#THESE PAST WEEKS HAVE BEEN MAKING ME REALLY WANT TO EXPLODE INTO CONFETTI

[chaosduckies]

AGHHHH

Of course something has to happen the day I was going to post the new chapter… WHY IS A BAKERY SO BUSY ON WEEKENDS??!! (I work at a bakery Btw)

I’m sorry for the delay, but I’m going to do some last minute edits and I WILL post it no matter what happens. Again, so sorry for the delay TwT

[crmsnmth-journal]

3/7/2024 9:06 PM

For a Thursday, it was a pretty good day. Woke up, had my coffee and morning cigarette on the porch, slowly cleaned random spots in the house. Went to see both my psychiatrist and my psychologist so that killed two hours and it's taken a long time, but I know how good therapy is for me. It's another outlet to get everything out of my head. It's like if I don't vent it, either writing, or therapy or whatever, the thoughts get all tangled and it gets overwhelming. It sometimes feels like my heads going to just explode into a shower of half-finished thoughts and brightly colored confetti. So I take therapy pretty seriously.

It was after therapy that the day could've turned horrible, but I'll be damned if it didn't stay on a pretty good track. I guess some background is needed here though. So my father passed away in January of this year, complications of a stroke and a seperate car accident. He chose to go out in hospice, rather than spend the rest of his life stuck in a bed. I don't blame him. But his death was the catalyst for something that had been building for over a decade. A serious anger at the very idea of pointless suffering. What was the point of the stroke if he was just going to die from a car accident? Stuff like that. My grandmother is another one who lets me vent, but she is extremely Christian. I'm agnostic at best. I believe in a higher power, but I'm not sure I really believe in a God figure. And her and I get into these weird theological debates. The last one we had was a few weeks ago, once again about the concept of pointless suffering. I may not be Christian, but I have read the bible, and I like theology in general. Religion is really fascinating once you get past the horrible things it's caused. I can hold my own against her. Because of this last discussion, she made an appointment for me with the pastor of her church. And at three o'clock today, I found myself sitting across from a preacher. I was there for two hours talking to this man about the concept of suffering. I asked why an infant could be born, only to die two days later of some complication. What was the purpose of that child's short miserable life? I gained a lot of respect for this man of the cloth today. He flat out told me that he didn't know. It doesn't make sense. He didn't try to feed me the "God's plan" bullshit. He didn't try hard, and he answered a few questions I had about Job's tale of pure suffering. The guy was honest with me. Sure, I didn't get any of my questions answered, but if even a man who's given his life to his God doesn't get it either, I don't feel so…alone about it, I guess. I'm still just as angry, and I think I will be for a while.

Also, I hate Jason Bateman so so much. For some reason, I put Juno on. I tell myself it's for it's amazing soundtrack, but what can I say, it's nostalgia too. Either way, I always forget Jason Bateman's in this and I just want to punch him in his face. With a baseball bat. And too think, I absolutely love Arrested Development, but even then I want to just push him down a flight of stairs. He just…irks me. I've tried getting into Ozark so many times by the recommendation of others, and I don't think I've ever made it halfway through the first season. Jason Bateman just looks like the guy who'd be an arrogant over-sarcastic dick-head. And I'm truly convinced that Micheal Cera was never supposed to be an actor. He just wandered on set and is way to awkward and polite to correct and it just became his life.

[ahungeringknife]

365: April 28

Savant was excited to play Gambit. Well he was excited to oogle at Drifter when he got the chance. But that was basically the same thing! As he was getting his gear together he had Orion call Eric. "You ready to go?" he knew she was awake at this hour. Her sleep schedule had slowly drifted the past few years since she'd gotten Gup so she was at least awake when he woke up to feed him breakfast.

"Go?" Eric's voice sounded out of Orion's still ringed body.

"Yeah! Gambit," Savant said.

"Oh. I totally forgot. Can't," she said and he could hear the shrug in her voice. "I was banned."

Savant paused for a moment. "You were what?"

"Drifter sent me a message after Gambit ended for the day saying I wasn't allowed to queue up with my friends. Didn't you get one? Guppy and Jaxon both called bitching up a storm about it."

"No?" But Savant was also the one to drag them into Gambit. "So like... banned from playing with Guppy and Jaxon?"

"And you," she said candidly.

"Yeah! The man said you exploded too much," Gup's little voice chimed in over Ghostie.

"He said you went Super too much," Eric corrected. "And also that Legion's too efficient in a group. Which... yeah," she sighed.

"But it was fun," Savant protested but thinking back on yesterday... Those games had been very fast. Some of the fastest he'd ever played. Drifter had almost been at a loss for words. A first!

"So I'm banned from playing with you so I don't really feel like playing," Eric said.

"Mom's going to make me a cake made of meat," Gup said excitedly.

"I-- well that's... unfortunate."

"Sorry, babe. You're going to have to get Drifter's attention on your own," she teased him.

"That's not why I-!" his voice box cracked traitorously. He made an electrical buzzing noise that made Eric giggle. "Running with random invaders suck," he whined.

"Then I guess you better learn," Eric said.

"But I can't hit head shots! That's like my whole deal I just spray and pray and throw Void around like confetti!" Eric and Gup laughed on the other end.

"If you stick it out a week and still want to keep it up I'll train you how to actually snipe."

Savant stared at Orion and through him to Eric. Eric was the best sniper in the Legion and the Legion was the best Hunters in the Tower (more or less). That meant Eric was near the top if not the top for Guardians who could snipe. He'd seen her do it for decades working with her in the Legion but every time it was just... insane. She was absolutely insane with a gun. Any gun really. "Really?" he asked.

"Sure. If you want," Eric said.

"Guppy's going to be so mad," Savant said, absolutely living for it now. Guppy was a good Hunter, a good Gunslinger, he had to be, he was a Legion Scout. But he and everyone else in the Legion knew Eric was a better shot. And since Eric had been in the Legion Guppy had wanted to know the 'secret sauce', whatever crazy ass juice Eric had that made her so good. Some personal one-on-one lessons from the gun god herself.

Eric laughed again. "Yeah whatever," she said dismissively. "Now I was in the middle of making me and Gup breakfast. So you go have fun in Gambit."

"And we'll make a cake!" Gup cried. "A meat cake!"

"I don't even want to know," Savant said in a Golden Age language Eric knew but Gup didn't. It made her laugh. "Okay. I'll let you know how it went," he switched back to the City tongue.

"Have fun."

"Have fun!" Gup mimicked.

Orion's rings started spinning again as Ghostie closed the transmission. "Eric is so nice," Orion chirped. Savant knew the only thing Orion had taken out of that conversation was it was with Eric. And Orion liked Eric. Therefore Eric was nice. That was it.

"Yeah she is. Okay let's go," and he collected his Ghost and headed out the door.

[harrygroves]

part two of willing victim steve/lifeguard billy

part one is here

Steve’s topping off a double-scoop of vanilla with chocolate syrup and sprinkles when he catches him in his peripheral vision.

Billy walks right up to the counter, past the line Steve has waiting, ignoring the squawks of hey asshole! being thrown at him.

“Harrington!” He shouts, hands slamming down on the plastic counter-top, glasses pushed down his nose, throwing daggers at Steve. His skin is so sun-kissed that Steve can feel the heat rolling off of him threatening to melt the frozen goods behind the glass.

Steve finishes handing off the cone to the expectant girl over the counter who immediately rushes off, without paying.

“Hey!” Steve shouts at her but Billy’s waving a hand in his face and Steve pulls his eyes over to him. “What?” He asks loudly, aiming for annoyed finality but it doesn’t come out as fiery as he’d like.

Billy rounds the counter, getting all up in Steve’s face, and he reaches out, grabs something around Steve’s neck.

Steve looks down, confused. Apparently he’s wearing a lifeguard uniform, and Billy’s hand is wrapped around a whistle, pulling Steve closer and closer.

“You haven’t been back to the pool.” Billy says and Steve’s eyes find him again. Billy’s wearing a Scoops Uniform, but it’s got Steve’s name tag clipped to it, and Billy smells like marshmallow fluff and strawberry syrup, and he’s getting closer and closer, the pull from Steve’s whistle burning a line around his neck -- 

“Ahh!” Steve shouts, sitting up-right in his bed.

He glances around wildly, half-expecting Billy Hargrove to be standing, shadow-soaked, in the corner of his room.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve heaves out, breath stuttering out of his lungs in a staccato beat.

He doesn’t get back to sleep.

*

Steve’s eyes are sleep-heavy and his head is throbbing. Saturdays are the worst day of the week, as far as he’s concerned.

Some kid is crying and here comes his mother, for the third time, to yell that Steve got the order wrong and do it again.

He hates this woman. More than any person he’s ever met.

Well, perhaps there’s one exception to that.

Steve mumbles to her that he needs to go get more fudge squares for her order and hustles into the back, standing in the freezer for a full minute, eyes closed, as if trying to squeeze in a thirty-second nap.

He grabs the bag of fudge squares and a tub of sprinklers and goes back up front.

When he pushes the door open his eyes immediately see that Billy Hargrove is in line.

Steve stalls when he sees him, the tub of sprinklers slipping from his hand, and the top of the tub comes off, exploding edible, rainbow confetti around him.

Robin swears from the opposite end of the counter, a mother yells at her to watch her language, but Steve is frozen, stock-still and staring, and Billy’s staring back at him, but not in the same way.

Billy’s look is more of a you fucking weirdo vibe whereas Steve is silently saying you’re here and i don't know why that’s making me feel something.

Robin slides in front of Steve’s field of vision and Steve startles. She’s pushing a broom around his feet, snapping at him to get out of the way and Steve stumbles to the side, leaving Billy a clear path to Steve.

But Billy isn’t moving and he isn’t saying anything and the rush in Steve’s ears is finally passing and he realizes someone’s smacking the bell over and over; there’s a line of people and he’s just standing there and fuck, he probably looks like he’s having some sort of episode.

He gets back to the counter and robotically goes through the motions of greeting, serving, and ringing up the customers, every single one a bell toll towards death as Billy gets closer and closer. His hands actually start shaking and he stammers, a string of panic starting to thread it’s way through his body. Robin finishes getting the sprinklers cleaned up but she’s not quick enough and Steve’s left to greet Billy as he saddles up to the counter.

“Ahoy.” Steve says weakly and he makes the mistake of glancing at Billy’s mouth and remembering the pressure and the curve of his lips, slippery sunscreened skin and the intense sensation of drowning -- and that only came after he was pulled from the water.

Billy catches this because Steve did it in a moment of panic and there was no way to hide it and instinctively flicks his tongue out, running it over his bottom lip, and why that makes something inside Steve jolt is a fucking mystery.

“So this is where you ended up.” Billy says, quiet in a way that it almost sounds threatening. He plants a hand on the counter and leans in, glasses tucked into his shirt pulling down the already low lifeguard top. He’s smiling at Steve the way he used to when they were in school together; that belittling poor you expression that makes Steve feel a foot tall, but it’s different now that they’ve -- 

It wasn’t like they actually kissed. A bunch. It was a training exercise.

So why was Steve’s heart thundering in his chest, why did this feel different? It suddenly didn’t look very poor you. It felt more like there you are, i found you, and Steve didn’t feel like he was going to get punched in the face, it felt more like a game had been won...and he was the prize.

Steve actually looks down to make sure he’s still wearing his uniform and the barrage of blue, white and red glares back up at him.

He moves his head back up and glances at Billy, opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say and he just shrugs one shoulder, shaking his head a little, confused. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Billy’s found him, sure, but he’s actually starting to look...troubled. His smarmy, boarding-on-sweet smile has faded and he bites his lip. Like Steve is bothering him.

In a flash, Billy reaches out and grabs at Steve’s name tag and it comes off easily, pulling Steve’s shirt with it for the briefest moment.

Steve doesn’t...what the fuck?

Did Billy just come in here to bust his balls?

Steve can’t talk, can’t formulate any sort of retort because he doesn’t understand what’s happening and Billy doesn’t say anything, he’s just sunburned-red and clenching Steve’s nametag in his hand and then he just whirls around and leaves, stomping out of the store like he’s pissed off.

Robin didn’t see it happen, and the customers didn’t seem to notice because the next person steps up the counter and starts barking orders at him.

He looks down to make sure, and yeah, Billy just took his name tag?

It’s not a big deal, it’s a piece of plastic but something about it feels deeply personal and Steve can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of his shift.

*

The pool closes hours before the mall so Steve is at a complete loss as to what to do about this situation. His manager gives him shit for losing his name tag and he doesn’t know how to say that he didn’t lose it, some asshole took it, because what the fuck would his manager say to that?

So he has to get it back.

But like, Steve doesn’t want to see Billy.

He really doesn’t.

Plus, Steve’s never actually been to Billy’s house and that feels like too much. Too personal.

Steve’s trying to avoid getting personal. It just feels...like more, after…

He sits in his car, elbow on the window-ledge, slides a hand over his mouth, thumb and pointer finger stretching from cheek to cheek and he can feel how hot his face is.

He shakes his hand out, reaching forward to clench the steering wheel.

What is happening to him?

part three

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[shibasparklez]

Anniversary Gifts 💖⚡️

(Happy five years to us! I wrote this to celebrate 🍻)

I hummed to myself as I cut up apples, the morning mist coming in from the opened windows comforting me. Thor was still in bed, his snores still audible from the bedroom. I hoped that he would stay asleep for a while, so I had time to prepare breakfast. Which had taken an entire week for me to gather the ingredients for, along with the rest of the day’s meals. I was going to spoil my husband all day, since it was the day of our anniversary. My present for him was smaller, and handmade so I wanted to make up for that. Though I knew he would be excited about anything I gave him. One time I gave him a barrette I had stored in my bag, and it’s still in the house years later.

The official date of our anniversary was up for debate. Since we first kissed and started acting like a couple weeks before we were “officially” dating. We didn’t go on a proper date for a couple of months, since we were so busy at the time. The two of us decided to put the date on the day of our first kiss, since in our eyes that’s when we really became a couple. Our marriage anniversary was a completely different story, since it happened in space and none of us really knew the exact day.

The past few days, Thor was beginning to act odd around me. Often ending conversations early, going out for long stretches of time, and being vague when I asked what was going on. At least until he could tell I was getting upset, and he let it slip that he was preparing something big for our anniversary. Even though I brought it on myself, I was slightly nervous. As well as so excited that it seemed like at any moment I would explode into confetti and bubbles. Which likely added to the nerves. I was starting to get insecure about my gift, which is partially why I planned the three meals.

The first one was a simple eggs, fruit, and bacon. Yet everything was sold fresh from farmers around town. All of the fruit was from orchards and markets in the area, and I was planning to put it all on a board. Charcuterie style, which I assumed wouldn’t work with breakfast until I saw some fancy photos online. Already I had cut up a series of strawberries and tried to arrange them like a flower. Which was sort of like the pictures online, just a lot more crooked. I was working on all of the fruits, arranging them before working on the meat and eggs.

The fruits were a mixture of both of our favorites. Passion fruit, green grapes, pineapple, raspberries, apples, watermelon, blueberries, blackberries, basically every kind of berry, and kiwis. Not all of them I could get in town, though I could find most of them from local farmer’s markets. I had just finished cutting most of them, all I had to do was snap off groups of green grapes and place them on each side. The board had enough room for the plates of bacon and eggs. Already there were some waffles on the side, bordering the fruit.

As I prepared the stove, I remembered an odd moment from the past couple of weeks. A moment where I was taking a walk along my favorite path along the shore, and caught a glimpse of a huge group on the beach. Jane, Wanda, Sam, Bruce, Valkyrie, a few people I didn’t recognize, and I swore I caught a glimpse of Peter. Before I could ask anyone a single question, Sam leaped from the beach all the way to the top of the hillside. Making the emerald green grass brush against my legs in the intense wind. He acted like nothing was happening, taking me back to his house to work on my present for Thor.

What were they all doing down there? Especially without telling me about it beforehand. I would have been upset if they were playing around in the water, but they were just...searching for something. So I brushed it off, assuming that Bruce had lost his glasses or something. Yet what nagged at me even while I prepped the most elaborate breakfast I’d ever made, is the site of Peter. Somebody would have told me if he was coming to visit. The trip down from New York was a long one, with an overnight flight and a drive down a bumpy mountain road. Usually I was the one to drive him down if my mom or May wasn’t with him.

Once again I brushed it off in my mind, wanting to focus entirely on cooking. The bacon was a perfect, thick cut that I could already smell before it was on the pan. As I started to cook my stomach audibly growled from the sight of the meat browning. The smell was heavenly, filling the room with the scent of delicious bacon. I cherished the sound of the sizzle against the pan, licking my lips from the thought of eating it. Until I stopped in my tracks from a second all too familiar sound. Thor’s thundering footsteps coming down the hall.

“Don’t come out yet! My present isn’t done!” I shouted, not wanting to leave the bacon unattended.

“Of course, I need to prepare my present as well!” Thor chuckled, and I sighed dreamily.

“How about we give them to each other at breakfast?” I had to keep my voice raised over the sound of the bacon.

“Wonderful plan! Just shout when you’re ready, darling.” He made a series of shuffling noises from our bedroom.

“Happy anniversary!” I giggled at our odd first words to each other.

“Same to you, dear!” His voice was farther away than before.

I finished up the breakfast as fast as I could without trading in my accuracy. Placing the gorgeous bacon on a plate in the center of the board, and soon filled another plate with a whole dozen of scrambled eggs. That I filled with cheese and a little bit of minced garlic. Which was probably a little over the top, but I wanted to impress him. Mostly with my presentation, but I was proud of how delicious my spread smelled. I topped off the board with two glasses, some iced coffee for him and green tea for me. Calling him in finally, I almost started to cry when he reacted to the meal. His big beautiful eyes widened with shock, then a massive grin spread across his lips. The same face he made when I was singing on stage, with stars in his eyes.

“Darling, this is…” He came over to me and kissed my lips. “I can’t thank you enough this is...truly beautiful.”

“You know how you can thank me?” I kissed his cheek. “Eat up, baby!”

“Come sit with me.” He grasped my wrist, leading me to the table. “Right next to me, so I can hug you whenever I please.”

“Good plan! We can try all of the same things too!” I sat on the chair right next to him, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Dottie, this is fantastic. How early did you get up this morning in order to prepare for this?” He kissed my head.

“Only about an hour earlier than usual.” I kissed his cheek in return. “Getting everything was actually the harder part. All of it was a lot of fun though.”

We ate mostly in silence, but one of comfort. Of enjoying the wonderful food. The bacon melted in my mouth with each bite, and I was nearly in tears from the taste. I kept checking Thor’s face for his reaction. Luckily he seemed to be thinking the same way. We gorged ourselves on everything in front of us, only stopping once the whole board had been cleared. I was full, satisfied, with a heart full of love for my husband. Thor patted his stomach, pulling me close to him with an arm around my waist.

“I love you so much, Dottie. You truly spoil me.” He murmured into my ear.

“Baby, I love you too. Honestly, your reaction to my cooking was a present to me.” I embraced him, rubbing his stomach. “Did the food taste good?”

“Exquise, delicious, wonderful, every word for amazing that I can think of.” He slid his hands over mine.

“Okay, I still have one more gift.” I stood from the chair. “Originally it was going to be my main gift but...you’ll see!”

I didn’t want to put all of my insecurities on him. Knowing that it would be unfair. Since no matter what he truly thought, for my sake he’d likely compliment my work. I walked into the living room, opening up a cupboard that was mostly empty. Besides my homemade plush of Mjolnir. Which was very clearly amatuer, even though I’d put hours into the stitch work. Jane taught me how to use a sewing machine for the project. The plush was made to be a pillow, with soft cotton and airy fluff inside. I gulped, standing with my back facing him to prepare myself. Before deciding I needed to show him, so I turned around and handed him the plush.

Thor needed a moment to process what I gave him. Once he did, the smile on his face was enough to make a ton of weights lift off my chest. Followed by his infectious laughter as he gave the hammer a hug. He pulled me onto his lap, covering my cheek and neck with kisses. I squealed, giggling loudly and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Keeping the hammer on one knee, he squeezed the handle. Which I made out of the same fabric, but filled the inside with a firmer material.

“Did you craft this yourself?” He cupped my cheek.

“Yeah, I tried my best anyway.” I stared at the hammer bashfully. “After you said you were planning something big, I got a little insecure. It’s not your fault or anything! Since I asked you what you were up to and everything but…”

“Dottie, I love it.” He grasped my hand, kissing the tips of my fingers. “Is this the cause of all of the bandages on your fingers?”

“...yeah.” I still had two Hello Kitty bandaids on both of my hands. “Honestly, I don’t know how Jane put up with me for so long. Though she was proud of me when I finished the pillow.”

“As she should be. I’m proud of you for learning a new skill.” He hugged the hammer once again. “I also adore this little guy. Mjolnir...you must have noticed…”

“How much you missed your hammer after the big fight? I did. Part of me worried you’d be offended by it…” I brushed my thumb against his palm.

“No, not at all! I find the thought to be touching. How long have you worked on this?” Thor kissed my hand again, lingering for a few moments.

“For almost a year, I think? Well, I got the idea a few weeks after the big fight. Then Jane taught me basic sewing skills, which ate up most of the time. Wait, should learning to sew be in the creating process?” I started to ramble.

“Dottie…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You learned to sew in order to make a gift for me, I find that more romantic than anything that can be bought.”

“You have no clue how happy it makes me to hear that.” I almost cried, but stopped when I noticed a small box out of the corner of my eye.

“Alright, I need to give you your gift.” He clearly caught me staring. “Will you stand, dear?”

I stood from his lap, unsure of where the moment was going. The size of the box gave me an idea, but I kept my mind open to all possibilities. Just having him with me was a present on its own. Watching him smile so often after spending so many years in a stupor. Making up for all of the time we lost was a priceless gift. I was lost in thought until he got down on one knee. Holding up the box, giving me a dazzling smile. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands. All kinds of thoughts swirling around my head at once.

“W-we’re already married!” I stammered, slightly confused but excited at the same time.

“Yes, I know!” He chuckled, opening the box. “This is for you, my love.”

I took the box with trembling hands, happy tears streaming down my face when the ring met my gaze. The ring was made of a clean silver, with multiple pieces of sea glass inside. Varying in color from green, blue, to even a bit of light pink. I had a fascination with sea glass ever since I was a little girl. The texture was mesmerizing to me, sharp glass turning to a smooth stone. Surrounding the pieces were small jewels that sparkled in the sleepy morning light. I was smiling so hard that my jaw was sore.

“Thor...you...how did you know? Have I told you about how much I love sea glass?” I continued to stare at the ring, as mesmerized as I was as a child.

“Admittedly, I cheated. I asked your mother.” He stood from his kneel, taking the ring gently. “May I?”

“Of course!” I held out my hand, cooing as he slid the ring perfectly over my finger. “Wow, you got my size perfectly! Did you measure in my sleep or something?”

“No, I asked Jane to find an excuse to put a ring on your finger.” He continued to hold my hand.

“Oh, that’s why she needed me to test a fake ring for her! Meanwhile I was wondering when she got into jewelry.” I realized, my memory of the beach made sense as well. “Oh! You all were on the beach to find sea glass! That’s...really nice of them to chip in like that.”

“Now, this isn’t the last part of your gift.” He gave me his ring, and I slid the gorgeous jewelry onto his finger. “I have...a question for you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” I tilted my head.

“Would you like to have a second wedding ceremony? On Earth, where all of our friends and family can attend?” Thor grasped both of my hands.

I was shocked by the question, until rolling the idea around in my mind. Our first wedding was on a spaceship, spur of the moment and only in front of a few that I knew closely. Peter never saw me get married. Neither did May, or Shuri, or any of the other Avengers. Though some of them never would get to. My own mother never saw my marriage, only hearing stories from me when we met again. Plus, I often dreamed about having a more traditional marriage. I avoided telling him since I knew at the time we were doing the best we could.

“...yes! Baby, of course I‘d love to!” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

“You would?” His eyes widened.

“Yes! That’s a great idea!” I hugged him firmly.

“Your mother told me that couples often have second ceremonies to renew their vows.” He scooped me up into his arms. “Come, we have to tell everyone!”

“Okay! Let’s tell the King first!” I squeaked, holding onto him as he brought me out of the house.

[novelconcepts]

fic: heading into the dark (and we’ve got to hang on to each other)

Life, as Dani Clayton sees it, is full of darkness. Little darknesses, like a mother who draws away even as she continues to draw breath, and big darknesses, like loss that comes out of absolutely nowhere, and all the variations in between. Life is unpredictable. It’s ugly. It’s cruel. 

Life also grants the laughter of small children, and wonderful dinners prepared by good friends, and Jamie’s hand in hers. 

There is, certainly, no shortage of lights in the dark. 

***

“Teach me,” she says one day, a month or two into the great experiment that is Moving to America with Jamie. “Come on.”

“Teach you,” Jamie repeats dryly. “To incur lung cancer?”

“You do it,” Dani points out, aware that she sounds rather petulant and not particularly caring. Jamie’s smiling the half-smile she gets whenever she’s about to let herself get talked over the edge of something. “Come on, I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Jamie shakes her head, but she’s already lost this battle, and she knows it. Her foot braced behind her on the wall outside their apartment, she turns her head toward the setting sun and exhales a long stream of blue smoke. “Fine, sure. But when you love it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I hardly think I’m in danger of--”

“Shut up and c’mere.” She cups her hand around the half-smoked cigarette, holding it up for Dani’s assessment. It’s awkward, the pass-off between her hand and Dani’s more of a fumble than anything else, and Dani nearly drops the damn thing. Jamie laughs. “Easy, now, don’t go wasting it. Now. Put it--”

“I know where to put it,” Dani laughs. Jamie raises her brows teasingly. 

“I’ll just bet you do. Okay, right, here’s the thing. When you inhale, you’re gonna want to take it slow. Nice and easy, but make sure you’re pulling the smoke deep into your lungs, or it’ll defeat the whole--”

Dani’s already sucking in a breath, and she’s just realized Jamie’s eyes have gone wide when her body recoils from the invasive swirl sweeping into her lungs like a hurricane. 

“Easy, I said!” Jamie pries the cigarette from Dani’s suddenly-limp grasp as she doubles over on a gagging cough. Her lungs burn, her hand groping for Jamie’s sleeve, and even though it feels fucking awful, there’s something so wonderfully steadying about Jamie’s hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Now’s not the time for an old-fashioned I-told-you-so, is it?”

Eyes streaming, Dani tries to fix her with a glare, but Jamie’s outlined in the red-gold of a setting sun, her lips pursed around the cigarette once more, and she can’t find it within herself to do anything but laugh. 

***

“You really don’t know how?”

“Don’t laugh,” Jamie grumbles. “Never got around to it, is all.”

Dani’s leaning forward, practically falling off the beach chair in her excitement. Jamie, she has learned over these past few months together, is not the sort of person who doesn’t know things. She may not be good at everything she tries--she’s a rotten cook, for example, though a passable baker--but it sometimes feels like Jamie’s lived more in thirty years than Dani will if granted twice that time. Sometimes, when Jamie is sweeping a billiards table, or fixing a door hinge, or replacing a bit of questionable wiring in the bathroom without managing to electrocute either of them, Dani catches herself thinking there’s nothing Jamie doesn’t know. 

She can never decide if this is more overwhelming or reassuring, truthfully. 

But this. This is just too damn good. 

“You have to let me teach you,” Dani says. “You have to, come on.”

“I think you’ll find I don’t,” Jamie says, arms crossed over her chest. Dani slides from her chair, darting a glance around. It’s unseasonably chilly for June in California, the sky a mottled blue-gray that suggests a storm could strike at any moment. The beach is blessedly clear, and she takes the opportunity to slip into Jamie’s lap.

“Please? It’ll make me so happy, to get to teach you something, for once.”

She can see Jamie doing the calculations, brow furrowed over uncertain eyes. On the one hand, if learning how to swim had been on her radar, she likely would have picked it up ages ago; on the other, Dani’s arms are around her neck, nails tracing lightly under the tousle of her hair, and this is not the sort of conversation starter that often leads to Jamie saying the word “no.”

“Right,” she says grumpily at last. Dani isn’t quite sure whether it’s the batting of her eyelashes or the scrape of short nails across the nape of Jamie’s neck that gets the job done, but Jamie is hoisting them both out of the white plastic chair. “Fine, then, Poppins. Lead me to the slaughter.”

The rain holds off all afternoon, long enough for Jamie’s uneasy flapping in shallow waves to transition into clumsy-yet-useful buoyancy. When Dani places a hand lightly beneath her back and eases her into a calm float, her brow creases. 

“Hey,” Dani says quietly. Her free hand cups Jamie’s cheek, smoothing salty water into her skin. “Look at me. You trust me?”

“Always,” Jamie replies, the word coming almost before Dani’s question is complete. She opens her eyes, and Dani smiles. 

“I’d never let you drown, Jamie. Promise. And who knows? This might come in handy someday.”

***

“It’s...big,” Dani says, a bit nervously. Laughter explodes out of Jamie like a firecracker. 

“It’s not! It’s wee as all hell, Poppins.”

“Bigger than I thought,” Dani amends. “You sure we can keep a place like this afloat?”

The idea of running a business still seems like something out of an extended fever, if she’s honest with herself. At first, it had been a laugh--a conversation held over an empty pizza box and two spent bottles of wine, with her head in Jamie’s lap and her legs all twisted under a blanket. She’d told Jamie she felt weird about getting back into teaching, about the idea of subjecting any kids to whatever mad road her mind might lead her down. 

“They’ll need to be able to rely on me,” she’d said, a little too drunk to really feel the weight of the sentiment. Jamie’s fingers drifted through her hair, her thumb catching on the shell of her ear. “Can’t do that if your teacher’s in the middle of losing her marbles.”

“You’re not,” Jamie had said, with that soft resolution Dani loved so much in her. “But s’all right. You don’t have to go back just yet--ever, if you don’t want to. We can do something else for an honest buck.”

It was a conversation, a way to make herself feel better about the imminent future and all its secrets...and then, seemingly all at once, it was real. A real little shop, just down the block from their apartment, with a real counter and real shelves and a real back room for custom arrangements. Jamie could grow here, anything she liked. And Dani could bask in the peculiar sensation of having a purpose again, even if not the one she’d expected. 

It’s a lot those first few days--weeks--months, but a year in, Dani finds she’s taken to the shop like almost nothing else in her life. She loves talking to the people who bustle in looking for arrangements for mothers and wives and graduation events. She loves the way Jamie tends to the flowers with a gentle hand, always willing to pop off a fact or insight about any given type. She especially loves the way Jamie looks at closing time each night, the way she combs her shaggy hair back from her eyes and leans over each bud in turn to murmur reassurances. Back in the morning. You all get on, best behavior, until we meet again. 

She slips up behind Jamie, arms around her middle, and rests her chin on Jamie’s shoulder. “I like that you do that. Talk to them.”

Jamie favors her with a soft, tired smile. “Nothin’ ever blossomed without good communication, Poppins.”

***

Dani starts saying I love you so much faster than either of them is prepared for. The first time the words slip from her mouth, they’re standing in the devastation of what once qualified as their kitchen. Batter drips down the side of the refrigerator. There’s flour caked in Jamie’s hair, giving the effect of a grumpy old witch woman whose magic potion rebelled in the most cataclysmic sense. 

“Swear to Christ,” she says gruffly. “I had the damn mixer in the damn bowl.”

The way Dani sees it, there are two ways to respond to this: with scolding, or with hysterical laughter. She settles on the latter almost without conscious decision, scooping up a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Jamie’s mouth opens and closes, words not quite enough for the moment. 

“You,” she says, “are irreverent.”

“And you,” Dani replies, skating across the slippery tile until she has Jamie backed up against the postcard-bedazzled front of the fridge. “You’re wonderful.”

Jamie looks like she wants to contradict this statement, perhaps thinking of the cake that now decorates the walls. “This was going to be for your birthday, you--”

Dani is kissing her, hands gripping Jamie’s collar. She hasn’t felt this relaxed in weeks, melting against Jamie when hands settle around her waist like Jamie’s been looking for a reason to give in all afternoon. 

“I--could still--” Jamie’s mouth moves down her neck, more than half distracted from her own words. “--fix it--”

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be,” Dani tells her, or thinks she does; it’s a bit hard to focus with Jamie’s hand sliding around and down that way, with Jamie’s hips bucking lightly against her. 

“It’s like you don’t even want a birthday cake,” Jamie murmurs, biting her shoulder gently through the thin fabric of a co-opted Blondie shirt. “Did I say you could borrow this?”

“Take it back, then,” Dani breathes. 

Later, tucked together against the cabinets, she turns her face against Jamie’s neck. Her hand is trapped between the tile and Jamie’s back, going steadily numb. Moving isn’t even a concept. 

“I love you,” she says. It comes out a little slurred, a little sleepy, but entirely true. Jamie raises her head, shifting to look her in the face. 

“It’s all to do with my grade-A baking talents, isn’t it?”

***

Jamie doesn’t say it back right away. Most of the time, Dani gets it. Doesn’t want to push. There was so much of that in her old life, in what she sometimes thinks of as the Era of Danielle--every step of the way with Edmund felt like someone was standing behind her, hands pressed into her back, shoving her along. Into a man, yes, but more than that: into a preconceived notion. Be somebody’s wife. Be somebody’s answer to the question of who they want to be in the world. Be small, be quiet, be the person who says yes and yes and yes, absolutely, even when you want to scream. 

The last thing she’d ever do is push Jamie, so she doesn’t make a big deal out of it. If Jamie loves her--and Dani’s fairly confident she does, at least on the days when the old ghosts aren’t cracking out of the walls to tell her otherwise--then Jamie will get around to it on her own merit. 

Still, when Jamie does, it takes her by surprise. 

“I’m pretty in love with you, it turns out,” she says, like she’s been steeling herself for this moment for weeks--and, Dani thinks, judging by the single moonflower on the counter, she probably has. Jamie, who pretends to play the game of life with such casual disinterest. Jamie, who pretends it’s all one-day-at-a-time. Jamie, who spent hours in secret cultivating this one tiny symbol that says so unbelievably much about her, just so she could tell Dani all this in the right way. 

There’s a couch in the back room, a wide squashy old beast that Dani had been adamantly opposed to when Jamie first pointed it out. “It’s ridiculous. What are we going to do with that?”

She has to admit, pulling Jamie along and latching the door behind them, that it seems like an excellent idea now. It’s only by the thinnest grace of self-preservation--she likes this shop, likes this life, would very much like not to be run out of Vermont by some old-fashioned jackass peering through their window and seeing too much--that they make it to the couch at all. 

“It’s okay, then,” Jamie says, falling backward onto overstuffed brown leather and pulling Dani with her. “This problem of ours?”

Dani kisses her, the giddiness and desire so powerful a combination, she almost feels drunk with it. Jamie laughs into her mouth, one hand already working the buttons of her blouse, that laugh turning into a low, liquid groan. Dani, fingers slipping between waistband and skin, has already beaten her to the punch. 

It’s in moments like these, she thinks. Moments like these where everything falls into place. Not just being with Jamie, but being with Jamie here, in a place they own, on their own terms. Not just being with Jamie, but being with a Jamie who has been clarifying her love for a year, doing so with hot tea and cool smiles and repairs around the house and gentle reassurances. She said it here, planned out like a proposal, and she’s saying it again and again--”love you, fuck, love you--” as Dani winds them closer together, but it wasn’t the first time. Not really. Jamie’s been saying it since the moment she took Dani by the hand and asked if she wanted company while she waited for the darkness to consume her. 

Jamie rocks under her, making a softly desperate little noise into her mouth, and Dani has never felt so understood. Never quite put it together like this before. That Jamie thought she had to say it a certain way, show it a certain way, is wonderful and absurd and silly. 

“I like this problem,” she says. “Best problem I’ve ever had.”

***

“You like it?”

Jamie’s voice is too-casual. The kind of casual that says, look, if you don’t like it, I’ll understand, but I’ll spend the next six months going slowly crazy coping with that knowledge. Jamie gets this kind of “casual” only so often, and usually, Dani likes to string it along before reassuring her. It’s a little mean, maybe, but the way Jamie always sags against the nearest bit of furniture with a hand over her eyes, groaning, “Jesus Christ, Poppins, you could just be gentle with me” does something exceptionally pleasant to her stomach. 

This time, she’s not even thinking about teasing Jamie. 

This time, she’s just staring. 

“If you don’t like it,” Jamie says, a bit more hurriedly now, “you can say so. I mean. Can’t do much about it, truth be told, but we can work through the issue. Get into some couple’s therapy, talk it out...”

“Stop talking,” Dani says through a shockingly dry mouth. “Please.”

Jamie’s mouth swings shut with a little click. Dani rises from the chair she’d been curled in, feet tucked under as she flipped through a Stephen King novel that hit just a little too close to home. She moves across the living room like a sleepwalker. 

Jamie, expression somewhere between warily anticipatory and genuinely frightened, is still holding the hem of her shirt aloft. Dani pauses, swaying slightly, a magnetism rising between them that she sometimes thinks should fade with time, should logically become less as the years become more. For a long beat, they just look at one another. 

She’s sinking to her knees before she realizes, hand sliding up Jamie’s stomach to grasp her fingers, the shirt hem, clutch both tight. Jamie drags in a breath. 

“Oh. S’like that.”

“Apparently,” Dani mutters, closing her free hand around Jamie’s hip and pressing her mouth to the line of flowers rising from the band of her jeans, coiling around the left side of Jamie’s stomach. Jamie sucks in a breath. 

“Okay, when I was sitting for the thing, I certainly wasn’t thinking, Poppins has a thing for tattoos, but can’t say I’m complaining...”

“How long?” Dani asks, the words muffled around slow, deliberate kisses. Jamie rocks back on her heels, one hand sliding down into Dani’s hair for balance. 

“I know you are not asking me detail-oriented questions while you do that.”

Dani pauses, grins, waits. Jamie groans. 

“How long did it take, or how long have I wanted a bloody tattoo?”

“The latter.” The flowers are blue and white, strung along a twisting vine. Dani is presently making it her personal life goal to kiss each and every one, licking gently upward as she goes. Jamie’s eyes flutter, grip tightening. 

“You are a truly--”

“Tread wisely,” Dani murmurs, biting at her hipbone. Jamie inhales. 

“’Bout a year. Or maybe six weeks. Or maybe my whole life, I dunno, sometimes these things just sneak up on you.”

“Tattoos sneak up on you?” Dani tilts her head back, grinning. Jamie peers down at her, hair falling messily across her forehead, expression soft. 

“Wouldn’t be the first thing.”

She gets more as the years go on--little yellow daffodils, chains of wildflowers, small, carefully rendered roses--almost always in places easily hidden. Each time, the sight of ink on pale skin, the patient way Jamie quietly explains each one in bed, letting Dani map them out beneath curious palms, sets her heart racing in a way she can’t explain.

It’s the permanence, she thinks the day Jamie comes home with a small moonflower on her inner forearm. It’s the promise of the thing. 

It’s the tomorrow of it all. 

***

“How hard can it be to put together a bedframe, Dani,” she mimics. Even to her own ears, her voice is shrill. She’s making too big a deal out of this, and she knows it. 

But for fuck’s sake, sometimes Jamie is hard-headed. 

“I’ll have it done in an hour, Dani,” she goes on, hands windmilling above her head. “I know you’ve got a busy day, so just leave it to me, Dani.”

“Okay,” Jamie says, “okay, I know you’re upset, but in what world have I ever used your name that many times in a sitting?”

Dani freezes, turning slowly on her heel. Jamie takes a step back. 

“Right, correct, this is not the moment for glib.”

“Jamie,” Dani sighs. “You promised.”

“I did,” Jamie agrees, “and I could say I tried, but we both know how I feel about lying...”

The apartment is a little bigger than their last, and everything fits all different. Dani knows it’s going to be good for them--they outgrew the last place far sooner than either had wanted to admit, and this one has a beautiful view of a park. Plenty of space for Jamie’s ever-growing plant collection. Plenty of space for stretching out and warming the cozy little world they’ve built together. 

Still, it’s different, and different has a way of setting Dani’s teeth on edge. There’s something about a new home that reminds her of moving into Bly a lifetime ago--the exhilaration mixing with trepidation mixing with shadows she doesn’t yet know the names of. They've been here a week, sleeping in a blanket fort in the living room, Dani waking most mornings with carpet marks dug deep into her skin. She wants their room situated. She wants to sleep in their bed. 

She wants Jamie to build the damn frame like she promised three days ago. 

“I sometimes have trouble telling,” Jamie says, her accent thicker as it always is when she’s reasonably sure she’s stepped in it. “Am I actually in trouble?”

Dani sighs. “Jamie...”

“Oh.” Jamie edges closer. She’s dressed for battle, Dani notes, in shorts that barely qualify as legal and her softest flannel shirt. The very shirt, if Dani looks closely enough, Dani herself slipped into after a shower about two weeks ago and sent Jamie gaping at her like she’d been hypnotized. 

“Don’t,” Dani warns, remembering all too well the way Jamie had behaved the last time this shirt saw daylight. “Don’t, Jamie. I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“I can see that,” Jamie agrees. “You might say that’s why I’m making this desperate bid for, ahh, not being in the doghouse.”

“Jamie.” Dani manages to turn the word into about eleven syllables, which usually has some effect, but Jamie’s already within the proverbial walls. Her hands are riding up Dani’s ribcage, dangerously high, her smile the kind of charming only a heart of stone could resist. 

It’s cheating, and Jamie knows it, and Dani wants to point this out, but Jamie’s got her backed up against the mattress. The mattress that should be on a nice, well-made, sturdy frame. The mattress they could both be on top of right now, if only Jamie had just--if Jamie had--

“This is incredibly unfair,” she groans. Jamie, busy kissing her throat with slow, open-mouthed abandon, says nothing. Dani grasps at her shoulders with both hands, squeezing flannel between her fists, and lets her weight fall backward. Jamie holds her up, one hand up the back of her skirt, the other testing the resistance of her sweater. 

“You,” she gasps, even as Jamie moves a leg between her thighs and rocks gently, “are still in trouble.”

“Mmhmm,” Jamie agrees, a million miles away. She’s nipping at Dani’s earlobe now, and Dani can feel her grinning. 

“You are still putting the goddamn bed together, Jamie.”

“Sure,” Jamie says, husky, and presses her harder against the mattress. “Later.”

“Honestly, how do you do this every time?”

***

“You sure about this?” 

“Yes.” The answer is kind of actually no, but curiosity is getting the best of her. Anyway, it won’t be like before, the first time she ever tried to bum a cigarette off of Jamie and wound up nearly throwing up into the street. A couple of years and an indeterminate amount of cigarettes later, she’s got the art of it down, though she’s not what she’d call a smoker, per se. 

(She’s not, but try telling Jamie that. Just because she sometimes slips the cigarette from between Jamie’s fingers in a restaurant, or when they’re lounging outside after a long day, or in bed after a particularly effective round of Jamie getting herself out of trouble. Dani finds the act soothing, but only if Jamie has already lit up and taken a puff. Then and only then does it feel like sharing part of Jamie.)

“It’s different,” Jamie warns. “Not saying you can’t handle it, mind, but--”

“Just show me how it’s done, Jamie.”

This challenge, she utters in her lowest voice, and Jamie raises an eyebrow. “I see what you’re doing, Poppins.”

“What am I doing?”

Fact of the matter is, she’s having a very specific kind of day. The kind where her mind keeps drifting. The kind where memory feels heavier than it has in years. It’s not the first time she’s had a day this heavy, nor will it be the last, but it still bothers her. 

She hasn’t told Jamie. Doesn’t feel like she needs to, not yet. This doesn’t quite feel like beast-in-the-jungle territory so much as that old twisting panic, the old sense that she’s missing a test everyone else has studied for. When her mind edges her down this path, all she ever wants--all she can ever do about quieting it--is to hold close to Jamie. 

Jamie, who is giving her a searching look now, even as nimble fingers roll a joint.  “Sure you’re sure? Only, if you’re not up for it, I’m not going to judge.”

“Jamie. Do you trust me?”

Jamie’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Always.”

“Then get it started and hand it over.” She’s laughing a little, a nervous burble laugh that makes her feel more tethered to her own body. Jamie reaches over, closing a hand over her wrist and squeezing. 

“Your wish and all that, Poppins. But do me a favor? Go easy this time.”

She takes the first hit, and then a second, leaning back against the green granite counter and exhaling slowly toward the ceiling. For a minute, it’s enough for Dani just to watch her: relaxed posture in a long-sleeved black shirt, rolled to the elbows to give her more room to make a mess of dinner an hour previously. Her hair is getting longer, shaggier, her makeup reckless in that half-attention way Jamie has of barely caring what she looks like for anyone who isn’t Dani. 

“Your turn.” 

Dani takes her at her word this time, careful to draw a small amount of smoke into her lungs and hold there. Even so, she coughs once, a slow, clean burn sliding outward through her chest. Jamie nods approvingly.

“Did you grow this yourself?” she asks after another careful hit. She hands the joint back, letting her hip press against the counter an inch from Jamie’s. There’s a comfortable heat between them this evening, slow-simmer ease that makes her think of early days. She likes the lingering way Jamie rests her hand against Dani’s on the countertop, pinky finger lightly caressing the edge of her skin, like the world’s most comfortable seduction. 

“Nah,” Jamie says, with the joint between her lips. There’s something about the way she closes her eyes on the inhale, about the way her free hand never leaves Dani’s skin. Warmth works its way through her belly, and she thinks, bad day, maybe, but a good night. 

“Would you grow it?” It’s just something to say. She’s already starting to feel the smoke coiling around her thoughts, her head growing soft, buzzing gently around the edges. She imagines she can feel Jamie’s hand all the way through her body. 

“Not in our shop, if we wanted to keep the place.” Jamie’s eyes twinkle, the joint outstretched. “More?”

Dani shakes her head. The world is very slightly fuzzy, the kitchen warm, and Jamie has never felt more real. She watches Jamie carefully put out the lit end, setting the joint in an ashtray, liking the authority with which Jamie moves. 

She’s always like this, always so focused on the little details that make up a day. On days where Dani feels like she’s coming up from the ground in one horrible jerk, Jamie is always there to root her again. It’s a good feeling, knowing Jamie is there. Knowing Jamie is only getting more there with time. 

Later, she’ll look back on this as the moment. The one where she first decided to do it. The actual question, the actual plan, the actual ring won’t be here for years yet, but this is the moment the spark takes hold. 

It would be different, she decides, as her fingers curl like vines around Jamie’s, bringing their joined hands against her chest. It would be so different than last time. No push. No expectation. Just a promise. Just us. 

She likes being high with Jamie, she decides very quickly. Likes how it makes Jamie’s already-firm confidence firmer. Likes how it makes her already-sensitive skin buzz with pleasure. Likes the way Jamie folds her against the counter, hands gentle on the back of her head, and kisses her like it’s the first time. 

She’s all exposed nerve and heavy limb and giggle as Jamie leads her to the bedroom, eases her down, cups her face between soft hands. For once, the shadows seem to work in her favor, curling around them as they move together, as cloth becomes skin, and she’s sighing, sighing, crying Jamie’s name into the darkness. 

Jamie said once, a lifetime ago, that sometimes you have to drop everything too heavy to carry in order to hang on to one another. Jamie said it with such intensity, it didn’t even cross Dani’s mind to think of it another way. That, if you’re going to march into the dark, having a hand to hold as you go can make all the difference in the world.

The lights are on, for now. The lights are on, and Jamie holds her so tight with hands so soft, and Dani knows it’s not forever. Can sense it, like you sense the return of a childhood bad dream. Can feel it, shifting below the surface. 

Maybe closer now. Maybe a little bit more awake than before. She can’t say for sure. 

What she can say is that a night like this--kissing her way down Jamie’s chest, kissing flowers and bellybutton and that spot just above her hip that makes her writhe with laughter--is a torch. A ward against the monsters. A little light to carry them through the dark. 

She’s got Jamie on her skin, in her mouth, imprinted on her soul, and she thinks it’s the best anyone can ask for. The only thing anyone can hope for. 

And when Jamie clutches her hand right back, flashes that I’m-out-of-trouble smile, drapes one of her worn flannel shirts around Dani’s bare shoulders, she thinks, as long as I can have this. As long as she’ll have me. The shadows can’t possibly swallow me whole. 

[countessmorgasson]

Hibiscus (Ending 1)

This is a continuation of Hibiscus.

“I can’t lose you, Asra... because I love you.”

Your chest heaves with the words. You didn’t realize until this moment that Asra had no idea your true feelings of him- feelings that have lived longer than your memory. 

Frankly, how could he not know? Does he not see it in the way you look at him? In the way your magic radiates when he’s near? Why did it have to come to this point for him to confess his love for you?

You only hear your own voice in your head, asking yourself these questions you can’t answer. None of it makes sense, but damn it, nothing in this world has ever made sense, has it?

“I won’t let you die. I’ll find a cure- I’ll create one out of thin air if I have to,” you promise. “But you need to hold on for me. Because I cannot lose you.”

You reach forward for his hands, shutting your eyes when you feel the two of you connect through your magic. His is much weaker than you remember.  Even so, you find yourself laughing at the absurdity of it all, even with hot tears still rolling down your face.

“I’ve always loved you, you fool.” You whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but flowers get in the way.

All the anger you’ve been dealing with suddenly fades away.  Is this how it ends? Are you finally confessing your love for one another just for it to end like this?

Petals explode from his mouth like confetti, and you watch in awe as they linger in the air. Time seems to slow down as you watch them sway in the air. They’re tiny. Much, much smaller than what you’ve seen the past few days. And... pure white. No blood.

Both of you seem to share the same thought.

“Asra...”

“It didn’t hurt that time. It felt like... nothing.”

Now you gaze down at the table.  Could it be... that the petals have run their course? Why now?

For the first time in months, you see Asra smile. Oh, Gods- it makes your heart hurt in the best way.

“You... still love me?” He asks. “All this time, you’ve always..?”

You’re nearly in a rush to push yourself forward and meet his lips. He cups your face passionately, kissing you back with what feels like desperation.  It feels so... right.  Like you’ve found the last piece of a puzzle and fit it into the gap. You kiss and kiss until you have to break for air, and even then you’re both giggling like madmen, pecking each other again in between giggles. Happy tears glisten in your eyes at the thought of the petals leaving your life for good.

Please... don’t let this be a dream. I don’t want to wake up.

-

Your eyes open the moment the sunlight hits your face. You lie in bed, recalling earlier events in a daze- did all that really happen? Was it actually a dream? 

“Finally.”

You turn to the side, where Asra’s pulling the blankets over both of your shoulders. He’s wide awake, all the color brought back into his skin and eyes. The world comes into a better focus as you wake, and your heart soars when you realize that it was all real.

It’s been days, maybe a week since the confession, and each morning you still wake up thanking your lucky stars that it wasn’t your imagination. You could cry to the sound of silence- no labored breathing, no choking or coughing on Asra’s end. 

It’s as if the flowers vanished overnight. 

You never quite learned what Hanahaki disease was- if that’s even what he had.  It no longer mattered. It was gone, and you’d never have to go a day without opening your eyes to the smell of tea brewing throughout the shop, or better yet, Asra’s waking smile.

Now fully awake, you lean forward and press your lips to his for a morning kiss.

“Good morning to you too,” his chuckle is muffled as he makes no attempt to break from the embrace. “Mmm..”

...

He holds your face in his hands tenderly, making a point to let you know just how much he’s savoring your touch. His arms and chest are warm under your hands as you explore every inch of exposed skin you can reach. Goosebumps break across your body and a flush ascertains your excitement.

You pull each other closer and closer until the only thing separating the two of you is your clothing. You easily fix that issue, and it’s not long before you’re completely intertwined.

There’s no words; just soft breathing and occasional whispers.

“I love you.”

The two of you seem to sink into the bed, oblivious to the rest of the world around you. Not that it mattered; the shop was still locked up. You had no real plans for the day. Right now, you had all the time in the world, and you wanted nothing more than to share it with Asra and make up for all the time you’ve spent hidden from one another.

Sharing magic through the touch of a hand was one thing. Your entire bodies are connected now, and the surge of magic starts to parallel pure adrenaline- it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, like you’ve gotten your hands on bolt of lightning. 

Love turned you into a flame.

Being intimate with him makes you realize that your history him was very real and very intense. He knows everything about your body- where to touch you, how to hold you... what to say to you. There was pure magic in his touch, so to speak. 

He drills your hips against the bed in a sudden change of energy. Your heartbeat goes wild when his lips brush against your ear. You shut your eyes, bodies crying out in pleasure while he sighs into your skin, telling you- showing you just how badly he wants you. 

No one else could ever make you come like this.

You just melt in his arms when you finish, resting against his chest and listening for his heartbeat. 

You shut your eyes afterwards and just listen.  Is it because you’re so happy, that you feel like his heart beats for you? Are you so hopelessly in love that you over romanticize his every action? Or is it because you feel that the hole in your own heart has finally healed, and you’re just basking in the relief?

For once, you’re okay with letting the questions simmer. Who needs answers?

-

People take notice when you and Asra walk hand-in-hand now. You actually see your neighbors smiling at the sight- as if they were waiting for this moment just as desperately as you had been. 

It’s a simple evening trip to the market, but it feels so good just to be around him. This is happiness. I can’t believe I’ve missed out on this for so long because I was afraid. 

Even with people crowding the streets, you feel at ease. You walk along the Vesuvian streets, taking in every sight with new eyes. You two were meant to experience the world side by side, as lovers. 

You squeeze Asra’s hand a little tighter, indicating to one of the various vendors. He raises an eyebrow with a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Feeling adventurous today, are you?”

“I’m a good negotiator. I bet I can get us those pendants.”

You both approach the stall but your eyes catch something else- something that causes your heart to leap into your throat.

A beautiful, ornate vase tucked away in the corner. Asra takes note of your reaction and leans over, his face going slightly pale when he realizes.

A single pink hibiscus flower protrudes from the jar, leaning forward as if it were reaching out to you. 

“Well... they are your favorite flowers, aren’t they?” His nervous chuckle suggests that he’s had enough of that shade of pink to last him a lifetime.  You on the other hand, feel nauseated at the sight. 

“I prefer sunflowers.”

Asra erupts into relieved laughter before the two of you take off. The pendants can wait, you decide.

There’s a sunset waiting for you near the docks. 

-

Was this the ending you wanted?

[ammonitetestpatterns]

a few weeks ago i was dwelling with how immaterial is (maybe forgive the unnecessary intellectualization of pop music that just confetti pops into my preconscious pool because these things help me graft together sense and tap into all the sprawled out ineffable folds of historicity and fantasial memory with every celestial object there ever was and that’s urgent for me to know because it keeps me on and takes me up) such a singular ode to a more virtually operative imagining of embodiment and the ability to act on thresholds of possibility to processually fill out your being, simondon’s preindividual always (already!!) effervescing into new life worlds, and it’s clear she's probably the most optimistic populist club artist of our generation, glossed out in the drawl of longevity with viral self replication between interstices of visibility and mobile power because the doxic committee needed a figurehead for holey space, for the tunes in themselves and their social decants wherever they authentically bloom, not directed towards any other end, even with liberal recuperation given clearance as PC music animorphed into culture industrial trolls, of course it encroaches on her and so many in her orbit, noise saturation with the credo that anybody can do anything, and capital accumulation opportunities enjoined in snorting lines off a digital issue of paper mag with (the more temporally proximal and culturally imminent crystals of thought and activity in) psychohistorical continua, but that’s not where her creative expression seemingly incubated. we always exhume those continua in our own memory, like a spirit cannibal. well she is the protoplast for the molecular textural obsession and pop deconstructivism that’s endemic now and basically been sterilized of any critical or formally interesting push it might have originally presented. i was taking photos of the full moon through the trees last night, drawn into the mystery of its circle, and sophie was with me reaching for it too, truer than i ever could really, and she's an angel in every way. floored in the sheer depth of how she’s touched my social areas for the past six years, a clay cake of sensibility testing and sedimentation, some of my friends emphasizing (and the real speaks for itself here!) how indebted they are to her for their own self knowing and formation in the present. “for those rich girlz who have 8 speaker setups and loud weed, onkyokei enjoyers. the real baddies, sachiko sinewaves as single dimension of hugs, bar as parmenidean aural embrace,” and that makes me cry, all this lifting light from a locust swarm of love all the time, a pact to smooch the poster on the wall. but we took her presence for granted in that expanse, even if it’s impossible for her to really die. so let’s light a candle and twirl toward the azure with ultraviolet love, “making bodies go until they explode” (entelechy meets its maker?) like smiling emoji bombs, a little like cam scott’s polysemy of “is getting by like making out?” that’s a real supernova kiss too, electricity apparent in the very folded form of the phrase! as with the meridian speech, the origins don’t exist and they never did. matter doesn’t even follow mind because it’s not some bounded wellspring of extendable determination either, it’s just neurally conducted flows of spatiotemporal individuation. the form of her music is drenched in conjecture on possibility and getting outside, and that’s the horizon of living when the world wants to eat you.

[womenstan]

Just Wait Another Day

Happy Birthday @chibisfatou!! Sorry for the delay ily <3

Ao3

Summary :

In which Isa is away for an internship in the States and Liv celebrates her birthday alone, at work... or, does she?

Day in day out, it was always the same time, same place, same people and she was used to this implicitly agreed upon order of things.

Today, though, there was something wrong. Or, not quite wrong, but… Different. She couldn’t tell what it was yet, but she could feel it in the air as she dropped her satchel on her desk.

The receptionists had been particularly invested in their gossiping, sitting a little closer and talking a little faster than usual. Her colleagues had been rushing from room to room, buzzing like bees at work which, while not being exactly out of the ordinary, usually didn’t happen before at least ten or eleven. Even her boss, who usually didn’t even bother to come into work before noon, was standing in front of his office at 7am sharp.

So, Liv knew something was going on.

She shrugged her coat off, hanging it around the back of her chair. Taking her phone out of her pockets, she clicked a few buttons and opened her SMS: Nothing.

She sighed, trying not to let the disappointment she felt overcome her, as she still needed to make it through the day. It’s not like she was expecting Isa to text her this early, I mean, it was barely one am where she was. Still, it was her birthday today and Isa had promised she wouldn’t forget…

Liv shook her head, trying to push the thoughts and the worries away. She forgot you, so what? Get over yourself Liv!

She grabbed one of her empty mugs at random, but felt her body still when she saw which one she’d picked. It was the ‘I Heart NYC’ mug that Isa had brought back from New-York at the end of the last semester. They’d barely had a week together before Isa had been called back to her internship in the States, carrying half of Liv’s heart along with her.

They’d promised each other they would try to make it work. After all, neither were afraid of distance and they were sure that their love could triumph against anything.

Now, though, Liv wasn’t so sure anymore. In the past few weeks, Isa had become more and more distant, cancelling their weekly facetimes on more than one occasion and taking hours and hours to answer Liv’s texts.

It pained Liv and most of the time, she tried not to think about it. She didn’t want to think about the ifs and the whys, because if she started questioning everything, then she knew her self-doubt would get the best of her and they’d fall apart.

So, yeah, she tried not to think about it, but that doesn’t mean she succeeded. She was all alone in their or, well, her vast apartment, all evenings and weekends long, just her and her thoughts, swirling around in her head and poisoning her mind. So, she’d started working more.

She was constantly exhausted now, but that meant she didn’t have the energy to overthink everything. She got to work at 7am and she was never back home before 9pm. On weekends, she worked at a small café next to where she lived. She didn’t need the money per se, but it was what it took to keep her occupied.

With all her friends in relationships or busy working and with her other half enjoying her life halfway across the world… Liv had needed an escape. She’d found it in work. She was also hoping that with all those extra hours she’d saved up, she could take a few days of vacation when Isa would come back from her internship in a month and a half.

Or, well, 46 days, 6 hours and 10 minutes (according to the internship contract), but really, who’s counting (Liv, Liv’s definitely counting).

What hurt the most was scrolling through Isa’s instagram. What used to be a page filled to the brim with pictures of the two of them was now overtaken by shots of Isa’s cool american colleagues. And Liv wasn’t exactly jealous, she was glad that Isa had found friends to hang out with and that she wasn’t lonely. So, no, she wasn’t jealous, but she was definitely worried. Worried that Isa would figure out that her american friends were a lot more fun than Liv and decide to stay in the States for longer, or worse: that she’d find someone that made her heart beat just a little faster than Liv ever could.

Obviously, she never brought her worries up to Isa. Liv knew Isa would feel bad and would try to make more time for her, which would overjoy Liv, but really wouldn’t be fair to Isa. Besides, Liv knew most of her insecurities were most likely unfounded and while part of her brain really wanted to know who that ‘Kelly’ girl Isa kept tagging in posts was, the more logical side of her mind knew that Isa loved her just as much as she loved Isa. It was just hard.

Liv made her way to the coffee maker, silently thanking every God that someone had freshly brewed coffee right before she’d arrived. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to make coffee, obviously, but the machine seemed to harbour some kind of vendetta against her and Liv was just not in the mood to get splashed by hot water today.

Liv leaned back on the counter as she sipped her coffee, sighing peacefully as she felt the warmth travel through her body. Maybe today wouldn’t be quite as bad as she’d imagined.

She felt someone slide up next to her and turned her head to face her boss, looking at her expectantly.

“Yes?” She asked, raising her eyebrows in question.

Her boss smiled slightly, nudging Liv’s shoulder with her own. “I heard it’s someone’s birthday today…”

Liv couldn’t help her reaction, jumping slightly at her boss’ words. Eyes wide, she opened her mouth to answer, but no words would come out. Her boss’ smile only widened, as she turned to face Liv properly.

“How… How did you…?” Liv started, trying to make sense of her confused thoughts.

“How did I figure out it was your birthday?” Her boss asked, straightening back up and brushing some lint off of her skirt as she did so. She shrugged noncommittally, starting to walk past Liv.

As she reached her level, she added, “Let’s just say that a little bird told me”. With that, she winked, quickly patting Liv’s shoulder and walking away.

Liv could feel the wheel turning in her mind, her eyes narrowed in confusion. She turned towards the direction her boss had gone, but she was nowhere to be seen. Still feeling perplexed, Liv made her way back to her desk and got to work.

As it was nearing lunch time, Liv leaned away from her computer monitor, stretching her arms and her neck. She let out a satisfied noise as her arm cracked slightly. Checking the time on her phone, she noticed it was a little past noon, so she finished what she was writing on her computer and shut the monitor off.

As she rolled her chair back and grabbed her bag, she heard a knock on her office door. She shouted a ‘come in!’, getting up at the same time.

Mila, one of her coworkers, popped her head into the office, smiling at Liv.

“Hey! We’re all grabbing lunch in the cafeteria, and we’d love it if you joined us!” She asked, cheerfully.

Liv narrowed her eyes slightly, surprised by the proposition. Barely anyone ever ate in the cafeteria, unless the weather was too bad to step outside. Mila seemed to really want her to come along though, so Liv nodded, quickly grabbing her things and following her coworker out of the room.

As they walked down the stairs that led to the cafeteria, Liv was stunned by the lack of noise coming from the room. Usually, you could hear employees’ chatters all the way up the staircase, but today, it was so silent that Liv could hear her heels resonate on the floors.

Mila was the first one to reach the cafeteria’s door, but instead of opening it, she stepped to the side and gestured for Liv to step in first.

“Thanks?” Liv said, growing more and more suspicious by the second.

She grabbed the doorknob and pulled. As soon as the door was creaked open, Liv was assaulted by yells of ‘Happy birthday!’. She could barely register the confettis thrown her way or the way off-key singing of her coworkers, because in the middle of the room, standing right in front of her was the last person she’d expected to see.

Isa.

Liv felt her bag drop from her hands and hit the floor, but she didn’t care. She ran towards Isa who waited there, a bright smile plastered on her face and her arms thrown wide open. They collided not-so-softly, sending Isa stumbling a little on her feet.

Liv held her tightly, burrowing her face in Isa’s neck. Isa laughed, hugging her just as hard. Leaning back, Liv took Isa’s face between her hands, still in disbelief that her love was really there, physically, with her.

“What? How? When?” Liv stuttered the series of questions, closing her eyes hard and reopening them to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Isa smiled softly, bringing one of her hands to Liv’s face and caressing her skin softly.

“I wasn’t going to miss your birthday, now, was I?”

All Liv could do was laugh, still too stunned to form a proper coherent thought. She brought Isa back in her arms, holding her close to her chest.

“I hope you realize that now that you’re here, I’m never letting go of you again.” Liv said, feeling tears of happiness and relief well up in her eyes.

Isa moved her head back to face Liv’s, a serious expression overtaking her features.

“Good, because I have no intention of leaving again.” She said, looking directly into Liv’s eyes, sincerity and emotions whirling around.

Liv gave her a small, sad smile, as she remembered Isa’s internship. “What about the States? Don’t you have to go back?”

Isa smiled fondly, bringing both of her hands to cradle Liv’s face lovingly. “I cut it short. I missed you too much and I managed to find something else right here, in the Netherlands. With the one I love the most.”

Liv couldn’t help herself, feeling her heart swell up with love to the point where she felt like she would explode. She practically threw herself onto Isa, crashing their lips together in a kiss that said ‘I missed you so much’, ‘please don’t ever leave me again’, ‘I love you’ and so much more all at once.

Liv’s colleagues’ cheers and applause brought Liv out of the little bubble of happiness where only Isa and her existed. She broke the kiss regrettingly, smiling shyly at her coworkers.

Isa leaned her forehead against her, kissing her nose lightly. “Happy birthday. I love you”

Liv smiled, probably brighter than she ever had, and whispered back ‘I love you, so much”.

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

hi hi hi, please can i prompt something a lil bit angsty (because i do adore my angst). the first serious fight that theo x draco x hermione have, and maybe how they make up after? thank you.

I loved loved LOVED this prompt, and I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to it. If it’s any consolation, it’s nearly 4k words long...?

Featuring: Draco being the grandiose nobleman he was brought up to be, Theo unthinkingly going along with it, one EXTREMELY tired Hermione who is absolutely not up for surprises or grand, showy, romantic gestures, Hagrid, Fang, Firenze the centaur, and a dollop of fluff to wash the fleeting angst and misunderstandings down.

Hope you enjoy it!

___

After the longest week, with barely a moment to catch her breath, burning the candle at both ends, all Hermione wanted to do on Saturday was sleep, read up on a few more things for an upcoming Ancient Studies test, perhaps lounge in the boys’ room down in the Dungeons, and perhaps convince one of them to give her a massage. Simple, humble plans, every last one of them.  

But the universe, apparently, had other ideas, given that it had seen fit to make the busiest week of term so far culminate not in an ordinary weekend, but in Valentine’s Day.  

Wizarding and Muggle alike the world was awash with pink hearts and red roses, and Hermione wanted nothing to do with it. She never had, and she knew that both boys were unfortunately prone to grand displays of affection, and that made her anxious and snappy. She’d spent most of the previous week - in the cumulative half hour that she’d actually spent in their company - trying to hint and suggest heavily that she had no interest in grand surprises and romantic endeavours. The most romantic thing someone could do for her was respect her wishes, after all.  

Quite deliberately, she’d not made any concrete plans to see the boys that Saturday, helped by the fact that Draco had an extensive Quidditch training session scheduled and Theo had some work to catch up, but after she’d woken at her usual time anyway, and had lain there for an hour, praying for sleep that wasn’t going to return, she got up. Her mother had always said that if you can’t rest, do something productive.  

The Great Hall teemed with excitable younger years, one or two unfortunate howlers, and a plethora of Exploding Envelopes filled with glittering confetti hearts from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and she turned around and left before even bothering to step inside. It wasn’t that she hated the sentiments behind Valentine’s at all, but honestly, it just felt rather cheap and the thought of it all simply… exhausted her further.  

Without pausing or returning to the Tower, she made the split-second decision just to bolt out into the grounds and found herself eventually at Hagrid’s hut. He was outside chopping wood and Fang was busy sneakily lapping tea out of the bucket-sized mug that Hagrid had set on a spare stump. The enormous hound looked up suddenly as she caught him in the act, but then gave a low, baying woof of welcome.  

“‘Allo, ‘Ermione,” Hagrid said with a grunt and a little puzzled frown as he straightened from his work. “Good te see yeh. What brings yeh down ‘ere at this time o’ day?”

She shrugged. “Got any jobs I can help with?” she asked instead and he raised an eyebrow and chuckled.  

“Don’t see yeh swinging this around…” the half-giant laughed, hefting the axe that looked like it weighed five times what she did.  

“Preferably not,” she said. “Though I’m not opposed to using magic to get it done.”

“I think I’ve got a few jobs we can do together,” he said. “Fang? Let’s go see Uncle Firenze, eh?” 

They spent the day in the Forbidden Forest with the centaurs, a rare opportunity that Hermione relished, gathering wild mushrooms that only grew in the very depths of the forest and bringing them back carefully in a covered basket for the potions storeroom, among other rare ingredients. She also spent a long time walking with Firenze, the pale centaur quizzing her about the state of the wider wizarding world now, and she in turn asking him questions about the more rigorous sides of the art of divination. The three of them, four if you counted Fang snuffling about in the undergrowth, ate a packed lunch of cheese sandwiches which Hagrid drew out of his top pocket, only slightly misshapen and squashed, and afterwards Firenze showed them some rare, early-spring berries that tasted like pomegranate but had the texture of blueberries.  

At last, her physical exhaustion matched her mental tiredness, and by the time they returned to Hagrid’s hut an hour from sunset, grubby and a little sweaty, she felt fit to fall over.  

“Thank you, Hagrid,” she said, pushing a strand of her ‘witch of the wilds’ hair out of her face, only for it to spring back again. It was so big at that point that a hippogriff chick could probably have nested atop it in perfect comfort. “I needed the distraction.”

He bowed in quiet understanding. “Any time, ‘Ermione. Yeh know that.”

She blessed him silently for not asking any more, and with a nod and a final pat on Fang’s head, she turned her steps towards the castle with no more thoughts in her head than for a long soak in a bath and an early night.  

Again, the universe apparently had other ideas.  

Pacing the entrance hall like his caged namesake, she found Draco looking breathtakingly smart in a set of charcoal grey dress robes and shiny black Oxfords. When he looked up and spotted her, his face did something complicated, the final expression settling on relief, and he came over to her in two quick strides.  

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked, scowling. “Look at the state of you!”

“Out and about in the forest,” she said tersely, hackles rising at his tone. “I didn’t know I needed to report my whereabouts to you, Draco…”

“You —” he began but he broke off and took a breath. “You don’t. Of course you don’t. But I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Theo too. He’s gone to Gryffindor Tower to ask for you again. You weren’t in the library and no one has seen you all day.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s not like we made plans…”

Draco went still at that, his cheeks first paling and then flushing.  

“Did we?” she pressed, hand on hip, now quite certain that they had not. “Oh god, Draco, don’t tell me you’ve got something dramatic planned for Valentine’s, and you haven’t told me because you wanted to surprise me?” She pinched the brow of her nose. “Please… I told you how I feel about that kind of thing…”

When he spoke again, his voice was cold, defensive, even haughty. “Actually, yes, I do. I wanted to do something nice for you today, and I’d appreciate it if you went and washed the thestral shit off your skin and the twigs from your hair, and changed into something nice. I know you know how to dress up, Granger.”

The frayed end of her metaphorical tether slithered into sight and vanished utterly, and she gasped, “You’d ‘appreciate it’, Draco? Well, you know what I’d have appreciated? Being asked!”

“I’m asking you now,” he said petulantly.  

“No you’re not!” she shrilled back at him. “You’re demanding. This is the classic, old Draco - ‘Go and change, Granger’, ‘dress up nicely, Granger’.”

Draco balked visibly but ground his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he snarled, sounding more frustrated that contrite. “But we’re going to miss our booking, and I’d really like to make it. Please… will you go and change?”

She nearly said yes. Damn her, but she nearly said yes.  

Even after the week from hell, with tutoring sessions and tests and homework and prefect’s patrols, she nearly said yes.

But this time, Hermione Granger was going to stand up for herself.  

“No, Draco, I won’t. I’m exhausted, and all I wanted from today was to relax, have a bit of time to myself, and spend the evening in the bath and then in bed. If you’d told me instead of just assuming I’d go along with whatever grand gesture you’re pulling out of your arse, then maybe I’d think differently. But you don’t just get to order me around like I’m some pureblood debutante to decorate your arm for the evening, Draco. Goodnight.”

And with that, she stormed up the stairs, leaving an astonished and fuming Draco at the bottom, his face revolving through a series of expressions and colours.  

She passed Theo on his way back down and he almost didn’t spot her as he scuttled down the staircase looking equally and devastatingly handsome as Draco had. “Hermione?” he asked, skidding to an ungainly stop and having to grab the banister to support himself as she charged past him.  

“Ask Draco,” she said over her shoulder. “But whatever it is, I’m not going. You two should go and indulge your penchant for lavish evenings on each other.”

“Fuck. I knew it,” she heard him hiss, but to his credit, he didn’t follow her either.

Hermione fumed all evening, and even the bath did nothing to calm her down. Despite her agitation, however, she did sleep soundly, the exertions of the day robbing her brain of the ability to over think itself into ever tighter and tighter circles. Sometimes she could see how far Draco had changed in what would be a year this May, but other times he defaulted to his pureblood upbringing; to the son of a nobleman, used to having people do his bidding without question. She tried to be patient, but at times like this, it irked her more than she would have thought possible.  

The fact that this was their first major falling out - sure, they’d had little misunderstandings and had snapped at each other before now - was also a major contributing factor to the free-floating stress and anxiety coursing through her. What if he never learned to ask instead of demand? Was that the kind of person she wanted to spend her life with? And Theo had been Draco’s boyfriend before he’d been hers. Would he always just go along with what Malfoy wanted? Doubts chased each other like kneazles and bats in her brain when she woke in the early dawn, until she thought she might go mad.  

Malfoy really had been a wonderful boyfriend so far, but he was undeniably prone to bouts of showy, melodramatic romanticism. Her mind conjured images of the diamond necklace he’d gifted her for Yule, and the staggeringly expensive watch he’d gifted Theo, and she struggled to brush them away. He’d come a long way, and he’d changed a lot, but some things took their time, and she doubted whether other things would ever change.

When she stepped out of the Fat Lady’s portrait the next morning, she ground to a halt and almost walked straight back into the tower before the portrait could swing shut. She didn’t, however. She held her ground and stared at Draco who was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, looking like he’d been there all night. The charcoal grey robes were the same, if dishevelled, the shirt open at the collar. Merlin, he really had been camped out there all night.  

He levered himself to his feet and stared at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he blurted before she could open her mouth. “Hermione, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t listening to you at all, and I should have asked, and I never should have just… presumed like that. I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She stared at him. “So you know why I’m angry.”

“I didn’t ask,” he said immediately. “And I didn’t respect you. I knew that what I was doing wasn’t the right way to treat you, to show you… but I wilfully ignored that and went ahead with it anyway. I was a giant ass and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

His handsome face looked ashen and wan, his eyes pink behind the silver of his irises. He also carried the sleepless smudges of a night spent in a draughty corridor beneath his eyes.  

Looking around, she asked, “Where’s Theo?”

“Hiding,” Draco said bashfully. “And brooding. It’s awful. Sitting here on the floor all night was actually preferable to being around him.”

Fighting a smirk at his humour, she asked, “Did the two of you go last night?” Wherever it was they’d planned to take her.  

Draco’s brows dipped into a deep scowl. “Without you? Of course not.”

At that, she did twitch her lips. “Go and change out of last night’s robes, Draco,” she said gently, well aware that that was one of the things Draco had said to her, sparking the argument off in the first place. “And take a shower while you’re at it.”  

“Hermione —” he began, taking an aborted step towards her, but he swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’ve said what I wanted to say,” he added dejectedly, and turned away to walk down the corridor with his head held in a distinctly un-Malfoy bow.  

Before he’d gone two steps, she reached out and latched her fingers around his wrist. “I’ll see you in the Great Hall in a bit for some breakfast, ok?”

With eyes wide and achingly vulnerable, Draco tried out a little smile on his worried lips. It didn’t stick, but at least it had been there. “Ok. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes as he walked off, hands in his pockets. “Such drama,” she said as she turned to find the Fat Lady watching their exchange with avid interest.  

The Fat Lady popped another chocolate into her mouth as if it were cinema popcorn, and giggled. “Young love,” she crooned. “I’ll enjoy telling Violet all about this later on! You mark my words. You know,” the portrait added thoughtfully as Hermione started to walk away too, and the witch halted immediately.  

“Know what?” she asked, warily.  

After another chocolate and a quick giggle, the Fat Lady said, “He tried every trick he could think of to get me to let him in. I know very well who he is to you, but I very nearly had to leave my painting in frustration. He kept it up until at least two in the morning.”

“When Draco sets his sights on something, he’s very difficult to dissuade,” Hermione agreed. “Thank you for not letting him in. I wouldn’t have welcomed his presence last night. I was still too angry with him.”

The Fat Lady looked horrified and said, “As if I’d let someone in that wasn’t supposed to be here!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hermione said. “But thank you all the same.”

With a soft ‘harrumph’ around another praline, the Fat Lady nodded.  

Theo was already in the hall when she entered, and she spotted him almost immediately. He was stirring his ceramic tankard of coffee listlessly with his spoon and staring into it like it held the secrets of the universe.  

“Drama queens, the both of you,” she muttered fondly to herself under her breath. Ignoring the Gryffindor table, she turned her steps towards the Slytherin one.  

Her presence there was now not such a surprise that most people ignored her approach without comment, effectively giving her the chance to sneak up on the lone Slytherin, sliding into the space on his right before he’d even realised she was there.  

“Morning,” she said in a low voice, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The spoon clattered against the mug and coffee slopped over the sides as his fingers released it unbidden.  

“Hermione,” he breathed.  

His whole face was a question, and she laughed. “Yes, I’ve spoken to Draco, and yes, he’s still got his pretty face and both his bollocks.”

“What about his cock?” Theo joked reflexively, nervously.  

“You’ll have to find out later, won’t you?” she deadpanned without looking at him, reaching out to pour herself a mug of tea from a nearby pot.  

After a pause, in which Theo vanished the spilled coffee that had pooled around the base of his own mug, he asked, “So… how badly did we fuck up yesterday?”

She took a sip of her tea and added a splash more milk before responding. “Not going to lie, I was really annoyed with both of you for just assuming I’d be ok with being whisked off to wherever without a moment’s warning. I hate surprises, and you both know it.”

“Yeah…” Theo admitted.  

“So what were you thinking?” she almost shrilled. “That it’d be different if it came from you? That I’ll magically stop hating surprises just because they’re from you two?”

Theo half-shrugged, half-twitched, and said, “Kind of… Look, Hermione, I’m not trying to excuse us - we didn’t listen to you, and that’s the bottom line - but…” he broke off and ground his jaw for a moment.

“Just spit it out, Theo,” she said, turning and resting her elbow on the table to regard him properly.  

“We were raised in a different world from you, ok? From most witches and wizards actually. Purebloods like us are expected to behave in certain… coded ways with the women we’re… courting.”

“‘Courting’?” she snorted, unable to help herself.  

Adopting a sycophantic, over the top manner, he gestured and said, “Wooing, of whom we are seeking the favour, ingratiating ourselves… making our intentions known…”

“Shut up, you pompous prick,” she laughed and his face cracked into a tentative smile.  

He was clearly relieved to find laughter in her reaction, not anger. “So…” he continued in a more normal tone, returning his hands to the table and running his thumbnail along the grain in the wood, eyes downcast. “So… there are certain behaviours we kind of default to, and… honestly, there are certain behaviours that the women in our circles also expect of us. Big, showy, romantic gestures being one of them. You should consider yourself lucky you didn’t wake up to a room full of messenger owls all hooting imperiously and bearing enormous bunches of the rarest roses on earth or something…”

“I suppose I should,” she said, beginning to see it now from their point of view.  

“A pureblood wizard is expected to show that he can take care of the witch he intends to —” he cut off and swallowed, freckles briefly disappearing behind a rising flush. “—to court. That there’s nothing on earth he couldn't provide for her at the drop of a hat. I think we just… we just wanted to show you that we’re serious, but… we may have underestimated the calibre of the witch we’re dealing with here…”

“Maybe just a little bit,” she said dryly, and then sighed. “Did Draco really spend all night outside Gryffindor Tower?”

“Yup.”

“Big, showy, romantic gestures, huh?” she said, plucking a croissant off a nearby platter and tearing one end off. “I’m half expecting him to come in here with a single white rose in his hand,” she scoffed, looking up to find that Theo eyes were now fixed on a point just behind her. Draco had apparently arrived then.  

She saw his pale hand reaching down to the table out of the corner of her eye and when he picked up a silver spoon, she closed her eyes and laughed softly to herself. A tingle of magic nearby told her what he was doing, and sure enough, when she turned around to look up at him from her seat, Draco stood there with a single, transfigured white rose in his right hand.  

“Unbelievable,” she said, rolling her eyes again.  

Silently, Draco held it out to her and she took it. It smelled like summer evenings and she exhaled.  

“Apology accepted, Draco,” she said, glancing around. “Now sit down. You’re causing a scene.”

He slid onto the bench on her right and stared at the empty plate in front of him for a moment, hands resting elegantly on either side of it.  

She reached out and placed her palm over his, feeling the slight twitch beneath as their skin made contact. Hermione squeezed his long fingers until he looked up at her, his eyes shining and his face wracked with a complex mixture of emotions that she had no hope of deciphering.  

“Theo and I talked,” she said. “And he may have pointed out to me a certain ‘difference in upbringing’ that went some way towards explaining why you went to the lengths you did yesterday.”

“I still —” Draco began but she cut him off.  

“We’ve established already that you could have opened your lugholes a little sooner, but I feel like we’ve also moved on from that. It came from a place of love and good intention, and as such, I’d like to propose a compromise.”

At that, Theo and Draco both gave her their absolute and undivided attention and curiosity.  

Stifling a smirk, she said, “I don’t know what it is you had planned for yesterday, and frankly at this point, I don’t ever want to know. But how about we go into Hogsmeade next weekend and have dinner together. I’ll know it’s coming and what to expect, and you two can argue over who foots the bill if you want to make it a romantic gesture. Or we can split it three ways.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco said instantly and something hot flared inside her at that. “I meant splitting the payment three ways,” he added bashfully, seeing where her mind had gone instead.  

At that, the tension shattered and she tipped her head back and laughed, gripping his hand for support as she leaned almost perilously far back. Theo put his hand between her shoulder blades just in case, and half the Slytherin table began to stare at them.  

Theo leaned in close and said in her ear, “You’re causing a scene, dear Hermione.”

She squeezed Draco’s hand and let out a long, slow sigh as the laughter faded. “What am I going to do with you two?” she said, shaking her head.  

“Be patient…?” Draco all but begged, mumbling into his coffee. Where Theo took his black, Draco piled cream and sugar into his until it was barely recognisable as coffee in the first place. She smirked fondly to herself as she contemplated his ridiculously sweet tooth, and wondered if, with his penchant for apples, he also liked sour sweets. Perhaps she’d get Harry to owl her some Haribo to try out on him.  

“Hermione?” he asked, looking up at her. His skin was so pale it was like marble in the soft light of the Great Hall, and he looked eerily like the statue of a saint at a shrine in that moment, all hope and tentative expectation.  

For her answer, Hermione slid her left hand into Theo’s, and then reached up and took Draco’s chin in her right hand, turning him by his sharp and now-just-perfectly-pointed chin. His eyes were wide, gleaming, silver mirrors, fixed unyieldingly on her own.  

Hermione held him there between thumb and forefinger, and as she pressed a searing kiss against his pale lips, she felt Theo’s grip tighten on her left hand.

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

[plutoismydaddy]

A devils smile

Taehyung x reader (Enemies to lovers)

He was the one that was supposed to get pranked, so why did you feel like the clown? (Idk im tired)

I got a request for this by a very nice person but… I can’t find the request. I’m so sorry!!  (I made the picture, please dont steal it)

CH 1 CH 2

The golden rays of the setting danced through your windows and coated your room with its crimson hues, remind you of how little you had done today. The pandemic that was sweeping over the world was devastating but brought small doses of happiness as you no longer had to go to school. So, of course, the first option was to start colonizing on your couch. You took a bite of your sandwich as picked up your phone that had started to buzz beside you. In the middle of your lock screen floated the message notification with Sun-hi’s name written on it. Taking the last bite of your meal, you unlocked your phone, a video popped up on the chat room. You‘r eyebrows rose in surprise, “She actually filmed it” you thought before clicking on it. The screen was black for a second before a voice was heard “Hey, Taehyung there is something for you” you watched as Taehyung with an excited and surprised smile walks into the frame. Clueless as to what was going to unfold. Taehyung Stood in front of the small gift basket a smile stretched across his lips as he examined it, “Is this for me?” you let out a laugh “It’s all for you baby” you thought as he picked up a small can of pringles. You moved closer to the screen to as he opened the top and watched as he jumped back with a little screech when three black snakes and a cloud of confetti exploded in his face. Your back collided with the grey cushions as fell back, laughter echoing through the room. Looking back at the screen, you watched as Taehyung with a now sour face opened the bag of chewy candy only to find it filled with orbeez. He threw the bag back into the basket before turning around and stomping away, you were slightly disappointed he hadn’t opened the other things. Still, it didn’t stop the cackling that was shaking your body. Exiting the video, you saw a new message, “You’re running out of ideas, huh?”, with a small chuckle you responded, “Nothing can beat a classic”. No respond “Come on, you have to admit it was funny. A little at least” a second past before she replied “He hasn’t said anything in 15 minutes” followed by a laughing sticker which you mirrored as your laughter resumed again.

“I really thought life was going to be nice to me, huh?” you thought as you put the cardboard box down with a huff. You loved your uncle and was always ready to help him but was he thinking when he asked you, the weakest person in the family, to help him with his renovation company. Now that you thought about it wasn’t he the same person to say your arms looked like a grasshopper, you shook your head. “The man must be desperate”, you looked around the warehouse it was huge and filled with old furniture and clothes that would be eventually sold. Outside one of the windows, you saw the colours of the sunset blend with each other to create an art piece, you should head home before it got too dark.

 Your uncle had been nice enough to give you a locker to put all your belongings, standing in front of the small grey locker you picked up the little sticky note that sat on the door. “Thank you for helping me out, sweetheart.” Warmth filled your chest he was so sweet, a smile stretched across your lips as you opened the locker and reached in for your bag, something small and light fell on your hand when you bumped your jacket. You looked up and saw a cockroach sitting proudly on the back of your hand, a scream flew from your lips and you stumbled backwards and cringed in pain as your butt collided with the floor. “What’s wrong?” your uncle burst through the door panic clear on his face you pointed towards your locker fear taking away your ability to speak. He walked up to the locker but didn’t seem scared by the monster inside at all; instead, he let out a laugh. “Oh sweety this made out of plastic” he turned around with a hand full of cockroaches, plastic cockroaches. You stood up fear now replaced with anger “Why would you do that?” you said clutching your heart making sure it was still beating and pointing at him with the post-it note. He held up his hands “I didn’t do this” you looked at him unimpressed “Really it wasn’t me” you crossed your arms. “Then who could it be” you rolled your eyes “Maybe it was your friend” eyes now squinted you looked back at your uncle “Friend?”, “Yeah a guy came in today saying you forgot your shirt or something and I told him To just put it in your locker”. Your eyes squinted more as a suspect popped up in your head “What was his name?”. “Taehyung, I think” your uncle muttered while scratching his neck, you looked back at your locker “Not bad, not bad indeed Kim Taehyung”, but how did he know you were here?  

“So what you’re saying is that you betrayed me” Sun-hi chuckled “All I did was say that you were helping your uncle out, how would I know he was going find the address and do something like that?”. You blinked at her “.....betrayal, traitor” “You literally befriended me because I work with him” she argued as she took a sip of her coffee. “It’s called getting info about the enemy sweety, strategy. I thought you were smarter than this” you finished the sentence with a dramatic sigh. Sun-hi looked back at you “What is even going on, you know with all the pranks, you're acting like kindergarten kids”. Ignoring the last part as you leaned back in your chair and stared into the air with dreamy eyes “Just get to it” Sun-hi sighed. “So like a year ago I walked into the convenience store to buy some snacks, and all my favourite chips were gone and the same with my favourite drinks. As I walked out, I saw a guy who was buying all of them.” You leaned forward resting your elbows on the table and furrowing your eyebrows “I thought “it’s fine I’ll just buy them next time” you raised your finger making Sun-hi flinch “BUT! It was the same every day. Every time I walked in he was buying them or sitting by the door eating them”. “Oh and that stupid smirk” You stared into the air, eyes burning holes into the wall across the street. “He would always have that stupid. cocky smirk” Sun-hi let out an unimpressed chuckle “So all of this is because of some chips” your eyes returned to her “No it’s about…” your brain seemed to go blank, and sun-hi raised her eyebrows “The disrespect?”, “Yes, exactly”. She shook her head “and who started this whole prank war” you smirked leaning back in our chair “I did”, “I don’t think it’s something to be proud of” Ignoring her you pulled your phone out “So how do you think I should prank him this time?”.

Your eyes were fixated on the pictures displayed on your screen, the familiar page of Taehyungs Instagram open as you looked through the newest pictures he posted. “What’s with the serious face?” Haneul asked as he walked into the living room, you stopped your scrolling. “I’m plotting my revenge” you answered monotony as your eyes scanned the picture on your screen. Taehyung was leaning against a brick wall, his wine red dress shirt unbuttoned to expose the top of his chest the sun coating his skin in a honey hue. “You’re still doing the whole prank war thing?” you nodded your head, “Why don’t you just end it” looking up you gave him a confused look “You know, prank him so hard you basically “win” “. “Don’t encourage her” Sun-hi sighed from beside you “No, but if you do that then he will finally leave you alone, and the two of you don’t have to talk again”. Not talk to him again, your lips pressed together in a slight pout as you though. “Or maybe you don’t want that” your thought came to a halt “What?”, “Do you not want this pranking to stop?” Sun-hi’s smirk mirrored Haneul, “Why would I not want that?” you leaned back, resting your chin against your palm. Sun-hi let out a laugh “Because you...like Taehyung” you sat upright as if poked in your side “Are you crazy?” you tried to sound bored, but the sudden tight feeling in your chest was making it hard to think straight. “People that hate each other can still fall in love” you raised your eyebrows at Haneul. “You two were literally like two love deprived teens when you first meet”, “Still why would I date someone like him” you continued, sticking your tongue out in disgust. Sun-hi tried to suppress her laughter as she leaned towards you and pointing towards your lap “Then why are always scrolling through his Instagram and staring at his pictures”. You looked down onto your phone where Taehyung was still leaning against the wall, smirking as always. Heat pooled in your cheeks and you feel almost dizzy as you stood up from your seat “I’m leaving”. You could hear the couple burst out laughing as you stomped towards the front door.

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

I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, it’s really late and I’ve been working on this for the past week maybe. 

//MiniPluto

[bangteen]

Hi I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but if you are may I request a Hansol imagine where he forgets your birthday and it’s sad but then it ends in fluff ?? :)

a/n: Ahh hi!!! Thank you so much for requesting!! This is my first request, so I’m really excited!! Oh, btw, I added a little twist to your request ;) I hope you like it!! 💞

Imperfect | Hansol Vernon Chwe

⇥ Summary: Bestfriend!Hansol gets so caught up in planning the perfect surprise party for crush!Y/N that he doesn’t realize how quickly time passed by.

⇥ Genre: fluff + slight angst

⇥ Word count: 1.8k

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Mingyu: Happy birthday Y/N!! 🥳💝

And that marked the 12th text you received from the members wishing you a happy birthday. The only person left out of the 13 of them was your best friend, Hansol. It was already past 3:00 pm and he would’ve said something by now. Usually, he’s the type of best friend that texts you happy birthday right at midnight.

“So, did he perhaps, forget?” You thought to yourself. “No, no. He would never.”

But then why wasn’t he the first one to text you happy birthday right at the first minute your birthday began?

You tossed your phone on your bed in frustration.

~ 4 weeks ago ~

“It’s gonna be perfect!” Hansol exclaimed as he closed his eyes in satisfaction, imagining just how perfect this surprise birthday party he planned for you will be.

“So, just to confirm,” Seungcheol began. “You’re saying that, on Y/N’s birthday, we’re going to head over to her house, just casually knock on her door, and she’ll be like ‘oh, who could that be?’, she opens the door, and—“

“That’s where the confetti poppers come in!” Hansol interupted with excitement in his voice. “Right when she opens the door, Seungcheol hyung, Wonwoo hyung, and Seungkwan open the confetti poppers and it’ll explode all over!”

“Right—“

“And then, Jeonghan hyung, Jun hyung, Seokmin hyung, Soonyoung hyung, you guys are in charge of the balloons!” Hansol continued. “Next, we all run in—Mingyu hyung, you’re in charge of the cake, so remember to bring that...”

Hansol continued to explain his perfect surprise for your birthday to the others.

“And, at the end, you’re all going to leave—“

“What?!” Seungkwan interrupted. “That’s not fair! What if I wanna party longer?”

Hansol raised his hand slightly to gesture Seungkwan to stop talking.

“Well, too bad, because when all of you leave,” Hansol began to explain as a smile slowly made its way onto his lips. “I’m gonna confess to her.”

“Really?!” Joshua gasped. “Finally! Good luck, dude.”

Hansol smiled while others were encouraging him by patting him on the back, giving high fives, fist bumps...

“Wow, you’re really doing this, huh?” Seungcheol asked, and Hansol nodded with a grin. “My son is growing up so fast.”

He started wiping his fake tears away.

“I don’t even know how she’s going to react yet,” Hansol responded. “She might not even like me back—“

“Might not even like you back?!” Soonyoung laughed. “Are you kidding me?! What is there not to like about a guy like you? And, plus, it’s so obvious she likes you, it’s embarrassing.”

Hansol sighed.

“Thanks, guys,” he smiled.

~ Present day ~

Hansol was in his room, making preparations for your party. He was working so hard these past few weeks. He’s been so busy preparing for your party and running through how he’s going to be confessing to you, that he was completely oblivious to what day it was. Today was your birthday, and Hansol didn’t even know. His mind was so occupied on making everything perfect for you that he didn’t notice how quickly the days have been passing.

~

You didn’t know whether you should text Hansol or not.

“Maybe something’s wrong? Is he in trouble?!” You began to overthink, causing you to panic, and you quickly picked up your phone off your bed.

~

Hansol heard his phone buzz from beside him. He picked it up and saw the messages from you.

You: Hey...

You: Is everything ok?

He began to panic, wondering what to reply. He didn’t want to reveal what he was planning to you.

Hansol: Hi Y/n! Yeah, everything’s good! What’s up!

“So, he forgot after all,” you thought to yourself.

You: Umm..

You: Nothing! 😊

You: ...what are you up to right now?

Hansol began to panic. He can’t lie to you. He’s never lied to you. It would break his heart.

Hansol: You know, just in my room

Hansol: doing

His eyes quickly searched around his room for an idea.

Hansol: I’m just watching some stuff on YouTube! 👌🏻

You: Oh.

You: Ok.

You: Well...

You: I gtg

Hansol: Ah, ok! Bye!

You immediately turned your phone off and dropped it on your bed again. You put your hands over your face as you felt your cheeks turn wet. Tears. You were crying.

~

Hansol let out a sigh of relief.

“She didn’t notice,” he reassured himself.

He lied to you, and he hated himself for that. He wondered if you noticed, because what he texted—even the way he texted—was unlike him.

He threw the thought aside and continued working on preparations before he heard his phone buzz again. He picked it up and saw a message from the Seventeen group chat.

Seokmin: Hansol what time are we meeting today to get ready for the party?? It’s already almost 4:00

He stared at his phone, confused, trying to process the message.

Hansol: What party?

And then it hit him. Today was your birthday.

Hansol: Crap.

Seungkwan: 🤦‍♂️

Jun: ^

Minghao: ^^

Mingyu: ^^^

Chan: did he really just forget his own best friend’s bday party that he planned and has been planning for who knows how many weeks now

Jihoon: looks like it

Hansol ran around his room gathering everything he’s been preparing for the past four weeks and texted the others when and where to meet him.

~

Some time had passed, and at this point, it felt like you had run out of tears. Your eyes were puffy and you were wrapped up in a blanket, watching your favourite show while on the couch before you heard a knock on your front door. You didn’t want to answer it, so you sat there, frozen.

“But what if it’s that thing I ordered from Amazon?” You thought to yourself, which resulted in you convincing yourself to answer it.

As you approached the front door, you heard whispers coming from the other side. You listened closely, and you swear you could hear Hansol’s voice.

What was he doing here?

You slowly opened the door, and—POP!

Confetti was flying everywhere: inside your house, in your hair, outside...

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!” Everyone screamed.

You were shocked. Everyone was standing in front of you, outside your front door, cramped on your tiny porch with huge smiles on each of their faces. Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Seungkwan were holding now-empty confetti poppers; Seokmin, Soonyoung, Jun, and Jeonghan were carrying large balloons in their hands; Mingyu was carrying a box; the rest of the guys held gifts; and then, there was Hansol who stood in the middle, in front of everyone, grinning at you.

A large smile spread across your face as you let all of them inside, hugging each person as they entered.

“Thank you guys so much,” you pouted. “This is so sweet, and Hansol, I thought you forgot about my birthday.”

All of the guys’ heads turned towards him, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Aha ha ha,” Hansol laughed sarcastically. “That’s funny.”

“So, are you gonna tell her, or—?“ Seokmin asked.

You didn’t even have to wait for Hansol’s nervous glance towards you to know that he did indeed forget your birthday.

“How could you forget?” You asked, feeling quite heart broken once again.

“Well, ok, listen,” Hansol replied. “I was the one that prepared this whole surprise party for you, and I planned all of this about a month ago.”

Everyone listened as he continued to explain.

“And I’ve been so busy making all of these preparations for this to be perfect that I totally lost track of the days,” Hansol explained with sadness laced in his voice. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

You walked up to him and gave him a hug.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Hansol,” you began as you two pulled back. “Thank you for all of this. I know you didn’t mean to forget my birthday, and technically, you didn’t, because you had my birthday on your mind—for the past month you said?”

He nodded shyly.

“That’s amazing, and I’m so thankful to have a best friend like you, like all of you,” you looked at the others as you finished your sentence, and then back at Hansol. “Thank you.”

You and Hansol stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before Seungkwan ruined it by awkwardly clearing his throat.

“So, I know we all came here to like—party and what not, but I think right now is a good time to leave you two to it!” Seungkwan suggested. “I’ll just take this!”

Seungkwan quickly grabbed the box that Mingyu brought in earlier.

“Hey!” Hansol shouted. “That’s the cake for Y/N!”

“Well, you owe me something for leaving this party early for you,” Seungkwan sassed as he walked out of the house with the cake, the others following him. “Happy birthday, Y/N!”

“Oh, ok,” you said, confused. “Bye?”

Hansol chuckled and looked at you.

“I asked them to leave, but the plan wasn’t for them to go this early,” Hansol rubbed the back of his neck guiltily.

“Why’d you ask them to leave?”

He paused before answering.

“Y/N, there’s something I wanted to tell you privately,” Hansol gestured to the couch in the living room for the two of you to sit.

Hansol began talking after you both sat down on the couch together.

“Your eyes are all puffy,” Hansol commented. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry for forgetting, Y/N.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied. “You had the best intentions, and it all almost turned out the way you planned it to anyways.”

He smiled.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, readjusting himself on the couch to face you better as he began to take your hands in his.

You looked down at the sudden skinship before he began speaking again.

“Y/N, I’m taking a huge risk right now, and I really don’t want this to ruin our friendship,” he began rambling quickly. “But the guys say that you like me too, and—“

He quickly covered his mouth, letting go of your hands with wide eyes, avoiding eye contact. That’s not how he had planned to confess to you.

You, on the other hand, were shocked at the sudden confession that you gasped with your eyes wide as well.

“Hansol, do you like me?”

He paused, then looked back at you and began to speak once he regained his confidence.

“I do,” he smiled.

He waited for you to just say something, but instead of speaking, you gave him a hug.

“I’ll take that as an ‘I like you too’?” he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I do like you,” you smiled as you pulled back.

But, right as you pulled out of the hug, he pulled you right back in, this time, instead of a hug, he held your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. His soft lips landed on yours. You kissed him back before he pulled away, shortly after.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

[buckyskorpion]

tess brain go hnnnnnnngh

hello this is only thing ive written in like a week and its for a new fic im SORRY but i thought i would post it anyway bc i have nothing else to offer hehe. it’s the beginning of my fic for laur’s writing challenge and boy oh boy has this morphed into it’s own beast. under the cut for those who dont care

“You know she’s not going to be happy about this,” Sam says.

“She’s never happy about anything,” Bucky replies. He flicks at a photograph pinned to your corkboard, your arm around some guy kissing your temple while you grin at the camera. There’s a bunch of photos just like it with the same dude; receding hairline, squinty blue eyes, tall but skinny in a vaguely malnourished way. One photo from what looks like a Halloween party catches his interest. You have a cardboard sign hanging over your shoulders to look like a square from the periodic table, and it reads ‘AH! The element of surprise’. Nerds, Bucky thinks with a scowl, and turns away from the corkboard.

Your office is nothing like he thought it would be, and that aggravates him. It’s hardly surprising - most things about you aggravate him. You have statues of Star Wars characters on your desk, a dying pot plant in the corner, books on quantum mechanics and Deutsch propositions left open and scribbled in on the coffee table. There’s too much personality left carelessly lying around, and none of it is yours. Bucky can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

Sharon walks in first, closing the door softly behind her and shoots them both a grimace. “She’s coming, but, uh- she’s not happy about this.”

“See?” Sam says, gesturing to Sharon as if she’s proving his point when Bucky agreed with him. He turns to face Sam lounging in the armchair on the other end of the room and flicks him the finger.

“Let’s try and contain this situation, shall we?” Sharon says. She’s nervous, Bucky notes, moving to stand in the middle of the room and smoothing down non-existent creases in her slacks. She refuses to look at Bucky, and that gives him a bad feeling. “Just listen to her yell for a bit. Bucky - let us do the talking, ok?”

Sharon is still not looking at him. Bucky nods instead of replying, baiting her to glance over, which she does. She trains her eyes on his nose and gives him a frankly insulting smile of recognition, immediately turning back to the door as her face drops. Bucky’s bad feeling intensifies.

Before he can try and figure out why one of the best Agents of SHIELD and former CIA operative can’t seem to pretend everything is fine, the door to the office slams open. It bounces back, smacks you in the shoulder as you storm into the room, and you push it back again with an aggravated shout. Sam rolls his lips together to smother his laugh but Bucky doesn’t bother. You turn a murderous glare onto him, and the shouting begins.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” You march up to Sharon and jab a finger in her chest, forcing her back a step. “You gave me this job, why the hell are you coming in here fucking it all up?”

“We have some new developments,” Sharon says, keeping her voice even like she’s trying to placate a feral dog. It does not have the desired effect.

“Ever thought of picking up the phone?” you shout, throwing your hands wide. “Sending a text? A letter? A carrier pigeon? Anything but showing up to my six month long deep cover mission with two of the most recognisable faces on the fucking planet! Really, Sharon? Captain America?”

“She’s right, y’know,” Sam says, smiling through Sharon’s warning glare. “My face is pretty unforgettable.”

“It’s good to see you, Sam” you say, gritting your teeth like it physically pains you to derail your tirade for some niceties. “You should’ve left Barnes at home.”

“I offered to stay in the car,” Bucky says. He smiles, all teeth, and you poke your tongue out at him.

“Do you know how difficult it has been to be stuck here playing dumb with this bunch of incels for six fucking months?” You say, spinning away from Sharon now to open the small fridge in the corner. You pull out one of those mini bottles of whiskey and down half of it, baring your teeth at the sting. “Please don’t make it all for nothing or I will kill you all, and then myself.”

“The timeline has moved up,” Sharon says. She shakes her head when you offer her the rest of your whiskey and you shrug, chugging the remaining half. Sam makes an offended noise and you grab another one, chucking it towards him as he makes grabby hands. Bucky doesn’t even bother asking.

“That’s funny, because as far as I remember it’s me who sets the timeline,” you say. “And I say it’s staying exactly the fucking same.”

“Look, I know this has been a rough mission-“

“Rough? I am watching a bunch of psychopathic virgins reinvent time travel at a snails pace whilst entertaining their neo-nazi purist ideals and I haven’t been able to physically hurt any of them? Rough is an understatement.” you say.

“Sounds terrible,” Bucky says with an eye roll. Everyone in the room turns to glare at him.

“I’d like to see you spend one day with these scumbags,” you seethe, stepping forward with your teeth bared.

“Something tells me it can’t be any worse than having my brain fried by Nazi’s, sweetheart,” Bucky says. You hate when he condescends you like that, and Bucky knows it. You make to throw the empty mini-whiskey bottle at him but Sharon steps in-between you two, holding her hands up with a disappointed frown.

“Bucky, you were supposed to leave the talking to us,” Sharon says. She turns to you and adds, “And you would do well to remember that I’m your boss, agent. I give the orders.”

“Aw, let them fight,” Sam says from the armchair. “It’ll be fun.”

“Enough,” Sharon says. She claps her hands together to regain control of the room, but it’s tenuous. To you, she says, “We need you to speed up __________’s research. Find a way, I don’t care how, but in a month they need to figure out Stark’s theory of time travel.”

“Excuse me?” You glance between Sharon, Sam, and Bucky like someone can offer an explanation but no one does. Incredulously, you say, “I’ve been here slowing them down so they don’t figure it out, and now you want me to- speed them along? Give them the answer?”

“Yes,” Sharon says. Her eyes are saying something else to only you and Bucky aches to know what it is. “Sam and Bucky have come across some new intel that requires the _____ to finish their machine. We need you to help them get there in one month’s time.”

“Am I allowed to know this new, game-changing intel?” you ask. There’s a muscle ticking in your jaw that looks set to explode any second.

“Only that there is someone who is very interested in buying into what the ________ come up with,” Sharon says. “When you’ve completed your mission, you will be fully briefed.”

“Oh, great,” you say with an eyeroll. “I love ambiguity.”

“You’re a spy,” Sam says, staring at you. “That’s literally your entire life.”

“Can we focus?” Sharon asks, shooting Sam a warning glare to which he holds his hands up in a Gesture of innocence. To you, she asks, “Do you understand your mission?”

“No,” you say simply, turning away from Sam to have a silent conversation with Sharon that involves a lot of eyebrow movements. Softly, as if no one else in the room can hear you, you say, “You know why I can’t let them figure it out.”

Sam and Bucky share a look while the two spies in the room have some kind of telepathic argument. It doesn’t seem to last long. Once again, the bad feeling in Bucky’s gut returns when you look to the floor and don’t make eye-contact with any of them again. As per usual in Bucky’s life there are things left unsaid, omitted by silence, and he itches to know what has your shoulders rounding and the fight you always fling around like confetti, dying out as quickly as it flared up.

“The goal remains the same,” Sharon says, “but as I said, the timeline has changed. We will see you in a month or so, agent.”

“I guess you will,” you say. Sam claps you on the shoulder as he walks out and Sharon hands you a dossier with your new mission parameters. Bucky always feels awkward with goodbyes, especially with people he doesn’t particularly like and who don’t like him in return. You glare at your toes and say, “Don’t even think about touching me, Barnes.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks past you and adds, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“You’ll know if I do,” you bite back, just as the door closes behind him. Your words follow him down the hall, past the laboratories blinking with dull red security lights and the fire exit door they left chocked open when they broke in. He doesn’t like the way that sits in his brain. It clunks around, tinkering with things he’d rather leave untouched.

Spies, Bucky thinks. They always find a way to get inside his head.

[evesbeve]

📖 Give all of your ideas

“Drop a 📖 in my ask box and I’ll tell you about a random story concept I have or have had in the past that I may or may not ever actually write.”

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY BEN AND KLAUS POWER SWAP AU

Also known as the “Ben and Klaus move out together but then Klaus dies and the two of them try to hide it from the rest of their family only to end up being disowned” AU.

This is turning out longer than expected, so I’m going to put it under a “Read More”, but it’s worth it, I promise

(please read it, i put my soul into this lmao)

Alrighty!

Ben is still labeled Number Six, and Klaus is still Number Four (I headcanon the numbers to depict the order in which Reginald found them) but Ben is The Seance, and Klaus is The Horror.

Let’s talk about Klaus first:

He hates his powers

No, he’s scared of them

He’s constantly being forced to summon this monster, ripping his stomach apart, and it hurts so much

He always shakes it off with comments like “Oh, the horror ripped apart my favourite shirt, that bastard!”

Everyone knows he’s in pain, but no one knows how to help him

So he eventually starts taking drugs

At first it’s painkillers, to ease the pain

But the more pills he takes, the more he realises that the horror hates them

So he changes to something stronger, and then something even stronger, eventually blocking the horror from being summoned in the first place

As for Ben:

The ghosts are a living nightmare

Ben is terrified of them, and has learnt 10 different ways to get from his room to the front door in order to avoid encountering them

Unlike Klaus, who has no desire to please Reginald, Ben wants their father’s approval (and Luther’s)

So he pushes himself to his limits, and becomes the master of his own powers

Of course, the mausoleum nights didn’t make that easy

He still has nightmares about them

In the end, even though he’s not all that good at making ghosts corporeal yet, he can choose which ghosts to see

They used his powers at interrogating a lot

The Story

Okay, this is where things get good, so stay with me-

Leaving the Academy:

Ben and Klaus had never really been close as kids

Ben spent most of his free time with Five and Vanya, but after Five’s disappearance, they drifted away

Meanwhile Klaus hanged out with Diego and Allison, but the more he got lost in drugs, the more they stopped taking

Both of them are two damaged kids with no plan whatsoever that want to leave

So what the hell, why not leave together?

First years away from home:

It’s a wild run

They know next to nothing about each other, but as time goes by, they get to know each other more

It doesn’t even take a year for them to become best friends

They lived in the streets and motels for a while, but Ben managed to get a job at a bookstore

Klaus made dirty money (Ben did not approve at all) but eventually he also got a job as at the coffee shop next to their apartment

They got an apartment!

It’s super small, but that’s all they need

An Unexpected Turn of Events:

Things are actually okay for a while

Klaus even gets himself into rehab

It’s on a Friday night, years after they’ve left the academy, that Klaus is late for their exit

Ben is waiting outside the arcade, and Klaus finally shows up

But something feels off

He’s standing right there, in front of him, but he looks… different.

“Are you high?”

“Depends on what kind of high you mean?”

Ben is so confused. His brother is looking at him in a way he never had before.

But then it hits him.

“Klaus, are you dead?”

Ding ding ding!

Klaus had overdosed

They walk to the hospital, which is at the other side of the city

They have a huge fight about how Ben thought Klaus was getting better

Ben doesn’t call the others

He needs to think on how to approach this

“How long do you think we can fool them into thinking I’m alive?”

And Ben is 100% in.

Allison’s Wedding:

They get an invitation for Allison’s wedding not even a year later

It’s perfect. The whole family will be there.

They’d run into Diego a few weeks back, and he hadn’t suspected a thing about Klaus, so what could possibly go wrong?

Everything

Remember when I said that Ben isn’t good at making people corporeal?

Well, it’s true, even years later

Ben is able to make Klaus visible to others, and even allow him to touch them for a bit, but only for a bit

It’s not like Ben had any use for his powers ever since they left the academy, so they’re a bit rusty

Everything was going great, until Diego handed Klaus a plate with the wedding cake, and it went right through him

Ben and Klaus just freeze

Diego screams

Telling the Family:

The wedding goes on hold

Picture this: Ben, a (dead) Klaus, a Diego so shook he can’t stop stuttering, Vanya shaking in her suit, Luther looking as if he’s about to explode, and Allison in her wedding dress looking more stressed than ever

“What the fuck,” Luther is the first to speak. Luther never swears. They’re so in-trouble

There’s silence for a while. What even is there to say?

“For how long?” Vanya asks in a shaky voice.

“Six months,” Klaus says.

Allison huffs, “You can’t be serious about this.”

“Does Dad know?” asks Luther after a while

Ben shakes his head. Of course Luther would ask about Dad

It’s only when Diego’s voice cracks as he speaks that the others realise he’d been crying. “Can we even hug you?” he asks, like a child

And Klaus cries too

Ben makes him corporeal, and they all share a long hug

When they tell Reginald, he only scoffs

There’s a ceremony, but it doesn’t have balloons and pink confetti as Klaus requested

He does get a statue though, which is pretty cool

The Book:

The siblings get out of touch after the wedding

Ben and Klaus have no idea what they’re up to

Until Vanya releases her book

She talks about how she was treated as a child

She talks about the day Five left

She talks about how Ben “gave up on her” after Five left

She talks about how Ben and Klaus hid Klaus’ death from everyone

She talks about how Klaus had always been lost in himself, and presents his death like a game

She doesn’t talk about the mausoleum

She doesn’t talk about the pressure Reginald put on Klaus

She doesn’t talk about whether she loved them or not

Ben just wants to disappear

The Funeral (aka when the show starts):

When Reginald dies, Klaus is scared

He’s scared that since he’s dead, he’ll be able to visit him in the afterlife

For better or worse, he doesn’t

Maybe it’s Ben’s doing, maybe it’s not

The point is, they head back to the academy, and things don’t turn out too nicely

Apparently Luther thinks one of them killed Dad

And apparently, Ben and Klaus (and Diego) are his top suspects

Klaus feels the need to be high again for the first time in years

He truly does hate the academy.

As much as I’d love to get into details about what happens during the show, imma stop here for now, beacause this is turning super long.

HOWEVER!!

I’ve actually already written the funeral discussion scene! I’m quite proud of it, so let me know if you’d like me to post it!

If you have any questions about this AU, my ask box is always open! (please ask me questions about it, i love talking about it nsbdgd)

Hope you enjoyed!!

(Also I’ll be tagging everything about this AU as “Ben and Klaus Power Swap AU” in case you want to get back to it-)

[beanfic]

New Roommates - Ch.6

Word count: 1526

Warnings: Angst and language

Author’s note: I hope you enjoy! (second to last chapter!) 

“Kae! C’mon!” Tyler shouted as Kae crossed the finish line in a hectic game of Mario Kart. I looked up from my computer just in time to see Shy Guy riding a sportbike with white wheels and a parachute being surrounded by confetti. 

“Tyler, you can’t get actually upset at me that I am better than you! You just need to practice more!” Kae set their controller down on Tyler’s lap and patted his head.

“I think you are the only person who can beat him though, Kae,” I chuckled. Tyler nodded at my comment but Kae just shrugged. 

“I still win! How is editing going?” They nodded towards my laptop that was resting on my thighs. I had a photo of a football player catching the ball in mid-air open in photoshop. 

“I am almost halfway done with the football photos from Friday’s game! I ended up taking almost 200 photos!”

“200? Jeez,” Kae sighed. 

Suddenly, the front door swung open and Josh waltzed inside carrying a bag of groceries. Josh looked over at the group of us sitting on the couch and waved. Tyler and Kae both waved back but I continued to be stubborn and ignore him. Josh continued on to the kitchen and then I finally raised my glance up from my laptop.

“Sav, how long are you going to continue this silent treatment game with him? It’s been a week since the fight” Tyler asked. I glared over at him. Just because it had been a week doesn’t mean I forgave Josh for being an absolute jerk to my face. 

“I’ll speak to him once he   and stops making it a such a big deal every time he brings someone over.”

“What do you mean?” Kae asked.

I sighed, “I don’t know if it’s just my brain or if Josh is like purposely trying to make me jealous. He brought these girls over the past week and he would just start making out with them any time I walked past him. I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, but also if he was trying to make you jealous than wouldn’t that mean he likes you?” 

“Exactly, and I don’t want to get my hopes up anyway. It’s probably just my brain.” 

“But you can’t control how you feel, Sav. If it’s hurting you then it is hurting you.” Kae said softly. 

“Kae has a point. Maybe it would be better if you did try to talk to him? Even if he doesn’t necessarily apologize first.”

“Thank you guys for supporting me and you both have a valid point. Maybe I will try talking to him later today.” I wiped my nose that was starting to run. I hated getting emotional over a guy, especially when the guy happens to be my roommate. 

After the little pep talk from Kae and Tyler, I tried my hardest to focus on the rest of the photos that were lingering in my to-do folder. I really needed to get them done but anytime I would open up a new photo, my mind would instantly wander to Josh.

After an hour of not getting any productive work done, I decided that I was just going to go talk to Josh now. It was the one thing that would take a weight off my shoulders. Sometimes I really hated how much my brain overthought about simple things. 

“I think I am going to go talk to Josh now,” I announced as I shut my laptop with a bang. Kae and Tyler looked over at me and nodded.

“Good luck!” Kae shouted as I headed down the hall. I knocked on Josh’s door softly and nibbled on my fingernails while I waited for him to open it. After two minutes of waiting, I decided to knock one more time, a bit louder, to see if he would answer. 

I sighed as a few more minutes passed and Josh didn’t answer the door. I decided to just go for it and head in. I mean, I have already seen him naked so there isn’t much worse that could happen. 

I slowly opened his door which was fortunately unlocked. His room was dark and I could hear faint snoring coming from the bed. Of course, he was napping. I opened the door a little bit wider so not too much light leaked in, but enough so I could squeeze through. 

I could see Josh laying in his bed. He was shirtless and was cuddling the pillow. I stood there for a second, admiring how he looked as he slept. His mouth was open a little and his eyelashes fluttered softly. He must have been dreaming. 

I started to get a weird feeling in my stomach as I stood there watching my roommate sleep. This was definitely weird, so I decided to head out and just talk to him later. I walked towards the door but I ended up stubbing my toe on the corner of the desk that was located right next to the door.

“Ouch!” I whispered a little bit too loudly.

“Sav?” a groggy voice spoke behind me. My eyes widened as I realized that I woke Josh up. “What the fuck are you doing? Watching me sleep?” He started to scream.

I turned around quickly and shook my head, “No! I came in to talk to you and you weren’t answering so I decided to see if you were just ignoring me!”

“You really have a thing with invading privacy don’t you?” 

“I came in here to get an apology!” I shouted back. My breathing got heavy and fast-paced.

“An apology? For what?”

“An apology for being a complete dick to me!”

“A dick? Are you serious? I have nothing to apologize for.”

“You have loads to apologize for! How about trying to piss me off this week by being extra loud and having people over?”

Josh laughed and ran his hand through his hair as he stared at you. “I don’t understand why it is such a big deal to you when I have people over? Why do you get so fucking upset?” His tone was angry and sharp and made a lump in my throat form.

“Maybe it’s because I get jealous!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I didn’t mean to scream at him, but all the anger and frustration built up and exploded. Josh’s jaw dropped but closed again as he bit his lip. The silence lasted five seconds too long.

“Jealous? Why would you be jealous?” His voice softened and he took a step towards me. I stared up at him with fear in my eyes.

I opened up my mouth to speak and explain myself but I only ended up stuttering, “I..I don’t-”

Josh moved towards me, closing the space between us, and grabbed my chin. He pulled me in for a kiss and my eyes stayed open the entire time. He pulled away and I stood there, eyes still wide open, staring up at him. 

“You get jealous because you have feelings for me but you are too chicken to tell me?” he smirked. 

“I’m not chicken, I just am afraid of rejection,” I whispered, still in shock of what just happened. 

“What if I confessed that I did have people over to make you jealous?” He lifted his eyebrow as he looked down at me. Rage filled my veins.

“You’re horrible, you know that Joshua?” I crossed my arms and glared at the boy in front of me. He shrugs and gives me a smug smirk, and somehow that was the most attractive thing I had ever seen him do. 

“I had feelings for you too, I just am not good at communication.”

“Obviously,” I huff. “But seriously, Josh, what does this mean now? I don’t want to be your fuckbuddy. I don’t do hookups.”

Josh’s face instantly became serious and he reached over and grabbed my arm. “Sav, I don’t want to hook up with you? I want a relationship with you. I want so much more.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I know I give off mixed messages, but ever since I first met you I fell for you. Hard.”

“You fell for me?”

“Yes, Sav! You’re beautiful and funny, and kind and I just don’t know how to act around girls that I actually have feelings for and I’m sorry I almost fucked this all up.”

“Josh, I don’t really know what to say, but I want that with you too! It’s just all happening so quickly, and you’re my roommate.”

“I know, we don’t have to get into a serious relationship right now, but I do want to be exclusive. I just want to get to know you more. Take you out on dates. Fall in love.”

“Fall in love?”

“Yes, Sav, fall in love.”

I smiled to myself and looked up at Josh. His brown eyes drew me in even further and this time it was me to kiss him first. 

“So, will you go on a date with me?” Josh asked once I pulled away.

“Yes, Joshua, I will.”

*******

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