#*tweedles thumbs* oh hi

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Bishop: Sorry, darling, I just couldn’t help myself. I—

Last Dragonborn: Don’t you DARE ‘darling’ me! I’ve been playing along with your bull for far too long now. Say another word and I’ll kill you.

[rosewaterandivy]

a fool without a cause | track 2: seether

🎶 oh, she is not born like other girls, but I know how to conceive her 🎶

summary: Tweedledee and Tweedledum show you the ropes.

word count: ~2K

warnings: 18 + for eventual smut, empire records AU | The gang are in their early twenties, college-aged, cursing, name calling, vague mentions of crime

a/n: just some minor exposition as I continue to clean out my drafts.

Series masterlist | Playlist | Currently spinning: 

“And this our night manager, Eddie,” Hopper mutters waving toward the man reclining on the dilapidated sofa in the lounge. He shuffles through a pile of papers on his desk. “Eddie, mind your manners.”

The man in question doesn’t move from his spot on the couch at the center of the room. Long limbs and silver jewelry shrouded by a cascade of curls, he grunts in greeting.

Well shit.

It's the guy from earlier, the asshole who was smoking as you pulled up this morning.

“Charmed,” you reply with a smirk, crossing your arms across your chest and lean against the office door. “Soooo,” you drawl, “Hop tells me you committed the perfect crime?”

He looks at you with slightly dazed brown eyes, almost lost in thought. “Well,” he allows, “Not entirely perfect.” He kisses his teeth and spies Hopper behind you in the office, “You said I could hire the next employee, Hop!”

Hopper lets out a long-suffering sigh, “That was before the incident, Munson.” He grabs the night deposit pouch and shoves it in his back pocket. 

“Ooh,” you enthuse, curiosity piqued, “Color me intrigued.” You move aside as he grabs his keys, getting ready to leave.

Hop scoffs and locks the office behind him. “Ass glued to that couch,” he threatens Eddie with a pointed finger, “I mean it.”

“Aye, aye cap’n,” Eddie chirps with a mock salute. 

“Newbie’s in charge while I’m out.” 

“The hell man?” He sneers, “Indie Sleaze over here isn’t even a manager,” Eddie complains from his spot on the couch, fluffing the pillow in his lap.

“Tsk,” you cluck out in disapproval, “Might be by the end of the day if you fuck up enough.” And follow Hopper out onto the shop floor.

The mid-morning crowd consists of regulars, from what you can tell. Robin mans the sale desk behind the counter in front of the staircase while Steve fiddles with the sound system at the registers.

“Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum,” Hop calls out, “I’m headed to the bank.” He chucks a thumb behind him, gesturing to you. “This is the new hire, she’s in charge while I’m out—don’t fuck it up.”

Robin nods and greets you with a wave before turning to address a customer with a canvas tote of items. Steve leans against the sound system consol, phone forgotten in his hand. “Heeyyy,” he drawls, lips ticking up in a slow smile while he eyes you up and down. “Gotta name, newbie?”

You smile in return, but before you can respond Eddie shouts loudly from the back room, “She’s our very own brand of indie sleaze, Stevie!”

Steve laughs good-naturedly with a shake of his head, “Ignore Ed, he’s just a little wound up today s’all.” He opens the half-door behind the register and waves you through. “Indie’s a cute name though,” he says, licking his lips, “We can put that on your nametag, if you’d like?”

“Uh, sure,” you agree with a nod, “That’s fine.”

“Harrington,” Hopper warns, “Stop flirting with the newbie. If you’re not at register, I need you working on inventory, got it?”

“You hate me that much man?” Steve follows Hopper to the end of the counter, “I didn’t even do anything, Ed is the one that—” He hops over the ledge to follow after Hopper, trying to plead his case.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Hop grouses, “You take care of it and try to keep Munson in line.” And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves the store, the front door chiming as it swings open. 

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his coiffed hair, muttering to himself. He turns back to you with a reassuring smile. “Okay,” he claps his hands together, “Time for the grand tour.”

The store is huge, three storeys all told, with rooms and levels labeled by media and genre. By the entrance are two counters, one for customers to sell their items to the store and another for regular transactions. A few bookshelves grace the main entrance, stocked with newer releases or highlighting local artists. The vast front windows are dressed with stenciled advertisements, “Back to school sale!” And “Ask about discounts for students and teachers!”

The main floor is dominated by DVDs, Blu-rays, CDs, tapes, and vinyl. The higher-priced items enclosed in glass cases flanking the wall. The book section begins at the front but flows into the next room and dominates the second floor and basement. Vinyl overflow is housed in the second room as well, easy enough to monitor from the front desk and CC TV feed. Located directly behind the register and re-sale counters lies the faculty lounge and Hop’s office. 

“So, any questions?” Steve asks, depositing you back at the registers. You shake your head considering that you can barley keep the flow of media/genres straight.

Sensing how overwhelmed you could get, he smiled. “Would you believe me if I told you it gets easier?”

“Guess I’ll take your word for it.”

Satisfied with your response, Steve goes back to fiddling with the sound system. “Hop usually insists on his playlist when he’s here,” he tosses over his shoulder, “But we can’t stand his penchant for the glory days, soooo.” 

Chumbawamba’s “Tubthumping” booms through the speakers and you can hear Eddie groan from the office. It’s certainly a choice for 10 in the morning, but who are you to complain? Especially when Steve he looks so cute mouthing the lyrics to himself and tucking a pen behind his ear.

“Indie!” 

You turn to find Robin at the opposite counter bag of Sour Patch Kids in hand. “I need to make your name tag, come and help me out!” Leaving Steve at the register, you wander back to the re-sale desk that Robin has completely covered in markers and flair pens of every conceivable color. 

Dutifully, you respond to her questions of your favorite color, glitter or sequins, and so forth. She offers you a handful of candy from her stash beneath the counter, “This bad boy,” she thumps the counter with her palm, “Can hold so much high-fructose corn syrup!” And invites you to grab some anytime you need a pick me up.

“Ta-daaa!” She sings presenting you with a nametag decorated with holographic glitter and purple gel pen. You take it from her with a smile of thanks, eyeing the loops and swoops of her handwritten ‘Indie’ - the ‘i’ dotted with a heart, naturally.

“Thanks, Robin,” you say with a smile and loop the lanyard around your neck.

Stepping back behind the register, you watch as Steve deals with a few customers. Always quick with a smile or joke, and you can see why the regulars like him. As evidenced by the teenage girls blushing furiously as they scamper off with the latest Olivia Rodrigo release.

"Harrington," Eddie shouts from his spot on the couch in the lounge. "I swear to Christ that I am going to smother myself if I have to listen to anymore this shit!"

Steve just smirks and hollers back, "Then use your veto dumbass!"

"Never!"

It's all a moot point as the song fades into "Flashed Junk Mind" by Milky Chance. Which Eddie apparently has no objections to.

Settling into an easy rhythm, you shadow Steve for the remainder of your shift. Desperately trying to commit the procedures to memory, which is kind of difficult when he keeps catching your eye.

Well, there are worse things to be distracted by and it is only your first day on the job, after all.

[msm-tsotmw]

4/7/20XX

O-kay, we’ve made it to… the glass thing, whatever the fuck it’s called.

fire oasis

I mean, Fire Oasis. Thanks for correcting me, Mammott. We may have chipped a piece of glass or at least 10 while climbing up, but at least we’re here now.

Oh , And The Residents Were Very Nice !! A Kayna Offered Us A Big Salad , And Mammott Introduced Us To Their Older Cousin . We Had A Welcoming Party , And He Was Very Polite !! The Majority Of Them Were , Actually , With The Exception Of Cherubble Who Was Sleeping Through The Entire Thing And A Boskus Who Kept Challenging Furcorn To Thumb Wrestling Matches .

Which was… not very fair. For obvious reasons. And if any of you are asking “Wait, how do they type???”, it’s the leafstalk.

Anyway , We Are Going To Let The Oasis Residents Sign This ! :D Also , Hi Tweedle !!

also for the oasis residents please sign with your species names bcs it won’t let us type our real names

hello! -tweedle <33

Hey hey hey! -Mammott’s Older Cousin Whose Name May Or May Not Be Disclosed Until The Trio Finds Out How To Type Their Names

Hi there ! -Kayna

sup -TJ

Hi!! Anyways my sibling sucks ass and I’m wayy prettier than them 😘😘 -Purple Quibble (won’t let me type my real name smh my head)

don’t fucking listen to my sibling I am way cooler and smarter by far -green quibbz

Shut the fuck up green -Purple Quibble

Heya-hey!typing this while the quibble heads argue ahahah -Glowl

sup? anyways, book me for a party if you want a singer ;) -Phangler

Gsyhvshgjcahjfgfjagfaxfjxatdjacgjcajyfcyjahacfch vugvugavugavuyavguppoqpo -Bossvhysghksg (Boskus)

got pizza -maw

Noot Noot ! -Pango

ello! -whaddle.

Rum Diddly Dum Dum -Wynq ;)

Hello , You ! -Congle : )

MPG (friend of the monster handlers) please come back I’d do anything :( -Woolabee (MPG left me for Cherubble)

Oh look a dandelion!Must be the last one this season -Sneyser!

cab o sle3p now -cherubbbbbbbbbjsbjhsbjsjbjsh

Please Do Not Go Back In Time To Replace Me With Pizza! -Gobbleygourd 🦃

Anyways , That Is All The Signatures !

We might be leaving soon, though, so we have to pack our bags. And that means MAMMOTT has to pick up all of my pencils, which HE DROPPED.

dear galvana fury-corn calm down

THOSE WERE THE PENCILS I WAS GOING TO USE TO SKETCH HOW THE OASIS LOOKED LIKE *AND* TAKE NOTES ABOUT IT. AMD DO NOT FUCKING CALL ME FURY-CORN.

alr jeez

Hey , Watch Your Language , Furcorn ! Anyways , We Better Get Going . See Ya !

anyways guess all the references I hid in the signatures 😼

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

[luxwritesfanfic]

On Tap

Sherlock insists that it would work better with the reader on top and after the night they’ve had, there’s no point in arguing. Or, the one where reader plays superhero for poor Greg and her beloved detective. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You hadn’t even taken your shoes off when your phone started ringing in your purse. Sighing, you dug around for it with one hand and reached for the lightswitch with the other. Work had been incredibly stressful since you were working short during flu season and everyone in London had been feeling under the weather apparently. You had told your coworkers that if they really needed you that you would come back even though you had put a solid 16 hours in. Sherlock and John had gone out for John’s bachelor party so you didn’t mind working late, and Bucky was visiting his brother in the States so all your time was truly yours. You had thought about soaking in the bath or catching up on that show you always missed, but all of those thoughts were stopped in their tracks when the ringing persisted.

“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound like you’d rather chew on glass than clock one more minute into the hospital but you weren’t sure you were so convincing.

“Come get him. Please, for the love of God, come get him.” At hearing Greg’s voice, you were both relieved yet confused. Sherlock must’ve invited him last minute to celebrate with them, you didn’t remember him saying that he was coming along.

“Oh, I didn’t know you went out with the boys! Where are you guys?” It was nice to know they were all having a good time. You liked Greg and thought he was a really good friend for Sherlock and John. You had plopped down on the couch and had started pulling one of your shoes off when he said, “No, I didn’t go with them. They were brought to me. Someone called the cops on them and now I’ve got tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum arguing about the solar system and taking turns puking in my waste bin. Please, I beg of you, come get him. Matter of fact, I can bring him home. If that makes the process quicker--- I mean easier.” You heard Sherlock trying to take Greg’s phone in the background, asking to talk to you and then quickly after arguing with John once more if it was really that important he knew they orbited the sun. Greg sounded just as exhausted as you felt and you could only imagine how annoyed he was by the drunk detective that he was already annoyed with most of the time sober.

“Yeah, yeah of course I’ll come get him. I’m actually at my flat though, so if you could meet me at his place that would be awesome. I’d just need a few minutes to finish up here...” You mourned the hot bath you were never going to get to take and worked on shoving the shoe you just took off back on, “did you call Mary for John?”

“Yes, she’ll be over soon. As soon as she gets here, I’ll bring Sherlock. You’re doing the Lord’s work, thank you.” With that, he hung up and you went to your room to pack an overnight bag. You were exhausted and if you had to go all the way to Sherlock’s, it would be easier for you to crash on the couch than to try to come back home late.

By the time you got to Sherlock’s, you were dragging your feet up the stairs and you could barely keep your eyes open. You had received a text from Mary when she picked John up saying “good luck” and you wished you knew what you were walking into. You had never seen Sherlock drunk, or heard any stories of him being drunk, but you were sure he was even more eccentric than he was sober. If you weren’t so tired, you’d be jumping with joy at the experience to see Sherlock so out of character. 

You went into Sherlock’s room and laid out some pajamas for him and went ahead and put a water bottle and some Advil on his nightstand because you were sure he would need it. After doing that, you changed into something more comfortable too and rummaged through his fridge to see if there was anything to eat. Thumbs, unsalted butter, and milk that shouldn’t look like blue cheese was what was on the menu and you had decided sleep for dinner sounded much more appetizing. You’d go shopping for him tomorrow.

Greg had texted that he was outside but Sherlock didn’t have his key so you made your way down the steps to meet them. Upon opening the door, Sherlock looked up at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. He stumbled towards you and held you at arms length with a look of wonder on his face. “Finally! Y/N, I was thinking I’d die from being surrounded by total stupidity, and here you are. Ever the shining light and the beacon of hope.”

You felt the heat from his stare and turned to Greg to try and keep your composure under all his attention. “Uh.. I— thank you. For bringing him home.”

Still staring at Sherlock and shocked by his outburst, Greg met your eyes with a knowing smile. “It’s no trouble. He’s your problem now. Good luck, my dear.” He was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you with a very drunk Sherlock Holmes and a dozen steps to climb.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, turning towards the door, “do you think you can get up the stairs? Or do you want me to help you?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started until his eyes widened like he forgot who he had been talking to. It had only been a second but he saw the look that flashed across your face. You hated when he made you feel dumb because you always tried so hard to keep up with him, and he knew that. You didn’t have a chance to react before he quickly interrupted. His previous statement was immediately followed by, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please help me.”

You just nodded, unsure of what made him have such a quick change of heart but you were happy he did. You hated him thinking you were dumb. In comparison to him, maybe, but you were intelligent in your own right and you did a better job of keeping up with him than most. He threw his arm around your shoulders to steady himself and allowed you to lead him carefully up the stairs. He started telling you about his night and it honestly sounded like he had a great time, and so did John. You were really happy that it all worked out even if they did end up with Greg at the end of it all.

As soon as the back of Sherlock’s legs hit his chair, he was down in a clean swoop and you took the opportunity to start untying his shoes. He seemed like he was lost in thought and was quiet for a few moments but you could tell from the way he was swaying that he was too far gone to sober up before the morning.

“I already put your clothes out for you and I’ll help you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’ll love me for that in the morning.” You smiled at him as you pulled off his loafers and moved to stand up so that you could figure out how you were going to get him out of his chair.

“Will I, though? Will I tomorrow once I’m in my right mind?” He asked, and while he didn’t say it in an ignorant tone, it sounded like Sherlock, and that was close enough.

You looked at him hoping he’d say something else. But he didn’t, and he looked back at you with a look of confusion as if he was really expecting you to answer that. It seemed like just last week he was in your bed trying to convince you that he didn’t have eyes for anyone besides you and now he’s reminding you that he’s not even sure of that. Sherlock could have you at the top of the poll and then have you kissing the ground in the same hour if he tried.

“It’s just a saying. I didn’t really mean...you know, let’s— let’s just get you to bed. It’s late and you have a date with a hangover in the morning.” You could tell he was on the verge of passing out which was good in the way of no more awkward conversations but horrible in that you’d never get him into bed as dead weight. So you pushed things along and eventually got him in bed before he was out like a light.

Draping the blanket over him, you watched as his eyes fluttered behind his lids and how his lips twitched as fell into a deeper sleep and you were sure then that you would never love anyone more. You would never understand how he didn’t realize how beautiful he made the ordinary and how easily he made everything extraordinary. Afraid that you’d turn to stone if you spent any more time staring at him, you turned off his light and made your way to the living room where the the couch had never looked more inviting. It didn’t take you long to get settled in and asleep seeing as the TV in the background ended up being the perfect thing to mask Sherlock’s drunk snores and you had never been more tired in your life.

—

“I thought you were staying over?”

It had only been a few hours since you  had put Sherlock to bed when he found himself looking over you on the couch, wrapped up in his bedsheet.

“M’right here.” You murmured into the pillow, body still turned away from Sherlock on the couch. He was probably still drunk and you were hoping if you laid still enough he’d wander back to bed.

He didn’t respond to you, instead he continued to stand and stare with his lips pursed and brows furrowed. You had drifted back off only to be nudged awake once more.

“I won’t fit like that.” He gestured with the hand not holding the sheet to the couch, sounding exasperated like he had been explaining this to you all night. “It’ll only work if you’re on top, so get up so I can lie down first.”

You didn’t process what he said really, you just knew that if he was being persistent and you didn’t do as he asked he’d never let you go back to bed. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light and swung your legs off the couch, standing on stiff bones. Sherlock immediately made to get comfortable on the couch while you stood dazed and confused and he cleared his throat expectantly when he had finally got settled. He was on his back with one arm holding the sheet up between himself and the back of the couch allowing room for you to climb over and snuggle right into him.

All you could do was blink and hold his stare as he waited expectantly, still holding the sheet for you. You didn’t think he was asking you to lay with him, especially with how close you’d two be. Sure, you shared your bed before, but there was always enough room for you both to have your own space. You could tell he was getting embarrassed by your reaction, or lack there of.

“I didn’t think this would be rocket science, even for someone like you.” His nervousness was showing as he yanked his arm back down and curled into to himself like a child. You jumped into action so you wouldn’t upset him any more and shook his shoulder as you whined, partially from exhaustion and from missing the chance to sleep next to him.

“I’m tired, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize what you were asking. Come on, open up. Let me in.” You continued to shake at his shoulder until he looked back at you. He looked wrecked from drinking all night and you knew this bout of sobriety wouldn’t be as easy on him in the morning but you were sure he looked holy.

Sherlock reluctantly brought his arm up again and you wasted no time sliding under the sheet and tucking yourself under the crook of his arm. He smelled like beer and mouthwash and Sherlock and you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest when he brought his arm back down on you, subsequently pinning you down to him. It was definitely a tight fit especially since the couch barely fit Sherlock but you had decided that if you had the opportunity to sleep with him like this every night that you would. Back pain be damned.

The steadiness of his heartbeat was already working you back to sleep. Sighing content, you let your body fully relax and sink further into him.

“You never answered my question.” He shifted next to you and kept you close to him all the same, his head leaning to rest on yours.

“Hmm?” You made an incoherent sound, your breath evening out as you fell asleep.

“My question,” he whispered more so to himself as he worked it out in his head. The feelings he found himself harboring for you were ones he had never felt before. He thought  so highly of you in a way he couldn’t understand even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it. You were patient with him when he got on your last nerve and was amazed by him when other people would tell him to piss off. You were always kind and warm and made him feel human even after he spent so long separating himself from his feelings. He couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at anyone else the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

So yes, he thought. Yes, he would love you in the morning. He’d love you when you’re angry with him for putting himself at risk during a case and he’d love you when you were overly tired and petulant after he made you stay up all night to keep him company in the lab. He loved that you valued him regardless of what he offered you, and that you always showed him that even if he never reciprocated it. You were never embarrassed by him, you always tried to learn about what he was interested in, and you never doubted him even when he was wrong.

Girlfriends weren’t naturally his area... but he didn’t think he would mind if it was you. He liked being close to you and physical touch wasn’t something he had sought out often before. He found that he chased the opportunity to be near you at all times. He thought you looked lovely in scrubs and a lab coat and even lovelier in your everyday wear, even if you considered it plain. He had begun to notice the way other people stared at you when you walked by and it left him with the most unsettling feeling. But then you’d smile at him and despite himself he’d smile right back and he wondered if anything in the world mattered to you besides him. Because in those moments, nothing mattered to him besides you.

Sherlock woke up alone again the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever had. Light was shining through the curtains and he cursed the sun for rising another day as he covered his eyes and groaned. Peaking through his fingers, he saw that the Advil and water had been moved to the coffee table for him and when he reached out for it he noticed the note on the table. He sat up with one hand gingerly holding his head as he read it.

“Got called into work to help the girls. John and Mary are coming over for lunch, so text me what you want me to bring home. We can’t serve our best friends buttered thumbs for lunch. I’ll see you soon!

  -Y/N xx”

He held the note in his hand, contemplating what his next move would be. You were interested in him, that he knew for sure. He’d contemplated casually mentioning to everyone that you were dating, but he technically hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend and you two had never talked about any mutual feelings. Maybe he’d kiss you when walking you to your taxi, but he knew he’d make you stay with him instead of letting you go home. Possibly tonight when you were laying in his bed he’d tell you it had to be you, it could only ever be you.

Leaning back against the couch, he rubbed at his eyes and decided he’d call John over early and he’d help him sort it out. John always helped him. Standing up was harder than it looked apparently, as Sherlock wobbled to the side and fought the urge to puke. Perhaps he should shower first, surely you wouldn’t say yes to being his if he didn’t look his best.

He remembered how he looked and acted last night and winced. On second thought, maybe you would. You had already given yourself to him for better or for worse and soon enough, he smiled, he would give you himself in return.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

It isn't quite the same, but -in the ageswap au, after they've finally talked- maybe Percy starts finding little things to bring back to Cass from the places he and VM have been?

Bc otherwise there isn't a whole lot he CAN do -being the youngest, he'd never been schooled on the duties his older siblings had been raised to be responsible for as no one had seen any point,,, no one had ever thought he would ever NEED to be

he wishes he had been though, bc maybe then he could actually do something to help his sister instead of just standing about tweedling his thumbs while she worked her butt off to lead their people and rebuild

Oh I love that.

Like him just trying his best to do what he can to support her, he brings her trinkets and when he's there, he does his best to take what he can off her plate. During his year in Whitestone, he makes her teach him the basics, he learns as much as he can so he can help. And he never has any idea how much Cassandra appreciates it, that he's trying, that he cares, that he hasn't forgotten her.

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

[peggyrose19]

Amber and Green

I have another fic for youuuuuuu. It’s St. Tweedle this time cause I missed them. Here’s Saint realizing Luke has green in one eye. AO3 link here if you’d prefer. 

characters belong to @lumosinlove

@im-oknutzy-trash @wonder-womans-ex i’m just tagging you two in all st. tweedle fics now just so you know

Saint spent far too long staring at Luke. 

He knew the line of his jaw and the scar on his cheek, knew the curve of his neck and shoulder, the strong panes of his chest and back. He knew what it felt like to be held by those arms, to be kissed by those lips. He thought he knew every part of Luke. But maybe he didn’t know everything. 

Luke was studying. Or at least, that’s what he’d said. Watching him, lying in bed with a book in his hand, it seemed to Saint he was reading rather than studying. But he wasn’t looking at Saint, and so Saint didn’t really care what he was doing.

Saint loved watching Luke. Tracing those familiar lines, tracking the expressions that flitted across his face. Not that he’d ever admit this to anyone, of course. He had a reputation to uphold. 

That day, lying beside Luke, his gaze fell upon Luke’s eyes, eyelashes touching his cheeks each time he blinked. Purple bruised his under-eyes, turning his amber eyes a dark brown. He wasn’t sleeping enough, Saint thought, fighting the urge to reach out and touch. Instead, he watched him blink, watched his eyes flit across the pages. 

He saw something then that made him pause. He’d always thought Luke’s eyes were amber, deep like honey. They drew him in until he couldn’t get out, until he was stuck and he didn’t even care. But it was then he realized his left eye wasn’t totally brown. 

“Wait. Your eye is green.”

Luke frowned, but didn’t look up. “Yes?”

“Has it always been like that?”

“Since I was born. Just happens to some people apparently.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I mean most people don’t.” 

“Oh.”

Luke looked up then, frowning. “How did you notice?”

Saint just shrugged. He didn’t want Luke knowing just how much time he spent watching him. 

“Were you watching me, just now?” Luke asked.

Saint scowled. “No.”

“Yes you were.” A smirk played at his lips and Saint wanted to smack him. With his mouth. 

He fought the urge.

“Are you pouting?” Luke asked incredulously.

“I don’t pout,” Saint scoffed, ignoring the fact that he had, in fact, been pouting. 

“You are.”

Luke looked far too delighted. Saint intended to change that. With a smirk, he tackled Luke to the bed, jabbing him in the sides. Luke shrieked uncharacteristically and Saint just laughed. He’d never seen Luke like this. 

“Stop stop stop,” Luke gasped, and Saint paused. But he didn’t move from where he was, sat firmly on Luke’s hips holding him down. Their faces were inches apart.

“Still think I’m pouting?”

“No, God. You’re so immature sometimes, you know that?” Luke shook his head with a smile. 

“Am I now.”

Luke glared playfully. “Would you get off me?”

“Hmm I’m quite comfortable here, actually.” Saint smirked, settling more comfortably on top of Luke, folding his hands over Luke’s chest and resting his chin on top. “So. How’s the homework going?”

Luke seemed to resign himself to his position. “You bastard.” 

“Yes, we’ve already determined I’m a bastard,” Saint replied conversationally, tilting his head. Luke just sighed.

“Will you get off so I can get back to my studying.”

“See, it seems to me,” Saint continued as if Luke hadn’t spoken, “that if I had two different colored eyes, more people would know about it.”

“Yeah, cause you can’t keep your mouth shut,” Luke muttered. Saint jabbed him again. 

“So that leaves me wondering how, exactly, you’ve managed to keep this under wraps so well.”

“I mean, most people don’t notice eye color.”

Saint paused. “Wait, really?”

“What color eyes does James have?”

“Um.”

“Exactly. Which brings me back to, how did you notice my eye?”

Saint sighed. Luke wouldn’t ever let him down for this, but he also would never let it go. “I may have been watching you,” he muttered. 

Luke looked smug. “Uh huh. And just how often do you watch me?”

“Never, shut up.”

“See, I don’t believe you,” Luke practically crowed.

“Oh, hush you.” 

At that, Luke cackled loudly. Saint grumbled under his breath, but he wasn’t truly upset. He liked hearing Luke laugh, liked when he lowered his guard like this. With a sigh, Saint leaned up and captured Luke’s lips in a kiss. 

Luke softened into it, the tension leaving his body entirely. Saint kissed him again, reveling in the quiet gasp it pulled from Luke, the tremor that shook his body. He liked having Luke this way too, soft and pliable. Content. He liked seeing him happy. 

“You should sleep more,” Saint mumbled. He pulled back and swiped a thumb under Luke’s eye, over the shadow he’d noticed earlier. 

“You do like looking at me.”

“Possibly. But my point remains.”

Luke let his head flop back onto the pillow, looking up at Saint softly. 

“You watch me enough to know when I need to sleep?” he asked. 

“I know everything about you,” Saint murmured, kissing him again. “I know how you look when you’re tired, or when you’ve had too much coffee.” Another kiss. “When you want me but won’t ask. When you’ve had enough of everyone around you.” And another. “I know everything.”

Luke just hummed. Saint continued softly, “I know that last night you were up late studying, because you think if you get good grades then maybe your mom will finally notice you. And you woke up early to run, because you do it every morning. I know that right now you’re struggling to stay awake, even with the absurd amount of coffee in your body. I think you should take a nap.” 

Finally, Luke huffed a surprised laugh. “You always manage to surprise me.”

“I try.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I told you, I watch you. I’m very observant, Tweedle.”

“You wanna know what I think?” Luke’s voice was soft, and he twirled a strand of Saint’s hair around his finger. “You watch because you’re afraid.”

“And what am I afraid of?” Saint whispered back.  

“You’re afraid people will leave you like your mom. So you watch for the signs, because that way you can leave first and maybe it’ll hurt less. But I’ll let you in on a little secret; it won’t hurt any less. Because at the end of the day, they’re still gone.”

For possibly the first time ever, Saint was stunned into silence. 

“Wow,” he said finally. 

Luke smiled a little. “Finally shut you up, huh?”

Despite himself, Saint huffed a laugh. “I guess so.”

“Sorry if I hit a nerve.” 

Saint was already shaking his head, “It’s okay.”

Luke didn’t reply, but he kept his hands tangled in Saint’s hair, seemingly searching his face.

“You watching me now?” Saint asked.

“Maybe.” His voice dragged, and Saint could hear the exhaustion in it, more pronounced than before. He hated it. 

“Go to sleep,” Saint whispered.

“You gonna get off me?”

“Fine.” 

Saint shifted so he lay beside Luke instead, nestling into his side, tucking his face into the place where his shoulder and neck meet. It felt safe.

“That better?” he asked, and Luke nodded. “Sleep, Tweedle. I’ll be right here.” 

Luke’s eyes shut, and he held Saint close, their hands tangled together. He was warm and comforting, and Saint watched his chest rise and fall evenly. He could tell the moment he drifted off, breathing deepening and any remaining tension seeping from his body. 

It was only because Luke was fast asleep that he leaned up and pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered three dangerous, little words.

“I love you.” 

[bandaigaeru]

comfort place - yang jeongin

→genre: friends to lovers →synopsis: comfort can manifest itself in many forms. some find it in the fantastical world of the arts. others find it in sports. but, for you, comfort is a person.  →word count: 6.5k →pairing: jeongin x gender neutral reader →warnings: drunk jeongin, mentions of puking

i. 

“Why are you doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

“That,” your eyes go wide as you nod at his stature. He’s hunched over your trash can. Blue gloves shield his hands as he digs. 

“Oh. I think I lost my earring or something.” 

“And your first instinct was to search my trash can?” you quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps you should mention that this isn’t just any trash can, it’s your kitchen one. Full of discarded, burnt ramen and your roommate’s weird protein shakes that will clog your drain otherwise. 

He nods, as though this is the most normal first step to a lost earring. Yang Jeongin is many things, but being questionable is one of his strongest traits. 

You slip behind him to get to the fridge. Water bottles line the right half, more commonly known as your roommate’s side. You reach for one. 

“What are you doing on March twenty-fifth?” he asks, arms deep in your trashcan. He’s really going to endure this conversation without a single shred of his pride disappearing. 

You try not to look at him as you glance at the calendar. Two weeks away, the small square for that Saturday reads “NATIONALS” in large red letters. 

You hum to yourself. “Dog sitting.” 

“What?” he looks at you, eyes squinted in confusion, “Why?” 

“Danceracha’s going out of town for the dance contest. I told you this.” 

He exhales a deep, surrendering sigh as he straightens his back and plucks the gloves off. He shakes his hands in the cool air before starting for your sink. The calm stream of water trickles out. “Man. That sucks.” 

“Why?” you question. Your fingertips draw marks of condensation along the plastic. 

“I was gonna invite you to a party,” he mutters. A pout comes to his lips. For a moment, your heart drops. He looks the same as when you met him. All those years, long with memories but short in quantity, whizz past you. 

“Party?” you repeat. 

“Yeah,” he nudges the water stream off. 

Parties and Jeongin don’t mix well. History has proven this. 

“Whose party is it?” you start for the living room, knowing he’ll follow. 

“You don’t know him,” he says, his voice never once fading because, indeed, he’s on your tail. 

“Okay, but what’s his name?” 

“Chan. Actually,” he hesitates, “you might know him.” 

As you sink into the couch, chipped leather scratching your legs, you glance at him. His eyebrows are scrunched into his thinking stance. Then, his features light up once he finds the answer. “Do you remember sophomore year’s biology class?” 

You nod. 

“Remember when that senior came in to make fun of Mr. Lee?” 

Again, you nod. 

“His best friend is Chan. You probably saw them in our freshman yearbook for spirit week. They dressed up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for Twins Day.” 

Your mouth forms into an acknowledging part. “Got it.” In fact, the recurring image instantly pops into your head. You can thank all the hours spent staring at it with stifled laughter for that. 

“So what’s the party for?” 

He shrugs, “Some college achievement shit.” 

“And you got invited?” you laugh. Jeongin barely made it out of high school. He took one harrowed glance at the local campus and nearly cried. You don’t blame him, though. That place is stressful. Even as a freshman you can say this. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool, you know? I don’t need to be in academics for them to know that.” 

“Sure,” you nod. 

“I’m serious!” His lips quirk up in a defensive manner that sends a spark through your chest. 

Among other things, Jeongin is confusing. Questionable and confusing. These are the words you say when someone asks you what he’s like. Because seriously, why does he always do things so infuriating yet endearing? 

He runs a hand through his hair as he unlocks his phone. His thumb works quickly to swipe through a message log before he tilts the phone so you can see. “See?” 

The conversation in question is short, a maximum of four texts. The details blur as he snatches his phone back as quickly as he showed it. Again, infuriating. 

“Are you planning on going alone, then?” 

This question makes him freeze. He stares at the wall wielding a mounted TV, whose black screen reflects the image of him by your side, shoulder to shoulder. A small smile tilts his lips. “I guess. People want me there. So I’ll find my niche.” 

See? Endearing. 

You have no doubts that he can find a place to fit in. He did it in high school and he’ll proceed to do it in the future. That’s just how he is. Plus, maybe he can allow someone else to feel safe too. Like he did for you. 

ii.

High school is a demon with a comforting smile. When you’re forced to transition, they tell you it’s all fun. Sunshine and rainbows, if you will. What they don’t tell you is that luck will always make it so you don’t get any of your friends in your classes. And this, with your contradicting lunch shifts, will slowly force you out of the friend group you had stuck with since elementary school. 

Perpetual tears are stocked behind your eyes. Waiting for the perfect moment to fall because let’s be honest, any minor inconvenience could push you over the edge. Stress does that to you. 

In third period of your second week, your math teacher announces that she’s decided on her seating chart. She makes you line up against the walls as she grabs her reference sheet, lined with the images of desks, names scribbled atop them. “Jeongin,” she says, pointing to a desk in the front row. 

A boy a few feet away from you steps out from the crowd to claim his desk. He’s wearing an oversized maroon hoodie whose back is marked “Yang” in white letters. 

Your teacher stops at the seat next to him. She glances at you and your heart drops. “Y/N,” she points to a desk. 

Sitting up front is worse than the incessant plagues of high school drama. All eyes permanently burn into the back of your head, even when not a single soul acknowledges you. 

As you try to settle into your seat, back a little stiff from trying to shrink yourself into a tiny marble, the boy beside you leans over. “Hey, you okay?” 

For the first time, your eyes lock. His remind you of the innocence of childhood, that blank yet full gaze. You nearly melt, but instead, your back loosens. 

“Yeah. I just don’t like sitting in the front,” you chuckle awkwardly. 

He smiles. Not one of the pity ones, but a real toothy smile. “Aww. Me neither, I always feel like everyone’s watching me.” 

Finally, a person who gets it. 

“But I just have to trick myself into not caring,” he says, glancing at the whiteboard. Shadows of poorly erased marker line the corners. 

Abruptly, after his serene gaze, he jumps back to you. “Do you like coffee by any chance?” 

Despite the initial shock of the question, you say, “Yeah, I do.” 

As it turns out, his family owns this huge coffee shop right next to the bookstore you used to frequent. His mom was rather happy to see a new face. On that day, she accepted you as family. 

And math didn’t turn out to be so hard that year. 

iii.

The apartment grows quiet after Jeongin inevitably has to leave. Your roommate’s dog comes trotting out from his room. His nose is upturned, scouting for a soul to give him attention. 

“Come here, Kkami,” you pat the empty spot on the couch beside you. He runs the rest of the way. Instead of resting on the couch cushion, he prefers your lap. This pickiness he obtained from his owner. 

Hyunjin’s anything but a bad roommate. He does the dishes, sweeps when he finds a large puff of Kkami’s fur traveling your hardwood like a tumbleweed, even brings home coffee when you have a huge study night ahead of you. However, when it comes to you and Jeongin, your mutual hangouts on weekends, he has a very specific need. And that’s to be around you two as little as possible. 

He claims it’s because he can’t stand third-wheeling. Jeongin refuses to understand this concept. “If we’re not dating, it’s not third-wheeling?” he’d said, numerous times. 

Hyunjin won’t budge on the subject. 

The tune set as Jeongin’s ringtone, chosen by him, plagues the air. You reach for your phone, placing a protective hand on Kkami’s side to prevent him from falling. 

“Hello?”

“Problem: What would you do if your brother told you he got a girlfriend?” 

You squint at your reflection in the TV between scene transitions. It looks odd without him beside you. “Which brother?” 

“Guess which one would make me more dumbfounded. Hint, it’s not the older one.” 

“Your younger brother got someone before you?” you snicker. Jeongin holds his pride in his individuality. Losing to a younger brother with something like this is hilarious. 

“This isn’t funny! Should I be a serious big brother and talk to him or should I just seethe in silence?” 

“Neither. Leave him alone.” 

He does something akin to a whine. “But-”

You stick up a finger, though he can’t see you as you interrupt, “C’mon, Jeongin. He’s a teenager. Let him be.” 

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the outsider and you’re the true, reasonable sibling. 

He sighs. You imagine him pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. All lost in the possibilities that lay before him, since you and him both know he won’t listen to you. 

“Can I hang up now?” you ask, glancing at the front door. 

“Are you gonna abandon me for your significant other too?” 

You scoff as the front door opens. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Hyunjin steps into the apartment. His hair is damp with sweat and lays jagged in front of his eyes. You raise a hand to wave. 

“It’s a real question, though. You know whoever it is will be jealous of me.” Now, you know, he’s just prodding for a reaction. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yes, Jeongin. I would one hundred percent drop you for some person who offers emotional stimulation,” you monotonously chide. 

Hyunjin gives you a curious look as he passes. You would think he’d be used to this by now. 

“Okay but,” Jeongin’s voice grows low as he settles onto his bed, “would you really? Tell me you won’t.” 

“I won’t,” you press your back deeper into the couch. It’s not like you’ve had many romantic opportunities since meeting him. Jeongin, though also needy, is more interesting than anyone else you’ve met. He’s a shiny emerald among a sea of charcoal. 

“Good,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. The image of his little dimple indenting makes you mirror the sentiment. 

“Now can I hang up?” 

“Fine,” he sighs.

Through a laugh, you manage, “Goodnight. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” And then the line goes dead. 

iv.

“Are you sure you don’t like him?” must be a trendy replacement for ‘good morning.’ 

“Who?” you ask, rubbing your eye as you start for the cereal cabinet. 

“Jeongin. Who else?” Hyunjin says. He sits at the kitchen table. A plate of freshly heated blueberry waffles sits before him. 

Without turning to him, you say, “I’m sure.” 

It’s a reflex, really. 

He exhales in the most exaggerated way possible to grab your attention. His eyes are cold with the hunger for an answer. A real one. 

“I don’t like him,” you say slowly, allowing each word time to sink into the air. 

The thought has surely crossed your mind. It’d be unrealistic to say you’ve never pondered the great possibility of being in love with your best friend. But ultimately, you don’t think you are. Sure, you’d take a bullet for Jeongin. Just not in the ‘wow I’m madly in love with you’ kind of way. You tell yourself it’s in the ‘you’re going to do so much good for the world’ kind of way. 

“Fine,” Hyunjin admits, picking up one of his waffles and taking a caveman bite. 

Most of breakfast is quiet as you sit opposite him, staring into your bowl. Your milky reflection takes you off guard a few times. 

“You know,” Hyunjin says after a while, his voice raw and a little croaky. He has to bring a hand to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. “You should get him to stay with you while I’m away.” 

As you look back up at him, he adds defensively, “I’m not trying to play Cupid.”

You shrug, “He probably has other plans.” 

Yet when you text him a few hours later, he jumps on it. “It’ll be like a sleepover! Don’t you miss when we did those?” 

You did, but you don’t admit it. 

v.

The week of nationals arrives too quickly for your mind to process. One minute, you’re studying for an upcoming exam and the next there’s a knock on your bedroom door. It doesn’t wait for a sound before opening. 

“Hey, I’m leaving.” 

Hyunjin’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which covers his messy hair. Perfect for his night of sleeping on the bus. A duffel bag packed and puffy hangs off his shoulder. 

“Good luck,” you smile up at him. 

“Thanks. Don’t try sneaking into the venue with your rat like you did last year,” he returns the smile. 

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” you rush to defend yourself. 

He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You still played into it.” 

“And we got to support you as your lovely friends.” 

“You were the only people cheering during the contemporary dance,” he mumbles, stepping back into the hall. 

“To be fair, we couldn’t realize because we were so involved!” you shout to match the increasing distance. 

“Right!” he calls, a laugh shaking his words. 

Studying is now a failed mission. Every time you glance at the words printed on the textbook’s glossed pages, they just blur together until your mind drifts to Jeongin. When is he coming over? He said he’d be here by seven. It’s roughly a quarter past. He has a key, so it’s not like you have to be free when he gets here.

When you succumb and close the textbook, you hear shuffling in the living room. Shortly followed by Kkami’s familiar barking, which he only pursues when someone’s here. 

The feeling of a generously excited puppy fills you as you follow the source. 

“Hi,” you smile. 

Jeongin has treated himself to a coffee. He must have just worked a shift. 

“Hi,” he hands you the paper cup. 

“Oh, is this for me?” you take it. It’s hot against your palms. 

“Yeah. It’s hot chocolate. Thought you might want it.” 

He drops his backpack, likely stuffed with potential party outfits, by the couch. He stands and scans your face as you take the first sip of the drink. The sweetness takes over and makes you shiver, but the warmth minimizes the shiver to nothing. Surely enough, this is his mother’s hot chocolate. 

“Thank you,” you say, looking into his eyes. The living room light has speckled his eyes with stars.

“Of course.” 

A moment passes of just looking at each other. Not a single word. You’re not even sure if you’re remembering to breathe. 

It breaks when he glances at the TV. “Movie time?” 

Settling on the couch doesn’t take long. He sits close enough to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s done this for as long as you remember, but why does it feel so close all of a sudden? 

He chooses the movie. A tradition you’ve established ever since you accidentally chose a movie so repulsively awful you had to take a break from watching movies at all. The teasing was barely bearable. 

Even now, when someone says something similar to that movie, you shiver. 

“Are we feeling sci-fi?” he asks. 

You almost shrug until you remember where his head is. “I don’t care,” you say instead. 

He chooses a romance movie, his safe pick. 

And he falls asleep not even ten minutes in. 

Hyunjin’s question returns to you in neon lights. Certainly, this tight feeling in your chest couldn’t be akin to liking someone. When you like someone, there’s always a telltale sign. There’s a bright moment of realization. That’s never come for you. Even now, all you can do is question. Question. Question. Question. 

vi.

Jeongin’s party outfit is the most conspicuous thing ever. A light blue tee from middle school that has all his classmate’s signatures on the back. Black jeans with holes at the knees. You can’t tell if he’s going to a child’s party or not. 

He catches your tilted gaze, matched with the furrowed eyebrows, and huffs. “Would you rather I get puke on a good shirt?” 

You blink. “I’d rather you not puke on yourself.” 

A noise close to laughter bursts past his lips. “Ha. Funny. I won’t reach that point. I’m thinking people puking on me.” 

You nod. Jeongin’s a lightweight, from what you know. But hey, if it helps him sleep at night. 

He departs after a long phone call with Chan. He offers a little wave as he opens the door. “I’ll give you live updates.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“But I will.” 

And indeed, he follows through. Selfies bombard your phone every three minutes. One is taken with Chan, but it’s so shaky and dark that they look like blobs with highlighted cheeks. 

These only make you more confused. Maybe Hyunjin was right. But you don’t want him to be. Nothing makes you feel more foolish than catching feelings for a friend who is just that. Friend. That painful, heartbreaking word. 

You open Hyunjin’s message log, prepared to reach out and ask if he can help you break down what you’re feeling, but his contact transitions to consuming your entire screen—perfect timing, he’s calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Guess what?” His voice is drowned out by external shouts. 

“What?” 

“We took second place!”

“Congrats,” you smile to yourself, leaning against the couch arm. 

“It’s all thanks to Felix’s freestyle. That surprise category threw us off, but he really came through,” he rambles. He tells you about all his points and each error, which ultimately seem mundane but apparently make a difference in his detail loving mind. 

“Anyway, I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing, you know.”

“I’m doing good,” you nod as though to convince yourself. 

“How’s Jeongin?” 

“At a party,” you say as your phone buzzes again. Another selfie. This time, he’s in a lonesome bathroom and posing in the mirror. A peace sign that surrounds his eye. That stupid dimple makes your heart jump. 

Hyunjin giggles at something on his end and says something not aimed at you. He quickly returns to his serious tone with, “How are you really feeling? Don’t bullshit me.” 

You stifle a laugh. Resting your head on the back of the couch, you glare at the ceiling, “Confused.” 

“About Jeongin?” 

He slips into a quieter place. You sigh. Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden? “Yeah.” 

“Well,” he starts, “I pushed you into thinking about it for a reason.” 

“He doesn’t like me like that.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because friends don’t like friends like that.” 

“But you like him like that, so doesn’t that ruin your statement?” 

You sit in the silence for a minute. “I guess so.” 

His breath is amplified and you can hear each inhale and exhale. “You’ll probably just brush this off, but I think you have a shot.” 

You nod. “Sure. A shot at going to the moon maybe. A shot at Jeongin liking me? No way.” 

“Look, pessimism isn’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, I will. But not because I want to, because it’s terrible seeing you sulk,” he mutters. 

A round of applause for your roommate. 

“Just give me some time. I still don’t know if I like him,” you glance at the dog, who’s cuddled up on a pile of blankets. Why can’t your life be that simple? 

“Not trying to force you or anything, but I think you know the answer to that.” 

He’s probably right. It’s not like you can retaliate anyway. There’s a distant knock before he says, “Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll be home tomorrow.” 

The following silence is truly suffocating. 

vii.

That party changes everything. 

Jeongin stumbles home, each step a potential path to faceplanting. It’s this exact stumble that forces him to trip over a box. 

The noise draws you from sleep. Through squinted eyes, you stare at him as he tries to regain his balance. His arms are splayed out, searching for a stable support beam. 

“Jeongin?” you whisper, though you know it’s him. Who else would be drunkenly returning home at, you glance at your phone, three in the morning?

“Y/N,” he gasps. Your voice prompts him to follow it. 

As you stand, he finds his way through the narrow path between couch and coffee table. He throws his arms around you. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles, words meshing together. 

“I missed you too?” It’s only been six hours. 

He holds you at arms length, palms resting on your shoulders. “I love you,” he slurs, eyes drunkenly taking a long blink. 

“I love you too?” 

“No, like, I really love you. ‘The moon is beautiful’ type of stuff,” he nods. 

You’re not sure what he means by this. But it doesn’t matter if you try to question him, because he continues. 

“I think about the future a lot,” he says, hands falling to his sides before he falls onto the couch. “Nothing’s ever consistent. But you’re always there.” 

“That’s-” you begin. 

He wasn’t finished. “I think our wedding would be nice.” 

Now, he goes silent as you stand there in shock. He thinks about that? How often? 

The moment your lips part to ask these things, a light snore escapes his lips. You grab a blanket from your room, the Totoro one he loves, and you gently cover him. You lean over his face. His cheeks are a little swollen, as are his lips. You push his hair away from his eyes before going to your room. You’re careful not to make a noise as you shut the door. 

He’s gone by the time you wake up. For the first twenty-four hours, you shrug it off as a painful hangover he’s just sleeping through. 

Most hangovers don’t last a week, though. 

One time, sitting beneath a sky littered with stars, Jeongin released a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?” 

Jeongin’s not insecure about many things, as his philosophy is that if one person finds something unattractive, there’s a hoard who will think otherwise. But this topic is an exception. 

“Unless you do something unthinkably terrible, no,” you mumble. And you truly meant it. 

So, Jeongin: You haven’t done anything unthinkable.Why have you disappeared? 

Life without Jeongin has been incredibly boring. It’s prompted an imminent heartache. Attending class is a lame option considering your bed is so much more comfortable. You never knew missing someone could form a black hole in your body, consuming each grain of energy. 

Hyunjin’s the only reason you’re eating. Since he knows you’re not up for any meal, he brings you snacks and another bottle of water—to add to the mountain of empty bottles on your desk. 

“Do I need to go break his ankles?” Hyunjin asks one day, nearly a month after his tournament. 

You shrug. You know he’s joking, but laughter doesn’t seem to bubble up. It’s lost in the dark cave that is this confusing state. 

“I texted him today. No response yet,” Hyunjin adds. 

You nod. You got the same treatment, but you stopped trying a while ago. 

“Have you gone to the coffee shop? To see his mom or something?” 

You shake your head. “No point in it. He doesn’t tell her much. Plus I don’t want to pin her against him or anything.” 

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, or offer, or do to help you. Not that you’re a lost cause, but he’s starting to lose the ounce of hope he had. To him, you’re too good for this. Telling and convincing you of that is a difficult task. 

When he leaves you alone, you cry again. At this point, your eyes hurt when you aren’t crying. But hey, at least you’re sleeping nice. The desperate need to escape can do that to you. 

viii.

You tell Hyunjin your conclusion at dinner—something he’s finally tricked you into eating. “I think I love him.” 

He nods. “Yeah. Didn’t we already establish that?” 

You push the noodles around. “I didn’t want to admit it.” 

“Why?” 

Averted gaze set to the ramen, though his remains scalding. “I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table to regain your focus. He knows the noodles aren’t that interesting. “That’s okay. Look, we can go beat his ass if you want. Or we can hunt him down and hold him hostage-”

He stops when he sees the small hint of a smile turning your lips up. One of his own appears, and in his mind, he’s breaking into a congratulatory dance. The crack in the sadness is exposed, and it’s slowly breaking further. All that’s next is revealing the ravine of happiness. 

After dinner, you sit on the couch and decide to watch a movie. Unlike Jeongin, he gives you movie pick. It reminds you of the bitter taste that’s overcome your mouth since he up and left. 

Halfway through the movie, some shitty one Jeongin and you watched a few months ago, Kkami barks at the couch. He looks between you and the crack behind it as if to say, “Hello? Get my bone!” 

You glance at Hyunjin, who also waits for you to get up and retrieve the dog’s lost bone. Normally you take turns with this task, but he seems to have forgotten it’s been his turn for the last five times. 

With a muted sigh, you pull yourself off the couch. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to pause the movie. Jeongin wouldn’t do that.  

You lower yourself to look into the dark tunnel. With a blind hand you swipe against the floor. A small object connects with the palm of your hand. You drag it out. A small metal earring glares back at you. You drop it in the pocket of your hoodie—which was a gift from Jeongin as you drifted into adulthood. You return to the bone search with a sting in your eyes. 

ix.

Happiness is a fragile object. 

At the same hour that Jeongin had said the unthinkable, your phone buzzes loudly against your side. Ultimately, this brings you back to the post-sleep daze as you trudge to answer it. Looking at the contact is the last of your concerns. 

“Hello?” Your voice is raw. A long gulp of water would be kindly appreciated. 

“Hey, Y/N, right?” This is a voice you’ve never heard before. You pull back to look at the contact and, unsurprisingly, there isn’t one. All that stares back is a string of numbers, unique to this person. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hi, sorry for the late call. I’m Chan-” you nearly hang up out of defensive instinct, but you let him finish. “I kind of need a favor right now.” 

“What kind of favor?” 

In the background, there’s a loud retching noise. “Um, so Jeongin, right?” Chan nervously laughs. 

“We’re not really-” you start. 

He interrupts, “I know. But he’s been talking about you nonstop. He’s really a wimp, you know. Actually, I guess I’m not really asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor.” 

You know where he’s going with this. “I’m sorry, Chan, but I don’t think that’s a-”

“Hush,” he says before his voice distances. 

“Y/N? It’s Y/N?” the familiar, slurred voice asks. 

He wasn’t going to give you an option. Deep down, you’re kind of grateful for that. 

When Chan returns to the phone, he says, “I can send you the address. We’re on the first floor, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I would offer to come pick you up, but I’m babysitting.” At these final words, he laughs. 

You consider waking up Hyunjin to take you—he’s the one with the car—but you think against it when you realize it’s only a five minute walk. 

Despite the daytime weather that is clear sky and sun that hugs your skin, the nighttime 

version is a little less welcoming. Indeed the air is breezeless, but it’s a bitter cold. Grabbing a hoodie would have been smart, but alas. 

Chan opens the door with a smile. “Hi, come on in.” 

He points to a closed door, “Jeongin’s in there. He should be decent. Just a little pukey.” 

You follow his directions, while he starts for the couch. At least he’s allowing privacy, you think. You knock lightly on the door. After a long trial of waiting with no response, you slowly push the door open. 

His cheek is resting on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Through dazed and squinted eyes, he looks at you. “Hi?” 

“Hey,” you say, stepping into his space for the first time in over a month. Despite the stain of puke on his shirt, you realize that he hasn’t changed much. What physical changes can someone go through in a month? Well. Everything. 

You appreciate your mind for allowing his appearance to never leave. Otherwise, you might have looked at him just now and been disgusted. Because it’s Jeongin, and because of this weird tugging feeling in your chest, you don’t. In its place, you look at him as though he holds the world’s most valuable object. 

He tries to sit up, nearly falls on his face, but manages. “Do you hate me?” 

“No. I don’t think so,” you squat next to him. The familiar weight of his head meets with your shoulder. 

“I shouldn’t say this,” he laughs. His mind is going a mile a minute, but his lips refuse to go at an accompanying speed. “I love you.” 

You stare at the top of his head. “I love you too.” 

“Really?” he lifts his head. He seems to search your eyes for the similar sparkle his hold. 

“Yeah,” you nod. You decide to save your cheesy comments until the morning. No point in wasting them if he won’t remember this when he wakes up. 

“Did you know that I,” he says, trying to lift himself to his feet. He leans a little too far on a foot, prompting you to rush and steady him. “thought you and Hyunjin were dating for the longest time.” He laughs again. 

You squint at him, “Is that why you disappeared?” 

A drunk smile finds his lips and his cheeks glow beneath the bathroom light. “Guilty.” 

“You’re stupid for thinking it’d ever be anyone but you,” you whisper, glancing anywhere but him. You could say this to the mirror too. Stupid for thinking it could be anyone but him. 

He’s ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to allow his smile to drop a little as he leans closer to your face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers. 

You watch as he leans a little bit closer. Bit by bit. You even close your eyes at one point. At the last minute, when his breath begins to mingle with yours, he pulls away. “No. Let me brush my teeth first.” 

You watch in a stunned silence as he stumbles to the living room. “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?” he asks Chan. 

Chan responds quietly with, “Yeah, under the sink.” 

You beat Jeongin to it, offering him the packaged toothbrush. 

“Thanks, love,” he says. 

Questionable Jeongin who calls you pet names. You like it, though you’ll try your hardest not to admit it. That’d only feed into his questionable choices. 

Minty Jeongin has sobered up a little bit. Instead of kissing you immediately after rinsing his mouth, he stares. 

“What?” you prompt. 

“Nothing.” 

And then he leans in and kisses you. In all honesty, it’s exactly how you imagined kissing him. There’s no stereotypical sparks. It’s just Jeongin, whose lips happen to be on yours. That’s enough. Afterward, though, you acknowledge that Cloud 9 is beneath your feet. 

x.

Chan drives you and Jeongin back to your apartment after a difficult talk and one final puke. (The puker looks at you when he feels it coming and asks, “Can you hold my hair back?”)

As you’re helping Jeongin out of the car, Chan leans back in the driver seat and glares a strong eye at Jeonign, “Run away again and I will beat your ass.” 

Jeongin chuckles. “Right. Catch me first.” As he says this, he throws his arm over your shoulder for stability. Though, he’s sober enough to walk on his own now. The occasional stumble, sure, but he’s not in dire need of someone to guide him. 

You take it as his way of saying he plans on staying. 

However, when you make it into the apartment, you don’t bear right to the couch. 

Keeping him close will prevent him sneaking out and running away again. That’s a thing of the past, and you’ll make sure of it. 

He doesn’t even complain. 

“Don’t puke on me, please,” you whisper as you climb into bed. He follows shortly after. Arms naturally find your waist as he pulls you closer to him. 

He hums. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Dreamless sleep takes over you, but the entire time you’re aware of his arms and his proximity. In a way, it’s better than dreaming. 

It’s even better when you wake up before him. His lips are a pretty shade of pink and for a moment you forget about his eventful night. You press a light kiss to his cheek. 

His eyes don’t open, nor does he stir. He’s in that beautiful, drunken sleep. You try not to laugh at the thought of his hangover to come. God, he’s going to be so whiny. 

You try to slip out of his arms, but the death grip only becomes tighter. He whines a little, mutters something like, “Don’t go.” 

After a few more minutes of just staring at the sleeping boy, boredom takes over. Yeah, staring is nice and all, whatever, but it reaches a certain intolerable point. Ten minutes is that point. 

You nudge him, “Jeongin, let go. I need to go to the bathroom.” 

“No,” he mutters, burying his face deeper into the pillow. 

“Jeongin.” 

“What?” 

“Let go.” 

His eyes finally open. They hold a small sense of surprise, which prompts you to tease, “What? Do you need a breakdown of what happened? Were you seriously that out of it?” 

“No. Well, a little,” he stumbles over the words. 

“What do you remember?” 

“Puking,” he winces as he laughs. There’s that signature headache. 

“You don’t remember kissing me?” 

Wide eyes stare back at you. His lip shakes as he tries to force words out. “What?” 

You laugh quietly. “Yeah. You did that.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sits up. His vacant arms feel cold. 

“No it’s okay. You only kissed me because I told you I loved you,” you sit up to match him. 

His head turns to look at you. Tufts of hair stick up in an oddly symmetrical way. “Really? Since when?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Time frame is unknown, but I think the feeling might have always been there. So you wasted a month of your life hiding.” 

He tips his head, “Hey now, I had a valid reason.” 

Your eyes squint at him. “It could have been avoided if you answered my texts. Or Hyunjin’s. Or if you checked your voicemail. Or-”

“Okay, I get it,” he nods, leaning in to shut you up. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say how weird it feels to kiss his best friend—but he’s incredibly excited to get used to it. 

“It’s fine. I think. My grades kind of tanked,” you comment, glancing at your desk. The tower of water bottles still stands. Somewhere buried beneath them are your abandoned papers. 

“Because of me?” his voice is soft, as are his eyes as he fights back the sting of tears. Of all his intentions, this wasn’t one of them. 

This look pains you. “Kinda. I thought I had lost my comfort place.” 

In order to disguise his tears, he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be good to you. We can make latte art together at the shop and stargaze at stupid hours. Whatever you want.” 

You laugh into his shoulder. “Is that a promise?” 

He sniffles. “Yes. I love you. That’s the second promise.” 

xi.

Hyunjin’s reaction is lackluster. A forced gasp as he waves his hands in surprise. “Wow. I totally didn’t give Chan your number or anything,” he says. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah. He called me trying to drop him,” he points at Jeongin, “on me.”

“And you didn’t want to get out of bed?” Jeongin asks, bringing his mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips. 

“No,” Hyunjin sticks a finger up in defense. “Kkami wouldn’t let me move.” 

What he means is: Yes, I didn’t want to get up but allow me to use my dog as a ploy. 

You and Jeongin share a glance to confirm this thought. You burst out laughing. 

“Do not tell me you’ve developed a couple's telepathy already,” Hyunjin whines, throwing his head back as he begins to pace the kitchen. 

Jeongin begs your stare again. He wiggles his eyebrows to pseudo-communicate. 

“I’m going to retail therapy,” Hyunjin sighs, dragging his keys off the counter before starting for the door. 

A loud fit of laughter fills the air as the door shakes in its frame. 

“He’s so overdramatic,” Jeongin manages, wiping a stray tear away from his eye. 

You allow this time to watch him intently. All of his details flood over you with definitive clarity. His skin has gotten its first film of tan now that spring is in full swing. A change of season which you had missed out on together. It’s okay, he’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms next year. 

“Oh, I found your earring, by the way,” you say when he catches you staring. 

“Really? Where was it?” On instinct, he brings his hand up to his right ear. The lobes are not blinged, but it’s still worth checking. 

“Behind the couch.” 

He gapes at you. “How’d it get back there?” 

“How would I know?” 

You allow a silence to lay upon you as his face twists to think. All at once, it lights up again, “Ah. It was probably when we had that wrestling match. I didn’t have the back on because my ear was itchy or something.” 

Interesting Jeongin. Questionable Jeongin. 

Yang Jeongin is many things. Home. Comfort. Love. Above all else, he’s a friend. Who you happen to kiss from time to time. 

[chibamari]

If I could love you

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Pairing(s): Dalim Tweedle x Laura [OC], Sirius Oswald x Kisa Ryujin [OC] Word Count: ca. 1900 Warnings: fluff to spice (minors DNI!), betrayal and angst Author’s Notes: To my dearest friend @iluvsexyvoltageguys as a celebration of Dalim’s route being announced! I know you’ve been waiting for him since day one girl, enjoy 💋

0:45am… What an evening, I thought as I waved goodbye to Sirius, a sleepy Kisa on his back. Ever calm and collected, he couldn’t hide his irritation when he saw Kisa chatting away with her ex-fiancé Jonah earlier. Little did he know that all she did was ask for advice. There were still some secrets uncovered, who knows what’s going to happen between those two. Tired, I closed the door of my pub. I should be happy with how well business has been ever since a certain little princess started working here, however, the copious amounts of attention that she received made the whole ordeal less amusing. Not that I could blame any of them, she was a rare beauty, this one, not only look-wise, though she certainly had her charms in that department as well, but more so her aura. The ladies that belonged to my usual clientele were show ponies - pretty, flaunting what they got, well-mannered, and so shallow it was almost sad. Sad, but enough for a little fun here and there.

Laura was a wild horse. Independent, beautiful and rough around the edges. Absolutely indomitable. Which made my mission all the more alluring - seduce the princess and make her come to the Magic tower. Make her fall for you so deeply and irrevocably that she’ll do anything to ‘save you’. I’m afraid that it was too late for that, having given up my morals and anything important to me a long time ago so I could serve the greater good. I had my own plans and was willing to use any means to achieve them, even if it meant giving up on myself and any chance at happiness.

Some days I regretted this choice, this burden I had laid upon myself. Days like this, breezy summer nights, enjoying a drink after my evening shift with a lovely lady by my side. How wonderful it would be to court you and fall in love with you without the deadly shadow that was looming over my existence alone. Would you believe me if I told you that deceiving you like this was what I would regret the most?

“Dalim, are you okay?” I felt a gentle warmth on my shoulder and I turned to be met with hazel eyes, gazing at me worriedly.

“Are you worried about me? I assure you, there’s no need.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.”

You are far too good for me, princess.

Turning I positioned myself in front of Laura until her back hit the counter, placing my hands on either side of her, trapping her. She wasn’t afraid. You shouldn’t trust me, princess. You should run, Laura Kingsley.

“Are you sure? You might find out a thing or two that’ll make you want to run far, far away from me.” I lifted my hand and gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t a shy one, but I wasn’t blind to the effect I had on her. My plan was working.

“... I’d never run from you, Dalim. And I’m not scared of you either.”

Her genuine words made my heart ache and my facade crumbled for a moment. Your eyes, princess, they tell me everything I need to know.

I carefully laid my hand upon her cheek, letting my thumb caress it gently.

“You’re so warm, princess.”

I didn’t know what overcame me when I put my arms around her small frame, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck, letting her scent engulf me. She felt so right in my arms and just for now, I wanted to pretend that this was real. I felt her arms circle around me and pull me in closer, a warm, peaceful sensation spreading throughout my entire body, giving me goosebumps.

“You too…”, she sighed contently. 

I didn’t want this moment to end and yet it did, when something happened that surprised even me, as Laura cradled my face with her soft hands and pressed her lips on mine. 

… What?

I wanted to cry, whether out of happiness or regret, I couldn’t tell. Her lips were softer than I imagined, something I’d done a hundred times or more. 

Oh Laura, you shouldn’t-

Feeling her fingers rake through my hair made me forget everything else. I gently bit her lower lip, eliciting a tiny gasp from her. I let my tongue taste her lips that she opened willingly, continuing to cautiously explore hers.

Was I still putting on a facade?

Her hands were now roaming over my body, moving from my biceps, down my sides, to my hips and-

Fuck.

I couldn’t stop the moan when her nimble fingers undid my belt. Slowly disengaging from the kiss, I breathed heavily, as I let my forehead rest on hers.

“Princess, you don’t-”

“I know, but… I want you. Do you not..?”

Oh, if you only knew.

Should I be happy that my plan succeeded? That she wanted me like this? That soon enough I could take her to Lord Amon?

No… I wasn’t happy. Not even one bit. How could I be when I had to betray the person who has come to mean the most to me?

“Of course I do.”, I hissed, as her hand sneaked her way into my trousers, grazing my growing hardness.

“Mhhmm, I can feel that.”, she smirked and grabbed me, pumped me a few times before she pulled down the layers of clothes, her body moving downwards along with them.

Oh no.

My breath caught in my throat when she pressed a kiss on the tip, a few milky drops now adorning her rosy lips. The duality of this gesture stole all reason from my mind. Her gaze met mine, and without breaking eye contact she took my pulsing hardness into her mouth all the way.

I whimpered and it spurned her own and my knees threatened to give out beneath me. My entire body shivered when her nails gently scratched down my thighs, one hand reaching up to fondle my other private parts. 

Fuck, my princess really knows what she’s doing.

A sting of jealousy interrupted my enjoyment - Has she done this with many guys? Imagining her with anyone else at all was not a pleasant thought. Who am I to judge though… I was not a saint myself, and she knew that. 

In order to have some sort of stability I gently grabbed a fistful of her hair, observing if she gave any sort of response, but she just continued, and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. Laying my hand on her cheek, I pushed her back, forcing her to look back up at me.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, princess…”, guiding her to stand back up, I grabbed her hips and lifted her on top of the counter. Perfect.

I positioned myself between her legs, pushing them apart, giving me a great view of what was underneath that skirt… Red lace. My naughty princess. My body completely controlled by lust hoisted up her skirt, swiftly removing her damp panties.

“A little souvenir for myself if you’ll allow it.”, I brought them up to my face and took one deep breath. Delicious. Her panties found a new home in my breast pocket before my hands returned their attention to her naked legs, stroking up and down, each time a bit further upwards until I could feel the heat that her core emanated. As if pulled by an invisible force, my hand disappeared completely below her skirt, touching the velvet wetness in between.

I shivered. She wants me that much, huh? I was no stranger to female desire, but I can’t say it has ever given me the kind of confidence that it did right in this moment. God, she feels so inviting. I laid my chin on her shoulder, so she wouldn’t notice the blush that was surely spreading on my face, slowly starting to rub her, closely observing her every reaction. She gasped when I stroked over the sensitive pearl, desperately holding onto me when I increased my speed. I felt my hardness twitch at her reactions. How much I want her…

Let’s see what she does when-

“Fuck, Dalim-!”

My princess cursed when two of my fingers found their way into her. She clenched around me, sucking my fingers in and I nuzzled my face into her hair, as my other hand held the back of her head. 

I love it when you say my name, like I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.

Her tiny hands grabbed my bum and it took me everything to keep it together. But my efforts were to no avail when she pulled me closer, only to grab my wrist and take my fingers into her mouth. Her cashmere tongue swirled around my fingers and I was hypnotised by the sight.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

The question was more rhetorical than anything, because she’d never understand the extent to which she has shaken up my cursed life. My chest felt tight when I looked into her eyes, so vulnerable, so completely open with her desire… If I could only-

“Show me then.”

Without another word I grabbed her thighs, aligning myself in front of her entrance. Could I really do this? Sex never meant anything to me other than to relieve myself, maybe seduce one or another aristocratic lady into telling me the newest rumors in Cradle… But what about now? Is reaching my goal still the only reason? Then why is my heart beating so fast and why… Why do I want this to mean more for her too? I laid my lips upon hers as I slowly pushed myself inside of her. 

This is not sex, this is more. So, so much more. She moaned my name when I started to move, clinging tightly to me and I kept kissing her. Whatever happens, princess, I hope this will make you understand. Please, please understand that nothing about this is a facade. This I could never fake with you. 

Right now you are completely mine and I am yours. And I wished you always were.

Her nails dug into my back, waves of pleasure shooting through every fibre of my being and I moaned into her mouth, unable to hold back any longer. My thrusts became harder, out of rhythm and we melted into one another. Wanting her to finish before me, my fingers found my way to her clit again, rubbing her as if my life depended on it. Please, please enjoy this as much as I do.

“Please cum for me, princess-!”

Laura tightened around me and I slammed my hand on the counter, one, two final thrusts and I came undone inside of her, shaking as I held her against me, leaning on the counter.

We basked in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Yes, lovemaking, I didn’t know any other word for it. I kissed her gently, still holding her close so I could enjoy the feeling of being inside her warmth as long as possible.

“Dalim?”

“Mhm?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Oh, princess.

If I could love you… I’d be the happiest man on earth.

[starksummers]

Drabbles of Scott and Tony by Tweedle

(banner by scottxlogan)

A random collection of naughty drabbles written by Tweedle

Pepper: Scott, nice to see you again. Scott: Hi Pepper! Pepper: knocks on Tony's desk Hey Tony when you're done blowing Scott, sign these papers. Tony: give a thumbs up from underneath his desk Scott: blush Scott: Tony, did you even pay attention to the meeting at all? Tony: Nope, wasn't it obvious? Scott: You kept your hand on my thigh, near my groin. Tony: I thought it was lonely so my hand gave it some company. Tony: I made a new toy! holds a remote control Pepper: What's it? Tony: turns on Pepper: I don't get it. What does it do? Tony: Scott! Pepper: What? Scott: comes in with a funny walk You could give me a warning. Pepper: blush Tony: We should done this a lot sooner. It could give the Avengers and X-Men some peace. Scott: Tony, I doubt that us two having sex will solve that problem. Tony: Why not? It would be interesting to break the ice. Scott: Tony, I'm going to sit on your face so you can shut up. Tony: That's not punishment for me, Scott. Just say that you want me to eat you out. I have no problem with that! Scott: Tony, where is my seat? Tony: Right here! Scott: sigh Your lap doesn't count. Tony: It's very comfortable one, you said so yourself. Scott: whispers We were in your bedroom, naked when I said that. I was doing more than just sitting your lap, Tony! Tony:  hmm... Scott: Tony? Tony: How about ditching this meeting so we could recreate what we did last night except in men's bathroom? Scott: looking at Iron Man suit Do you ever think of having sex while flying? Tony: With the suit? smirks Scott, I didn't expect you to suggest something like that. I like it! Scott: Maybe you're rubbing off me. Tony: Oh, something or someone is going to get rub right now! Scott: Here? Tony: Drop your pants! Go against the wall and assume the position. Pepper: You're so sweaty, Tony. Tony: I got a good workout this morning. Pepper: When did you went to the gym? I thought you had Scott over last night. Tony: That's who I did this morning. Do you know that Scott is really flexible? You should see him doing yoga. Before I knew it, I lost track of the time.... Pepper: You could call out sick. Tony: Man.. those meetings are boring. How can you sit without falling asleep, Scott? Scott: Practice. Tony: Man...  I don't want to sit in another meeting but I really don't want to get another lecture from Fury. Scott: sits on Tony's lap We have one more to go. Tony: Well...  something in me that's now fully awake. Scott: I'm feeling it. Tony: How about we have our meeting? Scott: We do have an hour break and I do have lube in my pocket. Tony: You did plan this meeting. Scott: You sent your dick pics to me last night! Of course, I'm going to prepare for that!

Scott: You made me a custom made teddy bear. Tony: Yup, I had to make the little rudy quartz visor and everything. Scott: Why? Tony: My Iron Bear got lonely. He needs his Cyclops bear.  See? points  at his bears Scott: I think the Iron Bear need to stand up, next to Cyclops bear. Tony: No, I got them perfectly positioned the way I want them to. Scott: Is that your new way of saying you want to try new sex position?

[thekitteninlove]

I feel like i've been neglecting Dean's twin, so i'll give him some love too ❤️

Characters: Dalim/Dum Tweedle

Warnings: R 18+, Dalim will get assaulted

Title: I'm thirsty, Mr. Barkeeper

I was on my way to Dum’s pub. There was something I needed from him. His pub wasn’t open today, but when it was open he was either busy preparing food or drinks for the customers or flirting with other girls. I wanted to talk to him when he was alone. I hope he’s there and I’m not just wasting my time. I was in the marketplace when a blond man dressed in black with a light brown vest over it. He was buying some food. Yes! I found him

“Dum!” I called out to him while I was making my way to him

He turned around and greeted me “Hello, princess”

He’s calling all the girls princesses. Probably because he can’t remember all their names.

“Hi, do you want me to help you carry them?” I asked

“Oh no, I’d never make a lovely lady such as yourself do this” he was surprised, as if he never even thought of this possibility

Oof, I want to get him to invite me in his pub, where we could be alone, without him finding out my real intentions. I want to take him by surprise. But it looks like this might prove to be more difficult than I expected.

“But I’d be really happy if you could keep me company. This could be a date.” he said

A date? I’ve always thought that only people that were in love with each other dated and I doubt this guy is in love with me. I like him, but I don’t have those kinds of feelings towards him either and hopefully I won’t ever have them. I’d be very unlucky if I fell in love with a playboy. Although… a date doesn’t sound so bad. “Sure” I agreed

He looked very happy and said “Alright, princess, I have a few more things to buy, then we can go and leave the groceries at my pub and go wherever you want”

We spent some time going through the marketplace and buying stuff. We then arrived at his pub. I sat at the counter, while he was putting the groceries in fridge. Alright, I got him where I wanted, now what to do? He’d never expect me to do this since I never flirted with him like his other fans do. “So, this is your home too?” I asked

“Yes, it is. My room is upstairs” he said and after a moment he added “Would you like to see it?”

I couldn’t see him from here, but I bet he was grinning

“Hmm…” I pretended that I haven’t even thought about that and was considering his question. “I’m kinda curious. Would you show it to me?” I asked trying to sound innocent

“Oh, you want to?” he sounded surprised “okay, then after I finish arranging these then I’ll give you my full attention, princess”

He sounds happy. He’s probably thinking that he’ll get to tease me, but he has no idea what I had planned for him. I can’t wait to see his reaction.

After he finished we went up to his room. Although it was midday, his curtains were drawn and his room was dark. I wonder why he keeps them like that. His room was relatively clean compared to mine. There were only a few books scattered around. I took a look at one of them on his desk. It was titled “The effects of magic on the human body”. He’s interested in magic, huh? There were a few more books in another language, which I couldn’t read. What language is that? I was interrupted from my thought by Dum’s voice.

“Princess, you should be careful. You shouldn’t let your guard down around me. I’m not a good man.” He warned me “You shouldn’t just casually enter a man’s room. They might want to gobble you up. Not everyone is as pure as you”

I turned towards him and smiled “Pure? You misunderstood me. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions about people you barely know” I said as I approached him. I hope I have enough strength to do this. I used both of my arms to toss him onto the bed. I then climbed onto him and pressed my body against his, kissing him on the lips. He was still shocked, so I was able to easily slip my tongue in his mouth. Mmh, he tastes of whiskey. He’s been drinking so early in the day? After he recovered from the shock, he started to kiss me back, moving his tongue around mine and sneaking it into my mouth. Seeing that he liked what I was doing to him, I started grinding my hips against his. Oh, wow, this feels much better than I imagined. I wonder if I can make him hard just by doing this. I could feel his hands under my shirt, touching my back. We then interrupted our kiss for Dum to take off my shirt. I looked down at him and saw him smirking

“You’re surprisingly naughty, princess. I like that.” He said and then added “What wicked plans do you have for me?”

“I’m thirsty, Mr. Barkeeper, I want your special drink~” I said in a suggestive tone

“Oh, you want that drink? Well, I could use your help to prepare it. Will you lend me a hand?” he asked me in a flirty voice

“Sure” I responded as I undid the buttons on his vest and on his shirt. Wow, he’s got a well built abdomen. I let my hands slide over his nice body and then started to lick his abdomen.

“Mmmh, yes, go south” his breathing started to become ragged

I was licking him as I slowly made my way downward. I then unzipped his pants and took them off. “Can I take those off too?”

“Oh, yes, go on” he answered in a husky voice

I took his underwear off too and started to lick the tip of his cock

“Oh, yes, princess~” he moaned as he put his hands in my hair and forced me to take it into my mouth

I was feeling aroused, so I was quite wet down there. I wanted to touch myself, so I slid my hand into my undies and started rubbing it. I was sucking his cock now and his hands were tightly gripping my hair, while he was moaning

“Ahhhh, yessss!” he cried out and came in my mouth.

It tasted salty and I licked it all off. “Mmh, that was a yummy drink”

“I’m glad you liked it, princess". He was breathless and a mess. “But I don’t think you’re completely satisfied, are you?”

That’s true, I haven’t reached the climax yet.

“I also want your special drink, so will you let me have it?” he asked me smiling

It was nice of him to think of me too, so I said “Of course you can”

We switched positions so I was lying on the bed and he was on top of me. He began to take off the rest of my clothes. I looked up into his dark grey eyes. He was so handsome, no wonder the girls were all over him. And he knew how to treat them, what they liked and what they didn’t. Oh no, I hope I’m not falling for him. He’ll definitely break my heart if I did. That’s why they called him an evil prince. He was a heartbreaker.

I watched him bend down and lick my opening. He was looking at me. I doubt the fierce heat in his eyes could be extinguished by anything. He started rubbing my clit with his thumb. I gripped the sheets and moaned “Ahh, Dum~”. He then slipped his tongue inside of me. I could feel him wriggle it and it sent me over the edge. I feel like I’m close. I lost control of my body and my hips moved back and forth against his mouth. “Ahhhh~” I reached the climax and he swallowed it all. I was out of breath.

He got up and said “Thank you, princess. Your drink was delicious” then went to take a towel from the closet. “I’ll go take a shower, but you can stay a bit here and rest if you want to”

“Thanks, I will.” I feel a bit tired, although I didn’t do much. Maybe I’m actually emotionally drained. But why would I be? Is it because I’m worried I’ll fall in love with this playboy? I wonder how many women he slept with? I’m sure he lost count of them a long time ago. I shouldn’t get too close to him. I’ll only end up getting hurt. I’ll make sure that my feelings for him won’t get stronger than this.

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 11

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, injuries. Rated M

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

We awoke from a loud banging on the door.

“Get up and get dressed, bitch. You got work to do!”, a gruff voice said. “Where the hell is her guard?���.

Rick flew up and put on his pants and shirt, faster than I’d ever seen anyone do. “Disappear!”, he whispered at me; and I went out of sight.

Opening the door, Rick stared down the guard outside. “What the hell are you doing here, asshole? You’re supposed to be watching the pastel psycho!”, he growled; making me bite my hand to avoid laughing at this new nickname for Harley.

“Sorry, sir. Right away, sir”, the guard answered, and ran off down the hall.

Rick closed the door again, and I reappeared, sputtering with laughter.

“Pastel psycho? Oh, she’s gonna love that!”, I chuckled. “Please don’t tell her I said that”, he said, and grabbed for his boots and jacket; before realizing I was standing naked in front of him.

He walked up to me, wrapped me in his arms, and kissed me deeply, making my knees go weak. “It might be a minute before I get to do this again”, he breathed, and latched on to my lips once more.

The room was still chilly, though we had fogged up the window quite a bit the night before. I was shivering from the cold, and Rick helped me gather my clothes.

Finally dressed, we shared one last kiss, before leaving the room to join the others; Rick once again holding on tightly to my arm.

Walking into the room with the cages, we were met by Waller, Edwards and the Tweedles; and the squad. They were standing over a folding table, looking at a map.

“How considerate of you to join us, Chess”, Waller said coldly, before looking to Rick. I pulled at my arm, to make it seem like he was holding on to hard. “Did she try to run?”, she asked him.

“I got her”, he answered, and pushed me towards the table.

“Yeah you do”, Harley smirked at us, before Floyd bumped her with his shoulder, mouthing a shut up, and grinning in my direction.

“We’ve narrowed down the location of our target to this area, most likely this building”, Waller said pointing at the map.

“The target being?”, Harley asked with a half-smile. Waller looked at her indignantly. “That’s not important for you to know”, she answered. “All you need to know is that the leader of the group is a bad guy, and it’s your job to take him down”. Harley narrowed her eyes at the woman, before smiling again. “Anything you say, boss”.

Waller continued. “The building we believe they are occupying is close to Gotham U; making that the most probable target of their attack. You need to take them out before they make their move”. She put a small shoulder-bag on the middle of the table. “This is how you’ll do it”.

Rick opened the bag, and pulled out a square black box, with a number display on top of it. He carefully put it on the table, and took a step back; making everyone but Waller follow his lead.

“Waller, this is crazy”, he gasped. “You wanna blow this guy up?”.

“I won’t be blowing anyone up”, she answered, and looked at me. “Chess will”.

A murmur rose in the room, as I froze in place. “I don’t know the first thing about bombs!”, I squeaked.

“This one is quite simple”, Waller answered with a smile. “You press that red button, hold it in for three seconds, and let go. The timer is pre-set to 1 minute. After that, the bomb will go of. It’s quite forceful, so you should try to hurry out of the way”.

Rick moved towards her menacingly. “Waller, this is out the question. She can’t do this!”. “Why not? She’s been perfectly able to run away from explosives before”, she answered. “Her ankle”, he tried. “Seems to have healed up well enough”, Waller said, looking towards my leg, and my unbandaged ankle. “She’s even got a new pair of nice leggings to go with it”.

I’d discovered a new pair of leggings – identical to my own cut op ones – in my trunk, before we left Belle Reve.

“This is happening, colonel, and you need to get with the plan”, she said, staring him down. “Don’t forget, I have the same access to those nano-bombs as you do”, she finished, and looked in my direction. Ricks pained eyes met mine. I nodded slightly, and walked up to the table.

I picked up the small box. It was heavier than it looked; or maybe that was just because I was aware of the damage it could do. “This button right here?”, I asked, pointing at the little red nubbin under the display. “That’s it”, Waller answered. “And then I have 1 minute to haul ass out of the building”.

“You seem to know exactly what to do”, she smirked at me, and turned to the rest of the group.

“Now the rest of you. Your job is to get Chess as close to the building as you can”, she said. “Do not go in to the building with her”. “Why?”, Floyd asked; loading his sniper rifle before the job at hand. “We believe they have cctv rigged up, and Chess needs to get as close to the target as she can. She can’t do that with you all holding on to her”.

Harley was fidgeting with her baseball bat. “In and out, huh?”, she asked. “Let’s do it”.

I placed the box in the shoulder-bag, and put it on; now carrying certain death at my hip.

“Yeah”, I said. “Let’s do it”.

“See you on the other side”, Waller said, and left the room, flanked by Edwards and the twins.

Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, everyone was quiet. The bag was heavy on my shoulder, and I concentrated on breathing without freaking out. I felt Ricks fingers lace into mine.

“You good?”, he asked. “Absolutely not”, I answered, smiling. “We all have your back”, he said, backed up by a grunt from Croc. “We ain’t letting nothing happen to you”, Floyd said.

“Oh, lighten up you bastards”, Digger exclaimed, slapping Ricks shoulder hard. “You’re all acting like she’s walking into her death”. “She’s carrying a live bomb”, Diablo said. “Right, I forgot about that one”, Digger grumbled.

---

We were driven in a van to an alley about 3 blocks away from the targeted building.

“From here, we need to go in invisible”, Rick said. He pressed the button on his arm, the small light turning green.

“I need you all to hold on to me”, I explained.

Digger stepped up to me, took a firm hold of my left breast, and smiled at me; gold tooth shining brightly. Rick visibly tensed up. I raised my eyebrows at the aussie.

“You need to be touching a part of my skin”, I reiterated. “Well take your bloody top of then!”, he said exasperatedly.

Diablo smacked the back of his head, and Digger let go. “Well, you’re no fun at all”, he mumbled.

Ricks body relaxed, but he took a firm hold of his machine gun; obviously wanting nothing more than to blow Diggers head of.

“Where?”, Diablo asked, and looked at me seriously, ignoring the death-stare Digger was sending his way. I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket, baring my arms.

“One on each arm I guess”. Shrugging the jacket down my shoulders a bit, leaving them bare due to my loose top, I continued. “One on each shoulder”.

“That still leaves three of us”, Floyd said.

“What if I carried you?”, Croc asked. “It might work. Some of us could hold on to your legs, and we’d be more mobile”, Rick backed him up. “You also wouldn’t be spending your energy walking. We might get further”. I sighed. “Fine”, I said. I rolled up my leggings, and Croc bent to let me jump onto his back. “Piggybacking a crocodile is not how I saw my day going”, I grumbled. Croc chuckled quietly as I grabbed on to him; and I put my cheek to his neck, so we were skin to scales.

Harley took a hold of my left shoulder, and Floyd took my right; after being reminded to take of his glove. Rick placed a hand under my top, on my bare back. Digger, being exiled to my left leg, slid his fingers around my calf. Before he could get too frisky, Diablo moved up behind him, grabbing a hold of the same leg, his hand close to Diggers, to keep it in place.

This only left Katana. She said a few words in Japanese. “Katana, we need to move out. Now”, Rick said pointedly. She answered him, going of in a rant, before I interrupted her with an irritated voice. “Just touch my goddamn leg!”. She shut up, stifled a smile, and took a hold of my right leg.

“Let’s do this”, Rick said, and stroked my back with his thumb in encouragement. “Croc, you set the pace”.

I smiled, and concentrated fiercely on letting my mirage surround us all.

I could hear members of the group gasp, as they saw their limbs disappear into a fog.

“This is some brujería”, Diablo whispered. “Says the pyrokinetic homeboy”, Floyd answered.

We began moving, as I held on for dear life to Croc. The air smelled like rain was coming, and the thought of that made me nervous, as our invisibility wouldn’t help us much, if a sudden shower decided to give away the shape of our bodies moving through it.

“Whoever is groping my ass; move it or lose it”, Floyd said. “Sorry man, I thought you was Harley”, Crocs voice chuckled. “Aw, that’s so sweet”, Harley giggled.

“Quiet!”, I gasped, my body purring fiercely. I could feel my energy being drained at a swift rate.

Croc was moving us forward quickly, getting us closer to our final destination.

We heard a scream from further down the street, and saw three masked men chasing after a man in a suit. “Boomer and Katana!”, Rick hissed. “Right, boss”, Digger answered, and let go of me. It took him a second to move, as he watched himself reappear. He shook his body, and ran off, getting behind a cluster of parked cars. Katana followed his move, recovering much faster.

Pausing for a second behind a parked bus, Harley stepped away, and smacked a sleazy looking guy across the head with her bat. She grabbed my shoulder again, and I made her disappear. We kept moving.

“Deadshot; the roofs”, Rick whispered, and Floyd let go. He climbed up a fire escape, towards the roofs.

Rumbling could be heard from the sky; a single raindrop landing on my cheek. I shuddered from the coldness of the air. “I need a break” I gasped.

Croc moved us towards a doorway, and we hid just inside the door. I was shivering.

“She’s drained”, Rick said, and put his jacket around me. I slid down on the floor. “Diablo?”, he said; and the tattooed man crouched in front of me. He lit his hand aflame, and I cupped my own around it, relishing in the warmth.

“This isn’t a good place to be taking a break”, Croc said, looking outside. “She can’t go on yet, not having to cover all of us”, Rick said angrily.

A loud thump on the ground was heard from outside. Digger came running through the door. “Floyd just took out some poor bugger on the roof, and we got company coming!”, he panted, and looked at me. “What’s with the kitty?”. “She’s spent, man”, Diablo said, looking at him, and then at Rick. “Flag, I can keep burnin’ this flame, but it ain’t gonna give her back the energy she’s lost”.

“I need sugar”, I said, voice weak. Rick grabbed a protein bar from his pocket. “Best I can do right now”, he said apologetically. I ate the bar, while scowling at him. “Boy scout”, I muttered, and tried to stand back up. “Shut up”, he said, and put my arm around his neck, so he could support my weight. “You good?”, he asked, voice soft. “Getting there”, I answered with a half-smile. Forgetting himself, he gave me a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Aaawwww!”, Harley said, finishing with a little squeak.

“Shit”, Rick muttered.

Katana roared something from outside the door; and Rick instantly looked worried. “Croc, go help her”, he said. “Diablo and Quinn; stay with Chess. Try to find her something to eat, anything to keep her energy up. Digger, on me”. “Aye, aye”, Digger said, and went to follow him.

“Croc”, I called just before he went out the door. “Smoke?”. He smiled and threw me his pack of cigarettes. “Goddammit”, Rick said, and ran out the door, the two others following close behind.

Diablo lit my cigarette for me, as Harley went through her purse. “Here”, she said; and handed me a small bag of pop rocks. “They’re the bubblegum kind”, she beamed.

Two puffs of the cigarette, and I was done. “Smoke’s not good for the lungs, mami”, Diablo smirked. “Shut up”, I coughed, and laughed back at him.

I poured the candy into my mouth, feeling the tiny explosions on my tongue. “So, he’s got a good pole that goes with that name?”, Harley jeered, and grinned at me. I instantly flushed red, and looked at the floor. “It’s not half bad”, I smirked. She squealed excitedly, and grabbed me in a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you. Even if he is a stick in the mud”.

The door opened, and Rick looked at us, confused for a second. “What are you…”, he said, and then shook his head. “Never mind. We cleared the street up to the block the building is on. You ready to move out?”. “Do I need to smile?”, I asked. “No, we should be good for about half a mile”. “Then lets go”, I said, and moved for the door with him.

“Hey”, Harley called from behind us. “What”, Rick said, and looked at her. “You break her heart, I break your neck”, she said, face serious.

He held her gaze. “Yes, ma’am”, he answered, took my hand, and we moved down the street.

---

They hadn’t been kidding. The street was cleared alright. Not a bad guy in sight. I saw Croc carrying two bodies over his shoulders, throwing them into a dumpster, before joining the rest of us. Floyd appeared from somewhere. “Roofs are clean”, he said, and moved to the front of the group.

We moved forwards silently, Rick only letting go of my hand, once we reached the street-corner of our destination. The building was tall, and looked abandoned.

“This is it”, Rick said. “This is as close as we can get you”. He grabbed my hand again. “It’s gonna be ok”, I smiled at him. “I’ll be back here to enjoy the fireworks with you in no time”.

He put his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me. His tongue found mine, and we were lost in the moment, my hand in his hair, his on my back, pulling me impossibly closer.

Someone cleared their throat. We pulled away from each other, and saw the squad were all stood smirking at us. “When did this happen?”, Digger asked, followed by another smack to the head by Diablo.

I stepped back, took of Ricks jacket and handed it back to him. “One hour”, he said. “Then we move in to pull you out”. I nodded, and went to cross the street.

I hear footsteps behind me, and Harley grabbed my arm. “Take me with you!”, she said, face serious. “Waller said…”, I began. “Screw Waller! Trust me”, she said. Her expression was for once completely sane. I didn’t know why, but something was telling me to go with her request.

I looked towards Rick, who was shaking his head.

“Y/N!”, Harley insisted. “You’re gonna want me with you!”.

I sighed, looked deep into her pleading eyes, and nodded. She smiled broadly at me, put her hand on my exposed lower arm; and I smiled.

We ran across the street to the building, having difficulty being quiet, due to Harleys stilettos clicking against the concrete. There seemed to be only one entrance; a large wooden door, that turned out to be unlocked. We went inside and let the door close behind us.

Inside was a large staircase. We snuck up it, though we could see no enemies around.

Once on the first floor, Harley let go of my arm.

“Harley!”, I hissed, to get her to stay put. She ignored me, shed her coat, and threw it over a broken chair in the corner.

“Honey! I’m home!”, she called brightly.

 Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 99

Here we have the aftermath of the Warlord Bowl. 

Here, we finally... FINALLY get to see Jokul as a person and not a far-off mysterious bad guy. Consciously, there was never any intent to compare Jokul to people who don’t understand how politics work: @zommbiebro​ isn’t even American, for one thing, and therefore neither is Jokul. However, reading it on the last pass before posting, I realized how it could be taken.

The part that isn’t relevant to the chapter: While I didn’t mean that comparison, please make sure you vote in any local elections available to you, if it doesn’t risk your life. No matter how much you feel your vote doesn’t matter, it does. If everyone who didn’t vote decided to do so, it would change the world.

In my own country, I’ll be taking time off work - because I have that ability - and taking local people to polls that ordinarily would be inaccessible to them within their district.

Back to the chapter relevant stuff: Thank you to @zommbiebro​ for giving me such a good character to play with, @charlylimph-blog​ for reading to ensure entertainment, and @baelpenrose​ for beta reading in every way that entails.

After a quick dinner at the first mess we came across - and true to my promise, I didn’t cook anything - Arthur, Antoine and I reconvened with Jokul in my office. As agreed, he brought only two of his own people, who sat on either side of him in a mirror to how I was bracketed by my own friends.

Unfortunately, they entered as I was mulling out loud the possibility of making hot pot for family dinner one night.  Even less fortunately, the ginger who I had thrown in the gym was one of the people who walked through my door while I was debating the logistics of meat versus vegetarian options.

“She doesn’t even take us seriously!” the nasal voice complained, interrupting me.

Simultaneously, several things happened. I opened my mouth to retort, Arthur put a hand over my mouth, Antoine pushed my shoulder back into the chair.

And Jokul spoke up.

“We agreed to meet with them if Farro beat me in combat.  He did, we are here, and there will be no further argument on the matter.” If anything, he sounded weary rather than angry. “She did not even request that we cease acting against her, only that we meet as equals. It is the least we can do.”

I didn’t even know forehead cramps were a thing until I gave myself one with the speed of my eyes widening. Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand so I could speak. “Right,” I coughed. “So, there are a few things I want to know.”

“Such as?” 

“Why am I your target?” I blurted out. Of everything, this was the one that was weighing heaviest on me. I felt if I could understand that, I would know how to tackle the rest. 

To my frustration, he fucking shrugged. “You are emblematic of everything that will destroy our chance at a new start,” he stated calmly, like he was telling me his name.

I sputtered before regaining my composure. “How? How am I doing something badly?”

“You only want to consolidate power, rule over the masses!” the red-haired toady honked at me.

The overblown statement and Jokul’s subsequent glare at his own man was a level of ridiculous I couldn’t handle at that moment.  Laughing ruefully, I wiped away a tear that warned me I was close to hysterical. “I don’t want to rule over anyone, dude.  If I had my preference, I would only decide what I want to eat once or twice  a week for the rest of my life.”

“But you rule over the Council,” Jokul pointed out in a confused tone.

“I don’t rule anyone, buddy. I am on the Council largely against my will, and mostly because no one else who is qualified even wants my job. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Gods had I tried.

His next statement was significantly less confident. “But you took the reins of power…”

“I am a glorified event coordinator and human resources officer. I have a staff of exactly two. One is my sister, who has been in her role longer than I’ve been in mine and only listens to me when it’s convenient. The other is my assistant, who is British as hell and listens to me on about equal level with my cat.”

“The Baconists! Your assistant was part of that rebellion! You must have known and hidden it from our hosts!” I had to give him some begrudging credit. Even he didn’t sound like he believed his own words, and if the smug look from Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber on either side of him was anything to go by, that wasn’t his own theory.

Time to set the record straight, it seemed. “Okay, quick reminder: that bitch tried to kill me,” I enunciated carefully, leaning forward as I spoke.  “She nearly succeeded. That wasn’t a cover up, it was her realizing that I talk to myself in the shower and listening long enough to hear me think through what was going on. As far as hiding her intent from our hosts… You’re only half right. Miys doesn’t read minds, contrary to what people think, they only read intent. That nutjob really did think she was doing the best thing for the universe by wiping humanity off the proverbial map. Nothing for Miys to pick up, she actually had what she thought were good intentions.”

“You have built yourself to be this legendary hero -”

“I didn’t build myself to be jack. Effing. Shit. If I had my preference, I would give you my position, and open a restaurant that does cooking classes.” When he opened his mouth to interject, I held up a hand to stop him. “Miys likes me because I talk to myself, even in my head, and so badly that they can still hear what I am saying when I don’t move my lips. I only survived being attacked by a crazy person because I treat the person who saved me like, you know, a person? Make sure he’s okay, give him his space when he wants it, sass him back when he wants to be sassy. It was just sheer, dumb luck, and I’m not even sure it was good luck, because voila!” I flung my hands wide at the current situation, forcing both Arthur and Antoine to duck. A quick glance at Antoine only rendered one of his eloquent shrugs. Must be handling the situation okay if he doesn’t think I need help.

I was less concerned with Arthur’s opinion, not because I didn’t care, but because I knew he would jump in when he felt it was needed, without prompting or permission.

“So you do not want to rule over us all?” Jokul asked carefully.

“I don’t even want to top one of my boyfriends consistently.”

“Sophia!” Antoine hissed with a miserable expression, while Arthur burst into a coughing fit. I wasn’t sure if the latter was trying to cover a laugh of choking. 

Jokul, on the other hand, seemed to take that at face value  “Then why are you in power? Explain that.”

With a heavy sigh, I tried again. “I’m not in power. Decisions are voted on by the Council. If someone brings me an idea for a class, or an architectural project, or a medical possibility, I pass it off to the Councilor who handles that and let it go from there.” Emphatically, I pointed at my own face. “Again, glorified events coordinator and HR.”

“And yet, you have your pet warlord sitting beside you. Explain that away,”Tweedledumb - the brunette on Jokul’s other side - accused.

I whipped my head to look at the subject of that statement before looking back across the table. “Arthur?” I asked, jerking a thumb in his general direction. “You do realize he’s a teacher first, right? Warlord out of need, but that ‘need’ was protecting the students in his history class when everything went to shit? Don’t get me wrong, we butted heads like you would not believe when we first met in person. But we realized halfway through what looked to be one hell of an argument that we knew each other for - fuck, like, a decade? Maybe less? - before the End. I didn’t ‘win him over.’ We just realized we’ve always been friends.” With a shrug I glanced back at Arthur, who also shrugged before nodding.

“Too convenient, Councilor.” Tweedledumb gloated. “You just happened to be friends with someone who - “

“Oh for FUCK’s sake!” Annnnd there it was.  Someone had reached his limit for diplomacy and stupidity. “We met on a fanfiction site writing a crossover of two of the worst pieces of science fiction ever written and mutually infected each other! FUCK!” Crossing his arms, he started muttering to himself. “Not like finding someone to kick your asses is hard…”

After a glare at the darker-haired idiot, and with an expression that looked like he was entirely regretting his choice of people for this meeting, Jokul schooled his features before addressing me directly. “Fanfiction?” he asked in a skeptical tone.

And the dirty truth comes out, I thought with another sigh. “StarDoc and Warhammer 40K, okay? It was fun, no fandom to cheese off, nothing smutty. Just… fun.” When the nostalgia threatened to overtake me, I shook my head vigorously. “The point is, we knew each other for years Before the world went to shit, and only realized when one of my friends landed in his class and there was a data error.  I don’t even like violence.” Antoine gave me a skeptical look so I clarified. “Usually.”

“And yet you are a combatant!” Jokul stated with certainty, clearly on more familiar ground.

Angrily, I scowled at Tweedle-the-ginger before leaning forward to look into Jokul’s eyes. “Look. I don’t know how it was in Canada, with your mooses and shit, but I really, really want to know: Do you honestly believe that anyone who got through the After did it without learning how to defend themselves? Even more, that any woman who made it, didn’t learn to fight dirty?”

“Not if you know how to have people defend you - “ Jokul tried before I cut him off.

“They don’t defend me because I’m helpless, let’s be clear. They defend me because I will only fight back if I know my life is on the line. But, on the same page, I will protect my friends and family from anything, without reserve, and die for them. No hesitation.” With a deep breath, I sat back rather than jumping over the table.  “I have my flaws, and my sister will tell you the biggest among those is that I trust too easily.  I assume the best in, literally, everyone.”

“Except smartass teacher, apparently,” Arthur said in a fake cough that fooled exactly nobody.

After making a face at my friend, I turned back to the moose in the room. “What that means is, I don’t try to defend myself until it is literally your life or mine. Or both. I don’t really care at that point, because I assume I’m not going to make it. I just want the person I’m fighting to go down with me.” Trying to imitate Charly’s most savage grin, I put on a forced-cheerful tone. “Now, tell me, Jokul. Who would rather have faced in that fight, knowing that?”

His eyes darted between Arthur and myself as he swallowed hard, mulling the implications of that. “You would kill and die for your friends’ safety and health, even if you would only protect yourself at the last moment?” Here, he scoffed. “There is nothing exceptional or even special about that. Many who were in power in the After felt the same.”

“Except I don’t want power,” I repeated in a tone that I previously reserved only for small children. “I just told you that.” In the corners of my eyes, I saw both of my friends nodding so hard I was concerned for their spines.

Before I could try to reason with Jokul any more, Arthur jumped in. “If you’re both done arguing righteousness, let me explain a few things. Jokull. First off, Soph actually doesn’t want to rule, or be on the Council. She told you this. She’s also bitched about it to me, her sister, and anyone else who will listen, at length. On top of being too trusting, her biggest flaw is actually an impulsivity problem, in general. But she’s not an autocrat.” As he gestured, I saw his eyes glaze over, his voice taking on a serene tone that was entirely too familiar. “If Soph was a real autocrat, she’d have let us have our little duel armed, with my sword and - I presume you’d have had an ax? Maybe a broadsword? You look like a broadsword guy... any rate.”

“However,” he continued, leaning forward with a thoughtful expression, like he was puzzling something out. “she made me promise not to kill you. Think about that. After you’ve been nothing but a headache and a threat to her and her family for months, she makes me promise not to kill you. I wanted to, you know.” The wistful sigh that accompanied that statement was entirely unnecessary and I was certain he only did it to irritate me.  “I wanted to kill you and have your lifeless corpse thrown out of the airlock like trash, not because of the Council, not because your Viking gimmick wears out in a hurry, but because you made the mistake of threatening a friend, then slapping a student. I had no idea if you were actually going to seriously harm any of them, and I didn’t care. The threat alone was enough to make me decide I wanted you dead.” Tapping his chin briefly, he pointed at Jokul without actually looking at him. “Because you were an unknown quantity, but no matter whether or not you were actually the threat you claimed to be, your corpse would be harmless.”

Arthur shrugged before looking Jokul in the face. “That’s how warlords handled things in the After, isn’t it? When someone threatened your people, or when someone threatened mine? I didn’t negotiate. I didn’t warn. I doubt you did, either. I took them at their word, and I did unto them first. And I’d bet you did the same. ‘Peace’ was what you called it when everyone who wanted to make war on you or your people was dead. That’s what the After taught me, that’s what it taught you.” After emphasizing his point by gesturing between the two of them, he shook his head.  “And that impulse, that set of lessons? That's not what humanity needs right now. Our skill set as leaders is not what humanity needs right now. If you want humanity to have a fresh start as you claim, drop the hostility, drop the self-righteousness, and actually try listening. Do you want a genuine peace with the Council?” Thoughtfully, he stroked the hilt of his sword where it laid across his lap. 

I knew it was the fondness of being reunited with a long lost limb, but Jokul didn’t know that. 

“Or a warlord’s peace with me?” In a creepy way, Arthur’s tone was downright perky. “I prefer a genuine one. A warlord’s idea of peace is one of the things I want to leave in the ashes of the After. That’s why it’s the Council who make the rules here - not warlords.”

With an alarmed expression, Jokul very slowly glanced at me. “Did he just threaten to kill me and shove me out an airlock?”

“No, he’s pouting because I wouldn’t let him do that,” I answered honestly.  The topic had come up, for a solid fifteen seconds.  I was even reasonably sure Arthur had been joking.

“I don’t - “ Arthur started  indignantly before being cut off by Jokul.

“He makes a good point. Our skills as warlords are not what is needed in this new world. I let myself believe people who told me that the Council in general and you specifically wanted to hoard power and privilege over us, just like the people who led Earth to where it ended up.” He glanced nervously at Arthur, who was still stroking his sword, before forging ahead in a somewhat squeakier tone. “If someone who has had real power agrees that you and the Council are the best option, then I will at least try to see how that would work.”

Here, Antoine joined the conversation. “Militant strength and ruling by force aren’t the only forms of power. We do not want that sort of power over us anymore. The Council leads because the people on this ship largely want to follow them.  That is the kind of power no one can force.  It has to be earned.”

“But the Council still makes decisions without our will - “

Shaking my head, I angrily flicked open my datapad and shot a file to him like I was thumping off an insect. “No, Bjornson, we don’t.  I was elected to my position - without my knowledge, might I add - by the people I represent to the Council. Every decision we make, the people on this ship get a vote with the exception of an emergency like what happened on Level One.  There wasn’t time to have a vote on how to handle that.”

“Although, we have had a lot of emergencies lately, so I understand the confusion,” Arthur interjected.

Is this what hallucinations feel like? I wondered. There was no way in frozen hell Arthur just made a point in Jokul’s favor, but the calm, resigned look on his face told me that, at some point, he seemed to have made peace with having to treat Jokul Bjornson as a sentient being. I was going to pass out if I kept sighing, though. “Okay, true. But everything else - Insert Winter Holiday, the swimming area, the diving docks, food festivals, permanent low stimulation areas throughout the ship, Galactic Core education - those were voted on by the people on this ship, with an overwhelming majority in favor.”

“What about the alarms?” Jokul pointed to his own head for emphasis.

“Also voted on, believe it or not,” I confirmed. “ And most of the ship agreed that there was more benefit in not running into people who would react badly to unexpected touch than there was discomfort at the alarms going off.”

“I tested them myself, monsieur.” Antoine offered. “So I am well acquainted with the volume they are calibrated for, and I do not appreciate you disabling them.  My staff have had to work around the clock to treat the damage your people have caused to others on this ship, who are terrified to leave their quarters now.”

Jokul looked a bit guilty at that, as well as his entourage.  Looked like he hadn’t considered that. “Would you believe me if I told you that was originally an accident?” he admitted sheepishly.  “One of the engineers thought it would be funny to shock another one in the neck with a low level electrical current, right behind the ear.” He turned his head and pointed to a small burn scar in the same place. “It took days for them to notice that the proximity alarm didn’t work anymore.”

To my shock, Antoine started swearing angrily in French, so fast even the translator couldn’t keep up. “Sophia, if I find out Charly Harper is the cause of this…”

Jokul shook his head vigorously. “I can assure you it was not Miss Harper.” His focus slid over to me, eyes wide.

Either this motherfucker just lied to keep Charly out of trouble, or she really was innocent.

“That explains why Derek and Zach couldn’t figure out how they did it,” Arthur pointed out. “You can’t hack into something that’s shorted out.”

Jokul spoke up again. “It also… may? Have caused some translation inconsistencies?”

“So the shock corrupted more files than just the alarms,” I stated in clarification.

“Several, in fact, yes…. Specifically signed languages and tonal languages.”

“That’s… that’s at least a third of the ship…” I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to sob in horror or laugh hysterically.

Jokul groaned before cradling his head in his hands. “I am aware, yes.”

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[heyyyharry]

So how did Harry and Niall become friends?

A FLATMATE blurb nobody asked for...

.

They said it’d be hard to make friends in college because college was so big, but Harry thought it was just a sad excuse for the anti-socials to hide in their shells. College was awesome.

It was only his first day, and he was already in love with the place. As he walked past a group of girls, they waved at him and giggled when he waved back. He was definitely not a stranger to the attention, but he thought he liked it better now that he was in college. 

He’d had one lecture earlier that morning, and his professor adored him. The professor had probably figured out who his father was. Harry hated that, but at least he was getting special treatment just for his last name. 

And there was also—

“Y/N! Hurry up!”

“Wait for me!”

“Hey, watch it!” he hissed at the girl who had just bumped into him. As she bent down to pick up his textbooks, he told her not to touch his stuff and picked them up himself as she mumbled an apology and ran after her friend. Rolling his eyes, Harry stood up straight and cursed at the stranger.

Okay, except for that girl. Everything else in college was great.

“Mate, wait up!”

What now? Harry huffed as he turned around and the blonde-haired guy gave him a breathless smile.

“Do I know you?” he asked, but the stranger seemed unbothered by his attitude.

“We had a lecture together this morning. You helped me answer a question, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry nodded as his brows furrowed. “Neil, right?”

“Niall.”

“Sorry, Niall. I’m Harry,” he said with a smirk and shook the guy’s hand.

They had another lecture together and Niall asked Harry if he wanted to sit with his friends. Harry was skeptical about Niall at first, but after a long enough conversation, he thought Niall was funny and easy to talk to, so he said yes to the offer.

“Do you live at the dorm?” he asked as they walked side by side to the lecture hall.

“No.” Niall shook his head. “I met this older guy named Louis, and he told me the dorm was terrible. So now I’m sharing a flat with him and another guy named Liam.”

Harry exhaled. “Ugh, I wish we’d met sooner. My roommate is a nightmare.”

“Maybe you should rent a flat. Then you’ll get to choose your roommate.”

“Nah, maybe I’ll rent one and live alone.” Harry chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug, but he thought getting a flat didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Oh, they’re already here!” Niall said as soon as they entered the lecture hall. Harry quickly followed Niall to the third row where his friends were waiting and he happily introduced Harry to them.

“Guys, this Harry. He’s gonna sit with us today.” 

As Harry lifted his hand and said hello, Niall went on, pointing to each person, “this is Louis, Trix, Liam, and Layla.” 

“Where did you find this hot guy?” said the pretty brunette named Layla as she eyed him up. He gave the girl a smirk, thinking she was just his type, but then—

“Hey, asshole, that’s my seat!”

Before Harry could figure out what was happening, Layla pushed Liam off his chair and tossed his bag aside so she could sit down and placed her stuff on the desk. 

Seeing the terrified look on Harry’s face, Niall immediately reassured him, “don’t worry. She’s actually very nice.”

“Nice? We’re talking about Layla here,” said the older guy named Louis who then looked at Harry and gestured a thumb toward the girl. “Just so you know, she stabbed me with a pen when we first met.”

“Bullshit.” Layla shot him a glare before turning back to Harry. “I came to visit Niall at his new flat, and Tweedle Dork and Tweedle Dumb here thought it was a good idea to jump out and scare me. I had a pen in my hand and I wasn’t afraid to use it on stupid assholes.” Then she winked at the new guy. “You’re very hot and I would totally do you. But any guy who’s friends with Niall is...Niall to me, so the answer is no.”

“I didn’t even—”

“Good. Then don’t.”

Harry could only stare at the girl with his eyes wide and mouth agape as Niall gave him a nudge and said, “we’ve been best friends since tenth grade.” 

Niall seemed very proud of his long history with Layla. Still, Harry didn’t know what to say, so Trix, the one with orange hair, took that opportunity to join the conversation. “Hey, new guy! You have very nice hair.”

“Uh...thanks.” Harry gave the girl a small smile, a bit confused by how excited she seemed.

“Guess what my natural hair color is!” she told him.

“Uh...blonde?”

Trix snorted at his answer, shaking her head. “No, silly. It’s auburn! But I dye my hair so often that nobody knows what my natural hair color is! Isn’t that great?!”

“Yeah, it’s great until all your hair falls out,” Layla said without taking her eyes off her phone, causing Trix to gasp and grip her curly locks to protect them from Layla’s mean words.

Clearing his throat, Niall turned to give Harry an apologetic grin. “So...do you still wanna sit here?”

Harry scoffed. “Sure. Why not?”

[loveylangdon]

Satisfied pt. 4

a/n: I am sooo sorry for such a late post ive learned when I give myself a deadline it rarely goes my way. I hope you guys enjoy. somewhat undedited please bear with me ive been sick for a couple of days and sick brain doesn't agree with me This doesn’t feel like my best work but feedback is always welcome thank yall soo much XX

masterlist in bio

Word count: 2.5k

*not my gif credit to owner*

“Connor fucking Brashier open this god damn door” you yelled leaning against it pounding your fist on the white wood.

This was bullshit, utter bullshit.

You talked to Brian 2 days ago about everything.

How it happened and how it didn’t change the way anyone felt about anything. You were drunk and Brian was probably a little more emotionally involved than you were, you were hurt to find out he wasn’t as gone as you were. He seemed to remember everything.

It sent you into a frenzy how could he consciously have taken advantage of your inhibited state, it felt like a betrayal. In actuality, both of you had foggy brains you just a bit more than him. Still, he knew how you felt about Shawn, why would he go and mess up a good thing.

That's where you both fucked up, you going to the first person connected to Shawn wanting to feel closer to him when the real reason Shawn didn’t fly home was that he flew to Amsterdam to meet up and sleep with some girl who lives there.

Brian thought he liked you, he liked the idea of what Shawn had with you. Someone who would wait around and answer every beck and call. You felt used and taken advantage of when Brian apologized profusely and started crying in front of you. You knew you guys should just blame it on the alcohol. Involving emotions was too real and too much.  Involving a one-sided emotion would only end up with someone getting hurt and a worse situation.

Coming to a consensus you were both drunk, drunk beyond relief and he was tipsy enough to not think clearly put two of those people in a room, both of them needy and horny and you wake up the next morning having slept with one of your best friends.

While you and Brian talked about it you still felt gross, he knew you missed Shawn, he knew you were drunk and Brian took his chance thinking maybe you would want him instead. A school crush gone wrong he said. He also talked to Shawn or stopped honestly once he found out Shawn wasn’t talking to you ‘it takes two and it wasn’t just you, I did more of the work if anything’ he spoke out making you cringe. But like the adults, you both are you talked it through and got over it.

Here you were locked in Connor Brashier’s bedroom with the one and only Shawn Mendes after tweedle dee and tweedle dumb thought this was the only way to get you and Shawn talking again. Connor stuck by his “Talk to Brian first and then Shawn” bullshit and here you were trapped.

“Connor fucking Brashier open this god damn door I swear to god blue eyes you won’t look so cute when I get my hands on you” you yelled leaning against it pounding your fist on the white wood harder in hopes he would actually listen and unlock you and Shawn from the confinements of his room.

Shawn started chuckling looking over your shoulder at him he laid down on Connors bed arm draping over his eyes as he let out a sigh.

“He’s not coming back to open the door, They left” He spoke out towards you

Your eyes getting big “What?!” You asked surprised, your voice getting higher

“Yah Connor told me him and Brian had plans later tonight I assumed it was all of us just us two tagging along. Guess they really did have plans that didn’t involve us.” He turns onto his side and looks at you still leaning against the door.

Huffing you put your back to it and cross your arms over your chest “Okay Mendes this is where the gym comes in handy use your big ass arms and break the door” you speak seriously at him as his eyes get wide and he goes into a belly laugh “What? What's funny” you ask

“I am not breaking Tiny’s door” he chuckles looking at you

Raising your eyebrow up at him “What your muscles aren’t strong enough or you aren’t paying him enough to replace a piece of wood” you fire at him annoyed and wanting to get out of this tense atmosphere

Hurt flashed across his face “Why do you do that always taking a dig at me no matter what we’re talking about” he rolls back onto his back looking up at Connors ceiling going quiet. Leaving you both to your thoughts and confused mindset.

“Maybe if you kept your dick in your pants we wouldn’t even be in this situation” you mumbled under your breath rolling your eyes looking at the floor.

“Excuse me?” Shawn asked offended, hurt evident in his voice as he stood from the bed clearly having heard your comment.

“What,” you asked innocence in your voice “Did I lie?” You shoot at him hoping the more upset the more he would want out. While he actually had the strength to get you guys out he seemed unfazed by being confined within the 4 walls.

“How- What the actual fuck y/n are you serious right now?” He asks looking at you arms crossed over his own chest

“I mean obviously Connor and Brian locked us in here to talk so lets do it” you shrug and look up at him challenging him. You can see the defeat and mix of emotions in his eyes

“We’re not talking about where my dick has been” he huffs at you jaw clenched

“What why not too many girls to remember” you start “or do you only remember the pretty ones?” Raising your hand to hold your chin between your thumb and index finger you continue ”oh or the ones who take your phone and follow themselves on Instagram while you go down on them in a stall” You fire at him snapping your thumb 3 times for emphases. getting heated “You know what you probably only remember the ones that blew you in public huh, those real keepers a girl who will get on her knees for you at your convince”

You can see his jaw clench “This isn’t about me and you know it” he shoots at you while his neck is starting to turn a shade of pink and you can see his veins becoming prominent as it pulses in his neck

“Oh yeah right sorry, its about me being drunk and sleeping with one person who knew I was in love with you right” you shoot at him standing up straight his eyes going soft as you say the L word but you continue anyway “he knew but decided to sleep with me anyways while I couldn’t even fucking stand straight but its my fault right, because I couldn’t keep my legs closed when all I thought about was you” you yell at him fire coming out of your ears “yah I forgot you misogynistic asshole who doesn’t even have the decency to tell me when he’s slept with another girl but expects me to be the virgin fucking Mary when he leaves without a phone call” you scream at him and feel the tears in your eyes you turn quickly and push at the doorknob again with your entire body, back facing Shawn.

“y/n” Shawn starts

“Save it I don’t care” you whimper out pushing against the door again hoping with the rush of adrenaline was enough to give you super strength “I just want out” you growl in a low tone

You feel Shawn behind you and you move out of the way and wipe your eyes with your hand. moving around Shawn and through Connors room looking for the trophy he talks about but hates so much. Grabbing it from the top shelf of his you move back to the door and bump shoulders with Shawn who looks down at you confused.

Using the platform of the trophy you hit it against the doorknob where it's connected to the wood hoping the force and your rush of adrenaline would be enough to damage its hold and break you free from the confinements of your love confession and Shawns lack of.

“Woah Woah what are you doing you’re gonna break the trophy” Shawn comes over and pries the gold statue from your hands as you try to hold onto it surprise and shock clear in his voice as he tries to soothe you out of whatever brain fog seems to have its hold on you

“Fuck off Shawn I want out” you try to push him away with your shoulder still holding onto the trophy but he’s stronger and gently pries your fingers off holding the gold thing above your head.

“Breaking Connors shit isn’t going to help anything” he looks you in the eyes holding your gaze so you know he’s serious and you feel a wave of emotions wash over you. “They wanted us to talk things out not break shit” he huffs placing the trophy out of your reach you can tell he’s no longer angry at your attacks against him and he looks at you with soft eyes.

Emotions are surfacing and you can feel it. The room is thick with emotion and tension. You’re not so sure if Connor and Brian wanted you to talk things out or shut up and fuck each other. Seeing how this could have gone both ways you chuckle and curse Connor because knowing him he wanted the ladder so he can stop hearing you both complain.

You turn back to the door and start lightly kicking it gauging shawns reaction and turn your head to see his head in his hands chuckling lightly

“you’re going to be the death of me” he speaks out lowly and groans

“Maybe if you kicked this door down you could have a higher life expectancy,” you say knocking on the door lightly with your hand. You don't hear a response from him and you turn around slowly.

He's looking at you with the softest expression ever and suddenly you feel like crying again.

He takes a deep breath and he’s about to speak before he can you cut him off

“don’t” you look at him with pleading eyes and you see him furrow his eyebrows

“I-” you see him shake his head confusion Clear on his features

You sigh “Don’t get serious on me Mendes I don’t want to start crying and it's not going to change anything I get it.” You give him a soft smile “I slept with your best friend I would hate me too don’t need to apologize for something you’re going to hold against me forever.” You shrug your shoulders and look away from him picking at your nails “Don’t act like we can get past this because at first I thought we could and then you reacted the way you did and I knew we wouldn’t be able too.” You look at him and tilt your head so it's resting on your shoulder softly “We won’t get past this you can apologize and I can apologize and we can both accept that we’re sorry for doing what we did or how we reacted but in reality, you aren’t. You’re not sorry and I'm not gonna sit here and hear you say those words and not mean them. And quite frankly I don’t want this new image you have of me to overtake the good one, you’re going to resent me or Brian and I already know it's going to be me so don’t make it any harder for both of us. Just don’t apologize for it okay I get it” you shrug again biting your lip. you feel tears welling up in your eyes and you sigh looking at the ceiling

He can apologize all he wants but he’s never truly going to forgive you and you know if anything or any type of relationship was to ensue after this he was going to use Brian against you any chance he got because he was guilty of the same thing. Is guilty of doing the exact same thing sleeping with another person. That's what hurt the most, not that he was mad at you for sleeping with Brian that he was mad at himself for doing it more than you have and you never calling him out for it. The guilt was eating at him and you saw it.  

You heard him take a deep breath

“I can never resent you” you hear him get up and walk over to you cautiously

You look at him but not up at him and see that he’s right in front of you, you feel him wrap his arms around you cautiously and pull you into his chest you don’t know you’re crying until you feel the wet blotches on his shirt and he’s repeatedly telling you how sorry he is in your ear. You feel his heartbeat and his arms tightly around you his head on top of yours and know that this is home.

---- 

a/n: sorry again for the late upload I've been dealing with a lot and this story isn’t feeling like its flowing idk. Thank you all for the kind words feedback is greatly appreciated masterlist can be found in bio xx 

some of the tags weren't working im sorry 

Tag list: @anyasthoughts @haileyofthefandoms @winterin127 @ucanttakemyyouth @turtoix @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @shawn-youth @unsolvedhearts @shawn-youth @mariamuses @crowdedimagines @lovablefangirl @sixwyrxstuff @ivegotparticulartaste @shawnandconnor @dreamersseeincolor

[hotforharrington]

Strangely Complicated (Pt. 3)

Setting: S1•E7 [The Bathtub]

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Here’s part 3! Sorry these first few parts are short, but I can’t wait to write the next one and I plan to make that one longer!

[Part1] ; [Part2]

—

During the fight, Tommy had stayed back to help Steve up and eventually I heard the patter of their feet on the ground as they caught up to us, a cop trailing behind them.

We happened to outrun him and when we all knew we were safe, we stood around huffing and puffing from loss of breath and exhaustion.

Once we all settled down, Nicole ditched us, for whatever reason, in her own car. The rest of us piled into Steve’s BMW and we drove to a nearby gas station. Tommy and Carol went inside to grab some things, and I got to sit alone with Steve for a minute. We sat in silence on the hood of his car and I could tell he was in pain as he winced from his injuries.

“You deserve it, you know?” I said to him.

“Yeah, I know.” He responded softly.

“And you’ve gotta make it up to both Nancy and Jonathan.” I stated.

“How do I do that?” Steve asked me.

“Well you start by ditching these yahoos. You’re better off without them. They’ve only made this situation worse. Get rid of them, and we’ll go and make everything right. We’ll dump those two sacks of garbage, go wash the red spray paint from the marquee, and apologize to both Nancy and Jonathan. Just trust me, you can do this, and I can help you.”

Before he got a chance to respond to me, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum came back outside.

“Hey. You owe me a $1.20.” Tommy said, handing Steve a can of coke and some aspirin. Steve tossed the pain reliever in his mouth and gulped it down.

“Don’t worry he’ll need more than aspirin when we’re done with him.” Tommy said.

“Yeah, if the creep ever gets out. The cops should just lock him up forever. Did you see the look on his face?” Carol did a shitty impersonation of Jonathan and punched into Tommy’s chest.

“He probably had that same look whenever he killed his brother, right?” Tommy nudged Steve.

My blood boiled at the statement and I rolled my eyes once Tommy redirected his attention to Carol.

“Oh, god.” Carol said in a disgusted tone, “I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing.”

Steve had had enough and spoke up, “Carol, for once in your life shut your damn mouth.”

“What?” Carol said, confused.

“Hey, what’s your problem man?” Tommy piped up.

“You’re both assholes, that’s my problem.”

I could hear the frustration and anger in Steve’s voice. We both got off of the hood of the car to stand and face the two peabrains in front of us.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah I’m serious. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” Tommy asked as if he was unaware of the words he spray painted.

“You know what!”

“You mean call her out for what she really is? Oh, that’s funny, because I don’t remember you asking me to stop.”

“I should’ve put that spray paint right down your throat.”

“What the hell, Steve?” Carol squeaked.

“You know, neither of you ever cared about her. You never even liked her because she’s not miserable like you two. She actually cares about other people.”

“The slut with a heart of gold!” Carol jeered at Steve.

“I told you to watch your mouth!” Steve retorted.

“Hey! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, man, but you don’t talk to her that way.” Tommy moved closer to him.

“Get out of my face.” Steve said to him.

Tommy grabbed Steve by his jacket, “Or what? Or what? You gonna fight me now, too? Huh? You gonna fight me now, too? Because you couldn’t take Jonathan Byers... so I wouldn’t recommend that.”

I was fed up with these assholes. I swiftly walked up to the two that were mere seconds from an altercation. With my both of my arms, I pushed Tommy back with all my might. He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.

“Back the hell off, Tommy. You might not think Steve can take you, but you better think twice about whether or not you wanna cross me, you prick,” I turned to walk to the passenger side of Steve’s car. I heard Carol scoff at my remarks. I looked her dead in the eyes and said, “Don’t push me, Carol. I’m not afraid to kick your ass either.”

I could see the idiots turning red with anger and embarrassment as I slid into the passenger side of Steve’s car.

Steve opened the driver’s side door to get in.

“Here let me get the door for you buddy.” Tommy said before slamming the door behind him as though he was a cop putting a criminal in the back of the police car.

Muffled, we could hear Tommy obnoxiously yelling, “That’s right! Run away, Stevie boy! Run away, just like you always do! Those girls are turning you into a little pussy!”

Tommy’s annoying voice faded away as we drove off.

Steve had an aggravated expression painted on his face.

“You did so great, Harrington. Way to tell of those donkeys!” I exclaimed to him to help improve his mood.

He cracked a smile and said, “Donkeys?”

“Yeah... you know, jackasses...?”

We both burst out laughing so hard, I thought my sides were going to split.

The laughter died down as we pulled off to park down the street from the movies. Once the car was no longer in motion, he turned toward me and he said, “You were pretty badass earlier, (Y/N).”

“Oh well thanks...” I said, blushing.

I turned towards him, “I think you were pretty badass, too. It takes a lot to put yourself in a position like that. You must like Nancy a lot to go through all of this for her.”

“Yeah...” He said, trailing off, “Thanks for helping me, (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome...” I said, not realizing how much we had subconsciously continued to inch our faces closer and closer.

I realized the lack of distance between us and recognized that the likelihood of us kissing was becoming greater and greater each second.

As much as I craved a kiss from the Harrington boy, I knew it would be wrong. He was into Nancy Wheeler, and I had no intention of getting hung up on a guy who was already infatuated with another girl.

I cleared my throat, looked at the floorboard, and said, “Yeah, uh, we should, uh keep working on getting Nancy’s forgiveness and go wash the marquee now...”

“Oh, yeah, uh, definitely.” Steve’s cheeks were lightly shaded in a pink color.

We both retreated from the car to go forward with our next task.

A man on a ladder attempted to scrub away the red spray paint on the marquee.

Steve looked at me, I could tell he was reluctant to go forward with this, “Are you sure about this? What if that guy rats me out?”

“Do it, Harrington. For Nancy.” I patted his shoulder and said, “Go on!”

He went forward and the man handed him the cleaning supplies. I stood down on the ground with my hands in my pockets, as he was on the ladder, scrubbing away.

I looked up at him and smiled. “Proud of you, Harrington!” I said with a cheesy smile on my face and giving him two thumbs up.

He shook his head and chuckled at me. Along with his small laughter, his beautiful smile spread across his face. This resulted in the butterflies that fluttered around within my stomach. I realized in that moment how much I liked that smile.

Steve Harrington was a complicated boy. He didn’t always show it, but he definitely had a sweet side and wanted to do the right thing. He just needed a support system to guide him.

“Nancy’s a really lucky girl...” I said so softly, I couldn’t even tell if Steve heard me.

After the red paint was washed away, Steve climbed down from the latter.

“Now what?” He said to me.

“Now we go apologize to Jonathan in person.”

“Like now?” He asked.

“Uh huh! C’mon, Harrington, keep up! We gotta get to the Byers’ house, it’s already getting dark!”

—

[Part4]