are you doing taking up space at my counter, get on,” Micky said then turned back to man the grill.

The color in Tabitha’s cheeks grew darker when she looked back to the police officer but irritation showered his face. She smiled at the thought maybe he was considering taking up for her and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “It was a pleasure to meet you Officer Roberts, but as you heard, my shift is over. I’m sure Janice will be more than happy to take your order.”

As she mentioned Janice’s name, the waitress sauntered over and stood next to Tabitha, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Good thing you were here to protect and serve, Officer or our poor Tabby would have hit the floor, breaking the coffee pot. With Micky’s short temper he could have fired over that.” She flashed George her most winning smile and winked at him.

George  spoke, “Officer Barns is ready to place his order, I good, but thanks anyway.” He looked down at Tabitha and offered her a genuine smile. “I would like to take a walk around the park and stretch my legs, would you care to join me?”

Fifteen minutes ago, she would have told the person to drop dead, but her legs and feet seemed rejuvenated and she wanted nothing more than to spend time with Officer Roberts. “I would love to.”

He held her hand a little tighter while held the door open for her and led her outside. With a smile on his face, George looked back at Rich and said. “Take your time, I’ll be out here getting to know this lovely young lady.”

Archer smiled as he watched a red line connect between the two names on his list. Archer followed the couple outside and walked across the road, then turned back toward the two as they stood outside the diner, talking to each other. He pulled a camera from his pocket and snapped a picture of them, then folded his wings around his body and shimmered until he faded away