#but also I feel less pressure here than I did working as a barista

[aefensteorrra]

any time I get vaguely overwhelmed at work I have to remind myself at least I’m not working at st*rb*cks anymore and feel fine again

[moonflower-31]

I Won't Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

(This is gonna be a series, so keep an eye out for this one if you like it.)

Summary: So imagine you're in the CM universe if you will. And you're just graduating from the academy. You're looking to join the BAU. You have hyperthymesia, the ability to never forget anything. Except for rare occasions. After the final exam, you run into one Dr. Spencer Reid. Eventually, you get accepted to shadow the BAU on a trial run as an agent. But you have a past that may endanger those you work with. Also, you love Spencer. Cause who doesn't?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (this makes sense only for storyline, sorry 😞)

Masterlist

Please leave comments! I love reading them ❤ 💕

~~~~~~~~

Nervous. So dreadfully nervous you were and am. But here we are. No turning back now. 

"Hello, cadets. And welcome to your final exam for your graduation. We hope all of you do well. The FBI, as you know, has many branches. 56, to be exact. We hope that for those of you who pass, that you'll find your calling in one of our offices. For those of you who don't, don't fret. We always allow you to retake the last semester and the exams. The FBI is in desperate need of new agents." The speaker in front of me is seriously loud. Though you don't dare speak up about it. 

Associate Deputy Director Gail Franklin spoke with such elegance. She obviously has had practice, you think to yourself as you watch the grey-haired woman speak atop the raised portion of the testing room. You couldn't count how many people even if you tried. And you don't forget anything. 

"Psst!" 

You groan quietly and try to ignore your idiot but golden-hearted friend who couldn't sit still. 

"Psst! (Y/N)!"  

You ignore him again, focusing on Franklin's closing commentary.  

"I wish you all good luck. Please refrain from beginning your exam until all test-takers have received their tests. Thank you." She then proceeded to turn and begin her trek out of the room, the click of her heels being the only reminder she was even here. 

"Psst-! Come on, (Y/N/N)!" 

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Finally, you turn your head and give your dear friend a very annoyed look. "What is it, Gabe? Like seriously, you couldn't sit still through one teansy tiny lecture? From the ADD herself?" You tease, pulling out a #2 pencil from your bag. Sure, most everyone will be using pens, but you remembered that the test scanners prefered graphite.

Gabriel whined teasingly at your jap. "No fair, (Y/N/N)! I just wanted to talk to one of my best friends. That too much to ask?" He sassily remarks, flipping his floppy golden-brown hair. 

You rolled your eyes and couldn't help but feel a smile form on your face. You loved him like a brother. But that also meant he annoyed you like one too. 

"You couldn't have waited till she was done?" You couldn't help but question him further. It was one of his weaker points. Under pressure, he tended to get uncomfortable. 

"Nope." Popping the 'p' he blew a kiss at you. "Anyway, how prepared do you think you are for this test? I almost made it an all-nighter trying to cram everything in again. Fuck me and my terrible memory." You grinned and giggled under your hand. 

"Gabriel, I told you, if you ever needed help studying I would be there. You're gonna do fine." 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You didn't even have to study with that god-given gift of a memory you got." 

You bite the inside of your cheek, faking a slight chuckle. Everyone thought remembering everything was a superpower. Sure, if you call superpowered headaches and occasional dizzy spells a super-side-effect. 

So, yes, you had the 'gift' of having hyperthymesia. The disorder where you never forgot anything. Of course, there were a few rare occasions, like you could only remember a handful of memories from before you were four. But other than that, you had nothing from your earliest childhood. It made you feel semi-normal. 

"It isn't a gift, Gabe. It's only a gift in the academic field. And I'm lucky to have a 'genius' IQ." You huffed in response to Gabriel's little comment. 

"Yeah yeah, but you have a filing cabinet for a memory. So why study? You have it all up there." He asks, taking the test packet from the assistant that had finally made it to him. 

"Studying, as a science, is a great way to improve your memory, quicken your speed of processing data and important information, and you stretch your mind's capacity for learning. Also it helps me understand a topic better. Just like anyone else." 

You take the packet from the assistant and widen your eyes slightly at the size. It was massive. At least the size of your tiniest textbook. You could almost hear Gabriel whimper next to you as he saw how big the packet was. At least you all had three and a half hours. And it wasn't required to get through all of them. Just try to do your best on the written response ones.

You turn to Gabriel and hold out your fist. "Good luck." 

Gabriel sighed and gave you a smile before pumping his fist gently against yours. Soon after he made a dramatic explosion noise that only you could hear. You roll your eyes and shake your head again, turning your full attention finally to the large test in front of you. 

Here goes nothing, you tell yourself. 

○●♡●○  

Remarkably, you think you did okay. Of course, you finished the test in the first hour and a half, but who's counting? Certainly not you. 

You rub your aching wrists from so much essay work as you exit the testing room. Even with an unbeatable memory like yours, your hands were still human. So they hurt like a bitch. 

You sigh and take a quick seat on the bench outside the room, probably sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd of other cadets who weren't in your graduating class. But you tried not to pay it any mind. You were used to being the 'odd man out'. 

You check your phone and smile down at the message your other friend, Iris, had sent you. She wasn't testing for the FBI like you and Gabe. No she was a barista with some mean skills at mixing new drinks. She wanted to open her own cafe and Gabriel and you wanted to support her. She'd been there for you every second of the last five years. You owed her at least a little thanks. 

When you look up, you couldn't help but notice a tall, lanky looking man with long, curly hair walking towards you as he looked for…something. You couldn't tell. Probably a map. He had a gun holstered on the side of his belt along with a blurry ID you couldn't read from so far away. But it looked like it said FBI. 

You stifled a soft snicker. This guy could say he was a teacher's assistant and if he didn't have the gun on him, you would've believed him. 

And that's when you caught his eye and instantly you recognized who this lost puppy was. More specifically, who he belonged to. 

"Hi, uh I'm Dr. Spe-" he began, looking a bit nervous as he began to introduce himself. 

"Dr. Spencer Reid. From the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I've heard of you." You accidentally interrupt. "Sorry. I don't forget names easily. I don't forget them ever, really." 

Nervously, you rub your hand on your neck, waiting for his response. And surprisingly, it wasn't one you expected. 

Spencer widened his eyes a bit in wonder that someone knew of him that he hadn't met before on a case. And she knew which branch he worked in. He blushed a bit, growing a tad tongue tied. 

"S-sorry, I'm Cadet (L/N)." 

Spencer raised an eyebrow. He wondered why you didn't give him your first name. But he didn't pry. It was your personal business. And besides, it wasn't like he needed to know your first name. 

"U-uh yeah, actually. I-I wanted to ask you if you knew where I could get a glimpse of a map. Just so I can find my way around. I'm here for a 'lecture' that I'm helping give the graduating class of FBI agents." He couldn't help but brag a tiny bit. "It doesn't start for another 3 hours, but I like to be prepared." 

You smiled up at this tall nerd. And an incredibly cute one at that. He was so out of place you sympathized with him. He was basically you. In like, every academic scene you've ever been in. 

"Understandable. I'll be seeing you there hopefully. I'm a part of that class." You grinned. "But yeah, here's the map," you say, pulling up a digital map on your phone. Spencer leaned over your shoulder and looked it over. You couldn't help but shiver slightly at the sound of his breathing so close to your ear. It felt eerily calming. 

"Really?" He asked after he pulled away from your shoulder. "T-thank you for the map, by the way." He adds last-minute. You giggle gently and nod. 

"Yep. The test only started an hour and about 45 minutes ago, so I gotta wait a little while." Groaning playfully you shrug at him, crossing your arms to get more comfortable. You wouldn't lie, he was seriously cute. Of course, you'd seen him before on your secret internet dives. But in-person was so much better than sitting behind a screen gawking over a photo. An ID photo no less. 

"You already finished?" 

There it was. The immediate doubt of your intelligence everyone had when you accidentally showed your smarts. You sighed. "Yeah. Kinda hard not to with an IQ of 167 and a memory that pretty much never fails." You shrugged nervously, looking away as you braced yourself for his incoming doubt. 

"Oh. Hyperthymesia, right?" He inquires. You blink a few times and look at him like he just said something so foreign you didn't know how to respond. 

"U-uh...y-yeah. It's rare, but I got it. How'd you know?" 

"It was more of an educated guess. See, you bite the inside of your cheek when you're nervous," he points out. You in fact, were biting your cheek as he spoke. "And you seem unintimidated by me despite knowing of my position. You only grew nervous when I mentioned anything academic. Which proves to me you're used to being the smartest kid in the room. And having to explain why every time." He finishes, leaving you a gigantic puddle of impressed and embarrassed that he had profiled all of that from only a few minutes from conversation. 

"Geez, didn't expect to get profiled today. You're really good at it, you know. Well, I mean you would be. 'Cause you w-work for the BAU." You begin to ramble, groaning internally for suddenly turning into an awkward blob in front of this professional. 

Spencer smiled a bit wider and let out a soft laugh. "So, y-you want to work for the BAU?" 

You look at him puzzled for a moment before you remember that he'd been profiling you for the past five or so minutes. "Right, profiler…" you mutter. "Y-yeah. It's kinda been a dream of mine for years. Police officer never really appealed to me. I wanted to get into the real deal. Catch the hard criminals. Give myself a challenge, you know?" You rattle off, realizing just how comfortable you'd grown to Spencer in the short conversation you've had. 

Spencer nodded. "It was always a dream of mine as well. I was kinda groomed for it." He admitted. "S-so… any jitters at all? Did you know that t-the common feeling of nervousness or 'butterflies' is actually caused by the reduced blood flow to the abdomen. Your stomach's sensory nerves sense the lack of oxygen and blood and it produces the fluttery feeling you get before a test or before a big performance." 

You smile brighter. "Really? I never thought of that. I always just thought it was a signal your brain sent or something. That's interesting. I'm kinda glad I won't forget that." 

Spencer felt his surprise increase again. You hadn't cut him off. There was no 'Sorry I asked' or awkward asking if he always did this. You actually listened. And you wanted to hear more! He didn't think he'd ever find someone willing to listen. 

"H-heh…" Spencer chuckled. "W-well did you know that most people will forget 50 percent of the information you've been taught in one hour will be forgotten? A-and in 24 hours more than 75% of the information is gone. That's why studying is so important. It helps retain that information so it doesn't 'slip' as easily." He begins to rattle off again, quite glad he found someone who actually wanted to hear his statistics. It was a good cover for his nervousness about talking to this incredibly gorgeous woman. 

You tilt your head in interest, laughing gently. "That's what I keep saying! Yet everyone always asks 'Why study if you remember everything?'" You exclaim, making a whiny voice expression for the impression of absolutely every bully you'd had ever. 

A darker skinned man, who was much more gifted physically walked over as you and Spencer continued your conversation. He wrapped an arm around Spencer teasingly and nodded to you. 

"Hope this pretty boy ain't bothering you baby girl." He greets. "He's great once you get to know him." 

Spencer just looks annoyed at this man's sudden presence. "Seriously, Morgan? We were actually having a conversation before you butted in." He grumbled annoyedly. Then you remember the face. This was SSA Derek Morgan. You'd seen him in some pictures with Spencer. He wasn't too bad looking. In fact, you knew Iris would climb him faster than a squirrel did a tree. But Spencer was a bit more your type. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. "Oh really? So now pretty boy's talking to girls?" He teases, letting Spencer free from his suffocating hold. He then extends a hand out to me. "Derek-" he started. 

"Derek Morgan. SSA from the BAU. Yeah, I know about you." You grinned. He looked you up and down a bit in the same interest that Spencer had. That soon was replaced by a confident smile. 

"So you know of me." He said in a clearly flirtatious tone. "Don't tell me you've been searching up my pictures in your freetime, babygirl." He flirts. 

You roll your eyes and take his hand, shaking it firmly. "No, I haven't. Though I have heard of you from my classes. But if I'm honest?" You begin. "I'm really wishing I could forget that comment." You sassily respond. He laughed. 

"No one ever forgets, Babygirl." He grinned. 

Spencer sighed and turned to Morgan in annoyance. "Morgan." He deadpanned. You looked towards him and giggled a little. It was clear Spencer had wanted to talk to only you. Maybe it was something to do with the statistics. You had a feeling that he felt he was finally being listened to. 

"What? I'm just introducing myself to one of the new cadets." He insists, raising two hands up in defeat. 

"Did you just profile me without my permission?" You ask him with fake offense. He laughed. 

"Did I need to ask, sweetheart?" He asks. You chuckle. 

"Guess not." You shrug. 

"What's your name, beautiful? A pretty face has got to have a pretty name." He flirted. 

"I'm Cadet (L/N)."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, fully ready to ask why the hold-up on your first name when Spencer thankfully saved you an explanation. 

"She didn't share it with me either. Probably a mode of trust." He explains. Morgan shrugged. 

"I'll find out eventually. You'll give it away." He insists. 

"Uh huh, sure I will." You tease. 

"Reid, Morgan, we need to prepare." You hear a third voice call the two men away from you. You stand a bit on your tiptoes to get a good look at who it was that was speaking. 

Aaron Hotchner walked towards the three of you almost with a purpose. So much confidence in one man. 

"Who is this?" He asked. 

"I'm Cadet (L/N), Agent Hotchner. It's a pleasure to meet you." You greet, holding out a hand to him. Hotch raised an eyebrow at you in interest before shaking your hand in earnest. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I've heard of your excellent grades and work in your studies. I hope to see you among the enlistees requesting the BAU." He greets, letting his hand fall back to his side. 

"That's the plan, Agent Hotchner." You chip pleasantly. Morgan seems genuinely surprised.  

"Wait, you're interested in the BAU? Profile me." He insisted. You blush from the sudden spotlight. 

"W-what?" You ask. 

"Morgan, that's enough." Hotch warns. 

"Leave her alone, Morgan." Spencer expressed. 

"No, it's fine." You assure. "Well, from the looks of your attire compared to your colleagues, I'd say you hate wearing formal clothing. Prefer to be comfortable. Your consistent flirty personality is mostly a show, as you wouldn't really flirt with someone you just met the way you flirted with me. So you either have someone in mind, or have a partner at home. And besides that, the way you greeted Dr. Reid proves you think of him as a younger brother, and you treat him like the brother you never had." You finished, a pleading voice in the back of your head screaming at you in hopes that you hadn't gone too far. 

Instead of being offended, Morgan began to smile and grinned, clearly impressed. "She's actually pretty good." He comments to Hotch, glancing to Spencer and then back to you. "You'd make a good profiler." He compliments. You smile happily and full of relief at him. 

"I sure hope so. Anyway, you should probably get going to the auditorium. The mics are a pain to tune and figure out, so I'd get it done now." You giggle slightly. 

Spencer nodded and smiled at you. "T-thank you, again. Cadet (L/N)." 

You couldn't help but blush a tad as he said your title. "Of course, Dr. Reid. Anytime you need directions." You tease. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "What about me?" He teased back. You mock think about it for a moment before you reply. 

"Sorry, I think you can figure it out, pretty boy." You joke, winking at him. He smiled brightly at your sass, chuckling a bit. 

Hotch then got your attention very easily. "It was a pleasure to meet you again, (L/N)." 

"You too. Good luck on the lecture." You bid them all fair well and turn around to take your seat again. 

"Ooh, somebody's in looove~!" You hear Gabriel sing in a sing-song voice. You chuckle and shake your head. 

"I am not in love, Gabriel. You just started eying the pretty boy I was talking to. You know, handsome black guy?" You tease. 

"Hmm, yeah, probably. But seriously. I saw you looking at that other kid, the professor's-aide-looking guy, like he was a mountain of sugar. And I know sugar." He teased, sipping a coke he had obviously bought after the test. 

"Oh shut up. Have you heard from Iris yet?" You ask. 

"Nope. She's probably busy over at The Bean. We should go visit. Tell her about your rendezvous with Mr. Teacher's aid." Gabriel snickered. 

"No, we are not telling Iris anything. You know how she gets. She gets all protective, and then nobody wants to go out with me cause they're all scared of her." You groan, stealing his coke for a moment. 

Gabriel smirks at you. "So you admit that you like him?" He teases. You immediately realize your mistake and groan, covering your reddening face. 

Gabriel chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, sugar-tits. Let's get out of here for a lil' bit. Come back for that 'lecture' in like an hour." He teased. You bring your hands away from your face and sigh. 

Did you really like him? Maybe. It was probably just an internet crush. Nothing more. It wasn't like it could get worse. 

[boldlyanxious]

Suspect-- Remember when 11

Timinette

RW masterlist

The bright light filled the room.

Red Robin covered his eyes in shock at the sudden light.

"I wasn't supposed to do that," Marinette said.

The pink flash happened too fast for them to notice the red blur that zipped into her dress pocket. She looked down and her hands were no longer bound. She pushed off to move to the exit but found the combination of standing quickly while still under the influence of the drug she was given caused her to nearly fall over.

Red Robin moved over to catch her before she fell over, astonished that the quiet barista he had a crush on was the same as the bold, masked woman who shamelessly flirted with him. He turned back to the others who were also getting over the sudden brightness and figuring out what had happened.

"Well, are you happy now that she has been revealed?" Red Robin said angrily.

"No. I need far more information about why she is here," Batman said coolly.

"Are we dancing or is there room still spinning?" Marinette interrupted their angry staring contest.

Red Robin tried to stabilize her but she pulled away and pointed at Nightwing as if she was seeing him for the first time. She took several steps before she decided on words. No one felt like she posed much of a risk at this point so they just watched.

"When you got a cupcake for your brother, did you mean him?" she whispered in a loud voice while pointing back at Red Robin.

"What are you talking about?" Batgirl asked.

"What makes you say that?" Nightwing asked her.

She didn't answer. She pitched forward and collapsed. Nightwing barely reached out in time to catch her. There was a flurry of movement as everyone tried to help her at once. None of the team there had more than basic medical training so they gave her an IV for hydration and electrolytes. Her blood pressure was a little elevated and her pulse was fast but nothing was overly concerning and she was somewhat responsive.

Red Robin pushed to move her back to base where Alfred and Damian both had more medical training and to protect her identity by not taking her to a hospital.

---

When she came to, she couldn't immediately remember what happened. She tried to lift herself but everything hurt. She groaned and then heard movement in response. That didn't make sense because no one should be in her apartment and that didn't sound like Tikki. She opened her eyes and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was that she definitely wasn't in her apartment. Her arm had an IV but the location was not a hospital. It reminded her of a bunker. It might have once been a cave but it had clearly been hollowed out and things were added. She looked beside her in a chair by the bed and she saw Red Robin.

Her mind was still struggling to remember what had happened. She tried again to sit up and realized that it wasn't the aching that had prevented movement. Her arms were strapped down. But that wasn't even the most concerning part. Her arm was bare. She wasn't transformed.

Red Robin was speaking softly to her, trying to calm her but she couldn't remember what happened to have her end up here. She couldn't reach her ears and she couldn't call it for Tikki. Had Red Robin and the bat team learned about the miraculous?

"Hey, breathe deep for me. You are going to have a panic attack."

She focused on Red Robin when he started speaking. In another circumstance she would be happy to have him near but this had moved beyond casual flirting. She was a prisoner and they had a tube with an IV feeding into her veins. Her head was fuzzy and aching. She didn't know what they had given her to make her feel this way.

"Why?" was the first thing she was able to get out.

"What do you remember?" he asked softly.

"Are you poisoning me?" she asked.

Instead of answering immediately, he reached over and slid the IV out of her arm. He carefully bandaged the spot before he spoke.

"The IV is saline and electrolytes. You passed out. Do you remember?"

A door opened and Nightwing and Batgirl entered. Marinette started pulling against the bindings again. She just realized this must be their lair. That made them sound dastardly. She didn't think they were evil before but she was surrounded and restrained. But her head was beginning to clear a bit and she was starting to remember bits. It came out as two separate thoughts.

"Did you get struck by lightning," she asked Red Robin but she gasped suddenly and sat up quickly as far as she was able. "The children!"

She looked around the space as if she was expecting to see them somewhere. Batgirl assured her that the children made it out and were expected to be in a safehouse with their family somewhere. Nightwing was less concerned about reassurance and was ready to get answers now that she was awake.

"You have successfully convinced some of them that you were not involved. But the rest of us need answers."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean your clever ploy to lead us into a trap. Were we to be captured or killed?"

"I wasn't involved in anything. I was upset last night and I missed noticing what was going on until it was too late."

"So you set us up to go down with you."

"Yeah. See how well that worked. We are all trapped here together. Wait, my bad. You all had a perfect rescue except for the part where I'm now your prisoner," her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"What did you expect?" he replied.

"The benefit of the doubt. I've done nothing to harm any of you."

"You did slightly tie up Red Robin and then there was that whole business of hitting everyone on that rooftop." Batgirl said.

Marinette just looked at her before speaking. She had thought Batgirl was on her side a little but perhaps she wasn't convinced.

"Well you guys famously beat or main rather than killing. What is it to be?" she looked around as she paused. "Or are you just that good at hiding the bodies. Are you going to feed me to actual bats?"

"We don't know what to do with you yet." Batman said as he entered the room. "But bats don't eat people."

"We were unable to find any record of you. We searched pay records from the coffee shop but you weren't in their records." Red Robin said.

"Typically I'd say you could just ask me out but I'm kinda pissed right now."

"That's probably valid," Batgirl said.

"You think? So are you planning to kill me or let me go?"

"First we need to know who is giving you identity information." Batman said.

"So you will kill me if I don't tell my name?"

"Pretty sure he meant how you knew their identities." Batgirl said in a stage whisper while pointing one hand at Nightwing and the other at Red Robin.

"It's not like they are hidden with magic. Probably everyone who had seen any of you with and without a mask would know."

"No. That is definitely something you alone seem to manage." Nightwing said.

"But we want to know about you too. Why are you hiding your identity. That seems suspect." Batman said.

"I woke up with an unknown IV and strapped to a bed in your doom bunker and you think my motives are suspect?"

She looked directly at him until he harrumphed and walked off.

Next

Taglist

@silverwhiteraven | @ira-sairain | @iloveitwhen | @wannajointhecrabcult | @toodaloo-kangaroo | @ertyzeta | @no-username2544 | @mystery-5-5 | @laurcad123 | @jiso-lee | @razzledazzle247 | @kaithehero | @diamondjewel123 | @comet-kun |@theymakeupfairies | @roselynfey | @moongoddesskiana | @cresentmo0n | @2confused-2doanything | @officiallydarkgeek | @vixen-uchiha | @athena452 | @nach0ava | @ladybug-182 | @ladylb | @redscarlet95 | @bigpicklebananatree | @swiftie-miraculer13 | @kokotaru | @damnaged-princess | @i-wanna-be-a-ninja | @velvetterabby | @deepestobservationwombat | @trippingovermyfeet | @kking13

[minimitchell]

callumhighwayweek day 4 - “you’re not jealous, are you?” (ao3 link)

.

Callum likes working at ‘Roasted’. It’s a nice enough job, the pay is better than with most student jobs around here and he meets lots of interesting people. Granted, a lot of them are kind of snobby and definitely a lot more of the hipster variety than what he’s used to, coming from the East End and all, but it is a fun job.

And it’s not like he’s going to be here forever.

He started working at the coffee shop in his second year of Uni, having seen their job listing for a barista on Instagram of all places. It’s pretty on par for the shop though. The owners, an older, alternative couple he’s only met a handful of times, are living in Bali for the better part of the year and the coffee shop is mostly being managed by their daughter. She’s laid back and funny and a really great boss.

And Callum has learned a lot in the last year and a half he’s been working here. He’d only done bar work in the past, pulling pints and washing dirty glasses, but he genuinely likes being a barista. He feels good whenever he remembers an order from someone who comes in regularly, he likes seeing their faces when they discover some new latte art he practiced and he doesn’t even mind serving teen girls for the sole purpose of them taking a picture with their names on their cups afterwards.

He likes it because he likes making people feel good, even if it’s just with a coffee, and he likes putting a little smile on their faces - and it also doesn’t hurt that he gets free drinks and free cake samples all day long.

“And a wonderful day to my favorite colleague as well.”

Oh yeah, there’s also Ben.

Ben had started two months before Callum even got the job here but by the time Callum had completed his training, Ben was already working like a seasoned pro.

He’s also in his last year at Uni, but he’s in a completely different department than Callum is. He’s a business major, spending most of his time across campus from Callum, who’s studying social work. On paper, they shouldn’t really get along considering their wildly different interests and plans for their future jobs, but they immediately clicked.

At one point during a quiet shift they got talking about their aspirations and Ben had told him he’s planning to take over his dad’s businesses when he’s done with Uni and maybe even expand them further. Callum thinks Ben can easily do that; he’s dead smart.

He’s also devastatingly handsome, as Callum noticed the very first time they met. Ben has these captivating blue eyes and an easy, welcoming smirk on his face at all times. He’s definitely a people person, able to make easy chit chat with just about anyone that comes in. He has this aura of confidence and assurance around him but it doesn’t make him come across as arrogant, not at all.

They spend most of their shifts together talking or teasing one another when they aren’t swamped with work. Ben likes to try almost every cake they’re offering that day, feeding little bites to Callum when he deems it ‘worthy enough for him’ and Callum likes to use Ben as a guinea pig for his latte art, trying out new designs or perfecting his existing one’s.

And when business is slow or when they’re about ready to close up in the evening, they get to talk with one another. What started with them talking about their degrees and course work quickly moved onto deeper and more substantial topics. 

Callum talks about being the first person in his family to go to Uni and the pressure he feels on himself because of that. He tells Ben about his desire to make a difference in the world, to help children who come from the same rough parts as himself. Ben on the other hand talks about his family a lot, about the need to prove himself in a big family you otherwise get lost in, about the feeling that he needs to compensate for his dad’s disapproval.

Disapproval stemming from the fact that he’s gay.

Yeah, he told Callum about that as well. It was a small revelation to him and Callum couldn’t help but tell him it’s the same for him. It feels like a new, deeper, level to their friendship.

It’s also the full source of Callum’s misery.

Because before this revelation, Callum could accept that the little infatuation he’s developed for Ben was entirely for nought. He was under no impression that this crush was ever going to be reciprocated because, to be completely honest, Callum had just assumed that Ben’s straight.

But since he knows that this isn’t the case at all, it almost feels like his crush has doubled or tripled in size; like maybe it has grown even more because there’s now this tiny, traitorous voice whispering that there might be a chance for them. Assuming he’d ever actually have the courage to ask Ben out.

He hasn’t so far; every time he even thinks about asking Ben to go out with him he chickens out in the end, afraid that Ben will laugh at him. Or even worse, that he’ll never want to work with him ever again. Because while he does like working here, he likes it even better when he’s working alongside Ben.

“How did your exam go?”

Ben joins him behind the counter, going to wash his hands before he starts taking over for Callum behind the till. He’s wearing a black polo underneath his burgundy apron and his hair is nicely tousled; Callum is itching to run his hands through it.

“Aced it. Hopefully.”

He pulls a face, trying to play it cool even though they both know Ben understands Advanced Marketing better than most people in his course. Callum didn’t expect anything less than an ace from Ben.

“‘Course you did.”

Ben sends him a wink, strolling over to the display counter and observing what they have on offer today. There’s a fresh carrot cake there Callum’s dying to share with Ben later. He steps next to Callum behind the till, logging in with his cashier number once Callum signs off and the way he rests his hand on Callum’s lower back while doing so, makes his heart throb in his chest, hammering all the way up into his throat.

Maybe today is the day he finally has the guts to ask Ben out on a date.

The shop gets busy shortly after Ben gets here and they don’t even really have time to get a breath in-between all the coffee and cake orders they have to prepare. It’s a fairly small shop and only two people are always scheduled to work on weekdays so they’re busy until the midday and after-work rushes are over.

Callum saves the last piece of carrot cake for Ben - even though their manager always yells at them for not giving everything to the paying customers - and Callum is just about to get it from the stock room to surprise Ben with it when this guy leans on the counter in front of the till.

He’s seen him before a couple times - tall caramel latte, Callum thinks. He doesn’t look much older than him and Ben, probably a fellow student, and Callum doesn’t like him for the sole reason that he always flirts with Ben when he comes in, trying to make him laugh or smile bashfully at the ground.

Callum hates even more that it works most of the time.

It’s no different this time. The guy says something that makes Ben laugh, making a show of dropping a five pound note into their tip jar after he’s paid just so Ben can see him do it and leers after him when Ben goes to make the drink for him.

He leaves with a wink in Ben’s direction afterwards and Callum eats the whole piece of carrot cake by himself in the stock room as some weird form of silent protest.

.

They don’t always work together.

Ben has a lot of afternoon classes and works late or mornings, whereas Callum is almost exclusively at Uni in the mornings and comes into work afterwards. So yeah, sometimes their shifts don’t line up. And then some other times, it’s just bad luck.

Callum tries not to sulk when he hears that Ben called in sick today. He knows it’s probably nothing too bad but they’re advised to stay home at any possible sign of illness regardless, for hygienic reasons and all that.

He likes working with Keegan, who came in for Ben today, as well but he was really looking forward to seeing Ben.

It sounds dramatic but the day drags on and on without Ben here, cracking jokes and making Callum weird drink combinations to try. Callum thinks it can’t get any worse but at close to five a very familiar face walks through the door.

It’s the guy who always flirts with Ben and Callum watches from behind the counter as he scans the area, looking around to see if he can spot Ben presumably. Callum almost feels bad for the devilish glee coursing through him at the knowledge that he won’t be successful today.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

Callum is trying hard to stay composed and give at least the impression that he’s being friendly. The guy gives him a barely-there smile, obviously not very interested in making a good impression on anyone other than Ben.

“I was wondering if Ben is working today?”

“Sorry, I can’t give out that kind of information.”

He tries not to revel in the eye roll the guy gives him but it’s hard not to. Yes, it’s incredibly petty but Callum can’t help it, he’d rather work the morning shift every day for a whole month than see Ben go out with this cocky prick.

The guy heaves a sigh and gives his order - one tall caramel latte just like Callum thought it was - and Callum punches it in for Keegan to prepare. Callum tells the guy his total and waits until he presses his card against the reader, nodding when the transaction goes through.

Callum thinks he’s about to put money in the tip jar but instead, the guy fishes a white business card out of his trouser pocket and slides it across the counter towards Callum.

“Can you give this to Ben? My number is on the back.”

He doesn’t wait for Callum to take it or even agree, moving along the counter to get his drink from Keegan. Callum tries not to openly show his annoyance at the bloke, grabbing the card and stuffing it into the pocket of his apron.

Over the next few hours he forgets all about the little piece of paper still hiding in the fabric of his apron. He’s cleaning the appliances, waiting for Keegan to be done with mopping the floor so they can close up for the day, when he realizes the business card is still in his possession.

He pulls it out of his pocket, looking at the bland text written across it in bold letters. Which student even carries a business card around with them? Even his name is obnoxious - Tristan, ugh. He doesn’t even feel bad when he, completely accidentally of course, lets the card fall, watching it sink to the bottom of the trash bag and getting covered by the old coffee grounds a moment later.

Oops.

.

Callum forgets all about Tristan and his stupid little business card, mostly because his next two shifts are spend with Ben again. To be completely honest, Callum could probably forget anything else around him exists whenever he’s in a room with Ben; it’s gotten that bad for him.

He’s completely determined to ask Ben out today, spurred on by the all of a sudden very real chance that someone else might get there before he can, and he doesn’t want to risk that. He’s been in love with the guy for close to a year now, he won’t waste another day.

Callum is in the back room, restocking the cups and lids before the evening rush begins when he hears Ben laughing at something behind the counter. He pokes his head through the door to see what’s so funny, but he doesn’t feel like laughing at all when he sees bloody Tristan standing there, arrogantly smiling at Ben.

He’s too busy seething at the fact he probably missed his chance with Ben now, can already see Ben accepting the number and going on dates and probably falling head over heels for this stupid guy, to remember he chucked the guy’s number in the bin. The one, he’s apparently asking about judging by Ben’s confused face and slight head tilt.

The distance between the stock room and the till is too great to make out any coherent words so he doesn’t know what Ben is saying in return, but it’s pretty clear this Tristan guy will throw him under the bus any moment now. God, how is he going to explain this to Ben when he inevitably asks why Callum didn’t forward the guy’s number? This is so not how he wanted this to go today; he could cry at the thought alone.

Ben turns his head to look in his direction and Callum has to duck back into the room in a flash, praying that Ben didn’t see him spying on his conversation just now.

He isn’t exactly proud of hiding in here afterwards, waiting for Tristan to leave and just staring at the different sized lids and brown paper cups with their logo emblazoned on the side. It’s definitely the most cowardly thing to do but Callum honestly feels like crying right now. He can’t bear to hear the guy he’s so stupidly in love with talk about going out with someone else; he just can’t do it.

It hurts knowing he’s never going to get the chance to make Ben see how perfect they could be for each other. Because he just knows he could make him so, so happy; Callum’s sure of that. He feels it deep in his chest, right where his heart is slowly twisting and turning.

“So, uh, you got something you wanna give me?”

The sudden shock at hearing Ben’s voice right behind him makes Callum flail his arms around, knocking over a whole stack of lids and sending them cluttering to the ground right in front of Ben’s shoes. He doesn’t really know what to say, whether he should admit he’s thrown the number away in a fit of pure jealousy or not, and the conflict must show on his face because Ben immediately takes pity on him.

“I told him we hadn’t seen each other since then so you didn’t have the chance to give it to me.”

“Thanks.”

The ground seems much more interesting to him than Ben’s expectant face right now and he’s scuffing his shoe along one of the many stains littering the light grey linoleum. Ben tries to catch his eyes, leaning down to enter Callum’s eyesight.

“Are you gonna tell me why you didn’t?”

Callum remains silent, only giving Ben a slight shrug in response to his question. Ben waits him out though, leaning against the doorframe until Callum finally sighs and meets Ben’s eyes. Time to get it out, he reckons.

He’s about to confess, to lay his feelings bare, when Ben preempts him.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

His voice is light and joking but there’s an undertone to it. Something that sounds almost daring and hopeful; like the prospect of Callum being jealous of someone wanting to ask him out doesn’t annoy Ben but that he’s actually maybe hoping it’s true.

The thought makes Callum pause, taking in the slight smile on Ben’s face and the bright sparkle in his eyes. It makes him brave enough to finally admit his feelings, to finally take that plunge into the unknown, uncertain.

“I was working up the courage to ask you out for weeks now, months even.”

Ben’s smile stretches out across his face, transforming his face into something even more beautiful than normal. He takes a step towards Callum, tangling his hands around the straps of Callum’s apron, pulling him further into his own body.

“So ask me.”

Ben is smiling up at him, his fingers running up and down the skin underneath the straps and he feels the touch burn through his shirt. He looks loved up for lack of a better term and Callum has the brief thought that they could’ve spent so much time being with each other already, but it doesn’t really matter now. They got there anyway.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Ben pulls him down against him, sealing their lips together in a careful kiss. It’s the most perfect thing Callum’s ever tasted, ever felt in his entire life. His hands settle on both sides of Ben’s face, guiding him back onto his lips again and again and again. Until their lips are red and puffy and customers are yelling to be served.

They get fired two weeks later for spending a little too much time in the stock room. 

It’s worth it.

[miekasa]

💉 in the case of erwintholomew, our most esteemed blonde dad

before the pandemic, they barely interacted. erwin was levi’s friend after all. although the rest of the gang had bonded with oc, erwin was less visible. he was polite of course, charming even! in uni days (erwin works in corporate now, so his major is business/econ/accounting whatever yall want!), every single history and literature professor fell in love with erwin. as did the barista at the school cafe, the friday night guard, the park street sweepers, and every member of the tai chi ladies club who practiced during weekends at the park where he made his morning run. he always greeted them and yelled “great form, keep it up, ladies!” when he passed by.

of course he tried to turn up the charm on oc (old habit). but. but. oc was just. unaffected. she treated him no differently from the others in his friend group. no swooning or giggling or bashful smiles. she didn’t even blush when he tried his smoulder while offering her some of his enhanced fruit smoothie (enhanced with spinach and kale). she laughed and declined, opting instead for a berry smoothie that she loaded with full-fat yogurt and honey. he was aghast. and levi said oc was a doctor? (levi might have been laughing silently in the background. hange was full-on cackling while moblit was trying to shush them.) he didn’t dwell on it much, it’s not like they saw each other a lot. but then the pandemic struck. being confined to one living complex meant he was lucky to see his friends still. they were at levi’s, watching a movie, when it happens.

oc walks through the door and hange yells “hiiiiii!” she waves at them tiredly. and starts stripping. at the door. in front of everyone. erwin’s blood pressure spikes. his face goes red. he’s staring with his mouth half open, thick brows knitted together. levi snaps his fingers to shake him out of it. moblit is tapping his shoulder more forcefully by the minute while hange has begun asking oc about her day. they’re talking amiably as if oc wasn’t by the door, in her underwear, spraying her things down with alcohol. she catches erwin’s staring and laughs out loud. by this time, moblit has hidden behind the couch and levi has buried his head in his hands from secondhand embarrassment. oc asks him if he’s never seen people in bikinis. “it not as if a bra and undies covers anything less!”. (erwin will later be relieved that she understood him and did not pin him for a creep). hange says erwin just doesn’t function like a regular human. he’s more of an intergalactic species with elements of dad-ness to him.

hange: he’s kind of like a DILF but also a dad!

moblit audibly groans in embarrassment. oc giggles and walks to the bathroom to shower like nothing happened. levi and hange both give erwin a slap, and that pulls him out of it.

levi: you’re redder than a hot cheeto, your elderly highness

erwin: what’s a DILF?

a few headcanons of their relationship:

he still gets flustered seeing oc strip down after work. he fainted once when hange began talking about oc’s bra and the little birds embroidered on her underwear (on her butt). oc sighs and just tells levi to elevate erwin’s legs and let him smell something pungent. moblit has a picture of him passed out. it’s printed and framed on hange’s shelf.

he almost popped a blood vessel when oc once asked him what was the difference between debit and debt and dividends.

oc: i’m a science nerd, erwin, i don’t know jack shit about business jargon!

erwin: these are accounting terms! they’re totally different!

oc: to-ma-to, to-mah-to?

erwin just really has to ask. really. because he’s erwin. “

erwin: do you ever think of a different line of work? i mean, it is a very scary virus and a pandemic

oc: erwin, i went through a decade of academia for this. still going through it. and i need to pay rent and put food on the table!

levi is rolling his eyes in the background because this little shit said that with her whole chest while she was literally living off peanut butter.

erwin is also stressed with oc’s eating habits with particular attention to nutrients and calorie count. he tried giving oc an organic diet plan, but oc sat him down and debunked every single thing about trendy diets. she also bugs him stop dieting. “diets are not foolproof! erwin, you are 250 lbs of healthy muscle! one burrito won’t hurt!”

they once had a romcom movie night. it was cheesy and fun and perfect for unwinding. until the sex scene happens.

oc: why do men just stick it in? where is the foreplay?

hange: mhmm the male gaze has ruined men, amazing how men ruin themselves

erwin, turning red: do people really talk about detailed sex so casually? i mean we’re in public?

levi: yes, erwin, grow up

moblit, whispering: it wasn’t even detailed, erwin, please

he does go to oc when he pulls a muscle or strains something. she tut-tuts while wrapping up a joint or icing and stretching his sore muscles and tells him to take it easy on the workouts. he’s also started sending fitness health articles to oc, and oc patiently confirms or debunks each one with sound medical and scientific basis.

he lets oc use his gym. she works out in a sports bra and cycling shorts because she says it means less laundry for her. oc usually just runs (speedwalks actually, and jesus, erwin is itching to turn up the speed) on his treadmill for 20 minutes. then she cycles for another 20 minutes and calls it a day. he tried to take on the role of her trainer and gave her a workout regimen. oc makes it to five sit-ups, ten burpees, and a single 1-minute plank before she falls flat, gasping like a fish out of water, and gives up. she’s flat out on his gym floor, but she tells erwin she appreciates him. erwin had to give her a piggy-back ride back to her apartment though.

levi:you died after five sit ups?

oc: shut uP, LEVI

whenever she uses his gym, she leaves him food. a slice of cake, donburi from the japanese place, a salad bowl, fajitas, some mochi, a parfait. not once has her gift of food been a part of his diet plan, but he eats them heartily. he hides when he eats the desserts, even if he’s roomie-free. he just feels like he’s cheating too much.

he never quite gets used to oc. she’s nice and wonderful, but she still manages to surprise him. a lot. to others, it may seem like oc enjoys pulling his leg (to hange’s endless delight), but in reality, she’s just trying to help him navigate and acclimatize to the ever-changing modern society and social norms. levi notices, of course, and it only makes him fall so much harder 😌

it’s fun to clown erwin within reason, really vibing with the modern au erwin on here 😌 but yeah, this is how i picture their interactions and dynamics 😭

THIS IS PERFECT OMFG BYE!! I love, love, love the idea of just... slightly socially aloof, but very professionally proficient Erwin trying to make friends with Levi's.... well not his s/o but his very obvious crush at least LMAOOO. I love it, I really, truly do anon, you continue to deliver 😌😌

OC: Erwin, I went through a decade of academia for this. Still going through it. And I need to pay rent and put food on the table!

Levi is rolling his eyes in the background because this little shit said that with her whole chest while she was literally living off peanut butter.

HELP LEVI IN THE BACKGROUND BECAUSE HE WOULD 😭😭 LITERALLY LIVING OFF OF PEANUT BUTTER BYEEE the amount of unconscious lies Levi could expose oc for... I get the feeling he's /this/ close to strapping her to the dining room chair and spoon feeding her himself

Levi: you’re redder than a hot cheeto, your elderly highness

Erwin: what’s a DILF?

HELP THIS IS MY FAVORITE EXCHANGE LMAOO. Levi clowning Erwin, Erwin being too confused too even respond to Levi's jab; he's still processing being called a DILF, and I just know that Levi isn't gonna be the one to explain it, but god forbid Hange does lmfaooo

OC makes it to five sit-ups, ten burpees, and a single 1-minute plank before she falls flat, gasping like a fish out of water, and gives up. she’s flat out on his gym floor, but she tells erwin she appreciates him. erwin had to give her a piggy-back ride back to her apartment though.

Levi: you died after five sit ups?

OC: shut uP, LEVI

Okay first of all, relatable, bye... something about the atmosphere of any gym, even if it were privately owned by a blonde businessman, makes it impossible for me to actually work out 😭😭 The fact that Erwin piggy-backed her back to her apartment is so cute please, I know they never quite get used to each other, but the friendship they have going on right now is so damn cute in an unconventional way, I adore it. Definitely an unexpected pair of friends and they don't... /quite/ work, but they also do. Incredible

Also not Levi coming for her, listen, not all of us are built like you, also you know damn well she's been living off of peanut butter sandwiches, OF COURSE she was gonna die after a few sit ups 🙄🙄 if you wanna help her improve, then start cheffing it up smh

[fandom-necromancer]

‘You come here often?’ ‘Well I work here.’ Part 4 

This was prompted by the lovely AO3 user LoafofCat! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Read complete on AO3]

‘You know, if you just wanted to see me, there would be easier ways.’ ‘Bold of you to assume I come here only to see you.’ Nines smiled looking up to Gavin, who was just untying his apron and sitting down in front of him with a coffee of his own. ‘Am I wrong then?’, the human asked and Nines huffed, letting his head fall. ‘No’, he admitted. ‘Okay, so let me get this right’, Gavin laughed. ‘I had to propose to my boss to get thirium drinks on the menu as a “costumer asked for it” and it might help us crank those numbers up, just so you could plant your ass here in your break?’ ‘It did get you more costumers though’, Nines shrugged pointing to the other tables. ‘That’s not- Nines, do you think I care about this shop? I just work here; I don’t care if… You know what? Screw it. Nice to see you, Nines.’ ‘Nice to see you too’, the android chuckled. ‘How are you?’ ‘Can’t complain. What do you have there?’

Nines looked down on the tablet in his hands. ‘Oh, just work. A case.’ ‘You are on your break and brought work?’, Gavin asked, looking at him sceptically. ‘Tina was right, you really are me just with a little less personality.’ ‘Being nice and polite doesn’t mean not having a personality. You were just an asshole.’ ‘What technically is a personality trait’, Gavin argued, taking a sip from his coffee. ‘Now come on, tell me about your case!’ Nines frowned. ‘I really can’t tell you, it’s-‘ ‘Confidential, I get it. But come on, I’m a former cop I can keep a secret. For old time’s sake.’ The android eyed Gavin and how he looked so eager to get information. It was cute in a way, how he looked in between his eyes and the tablet in his hands. Maybe that’s why Nines showed weakness and caved in.

‘Okay, but you really keep this to yourself. We are investigating a series of murders. They don’t have anything in common in regard to victims or how the deed was done or staged, but at every crime-scene we found the picture of this man.’ Nines flipped through the pictures of the different crime-scenes until he reached a few portraits. They weren’t really the kind of pictures you would expect of a cold-blooded serial-killer. Not after the few flashes of gruesome staging, Gavin caught a glimpse of as Nines had searched for these. They all portrayed a middle-aged man with a small belly you could easily get if you worked long hours in the office and were too exhausted afterwards to do sports. The pictures looked like they were ripped right out of a family photo-album. The guy was at the beach smiling at the camera with a cocktail in hand. The next one showed him in what Gavin supposed to be his home with a small dog on his lap. Then next to a ridiculously oversized barbeque grill all shiny chrome and reds.

Gavin lifted a brow at Nines. ‘Yeah, sorry Nines, but no way this is your killer.’ ‘I ruled it out as unlikely, too’, the android nodded. ‘Although you can never know with people. At the very least it’s a lead. Maybe the killer knows this man. As much as this is a lead, it is also our only link.’ Gavin shrugged, leaning back. ‘Well, why haven’t you solved it then? I mean, you can scan his face and get a name, age, address, likely even social media as creepy as they designed you and Connor. No offense there.’ Nines sighed. ‘As creepy as I might be designed, my scanner has its limits too. I can’t get a name to this man, not even an age. Scanning him just returns an error. Manual research in the police databanks also hasn’t brought up anything yet. We also can’t exactly go around asking for this man. If he is the serial killer, as unlikely as it might seem, we would only alert him.’ Gavin nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the photo, pulling the tablet closer to zoom in on some details. ‘Honestly?’, Nines said frustratedly. ‘We’re all currently waiting for the forensics to find more evidence on the bodies. It’s quite frustrating, but at the same time no one really minds if I spend a bit longer on my break with you.’

Gavin couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated ‘Awww’ at that, Nines reprimanded with an annoyed but amused look. ‘Nah, really thanks, looking at your tablet for what, ten minutes? This was already more exciting than the whole damn month. The most action I had was a drunk guy I had to escort out because everyone else was too chicken shit to risk getting vomited on.’ ‘Understandable.’ ‘Not the point. I mean, I’m happy here, I guess. It is decent money and I have more time for my cats at home. Also, maybe not being confronted with what humans are capable of is nice for a while. But I can basically feel my brain rot here.’ ‘That is also understandable’, Nines huffed. ‘Maybe search for some outside work activity? Something new to learn and keep you active mentally?’ ‘Like what? Knitting?’ ‘If you want that?’ ‘You know what? Maybe not the worst idea. I’ll see if I can find anything and when I have I will-‘

Nines never got to find out what Gavin would do afterwards, as his colleagues called him, pointing at the growing queue. The human sighed. ‘Well, my call to duty’, he announced and walked over to press a quick kiss to the android’s temple. ‘Was nice chatting with you, babe. Good luck with your case.’ ‘Yeah, you too.’

-

It was a slow Tuesday, without many costumers coming in. The rush of office workers in their break had already stormed the small shop and rushed back to their workplace and now it was mostly a few students and the regular old granny circle in the front judging people and eating cake. Living the life. Gavin had already washed the entire stack of mugs twice now and was out of work, except for manipulating the radio until his co-workers began to wonder why the last song had been so long and found him messing with the system. Then he walked around, collecting discarded newspapers and cleaning the tables while his co-worker told him she would be out for a cigarette. He nodded and continued working until a sole costumer entered. Gavin quickly rubbed the table dry and hurried over, throwing the man an extra smile just in case he wanted to complain about having to wait a few seconds. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘I’d like a coffee, please. Medium, to go with cream but no sugar.’ ‘Coming right up.’ Gavin was already going through the motions of preparing the coffee and turned around to hand it over. ‘Anything else…’ He trailed off, as he saw the man’s face, but he seemingly hadn’t noticed his slip. ‘No, thank you, that would be all.’

Gavin watched him leave again and was trying to decide what to do next. He couldn’t just leave; he was at work after all. But he couldn’t do nothing either. Frantically he looked through the shop and, in the end, shook his head, rushing past the counter. Outside his co-worker stopped him. ‘Gavin? What are you doing?’ Gavin blinked, but came up with an excuse fast enough: ‘Dude forgot his wallet. Can you take over for a moment? Sorry!’ ‘Sure, no problem. Just hurry, he’s already behind the corner.’

Gavin did hurry. But not to run after the man, but to pull out his phone. ‘Nines? Yes, hi babe I know you are at work, shut up, this is work. Li-Listen, yes. Shut up for just a second! I’m pursuing your office killer. Ye-Yes, exactly, the beach holiday photo model with the ugliest dog I’ve seen in my life. Now will you phcking get your ass here? I will pursue him you can track my phone. Wh- come on, it can’t be that dangerous, I’m still well trained now stop worrying and move your ass!’

He had become louder than he wanted and had caused the man he wanted to follow inconspicuously to turn around. He wasn’t really unsuspicious though, dressed in the silly coffee-shop apron and shouting at someone on the phone. Trying to play it down, Gavin instead tried the open approach: ‘Hey, you forgot your wallet!’ It only caused the man to bolt. So much for being a friendly, costumer-orientated employee. Gavin pushed it all to hell, lifting up his apron and running after the man. So, he did had dirt on him. Gavin followed him down the street and used a streetlight to take the corner with more speed. A mistake he later would regret as he ran face first into a fist that definitely wasn’t human. Seeing stars, he looked up from where he had fallen against the building. The chubby man was surprisingly agile and fast, unfitting to his overall completely average looks. And Gavin saw why: The skin where the man had punched him had retracted to show stern white underneath. The man was an android? Where the hell did he get all these modifications from? Cyberlife had designed all androids to be phcking inhuman models. But maybe that had been the plan. Being as inconspicuous as possible. Remembering the brief flashes of crime-scenes that made him pale. Oh no.

‘How the hell did some barista recognise me, huh?’, the android asked, holding Gavin by the throat, his toes barely touching the ground. ‘You are all over the news!’, Gavin tried. ‘I’m not. None of my doings have even been published yet.’ ‘Well, I was a cop once.’ ‘Were you? Well, who is your contact then? If you were a cop once.’ Gavin really hoped someone would turn the corner and see this to help him. Because the way the android’s hand clenched around his throat, lack of oxygen could soon be his least concern. ‘My boyfriend, okay? But I will never tell you his name!’ ‘Your boyfriend? Alright, thank you. After I killed you, I will go to him next. See if I can’t keep this information from spreading.

The pressure on his throat became almost unbearable, as Gavin saw a flash of white behind the man. ‘I highly doubt that’, Nines voice sounded through the alley and Gavin could see the gun aimed at his head. ‘Now let him down and go.’ The android in front of Gavin cursed, but complied. ‘You are arrested for the suspected murder of three people, as well as the attempted murder of this man. Turn around, hands behind your back.’ Nines handcuffed him, reading him his rights before making the call to the station to send a car.

‘Gavin, that was extremely reckless of you.’ ‘Hey, I got your killer, right?’, Gavin croaked with a cocky grin while rubbing his throat. ‘I solved a case you would have waited weeks on before even getting close to the guy.’ ‘Oh, please, I’m the most advanced android there is. I would have gotten him.’ ‘Yeah, but it was the ex-detective they threw out to replace with you that caught him in the end.  Please, rub that into Fowler’s face for me, would you?’ ‘I most certainly won’t’, Nines stated. ‘I will emphasize your involvement in this case though, what at least should keep your employer off your ass.’ ‘Oh, what would I do without you?’ The android in Nines grip struggled against him, causing Nines to return his attention to him. ‘Urgh, get a room, you two!’ ‘Excellent idea actually. Gavin, how about after our shifts ended, we meet at my place? You know? To celebrate.’ ‘Oh, I’d love to’, Gavin grinned and winked the RK900.

The captive criminal got a glimpse of the gesture and regretted it deeply. ‘Oh, please, just kill me, would you?’

[pillowfluffs]

The Warmest Eyes!Jaemin

Pairing: Jaemin X Reader (gender-neutral)

Genre: enemies to lovers!AU, angst, college!AU, 

Summary: Jaemin and you had a... special relationship. One where heated stare downs and friendly competition was as common as breathing... 

Author’s Note: for a dear fwend uwu i hope you enjoy fwends~ I tried and I’m still getting used to writing nct, so i’ sorry if it doesn’t feel right/ accurate also, note that THIS IS REALLY LONGGG and tbh I love long bullet imagines soo haha 

*Warning: Mentions alcoholism but not Jaemin and Y/N**

Strong suggestion: Listen to “Falling like the Stars” by James Arthur while reading. A queue on when to start listening to the song will be mentioned

Na Jaemin

The guy who was currently glaring at you from across the class as your teacher praised you for your high marks on the recent final

You could feel the anger seething from him as he stared at you with his cold eyes

And you smiled sweetly back as the teacher discussed with the class all the problems she had gone over repeatedly, but the class had brushed off her words, resulting in the entire class missing multiple questions

Except for Jaemin and you of course

But he didn’t get as many praises as you did 

He was a few questions off

The bell rang, saving everyone from your teacher’s lecture

Everyone bustled out of the room and you were asked to stay by your teacher 

And you did not miss the scowl on Jaemin’s face when she called your name

You left the room, headed towards lunch after a brief discussion your teacher had

She was curious what your future plans were since you were already so ahead compared to others

She was satisfied with your response to say the least, but you knew you would have to work even harder to get into S/N

You opened your locker with a few swift twists, grabbing your lunch and sorted through your backpack for your books

Just as you finished, your locker slammed shut in your face, earning a little jump from you

And that’s when your eyes met his

The eyes of satan jr himself, Na Jaemin 

His eyes were cold like always when he looked at you, always creeping you out and evening making you wonder if he was an alien from Area 51

“Aw, what’s with the long face? Sad over a few points? I thought you’d be used to it by now.” You tilted your head with a cute smile

Suddenly his lips curled upwards at your words, causing a chill to run down your spine

“Say all you want about this test, Y/N, but from here on out, you’ll no longer be smiling about your scores. And I’ll make sure of it.” He leaned in closer to speak the last part lowly, entrapping your body between his and the lockers

You didn’t know how this all began, but once it did, there was no end to it

It even became natural for the other students during tests to make bets on who would score better

Once results came out, half the class cheered for joy when one or the other scored higher, feeling disappointment along with the other half of the class who groaned

Fast forward a bit with the same non-stop bickering to the end of Junior year

College examination tests were the only time through high school where things died down, but once scores and results came out, it was as if nothing had changed

Both your friend groups had merged into one, but you two refused to be near each other

Heck, the competitiveness stretched outside; playing video games, seeing who could drink more or last longer at parties

There really seemed like no end to this competition

College was the same as high school

It was definitely challenging, but you had grown accustomed to the challenges you would face and Jaemin was beside you, not letting you outdo him for a single second

Some people even wondered if you two were dating 

Further, into the second year, things began to become rocky at home

Your parents had begun to grow… separate of each other

Specifically, your "father” who sadly was the breadwinner of the family 

Even more specifically, your father, who wasn’t the best person for your mother

There were nights where he came home drunk, making him completely wasted by morning 

Some nights were better than others, but some were worse

There had even been nights where you had to pry him from her, which only led to even more violence from him - verbal and physical

Their relationship was toxic and as much as you appreciated your dad and  felt grateful to have him in your life, you could tell he wasn’t treating your mother as right as she should be treated

The school was already hard to get in, to be honest, and making sure you were able to receive and maintain scholarships was another challenge

And now that challenge was even bigger since things were unstable back home

You ignored Jaemin, focusing on your studies and even began to look for work you could do if the worst ever happened back home

It was winter break soon - a few days to be exact

Your friends, as well as Jaemin’s, planned a skiing trip to celebrate the holidays and new year

They, of course, invited you, but you had to decline

Now that you were more aware of the situation at home, it drove you, even more, to do even better than your best

Even if that meant you had to sacrifice time you could be spending with friends and even watch the money you could spend on necessities 

For the first time, you would be spending a break at school, taking classes over the break 

You figured Jaemin would tag along on the trip, but he stayed behind as well, taking classes of his own, but you knew he didn’t need to take these classes

He was just as ahead as you 

To him it was simple; as long as you were being productive, he had to be just as productive as you

The campus was so barren now that almost everybody was gone except for a few

You could’ve sworn your eyes were about to fall out of your head if you didn’t take a break anytime soon

You put your pen down, leaning back in your seat and looked out the cafe windows, watching how the snow slowly fell from the grew clouds above

The cafe you were at was one of your favorites -- mostly since it was one of the less popular and smaller ones, so no one really went there 

Especially now during the break, there was like one or two other people doing their own thing in the cafe

And the staff of course

The nice aromatic smell of coffee all around as well as the sweet scents of the baked goods on display 

You leaned back in your seat, stretching your body out, hearing a couple satisfying cracks and pops

You honestly needed a chiropractor since your head was down most of the time and it was causing you pain 

Your mind went over the things you needed to cover and do for your classes 

Fortunately, it wasn’t too much you could do - you were ahead with the workload, actually finishing it on time compared to others who would leave it until the last minute

You never understood how others could do that to themselves but you understood their stance with doing it

The pressure and adrenaline

The pressure wasn’t your best friend, but when it came to it, if you ever faced it, you could get things done, but having the time and using it made you feel more productive and it felt great

You grabbed into your bag and grabbed your wallet and phone

“Hi, how may I help you?” the cashier’s bright tone gave you a boost of energy

You ordered your normal drink, but asked to add no cinnamon to the drink

You weren’t aware of it, but he had been watching

Na Jaemin

But he didn’t come here knowing you were here, of course, It was completely coincidental 

Just like it was completely coincidental that he overheard you ordering your drink without cinnamon

And with that, he had a sudden thought to mess with you

He watched you disappear into the bathroom before he made his move to the register

“Hello, how may I help.. You?” 

A devilishly handsome smile crept on his face, knowing full well he had caught the cashier’s attention

“Hello~ I was wondering if I could add cinnamon to the drink the customer Y/N just made here… I’m their… boyfriend…” 

The cashier nodded complying to his wishes before he made his way back to his own table in the corner, studying his own material 

He kept glancing back and forth from his notes to your table, smiling even more when he saw the barista place your drink down at your table

Now all he had to do was play the waiting game

He sipped at his own coffee, one that his best friend Jeno couldn’t even dare drink

It was far too bitter for others, but to him, it was like water

He laughed at just the simple thought of you expecting a refreshing drink, only to taste the thing you didn’t want

Moments later, you returned from the bathroom, sitting back down in your seat

You returned slightly refreshed after splashing a bit of cold water on your face

The snow outside had stopped falling, though it was still cloudy

You sat back down, glancing over your notes and skimmed over the next few chapters you would be reading

You took a sip of your drink, feeling refreshed at the sweet drink, only to suddenly feel the burn in your mouth

You put down your drink the best you could, trying not to spill it, but you failed, knocking the drink down to the ground

Your throat began to swell, your mouth and tongue began to itch and burn, spreading a tingling all over your face 

It was unbearable and soon, a few staff members had reached your side, asking what was wrong

Jaemin stood from his seat, feeling a chill run down his spine

“What have I done?” 

A pang of guilt shot through him as he joined the staff by your side

You had been trying to dig through your bag, spilling the content within, finding the familiar pill bottle you had always carried around with you

Your hands trembled trying to open the bottle, but alas, it was taken from your hands by warm ones

You looked up meeting Jaemin, finding his orange-ish hair in his eyes Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion Your eyes just stared as everybody looked at you

You could feel the heat of your reaction spreading from your lips and you wheezed with every breath taken, feeling your throat slowly begin to close

He took the pills and put them into your mouth, pouring a bit of water from a cup one of the barista’s brought, and closed your mouth

Fortunately, you were able to swallow before your throat could close, but now you were just waiting for the medicine to kick in

He mentally wished over and over in his head you were going to be okay - guilt would be the end of him if you were seriously hurt for a joke he thought that would only be a minor inconvenience for you

“Please be okay…” his eyes pleaded 

Slowly but surely, you were recovering

Your breathing began to steady itself and your throat began to open up, though you knew you needed to head to the medical office either way

“Are you okay?” 

“I- I think so,” you coughed out, feeling the itch still in your throat

He helped you into your seat, handing you another cup of water

“Miss/Sir, are you okay? We’re terribly sorry. Should we call an ambulance for you?” 

You were faced with the cashier you ordered your drink from, seeing their smile no longer on their face and their bright aura, gone

“No, I’ll be alright, but I thought I ordered with no cinnamon?”

“Ah, we added cinnamon upon your boyfriend’s request,” she nodded politely, gesturing to Jaemin and backed away, feeling the atmosphere drop as you turned your attention to the boy standing before you

At this point, you didn’t even know how to feel looking at Jaemin

You didn’t even really want to look at him

He could feel your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bear to look you entirely in the eye

You turned away before he could say anything, frantically packing your belongings back into your bag and putting away your notes, discarding the drink

“I don’t know who he is…” you spoke coldly, barely audible, but Jaemin heard it loud and clear

The two of you were never really close friends, but why did it feel like he had just lost more than a close friend? 

He let out a sigh, rubbing his neck as he slowly made his way to his table

The staff averted their eyes whenever Jaemin caught them looking, whispering about what had just happened

It was a miracle you didn’t need an ambulance, but he still worried for you and he couldn’t forgive himself

It was a miracle you didn’t need an ambulance, but he still worried for you and he couldn’t forgive himself

The weight of regret was heavy on Jaemin’s shoulders as he walked back to his dorm, but his steps grew heavier and heavier walking past your dorm

He didn’t even know if you were even back yet or not

The air was fresh and it just smelled clean

But I mean, you were in the medic office after all, so of course, it was clean and sanitary

You sat on the examination table feeling your body respond well to the medication they had provided to you

The cream they had rubbed onto your face had a cooling effect, which was great since it meant it was working and that the red irritation was going away

The staff who had treated you left you in the room, but advised you to stay put for at least an hour in case something were to happen 

You obliged and just continued your studies at their desk - after getting the permission of course

Your fingers flew over your keyboard effortlessly, typing up one of the various essays you had to do for your classes

The words came smoothly and you knew exactly what to say and how to say it

You were halfway through your essay when you were stumped - stumped on how to feel and think about Jaemin now

Everything fell to a standstill all around you

You were honestly really sad about what Jaemin did, but why?

You knew it was one of his antics - he just wanted to bother you a little and you two were never really close friends

Your heart was hurt, that shit hurted but you took a breather and stepped back to view the whole scenario

He, like the two of you, but most of him just wanted to play a little

Even now when the two of you were in the second year of college 

He was the same over the years: he played games like this

Your lips automatically curled upwards at the thought of high school

The rarest moments where he actually did things for you that seemed like he actually cared for you as a person than what you got on the test

Like the one time, it was your birthday

It had slipped the minds of your friends since it was exam season

Jaemin brought a cupcake for you but he never told you until Jeno did one day the two of you hung out

He complained about how he kept pestering him about what flavor he should get you 

You couldn’t see him the same, but then the next tests came and he did better than you

It was only when he started gloating about you losing your edge did you remember who he really was 

Jaemin’s eyes scanned over the pastries, looking over which ones would be a good pick

The bakery was off-campus, but it was on one of the main streets, making it popular for the students His heart dreaded just thinking back to how you left the cafe

Usually, when his jokes like these went down, you were surprised, but you never left him like that

It was one of the great things he actually admired about you 

You never backed down from a challenge - specifically his challenges 

But just thinking about his actions made his heart ache

Did he really lose you forever? 

He left the bakery with bags full of goodies, goodies without cinnamon, of course, hoping you could forgive him

But as he walked towards your dorm, he thought of ways to accept the inevitable

The crisp winter air was a breath of freshness in your lungs 

Especially now that they weren’t swelling from cinnamon, but most of your feelings towards Jaemin had faded

You were a softie by heart and thinking about it, Jaemin never knew you were allergic

To be honest, only a small handful of people did So you couldn’t blame him

But thinking back, were you too cold?

You walked back towards your dorm, mentally preparing a schedule in your head for what you had to finish tonight to keep yourself on your bigger schedule

Thinking it all over in your head, you were only behind by a little so really, you could just wake up earlier tomorrow or go to sleep later and you would be right on track once again

you made it back to your dorm, seeing the bright winter moon shine its light through your window 

your roommate had gone back home for the holidays, leaving you all alone 

you dropped your bag onto your desk with a loud-ish boom, almost making you not notice your phone buzz 

Your heart burned in anger and sadness at the same time

Tears formed faster than you could mentally process the message you read on your phone completely

You went over the message from your father word by word, making sure you weren’t seeing things just cause you were too tired or you had pushed your limit

“I’m leaving your mom. Bye” 

You threw your phone onto your bed, pacing back and forth

Just thinking about your father made you sick to your stomach

Your throat closed up, making it hurt to even breath

Before you knew it, you felt the cold tears dripping down your face

Your knees gave out below you, sinking you down to the cold tiled ground and all you wanted to do was break something

Anything to blow off this anger and steam

It felt like you wanted to just disappear and cry, but also rip off someone’s head 

Never have you ever felt so conflicted like this before oof

The audacity of your father to say he was leaving your mom took the air from your lungs

You just didn’t know where to begin to think or say about him, so you just sat there, letting your emotions just ooze out 

Your sobs became sadder and sadder, making your voice come out in broken gasps

Until you heard a light knock on your door, bringing you from your cries

You covered your mouth with a wobbly hand, hushing your cries

“Y/N?” A voice you thought you never wanted to hear again sounded through your ears

And never have you ever felt the need to hear it as much as this very moment

“Are you in there? I thought I saw you walk through the entrance…” 

you pushed yourself up onto your feet, only taking a few strides to get to the door 

your hand grasped the doorknob, though only stopping, finding no strength left at all to just open the door

“Y/N? Are you in there?” 

a burst of hope shot through him

 “I just wanted to apologize for what happened at the cafe earlier… I really am sorry… I didn’t know you were allergic to cinnamon…” 

his own words and voice stung him, making him feel emotionally weaker and weaker, remembering vividly to what he did

you lay your head against your door and listened, feeling the wood cool your head 

a hurricane of emotions crashed throughout your body

It was just too much for you to handle

His words paused when your door suddenly opened

His heart ached to see you in your dark room all alone

Tears streamed down your face, bringing tears to his own eyes“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his voice cracked as he spoke

You bit your own lip, trying to hold back the obvious tears from falling now that you were seeing him face to face

It was a strange feeling, especially now that you were looking up to his eyes

The ones that were always so cold

The ones that always glared at you in annoyance when you did better on a test or were praised by the teacher

But now they were gone

Now they were warm 

Press Play to the song and listen while reading from here! 

It was as if you two were connected when the two of you took a step towards each other, meeting in the doorway

Your head buried against his chest, breaking even more as thoughts flooded your head of what would happen now that your dad was leaving

His bag of baked goods sat on the ground, leaning against the door as he gladly took you into his arms

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the top of your head

You shook your head against his chest, feeling the now damp fabric of his shirt rub against your face

“I’m not upset by that… you didn’t know…” 

Relief washed over his body for a brief moment, but worry now filled him even faster

“Why are you crying, then?” he cupped your face in his hands, trying to rub away the sadness from your face

It was the first time Jaemin saw you like this

So vulnerable, especially when you were clearly emotionally hurt

And realized he didn’t like seeing you like this

Something in him yearned to see your smile, brightening the room and anyone around you

He yearned to hear your witty comebacks to his comments

He yearned for you

You began to calm down, though your breaths were still jagged and uneven

Your hands even began to tremble as you held to his forearms for a grounding

Now that someone had actually asked, it became clear that you couldn’t even bring yourself to say what your father had told you via text message without choking on your words or push your words through the painful lump in your throat

His eyes never left yours as he tried to figure out what had caused the storm behind them

But your eyes never met his; it was like you were trying to look anywhere else, but his eyes

He turned, leading you into your room and shut the door with his foot behind him 

“Shh,” he stroked your head as he led you to your bed, sitting you on the edge so he could kneel before you

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s completely fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay..” a cold twinge of regret filled him- you obviously weren’t okay, but he didn’t know what to say

His voice was so soft and gentle, it reminded you of your father when you were a kid: he read bedtime stories to you until you fell asleep and made sure you were okay

But he was leaving and that side of him was long gone

What changed him? Was it your fault? Your thoughts began to race all at once as you just stared into Jaemin’s eyes

Even in the dark, you still saw them clear as the day He couldn’t figure out the look on your face as you just mirrored him, making him wonder if he had said the right thing or not

Your breath began to quicken and before you knew it, your cries poured out of you as memories and thoughts and scenarios and just so much poured through your head

And Jaemin could tell whatever was making you cry like this began to plague you even more

Your cries had become more; it became the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person who lost hope, but in this case, you were losing hope

He could see it drain from your eyes as you were drifting farther and farther away

You buried your face into the palm of your hands, biting your lip to try to control your emotions

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” was all he could say, all he felt like he could say

It burned within him and the moments played repeatedly in his head in slow motion

he could have just gone on the trip, he could have just not done it

he could have just ignored your presence in that cafe

but he didn’t

he wanted to see your confused or frustrated face

the annoyed look he loved to see whenever his grade surpassed yours or when you found out he was the culprit

you mustered up all the courage you could despite how hot your anger was with your “dad”

he covered your hand with his which allowed him to feel every tremble as you tried to speak

you tried to swallow through the hard lump in your throat, only feeling it remain there

the sun began to set and snow began to fall once again

“my stepdad…” it pained you to call that man your dad, but at the moment, you didn’t know what else to call him. “My parents are divorcing and a part of me is happy cause he’s the absolute worst person in my life.”

a small wave of relief washed through Jaemin, but he pushed it aside, trying to understand how you felt

“he never treated my mom well and he was basically just a leech that used her for money and now that it’s probably gone, he’s leaving. I don’t know what made her want to be with him, but all she told me was that we need him”

you clenched your fists and jaw in anger, resisting the urge to smash your phone to bits against the concrete wall

“y/n, I’m so sorry… I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed your shoulder trying the best of his abilities to comfort you 

you sighed, releasing your fists

“you don’t have to apologize for something you didn’t do… I’m not upset with you, to be honest. This is way bigger and you didn’t mean to harm me. I’ve known you for years but I know when you know not to make a joke or to take things seriously.”

you felt a minor weight lift off your chest for some reason, a bit unaware as to why it lifted when all you said was the truth

jaemin was surprised you had seen noticed it, but it was just the morally right thing to do

“you notice quite a lot, huh?” he tried to take your mind off the elephant in the room

jaemin honestly didn’t know how to feel in this moment

but he was sure what he wanted to do: to see the smile he realized he had missed

you huffed a bit not knowing what to say, think, or feel

a part of you was grateful to the moon and back your mom was free but a part of you also burned with a passionate fire knowing that now your mom would have to struggle to have no place to go

his question had gone right over your head

you stared at the dust-covered ground in the far corner of the room, wondering about the future

“I’m sorry, Jaemin, I have to call my mom…” You stepped outside of your dorm, leaving Jaemin by himself in the silence 

“of course, no worries... I’ll be here,” he flashed a kind smile and wave as you shut the door behind you 

your legs carried you down the hall towards the stairwell as your cold device was pressed against your ear

“mom?” your voice came out quieter than you wanted 

“Hey, sweetie…” The soothing voice of your mother calmed down a part of your nerves but did nothing to the storm brewing within 

the coldness of the walls didn’t even bother you

it felt like when you first saw the message, you had everything to say but now you were on the phone with your mom, you were speechless

“are you okay?”

your mom sounded so dejected, it broke your heart

“i... I do- I don’t know what to say…” 

your eyes were glued to the ground as you leaned back against the wall

“what’s gonna happen?” 

“y/n, I don’t want you to worry about anything. I don’t know what's going to happen myself, but I’ll figure something out..”

“what’re you gonna do?”

you could hear her sigh as much as she tried to suppress it

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. As long as you maintain your scholarships, the easier it’ll be to keep you in school.”

your vision blurred as her words seeped deep within

this wasn’t the life your mother deserved

her words were true. The easiest thing you could do for your mom right now is to maintain your grades until you graduate

“Y/N? Can you do this for me, sweetie?”

you hadn’t even realized you spaced out lost in thought

“ye-yeah...”

“Listen, I have to go pack, okay?”

hearing these words made something in you crack

you didn’t know what, but you knew it would take time to mend, that is if it could be mended at all

“Okay,” you said airily. “Bye mom” 

“swe-” 

you ended the call, cutting her off

The silence crashed against you like waves

the dorms, for once, were silent

snow slowly fell outside, silencing the night sky and everything

before you could process it, the powdery snow crunched beneath your steps

Jaemin sat still in your dorm in the same spot you left him in

He couldn’t imagine how you felt

Just sitting here felt a little wrong, especially since it was your room after all

The two of you had never spent time alone like this

“Maybe I should’ve left…” he sighed, facepalming

he rose to his feet and approached the door

he stuck his head out the doorway, looking to the left and right down the empty hall

you were nowhere in sight

he couldn’t lie to himself saying he didn’t feel his heart drop for the briefest of moments

he reached into his phone pocket until it hit him

after all these years, he never had your phone number

“Shoot...”

he went onto twooter (not a typo, Twooter) and found your account, sending you a message

“Hey, where’d you go?”

the message was sent and delivered

now all he had to do was wait

“Please be okay” 

he sat back down on your carpet, leaning against your bed

his memories replayed in his head starting from your childhood up until now

never once in your encounters with him did you ever seem so

so sad

so frustrated

his chest burned a little when your face flashed into his mind

Seeing you so torn

“I wanna see that smile again…” he said to himself as if he was whispering a secret

it was then after the words fell from his lips, his phone vibrated

“Sorry, I went to the cafe... needed to breathe.”

“if you want to leave, it’s okay. I have my keys with me.”

“thanks for coming.” 

he picked himself up and made his way to the cafe with no hesitation

the frosty air nicked at his ears and face as he walked at a fast pace toward the cafe

there was a feeling deep in his gut that just told him he had to be there with you

the warm atmosphere embraced him as he stepped through the doors, already striding towards your table in the corner

it was pretty empty except for a couple of others on their own in their own world’s

you sat facing the wall with your phone faced down on the table

“Y/N?” He looked at you, trying to look into your eyes as he slowly sat down across from you

you stared down to the other side of the table, right at the edge where anything could fall off of it if tipped just enough

and here you were

a tipping point and you were stuck

“Nothing feels real right now and I don’t know what to do.”

you sounded so dejected as you stared at the table, showing no emotion, but he could only imagine what was going through your mind right now

“how do you feel?” he cautiously asked

“I know it feels like something you could just brush away beneath the carpet or something you could say ‘it’s fine’ and move on, but sometimes, you can’t hide it. Sometimes you need to empty the jar and I want to be here for you.”

you paused, letting his words sink in, realizing even more how sweet the mischievous and your long time “enemy” really was

“if you really don’t want to talk about it now, we can always do something else or talk about anything else. But please.”

he bent his head down, meeting your eyes

“know that I want to listen and be wherever with you”

you were taken aback hearing these words for the first time in your life, especially since it came from Jaemin of all people

his breathing stammered after he has said these things, being bold and showing a bit of his true emotions for you that he began to admit to himself while being here with you

you took a deep breath in and opened your mouth, formulating the words in your head

“Since the moment I met him, I just had this feeling that he was a terrible person. She could have done so much better, but she said we needed him.”

rage began to bubble within you as you spoke of the man who came into you and your mom’s lives, ruining with everything he did

Jaemin listened intently, never letting his eyes leave yours as you spoke

He took everything in as you spoke like a sponge taking in water for the first time 

despite being so “close” to each other all these years, he realized he never knew anything about you and your life outside of school

“Now since he’s leaving, I honestly don’t know what I can do”

“What do you mean?”

“As much of a pain as he is, he paid for a good part of my tuition to go here… It’s already half because of the scholarships I was able to get from financial aid, but I just know my mom’s going to have to take like three jobs if she wants to be able to cover all the tuition...”

“We can’t really take any loans,” you said through the ever-growing lump in your throat

It burned to even speak, but deep down it surprised you how easily you were able to come out with everything

Jaemin was right, it felt good

“For now, she said to work hard to maintain the scholarship, which of course I will, but she’s literally all I have for a family left”

Your eyes drifted to anywhere else, just not to Jaemin’s

He stayed silent as he took everything in, processing any possible suggestions, thinking about asking his family to help you

You sighed as you leaned back, feeling the sudden prick of tears at your eyes, but you didn’t want to shed any more

This wasn’t something you couldn’t handle, but you just didn’t know how to

“Y/N,” he called, waiting for you to meet his eyes

“I’m very sorry you have to go through this all of a sudden…”

“No, don’t be sorry, Jaemin. None of this is your fault…” you said even though you knew what he meant

“If we’re unable to pay, I might just have to drop and go to community college,” you sighed

It wasn’t the worst and the financially better place to go to would have been there, and now it really might be

The cafe became empty and some employees began to check out while the graveyard shift employees took their place

After sitting in brief moments of silence, Jaemin finally spoke up

“Maybe you could talk to the school and perhaps they’ll understand, helping you out more?”

His mind began to stem off into different ways of how your future at S/N could go

Now that there was an actual possibility of him losing you in his life, he didn’t want to lose you

All those times in high school, the two of you would sit across from each other in the classroom, finding each other’s eyes to shoot a playful glare, they were honestly a highlight of his day he didn’t realize he had until you were absent for a week and he would look across the room, seeing an empty chair

The days whenever you would walk to class late or early, making him miss his daily chance to stick his tongue out at you or mess with your hair as he walked passed honestly made him bummed in his next class

The time you missed the field trip to a greenhouse for biology, and he spent his time there alone, absorbing all the facts and everything just so he could brag to you about how he now knew more than you

But he always saw the sparkle in your eyes whenever you listened to him “brag” about the facts he learned when in reality, they were things he wished you were there to learn yourself alongside him

“Y/N…” He gently caressed your arm

“I really think it’ll help if you talk to the school. My brother’s done it before with his friend. You have scholarships because you need it and because the school wants you to be here, to represent the name so if they really want you here, they’ll help you.”

You listened as the gears in your mind turned and coiled, thinking of all the possibilities you could do to make it easier for your mom financially

After working so hard to get here, it would be a shame to throw it all away when you have a chance

A chance for a brighter future

And a chance to be with the guy you’ve been competing with all these years

As teasing and “annoying” as he could be, you always trusted Jaemin

After a bit, you exhaled, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in for so long

“I really, really want to stay, Jaemin. I really do and I honestly don’t know what to do. I want to help my mom and I want to just enjoy life”

You sighed, rubbing your face and combing your fingers back through your hair

“I’ll talk to the financial office but I’m just scared…”

“If you want, I can go with you?” He tilted his head

For some reason, you felt a weight lift off your chest as soon as the question fell from his lips

The ones your eyes always fell down to during class or whenever he was near

“Please…” you sighed, breaking into a tired small smile

He nodded, matching your smile as it spread on your lips

“I suppose now I have to watch over you closer, you know, to make sure you’re on top of all your studies.” He winked

“As if, Na Jaemin. If anything, you should be coming to me for help,” you retorted, rolling your eyes halfway

As the silence began to grow, your smile began to fade away as you zoom in back to reality

“What- what if the school doesn’t help… and I really do have to leave?”

He felt a prick sting his chest as he saw the concern spread across your face, making your smile fade

“I’ll leave with you. They’ll lose two of the school’s best underclassmen,” he said in a bright way, yet you could hear the sincerity behind his words

He was 100% serious

“I never thought I would say this, but I need you to be here,” Jaemin admitted

The things he wanted to say, the things he thought raced in his head like a blur accompanied by the sound of his heart hammering in his chest

But for now, he stopped after these words, seeing how you would react before throwing everything away

You actually didn’t know what to say and just looked at him to continue

“I really don’t know how to say this, but since high school, I knew for a fact that nothing would be the same whenever you weren’t around. When I couldn’t see those warm eyes for a day at least, all my friends would be asking me if I was okay or why I seemed so down.”

“At the time, I didn’t even know myself until I saw your warm eyes again the next time you came back…” He paused as he read your eyes, unable to get an idea of how you were feeling or thinking, but he continued

“I think I can say for the two of us that we need each other to actually be who we are like if you never came into my life or inspired me to compete with you academically, I wouldn’t be sitting here, Y/N.”

A small smile spread across your lips as the words fell from your lips

“I think so too,” you laughed a bit

It was true: so many nights in the past you realized before you fell asleep that if it wasn’t for Jaemin’s competitiveness, you would’ve never actually studied

You couldn’t tell if he could hear or sense how loud your heart was pounding in your chest or not, but you wanted him to continue

Everything felt so light as Jaemin poured his feelings for you

How warm his own eyes were, yet it made you wonder how he saw your eyes from his perspective

“Just from today, as crazy as it sounds, I’ve come to realize how devastated I would be if you really left S/N. So, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you through this because I want you to stay, I really do too. So much that I’m willing to teach you everything I know to, you know, make sure you’re on top of everything,” he smiled

“Everything?” you questioned

“More scholarships, the bigger ones with higher rewards and more competition. Trust me, with our brains combined, the school will be paying you to study here.”

He spoke giving you so much hope, you hoped it was all going to be true

“But this will cost a price, however, but not monetary.” He leaned onto the table, resting his chin on top of his fists stacked on top of each other

“Oh? And what would that be, Jaemin?” You mirrored him, leaning down with only a couple of inches separating you from him

He paused, almost not hearing your question as he took in your features

From the way your nose curled to the hue of your lips in this light and how your hair was effortlessly perfect in his eyes

To the warmest eyes he had ever seen and now got to see so closely

“Go out with me.”

~~~~~ Masterlist for more! Thank you for reading! this is my first time writing an enemy to lovers!AU I'm sorry if it's not good asdkjasdlk

Edit (3/28/20): enemies to lovers are hardd but I will continue writing for practice! I hope this was okay as a first! 

The draft made: July 16, 2019, at 10:28pm EST Final Draft made: March 30, 2020, at 10:16pm EST

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 2

Richie's phone buzzed. Instantaneously, his phone was out of his pocket and into his hand, and he opted to check the message rather than watch the sidewalk ahead of him. A grin split his face and he caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth, biting down on that instead of letting out an excited little squeal. The text was from an unknown number and read,

Hi, it's Bill from the coffee shop. Can I get the party information?

With another three guests set to come, Richie was all the more anticipated. That brought the list of guests up to an even 40. With flying thumbs, Richie tapped back his answer consisting of his address and the time the party was starting before saving the number into his phone underneath the name 'Stuttering Bill'. The phone was slid back into the pocket of his jeans. A stiff breeze whisked past him, and he almost felt cold enough to shiver, pulling the edges of his arcade-floor print button-up closer together in an attempt to shield himself. The sky overhead was a pale grey, promising rain soon to come and snow, too, in no time at all. It was nearly November, and while the snow usually fell heaviest from December to January it was no rare occurrence for it to make an early appearance just for a week or two. Again, Richie's phone buzzed.

Thanks. Any snacks we should bring?

For a moment, Richie pondered. He had a perfect reply locked and loaded but didn't know if it was too soon for this kind of joke. What he wanted to say was 'only yourself, hot stuff' and maybe he'd throw in a 'and the short one too' but he quickly decided he didn't want these three random people to hate his guts too quickly on the off chance that they weren't okay with guy-on-guy flirtation like that. Instead of one of the many cruddy pickup lines he has ready to go he says,

No pressure, unless you want something for yourself.

As Richie puts his phone away yet again he found himself right where he wanted to be, the lovely little family-run grocery store known as 'Hanlon Grocer'. The people inside actually tolerated him and took the time out of their days to run 50 bags of Doritos through the checkout, when a few other places he'd been to for party snack stocking had actually turned him away- it also helped that the owners son was one of his best pals. He stepped through the door, running a quick hand through his slightly wind-swept hair. Almost immediately he was greeted by the young lady currently working the register, the younger cousin of Mike Hanlon herself, Jennifer Hanlon.

"Morning, Richie," She greeted with a casual wave, attention temporarily stolen from the book she had open in front of her, "Mike tells me you're having a party tonight. I'm guessing that's why you're here?"

"You're a cunning one, Jenny!" Richie leaned against the counter, his radiant smile making him look something close to insane, "I have about an entire aisle of soda to buy from you!" Jenny smiled back at him, plucking her bookmark from the counter and slipping it into place. She closed the book, sliding it aside, and Richie caught sight of the cover- The Prestige, by Christopher Priest. It was a new one that Mike had been reading a few weeks back.

"Well, Mike's somewhere here. If you flash him that million-dollar smile maybe you can get him to help you carry some things." Richie clapped his hands together, and took a step back.

"Thanks a billion, Jen- I'll see you shortly, I'm sure. Get those scanning hands ready, I'll have quite the haul," Richie took a few more steps backwards, still talking to Jenny as he made his way further into the store, "I really hope you don't mind me always making such a big fuss!"

"Pshh," Jenny waves a hand, "You're our top customer, Rich, I could never mind!" And, with that, Richie spun on his heel, leaving Jenny to return to her fine literature so he could go pack his arms full of snacks, too many to carry for one man alone. Lucky for him, just as he was about to disappear into an aisle in search of his friend, Mike stepped out into view from nearer the produce section, catching Richie's eye.

"Sure an begorahh, me ole' laddie Mr. O'Hanlon, sor!" Richie danced along the linoleum tiles, trying both to stomp and float at the same time, graceful and intimidating as his Irish Cop, "Doh ye mind lendin' me a hand 'er two?" At once Mike set aside the crate of cans he'd been carrying, meaning to restock some shelves- in Mike's mind, that could wait.

"Morning, Richie," He greeted as he stepped away from the crate, instead beckoning with his head for Richie to follow him towards the primary snacks isle, "Putting off shopping til last minute again? Do I have to tell you it might be a little more wise to get this done a week or so in advance in case you forget anything?" Mike glances over at Richie, his eyes alight with a teasing mischief as they turn left into isle 6.

"No, my good sir, you do not." Richie clasps his hands together as he speaks, leaning over just slightly to rake his gaze across the bottom shelf. One bag after the other, he scanned in search of just what he wanted and- aha, there it was, the barbecue chips, and, more precisely, the Lays barbecue chips.

"I called in for an extra order of those just for you," Mike gave Richie's shoulder a gentle push, which Richie returned with one of his own.

"Oh, you!" He was now the Southern Belle, a hand spread on his chest as he batted his eyelashes, "You really shouldn't have, Sir Michael, you are just too kind!" With that, the charade was abandoned and Richie dropped to his knees, none-too-graciously jamming his absurdly long arms onto either side of the rows of barbecue chips. As if they were his bride, he scooped them up, holding them with as much care as he would if this metaphor were true.

"Do you... want a basket?" Mike was snickering to himself, one hand lifted to hover over his toothy grin, the other planted on his hip. "Let me get you a basket." Richie was left alone for a second as Mike hurried away. Right, a basket- that... that could have been smart, Richie thinks to himself, but he isn't always too smart. Case in point, instead of recognizing that his arms were way too full and he couldn't carry anything else, he got distracted by the rows of chocolate bars and hobbled his way over there. A box of Atomic Fireballs sat in the midst of the candy, basically begging him to buy them. Against his better judgement, he tried to free up one hand enough to snag the candy.

-----

Eddie's gaze darted back and forth between two different cereal boxes- the classic Corn Flakes or the new Special K. One had less sugar, the other less calories, and he would be getting about the same amount of cereal for the same price but- All of a sudden, Eddie's careful thinking is interrupted by a crash, and he leaps nearly three feet in the air at the sound of it, letting out a horribly embarrassing sound like a quite shriek. Both cereal boxes went to the ground and he suddenly didn't care about them any more. A sound like that couldn't possibly mean anything good, could it? Someone might have been hurt and he has the equipment with him right now to help them on some minimal scale. Eddie hurried forwards, exiting his aisle and heading straight for the source of the noise in aisle six. As he sped around the corner, he came skidding to a halt for just a moment before pushing forwards once more and stopping at the side of someone covered in a mixture of chip bags, candies, and metal.

"Shit, are you okay? Anything hurt? Here, let me help-" A little metal rack in the center of the aisle had been pulled over onto the poor guy trapped underneath, one rung jabbed against his ribs in a manner that couldn't possibly be comfortable. Eddie fastened his hands around the rack as best he could, pulling it off and away as quickly as possible. As soon as it was pushed aside his full attention went back to whoever had been trapped underneath, and a gust of familiarity punched him right in the stomach. The only one Eddie had ever seen wearing those wretched thick-framed glasses had been the coffee guy from the night before. Eddie brushed away the pang of annoyance in his gut and helped brush bags of barbecue chips aside to pull the barista into a sitting position.

"Ah, thanks," The guy said with a chuckle, pushing his glasses up and reaching for one of the bags of chips. He frowned as he picked it up, suspecting it for damage and most likely discovering that at least half of it's contents were crushed, "My bad for the trouble, my long-ass limbs sometimes get the-" He paused, finally looking up at Eddie, and then his own eyes lit with recognition and he was grinning like a maniac. "Hey, I know you! New guy! Eds!" Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname, brushing right past him.

"Are you okay? Hurt at all? Do I need to call a doctor? When did you last get a tetanus shot? Are you bleeding anywhere?" Eddie was already moving to unzip his trusty fanny pack, knowing he had butterfly tape, disinfectant, bandages and all things alike just inside. "How are you feeling? Dizzy at all? You might have hit your head or something and-"

"Hey, calm down there buddy, you'll give yourself an aneurysm if you don't stop and take a breath!" The barista was chuckling again, hands held out in front of him in some attempt to calm Eddie's already-racing thoughts. Worst case scenarios sprung up left and right, the current most prominent possibility being that this goof could get some sort of instantaneous infection that would transform him into a zombie, "I'm just fine, actually. I've taken quite a few tumbles in my day and this is nothin'. If anything, I'd be more concerned for the chips!" He went to climb to his feet, and Eddie was almost reluctant to allow that. Maybe he'd throw out his back or tear a muscle or fall again- he shoved the thoughts away and instead just stood as well. "Thanks, Eds," The guy said with a big glowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, one hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck, "If I'd known you were here to save the day I'd have fallen sooner! My knight in shining armor!"

"Don't-" Eddie began, biting his tongue and then finally snapping out, "Don't call me Eds! And for the love of God, don't go getting yourself hurt just for the hell of it. That's stupid. You could have broken something!" Crossing his arms over his chest, Eddie huffed out a breath, shaking his head out of disapproval. Eddie's damsel in distress opened his mouth to speak when a new voice sliced in and someone Eddie hadn't seen before hurried around the corner with concern etched into his every feature and a shopping basket slung over one arm.

"Richie, what- What happened? You okay?" He approached quickly, glancing briefly at Eddie before his full attention went to Mr. Damsel- or, otherwise, Richie. Richie shot two thumbs ups.

"I'm great, Mikey, my good pal Eddie came to help me up."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mikey set down his basket and turned to Eddie instead, extending a hand and a friendly smile, "I'm Mike. I didn't mean to intrude if you two were talking, but Rich tends to get himself hurt more than the average human male. It's second nature now to fret over him." Richie let out a scoff, adopting a dramatic frown and upturning his nose.

"It's really hard to control my noodle arms, thank you very much! And, come on, did you really expect me not to go for the Fireballs? The heart wants what it wants, doesn't it?" Eddie let Mike's hand go and, feeling a little bit awkward now to be talking to these near-strangers, said,

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I, uh... I guess I'll be seeing you again later tonight at the party," Eddie tried to smile, "Don't go knocking over any more display shelves." Eddie was just about to turn and hurry away, just about to get out of the social interaction when none other than Bill appeared down the hall, a grocery basket hanging off his arm, obviously curious and with Stan at his side. Bill spotted Richie, Richie spotted Bill, and then the latter was approaching with his Big Bill smile.

"Oh, hey!" He greeted, nodding cheerfully in Mike's direction as well, "It's you again! I juh-just wanted to thank you fuh-for the invitation to your party." The best thing Eddie thinks Bill has ever done is draw the attention away from him. He has a tendency to do that- most eyes shift right for him when he enters the room, as if everyone sense that he is the leader. That's alright, in Eddie's opinion, because he could never be a leader and is much more content to be a follower hiding in the shadows. Now, both Richie, Mike and Bill are locked in conversation, much more friendly and natural than the one Eddie had been caught in moments earlier. Stan takes a few subtle steps towards his much shorter friend, leaning over a little to hiss out a whisper,

"They'll be talking for hours, I can already tell." Eddie found himself smiling and nodding right along. Stan was absolutely correct. The chemistry that was already brewing was that foretelling of three great friends. "Interested in coming with me to look at the bakery? I can smell it from here and I want to see what they have." Eddie only smiles wider. He nods his head without seconds thought, only trying for a second or two to catch Bill's gaze before just giving up and following Stan out of the hallway and towards the back of the building. Matching him step for step, the two picked up a much more comfortable, much more pleasant conversation that Eddie actually enjoyed having. "The curly haired one sure talks a lot. What are the chances that we're seeing him again today? How many grocery stores are there in Portland?"

"Apparently just the one. Some higher power must hate me to make me run into him again." Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically, and Stan let out a snicker, gently bumping his elbow into Eddie's and quirking a brow. In return, Eddie's own brows bent down into a questioning furrow. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face or something?" One hand lifted to wipe at his cheek but it came back clean. Stan just shook his head, a small smile ghosting his lips as they arrived at the bakery. "Oh sweet, sesame bagels!" His attention redirected, Eddie dismissed the odd look and moved to stand right in front of the glass, hovering over it and scanning it's contents but never putting his hands on it. That was icky, in his opinion- Stan was at his side moments later, scanning over the iced sweets just next to the bagels that had caught Eddie's eye.

"What do you want to bet Bill won't want us wasting our money on any of this?" Stan said with a grin, gaze still glued to a tantalizing slice of carrot cake.

"My soul. How much extra cash do we have to waste?" No one needed to speak another word. The two made a silent agreement- buy whatever the hell you want and defend your purchase with your life. Neither Stan nor Eddie would let Bill scold them for this. They deserved some sort of 'welcome to Portland' treat. In the end, they were both walking away with quite the haul- Eddie had secured a bag of six of those sesame bagels, and Stan had bought the carrot cake along with a loaf of banana bread. Just as Stan passed over the cash needed to pay for the treats, Bill stepped into view, hurrying in their direction with his grocery basket filled with whatever other food the three needed to last them a week.

"Wuh-what did you two get your hands on?" Bill doesn't waste a minute to start interrogating, though the smile on his face betrays his attempts at scolding the two. He doesn't even make them explain themselves, jumping to the next topic right after and beckoning with his head for the two to follow him towards the checkouts, "We should cuh-come here from now on. I like supporting luh-luh-local businesses. It's good for the economy or something, and Mike is n-nice." Eddie almost let out a groan- that was the last thing he wanted, because then he risked running into Richie again. It seemed he and Mike, one of the grocers, were good friends. Why else would he be worried for Richie's well being? Still, Eddie bit his tongue, instead answering with something less rude and more civil.

"We could, or we could go to a bigger store. They'd have more options- we'd probably get better deals, too." Clutching his bag of sesame bagels and hoping Bill would take the bait, he continued in his attempts to convince him, "Here, they've only got so many different things. If we went to the Superstore a ways away we could pick out healthier foods and stuff and probably save a ton of money."

"Eh," Stan answered rather than Bill, holding a hand out in the redheads direction to silently offer a turn carrying the basket, "I like it here. It's quiet, and it's all family run. There'll be less processed items available. You hate processed foods, Eddie, you should love it here- it's all organic." For some odd reason Eddie felt like Stan was maybe... plotting something? The curly-haired boy seemed awfully suspicious. Usually, he just went along with whatever else was decided, and rarely bothered to help in decision making. He never minded what Bill or Eddie chose because, as far as he was concerned, they were both logical and made great decisions. Alarm bells rang in Eddie's head and curiosity began to bubble within him. What was Stanley getting at?

"Luh-let's see how everything plays out. Maybe w-we'll end up going somewhere else next w-week, buh-but we don't ne-need to decide r-ruh-right now." The three arrived at the till.

"Good morning," The lady behind it looked about their age, with bright eyes and glowing sepia skin, her hair frizzy and light, like a cloud around her head. Her name tag read 'Jennifer'. "Chilly day today, isn't it?" Jennifer got right to work, not even glancing down at her hands as she scanned one item and then the next in rapid succession with memorized ease. Bill and her picked up a natural conversation, his great people skills showing through now more than ever. Bill brought up Mike, and the three found out that he was Jennifer's cousin- they also discovered that hers and Mike's grandparents owned the store and kept it running smoothly. Before they knew it, everything was bagged and ready to go. Stan, Bill and Eddie distributed the bags between them, said their goodbyes to the kind girl behind the counter, and made for the doors. The chill that had been in the air when Eddie had first arrived had eased, just a little. The sun peaked out timidly from behind thickening swaths of darkened clouds, and the taste of rain hung heavy on the breeze.

"We should get a cab. I swear to God, if it starts raining and I catch a cold I'm blaming it on you guys." Eddie grimaced as he looked up towards the sky, and the three set off back in the direction of home.

"What are we doing for the rest of the day?" Stan asked, staring up and around at all of the buildings lining the street, taking in every little detail Portland had to offer. Bill was doing just the same as he answered,

"I have nuh-nothing planned. I might take a n-nap or suh-humthing like that before the party." Eddie let out something akin to a scoff, though it sounded more surprised than hostile or anything negative like that.

"Don't you still have unpacking to do? You can't seriously be finished, can you?" Bill shrugged his shoulders, shuffling his grocery bags from one hand to the other. Eddie took that as a sign that Bill was, in fact, done with his unpacking. How, Eddie had no idea- shit, he's hardly finished half of his, and Stan couldn't possibly be done either with how much of a perfectionist he was. As if to prove Eddie wrong, Stan spoke next.

"I finished earlier this morning. You aren't done? How much do you have?" Eddie had brought his biggest suitcase from back home. After all, he had basically taken everything he owned with him; his entire closet, his whole medicine cabinet, more miscellaneous things like some toxin-free cleaning supplies- getting everything into a convenient spot (and needing to clean those convenient spots first) took time and effort and Eddie tended to get distracted. It made sense that he wasn't done yet, but he hadn't expected the other two to have finished so quickly. "That's alright, it's fine," Stan continued, cutting into Eddie's thoughts, "I can help you if you want me to?" Eddie was quick to deny that offer.

"Thanks, but I'm more than capable of putting my own shit away. You guys can do whatever- don't worry about me." Sooner or later, the three arrived back at home, and Bill offered to unload to groceries which left Eddie to get right to work. When they arrived back up in their apartment, Eddie dropped his grocery bags in the new, untouched kitchen and dismissed himself to head for his room. Straight down the hall from the kitchen sat Eddie's door, and behind that, his bedroom, perfectly neat and tidy. As he stepped inside, he took in the sight of it all again with a burst of pride- this was his room, and he finally had the privacy he had always craved. To the direct left of the door sat a small set of drawers with a sizable mirror mounted just above it. Facing those drawers was the king-sized bed fitted with sleek grey sheets and a whole seven pillows of different sizes. Underneath the bed was a rug, the floor a pale hardwood- two bedside tables sat on either side of the bed and a door to the closet was to his right. Finally, the piece de resistance were the large double-doors that led to his own private balcony- since Bill's room had an ensuite and Stan had a walk-in closet, he had scored the balcony and he was more than excited.

At last, Eddie stepped into his room, pushing the door near-shut behind him. The white, cold light filtering in through the glass panes of the balcony doors washed everything around him in a pale luminescence. Any minute now, he was certain, rain would start to fall, and he was glad to have made it home before getting caught in it. Eddie made for his suitcase, which was set at the foot of his bed. It was huge, silver, heavy-duty and still half-full despite a whole hour of unpacking. Pushing it onto it's side, Eddie pulled on the zipper and flipped open the top, not wasting a minute as he began to pick out the pharmaceuticals tucked within. Despite escaping his mother, he hadn't escaped old habits- paranoia still gnawed at his insides whenever he thought of sickness, his own weakened immune system- he pushed the thoughts away and began to arrange his assortment of emergency medications on top of the drawers. As he did so, he stared at his reflection in the mirror- the fear of sickness was, at once, forgotten. Instead, he found himself soaking in the feeling of his newfound independence. Eddie had finally left the nest for good.

[jediryssabean]

may death never stop you

hi everyone, i’ve risen from the dead. back on my bullshit with some naruto and some healing. 

happy holidays!

-

Pairing: Naruto/Sasuke Rating: T Summary: (Tea steam condensed on the window, and a thin line of moisture had dragged itself down on a misshapen path, led by a bead of icy water. Through the haze, there were shapes of patrons, shapes of dishware, shapes of shopowners—a figure haloed in light and another swallowed by the shadows of a back room, barely glimpsed in the brief clarity given by the condensation, fogging up again as the steam again sighed against the window.

“did you hear?” the window carried the conversation through its panes, a murmur against wood and glass. The news had traveled slowly here to the Land of Snow, if only because the village was remote enough to miss, and yet even this was delayed by those standards. The snow had known for eons, it seemed—because there were flakes of it born from the Valley of the End. “the uchiha clan is done for good. last one kicked it not too long ago.”

The window’s tone had changed, delivering a different timbre, a different patron rumbling deep from the back of their throat. “jackass,” the window relayed like the shifting of the earth, so low was it spoken. “that news is three fucking years old. you’re late.”)

Or you can [Read on AO3]!

(The windows of the shop had been foggy at the edges, snow sitting on the windowsill with picturesque practice, an almost-constant winter giving it the time it needed to perfect its exact placement on this exact windowsill. Until recently, the shop over which the snow lived had sat empty, because that’s what shops did when there was no one to fill them. But snow had never minded, because the building occupied the same space regardless of whether or not it was occupied.

A door shut and the snow had rustled before settling back into place, the same place it always settles into. The sound of a bell followed a patron in. The snow had ignored it.

The windows hummed with the noise from inside, not disturbing the snow whatsoever, because the snow is older than the people inside the building, older still than the building itself, living a thousand lives and dying a thousand deaths year after year, after year—

A teacup had been placed next to the window to cool. On the outside, the snow had begun to ease itself into a softer shape, going liquid against the steam. A quiet death, like most of them, despite the noise that made the glass tremble when someone laughed particularly loud. Occasionally, the snow can feel whispers through the glass, small vibrations of sound that carry nowhere except into solid things, melting some of the flakes against the windowsill with the force of it, passing along rumors to its kin.

Tea steam condensed on the window, and a thin line of moisture had dragged itself down on a misshapen path, led by a bead of icy water. Through the haze, there were shapes of patrons, shapes of dishware, shapes of shopowners—a figure haloed in light and another swallowed by the shadows of a back room, barely glimpsed in the brief clarity given by the condensation, fogging up again as the steam again sighed against the window.

“did you hear?” the window carried the conversation through its panes, a murmur against wood and glass. The news had traveled slowly here to the Land of Snow, if only because the village was remote enough to miss, and yet even this was delayed by those standards. The snow had known for eons, it seemed—because there were flakes of it born from the Valley of the End. “the uchiha clan is done for good. last one kicked it not too long ago.”

The window’s tone had changed, delivering a different timbre, a different patron rumbling deep from the back of their throat. “jackass,” the window relayed like the shifting of the earth, so low was it spoken. “that news is three fucking years old. you’re late.”

A click of a tongue, sharp against the glass. The snow shifted, startled, before relaxing again. It had waited with bated breath, footsteps and the rumble of snowmobiles falling into the background in the middle of nowhere, swallowed by gossip and the clatter of ceramic plates. An embarrassed cough had fired off, making the window creak. “about fucking time, though, if you ask me, right? three years ago or now, it just means one less thing to start a fucking war over. it’s been so quiet since.”

Another bead of condensation, another glimpse into the tea shop.

A smile, mostly teeth.

Blue eyes, glittering like light refracted off of snow melt.

“can i get you anything else?” the owner had shown a dimple before the fog hid him from sight, obscuring a grin so wide it could’ve swallowed the sun. Whiskered scars folded into the laugh lines beside his mouth.

The window had shivered against the melting snow, straining to listen. 

“no thank you, uzuha-san,” the patrons answered, almost in unison. The weight of it had caused the snow to shift again. “delicious, though, as always.” A little bit out of sync, but genuine, for all the brief-yet-eternal time the shop had been there it its current state, warm, and full, and creaky with people. The snow outside could feel it in the grain of the wood underneath it.

“glad to hear it,” Naruto had replied, beatific and shameless and, reportedly, dead. “always good to have you.”

The shadow in the back of the tea shop had rolled its eyes, a ghost from this distance and inaudible.

The snow had listened anyway, living and dying with the thrill of it.)

“You look like an old man, Uzuha-san,” Sasuke tells him, their fake name rolling off his tongue with the mocking sort of softness that carries the echo of a patron while also doing the warm-and-fuzzy thing in Naruto’s stomach that patron voices do not do. All the while, of course, looking like a gloomy but very hot barista, apron and everything, like they hadn’t decided to open up a traditional tea shop, instead of something like a ramen shop. Both of the things are warm, you know? Both of the things are a dime a dozen in a climate like this! Either one would’ve sold like hotcakes, or—or a hotcakes shop? Or—

“Well, we can’t all look young and hip like you, Uzuha-san,” he mimics back, shifting dirty plates from his good forearm to the one that doesn't feel much, its joints more-or-less responsive to changes in chakra pressure, but hardly precise. It does what it needs to, in a pinch, and, actually, helps him pinch things, so a solid choice for a person that has to grab plates and teacups all day, much less a person that has to grab plates and teacups all day while in very standard and very fashionable hakama, unlike some people, whose idea it was in the first place.

Sasuke rolls his eyes, closing the practically ancient register with his hip, carrying the till to the back to the shop, using his shoulder to part the curtain, as his arm is occupied with other business, and the empty sleeve at his side wouldn’t be much different anyway. As the curtain shuts, Naruto thinks he can see a little dusting of pink on the tips of Sasuke’s ears and a glow partway down his neck; it’s the sure sign of embarrassment, the sign that Naruto had returned the warm-and-fuzzy right back, or whatever Sasuke calls it in his own head when he thinks about these things. 

It’s true, to some degree, Naruto tells himself as he lifts the curtain aside with his left wrist, balancing dishware atop the aluminum plating just above his right wrist joint—Sasuke really does look at least a couple years younger surrounded by brewing supplies and an immaculately kept snack-kitchen. Naruto can’t tell if it’s the well-worn clothes, or the beautifully tied apron, or the work-flat hair, or the lines by his mouth that speak a little less of tension and a little more of relief. It could be anything, a sight or a sound or a feeling, but it’s there somewhere.

Naruto always finds the words for things later than he means to, so this time probably isn’t any different in that respect.

But there is a part of him that acknowledges that Sasuke was right about one thing—he’d be really easy to recognize in hakama, considering how long he’d worn one, and the look he’s working now is something just different enough that he looks everything and nothing like he used to, all at once. The most disarming thing about him now is how comfortable he looks about seventy-five percent of the time. 

“What're you thinking?” Sasuke says, taking Naruto’s expertly designed and not-at-all flawed stack of plates and teacups and dipping bowls. They rattle only slightly when Sasuke puts the dishes in the sink to rinse them, a co-opted drying rack poised under the faucet to hold the dishes in place before they wind up in the dishwasher to his right. “I can smell the smoke from here.”

“Ha ha.” Naruto rotates his right wrist joint, the socket squealing a little between his flesh thumb and forefinger as he loosens the chakra pressure there. The joint pops enough for him to flex his fingers in a semblance of what they used to do. “I was thinking about dinner.” A lie, because something sappy might make Sasuke drop a plate, or might make him cry, or might make his face tighten and obscure the softness there. “I can cook tonight.” The truth, because there are still countless things that they have to catch up on for all the time they spent running toward or hiding from glimpses and reflections and echoes of one another—namely the fact that Naruto can, by a now-less-than-limited margin, cook.

“Oh yeah?” Sasuke’s eyebrow does that thing it’s so good at, a perfect arch above perfect eyelashes above depthless eyes. There’s a smile on his face that is most evident in the hints of lines that’ll be crow’s feet sometime in the future, though there are pieces of it hidden in other places—the corners of his mouth, the tilt of his head, the lift of his shoulder. Even so, there’s something curling slowly around his pupils that doesn’t match; a conversation that could be waiting to happen. 

Naruto lets it wait, his palm ready to grab for it when it comes.

“Oh yeah,” he replies. “I don’t know if you know this, but I can make my own ramen noodles, which, by the way, is why we should’ve opened a ramen shop.”

That eye roll again, caught in the same motion that Sasuke uses to shut the dishwasher with one foot and untie his apron with a tug of his thumb. Sasuke’s eyes are so clear and exactly like Naruto remembers them that it’s easy to forget that he’d had the Rinnegan for less than a day, instead taking back a left eye that could barely make out shapes, much less channel chakra, all in the interest of opening a tea shop as far away from the Land of Fire as possible. 

It sounds almost like a laugh when Sasuke says, “would’ve been super subtle. Three months after you die, a random ramen shop opens up in the middle of nowhere, almost as far away from the Fire Nation as you can get. That doesn’t have the name Uzumaki Naruto written on it anywhere.”

“That’s Uzuha Naruto to you.” The electricity on his tongue pops against his teeth, a sensation that’s contagious in its own right, just like the pink on Sasuke’s ears is contagious, just like the twist of his mouth to hide a wider smile is contagious. 

wow, Naruto can hear himself say on a sigh lost to time, his voice much higher and the crack of it very youthful in its fervor, he’s so fucking pretty. The phantom sensation of a smack to the back of the head, a request to repeat himself, a named-and-unnamed itch at the curve of his shoulders. 

“Dinner it is,” Sasuke says with a voice like snowfall with icepack sitting underneath, tossing his apron across his unarmed shoulder as he heads for the stairs where their home is. “What do you need help with?”

The sun burns at the back of Naruto’s throat when he smiles.

(The rocky earth had been beginning its slow freeze that autumn, beaten by steady, barely-liquid sheets of rain. The shower whispered among itself, relearning the slow shifts in pavement and sediment, memorizing the shape of rainboots that would be snowboots before long. The boots’ soles tickled the dirt-specked puddles that were swallowing information and news and chitchat along their greedy edges, collecting things to hide under the pine needles, drowning in water that was too cold to let them rot.

The squall had been able to feel a relative, tucked inside the shape of a tea shop, tucked further still into the shape of arms and legs and pointed teeth as it sat in a booth, a wave given life in another form. The clouds above the village itself shuddered to shake itself free of the last of its rain before the snow started, straining itself to catch the murmurs in trembling palms.

Birch leaves, stuck to the shop’s floor, passed information to the water droplets, curling themselves around conversations that were familiar and different, the kind that other trees had heard much farther south. Migrating birds had brought their perceptions and conceptions and spins on things, twittering to themselves among seeds before fluttering away again, leaving behind only their gaps in knowledge and the urge to know more, to pass along to seasons forward.

The rain had hissed to and between itself as one birch leaf drip-drip-dripped rainwater into a negligible puddle forming beside a well-loved rainboot. Its edges, browning in the pondering death at the end of a fleeting autumn, trembled out words that would’ve been otherwise lost to the cold, the wet, and what, in a warmer climate, would be the sticky grip of mud.

“what are you doing here?” the shadow had said, for once outside the confines of the payment counter and the kitchen, and the birch leaves and the rainwater had felt a memory, somewhere, seen by them-and-others, passed along on wind streams and river paths—the shadow in a different light, shoulders held differently, its mouth a harder line.

“is that any way to talk to a paying customer?” The person-shaped water system flashed pointed teeth in a smile, the birch leaves peeling away from the floor to land in a warm palm. The rain had found itself caught in Naruto’s palm print, tucked away in his lifeline—somehow shorter and longer than expected.

Red hair had snorted, glasses slipping down the thin bridge of a nose. The shadow’s eyes had glittered, even though one of them was unable to see. “you haven’t paid me yet.”

Naurto had coughed a hidden sound of humor against the birch leaves in his hands before he’d tossed them back into the rain, the cold, the almost winter. The birch leaves shared their sights with the puddles in which they landed.

The rain itself, themself, had reached a cacophony against the glass. listening, it said. listening.

The eddy-that-wasn’t, the person-that-was, had cocked his head, a slightly crooked tooth poking out through his lips. The water in the grooves of the roof, the glass, the steps, the porch could feel his attention, his awareness, and his voice when he replied, “do i need to speak to your manager—sorry, what was your name again?”

Glasses again pushed up a nose, sharp words getting sharper against the woman’s teeth. Naruto, eyebrows arched with something like mischief, from what the rain could see between itself and the foggy chill. 

“none of your business,” the shadow said, and the autumn shower hissed with the sound of laughter.)

Naruto can see the way that Sasuke is looking at the flour in his hair, on his face, on his eyelashes, all evidence of noodles made beautifully, by the way, if messily. There’s a combination of things on his face—no flour, or anything like that, despite being on clean-up duty, that bastard—but, like, feelings. They’re smoothed along the underside of his eyebrows and pulling the skin tight, a little bit, by his eyes. The feelings are probably not about the flour, not with the way that his lips thin a little bit like that, but the words are still hiding somewhere under his tongue—under Naruto’s or Sasuke’s own, well, he isn’t entirely sure.  

“You’re getting good at this,” Sasuke says, which is not what Naruto had expected at all. It doesn’t quite match with the thoughtful tilt of his eyebrows or anything in his posture, but he says it anyway. Unreal. “The old man at Ichiraku would be jealous.”

The hum of something, simmering in Sasuke’s tone—but it doesn’t taste like what Naruto thinks it should taste like. It’s both familiar-and-unfamiliar, the-same-and-different. It’s absolutely not the feeling that Naruto thinks it is, because he would be able to hear it, the way it takes long and heavy steps across a lake that’s barely frozen, the ice cracking beneath it. It’s always been able to rattle windows and shake the earth around them.

Whatever this is, it isn’t that.

(It had been a feeling that all the seasons had remembered in equal detail, so sharp had the sound of it been. The sunlight remembered it as a singular feeling, held tightly by the shadow with both hands. But the seasons knew it had been pulled taut between the both of them.)

“I’d had to learn something,” Naruto tells him, and he can feel the flour in his palm scraping against his chin when he drops it there. “Otherwise, I’d’ve had to start freeloading, which would demolish my ‘vagrant with a heart of gold’ reputation.” 

A smile that touches Sasuke’s mouth like the springtime. “I don’t think that was your reputation.”

“It’s my version of events, so I get to decide what my reputation was.” Naruto grins when Sasuke wrinkles his nose in a silent scoff. He blinks and can see the afterimage of it on the back of his eyelids. “But I guess you got me. Teuchi wouldn’t’ve ever called me a vagrant. He was too nice.”

And oh shit, there’s a laugh, clinging to the surface of the table like dew to a blade of grass. Quiet, singular, and gone in a heartbeat, even still. “Nobody would’ve called you a vagrant, because nobody fucking talks like that.” 

Sasuke shifts his body in his seat, pushing it away from the table, stacking dishes as he goes. There’s a structure there that Naruto has memorized, the way that all the weight has to be stacked to be carried tucked against his chest, but it’s still impressive to see in action. Maybe that’s another thing that keeps him out of sight or behind the register—to watch him move is to catch a glimpse of who he had been, a ripple across a reflection from years before.

Before Naruto can catch himself, he’s half out of his seat, his flesh-and-blood fingertips resting atop Sasuke’s own.

Sasuke blinks. Naruto blinks in kind.

“Uh,” Naruto says, like the buffoon that he’s been called for his entire life. “Do you need help?”

This blink is much slower, reminiscent of the cat that he catches Sasuke feeding in the summer. His eyelashes go on for a hundred thousand years, which Naruto always seems to forget and remember at least as many times a day. They kiss his cheeks when he blinks like that, a lingering touch against his skin, and it’s wild. Something burns in the center of Naruto’s chest, something currently indefinable but familiar, like he’s been holding his breath for too long. 

“Um,” Sasuke replies, but doesn’t move his hand away. His fingertips are freezing, like always. “No? You cooked.”

If Naruto leaves his hand where it is, Sasuke’s fingers will eventually warm up underneath all the calluses and scar tissue, leftover from probably several-too-many fights. His skin will soften infinitesimally, not enough to matter, but Naruto will notice anyway, like always.

Sasuke blinks for the third time, a frown starting to draw itself along the line of his lips. “Are you okay?”

Naruto lets go. 

Sasuke watches him with that enigmatic expression on his face. There are so many different versions of himself that Naruto can see echoing in the arch of his eyebrow, the downward tilt of his lips. It’s a face that could mean anything—literally anything, from ‘I am literally about to leave you behind forever without telling you’ to ‘I cannot believe you feel any kind of affection for me and might cry.’ It’s uninterpretable, hooked into the lining of his guts and tugging, tightening all of his muscles in a panic response.

It isn’t until Sasuke turns around to make his way to their residential dishwasher (fancy) that’s probably older than the both of them (less fancy), that Naruto swallows whatever kind of melancholic bile had been rising in his throat. He coughs against the weight of it, the thickness of it, pushing his chair away from the table with one foot. The rattle of it against the floorboards breaks the almost-silence and background faucet noise. When Naruto walks across the kitchen to stand at Sasuke’s right side, his legs don’t shake.

There’s a pause that lingers between them, Sasuke’s attention apparently focused entirely on the dishes in his hand, transferred between the sink and the dishwasher with a little bit too much care. The skin under his fingernails has gone white with the force of his grip on relatively delicate ceramic bowls, the muscles of his wrists straining with the frustration of it all.

As the dishwasher squeals itself closed and there’s no more dishware to occupy Sasuke’s focus, he does that thing—that thing where he bumps their elbows, his right to Naruto’s left; that thing where he loops an arm around Naruto’s waist and presses their hips together; that thing that’s a lot like a conversation, dropped into Naruto’s open palm.

“Sasuke,” Naruto says, scattering his tone around their shamelessly tiny kitchen like dandelion seeds, light, airy, and a stone’s throw away from relieved-and-hysterical laughter, “are you worried about me?” 

A scoff, and Sasuke shifts his arm from around Naruto’s torso to drape around his shoulders. “How could I not be? You keep staring at me like I’m the one with flour all over my face, or like you’re waiting for me to break your nose or something.” The skin tightens at the corners of his eyes as he narrows them. “But when I ask, all you do is look like I smacked you.”

Their position is a little awkward, what with Sasuke’s arm where it is, and their hips where they are, and the fact that, yes, Naruto still definitely does have flour on his face and probably in his hair. Regardless, Sasuke’s pouting a little (probably shouldn’t say that out loud), and Naruto reminds himself once again that his eyelashes go on forever. It gets more awkward still when Naruto lifts his arm to loop across Sasuke’s shoulders, but that doesn’t matter either.

“Sasuke,” Naruto says, with all the seriousness in the world.

“Naruto,” Sasuke replies, with significantly less seriousness, but he speaks softly enough that it presses embers against the soles of Naruto’s feet.

“Can I kiss you?” A question that isn’t anything like the ones that are on Naruto’s mind, like the way that Sasuke’s been looking at him lately, or the way he can’t possibly tell what’s on Sasuke’s mind most of the time—but it’s close enough, kinda.

Sasuke huffs a breath between his teeth and tilts his head, turning it just enough so that their noses brush. He looks radiant in that singularly intimidating way, you know, like—like sunlight swimming around a void, or something. “Is that supposed to be a response to my statement?”

“Yeah, a little,” Naruto tells him, and he can feel Sasuke’s breath against his lips. It’s warm, warmer than the tip of his nose by a longshot. “It’s supposed to lead into my next question about whether or not you wanna shower with me.”

Sasuke’s eyes are searching his face contemplatively. Naruto watches them draw lines around the shape of Naruto’s eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, across the curve of his mouth, around the jut of his chin. The space around them is warm, even though the living space itself is more-or-less freezing. The wood stove in the teahouse will need restocking before bed, for sure. Naruto can tell by the pallow of Sasuke’s cheeks.

“Will you let me wash your hair?” Oh, that’s a weakness—Sasuke’s methods of reciprocity hit Naruto right in the chest, grabbing his solar plexus hard enough to pop it out of place and throw it against the closest flat surface with a wet slap. 

“Um, duh.” Naruto meets his eyes with his best solemn face, schooling everything about his expression back into smoothness. “Can I kiss you now?” 

Sasuke laughs and tilts his head just a little bit further—and then Naruto can taste the laugh on his lips, his teeth, his tongue. It’s dry in their apartment and their lips are chapped beyond belief, especially with the way that Naruto’s always chewing on his own, but the kiss is perfect. They’re always perfect in a different way, even if it wouldn’t be perfect with anyone else. It relaxes Naruto’s muscles, drops the tension from his shoulders like too-heavy coat, weakens his knees just enough to remind him why he’s even here in the first place.

Sasuke’s arm shifts from his shoulder, down his back, toward his front, and the knot at the front of Naruto’s hakama is undone, like magic. Sasuke’s dexterity is beyond reproach, like he doesn’t have to think about anything before his body just moves, entirely different than the way that Naruto’s does the same thing: clumsy, graceless, and with unrestrained enthusiasm. 

“You know,” Naruto says, stupefied and delirious with a kiss like that, as usual, “you kiss pretty good for a dead guy.”

Sasuke’s palm is still wet with dishwater when he shoves it against Naruto’s face, smothering his laugh with skin.

(Summer, or what passed for it in the Land of Snow, had been brief, like a sigh, and punctuated by a village with numerous open doors, letting in lukewarm breezes and birdsong. The tea shop is no exception, its single door propped open wide with a wooden sign, the entry bell ringing softly in response to the summer wind’s gentle touches, its fingers leaving nothing behind as it moved through the shop itself. 

An observer had sat near the entryway at a table bathed in sunlight, two birds perched comfortably on the table’s edge, preening their feathers against the warmth. The cushion underneath the watcher’s knees had been limited in decoration, but comfortable, at least as far as the birds themselves could tell. The summertime itself stretched further along the floorboards, traced the graining in the wood with smooth feet, and it listened.

The birds sung to the stranger of the coming autumn, lamented the way in which summer was only a held breath between a chilly spring and an almost freezing autumn. They told stories of where they’d been and who they’d seen. They’d spoken of the shadow behind the tea shop, sitting next to a cat that had been too shapely to be unfed, too lithe to be kept. The stranger nodded, letting the summer shift around his shoulders to pull at the edges of his well-worn cloak.

A ceramic cup of chilled oolong was placed on the table with no fanfare. Its temperature had been such that condensation was beading at the lip of the cup, catching the summer’s eye. 

A mouth, split wide in a smile, sunlight peeking out from behind teeth. “you know,” Naruto had said, and the season listened, the shape of the floorboards becoming a memory on its palms, “this is the most highly recommended tea we have at this time of year.”

The man had looked up, the color of his hair set fire by the light coming in through the window at his back.

“how much?” A whisper. The birds noted that it had been a welcome change—or rather, it had been a return to something softer, for him. 

“on the house.” The summer had felt unasked questions hit the table like torn paper, fluttering against its surface to collect dust. When the stranger-that-wasn’t pulled his hands out from underneath his cloak, one of the questions had caught on the pad of his thumb.

He’d held it there, pressed to the shape of the teacup, and said nothing.

It’d been answer enough.)

-

(“holy shit!” Newborn flora had barely been able to crawl from the thawing earth before the sun startled them with its enthusiasm, their fragile leaves curling against their stems with its energy. Flowers that had already had the sense to bloom had found their petals stuck to the steel plating of a samurai helmet, resting on a table in a tea shop, almost newly opened, in the grand scheme of things. “holy shit!”

The samurai had glanced around the tea shop with pale eyes, his hair tied in a tight tail at the base of his skull. A strip of cloth was tied around his forehead, unaffiliated with anyone that mattered. His affiliations now extended only as far as the helmet did.

As far as the spring had been concerned, it’d been three dead men in a tea shop, out of place, finding new ones.

“thought you were supposed to be dead,” the samurai said to the sun, the only indication of his nerves being the way he picked his mochi into piece, after piece, after piece.

“could say the same about you.” Sasuke had moved like vapor does, as though his feet never really needed to touch the ground in the first place. For the Land of Snow, the spring had found itself something kindred in the tea shop. 

“never had you pegged for a samurai,” the sunlight agreed, catching the attention of flower petals with its motion. Outside the open door, new growth turned its face toward his hands. 

The samurai had looked at them both. There’d been white-pink flower petals in his hair, a sign that he’d taken off his helmet to breathe sometime before he’d gotten there. A risk, with a recognizable face like his. “i figured i was proficient in taijutsu.” His eyes settled on Sasuke, and an eyebrow arched, a little imperiously. “thought maybe i should take up swordsmanship.” 

Sasuke held his gaze only barely. There’d been something heavy on his mind, like a cloud filled with rain. 

A breeze pulled itself into the tea shop, catching the sunshine’s question in its path, said softly, almost secretly, to the empty eyes of the samurai helmet, “are you happier?”

The samurai had blinked, and in his eyes the sunlight glittered. In the space between these two moments, Sasuke’s eyes had dropped to the floor. 

“yeah,” the samurai replied, nodding once. “i think so.” His eyes had been clear when he’d continued, “how about you?”

When the sun grinned, he became so young, much younger than he was only a heartbeat before. Even with the time that had passed, the spring remembered the boyishness with perfect clarity. Perhaps the samurai did too.

“i don’t think i’ve been happier,” he’d said. The flowers had known he’d been telling the truth.

When next the spring breathed in, Sasuke was nowhere to be seen.)

Sasuke startles awake, as usual.

The dream that shoves him upright is always vague, but consistent. The shapes and sounds and sensations are forgettable—the feelings, of course, stick in his throat, hooked into the skin of his tonsils. They burn a path up from his chest to gather behind his teeth, tasting a little bit like bile when they flood onto the flat of his tongue.

Even with as thick as they are, the feelings are hard to distinguish, but Sasuke knows them anyway, just like he knows the shadows that linger at the edge of his periphery, even if his periphery has, obviously, been better. When he works his jaw around them, they bend into familiar shapes: i hate you so fucking much, i’ll kill you; i love you so much i can’t stand it; i love you so much i don’t know what to do with myself. 

He runs a hand down his face, because it’s the middle of the night. His fingertips come away bloody because he’d been startled awake—as usual. The space beside him is empty, because Naruto had woken up first. It’s a routine, almost down to the timestamp, the way this plays out; Naruto’s inability to sleep these days paired with Sasuke’s inherent neuroticism make for an interesting combination after dark, no matter how many bruises Naruto bites into Sasuke’s collarbone, or how tight Sasuke clings onto Naruto’s shoulders when he holds him like that.

No—that’s not a fair way to spin it. It’s getting better, the pattern of things. There are nights where Sasuke startles awake to see Naruto looking at him with that doofy, worried look on his face. Or there are nights where Sasuke wakes up first and gets to hold Naruto’s face or drag his knuckle along his cheek. Occasionally, there are even mornings where they wake up at practically the same time (rare) and Naruto kisses Sasuke’s nose (far less rare) and then shows off the dimples in his cheeks near his scars.  

Sasuke slides his legs out from under the comforter and brings himself to standing. The floorboards are fucking freezing, but not as cold as they could be. Naruto must’ve thrown more wood into the stove downstairs, with the way the air doesn’t bite at Sasuke’s cheeks as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He grabs Naruto’s jacket off of the floor where it always ends up and shrugs it on anyway, before he flicks on the bathroom light and squints against its brightness. The bathroom itself is a half-blurry mixture of surfaces and metallic finish, a combination of failing-and-standard sight. 

The mirror tells him what he pretty much already knew: his left eye is weeping blood, a classic response to a classic behavior. It means he’d tried to open the Sharingan in his sleep, for whatever reason, and this eye hadn’t been doing well before he’d switched them out. It’s hardly surprising that it struggles to function like this.

He splashes cold water on his face, paying special attention to his left eye and the cheek underneath it, clearing out the blood that’s starting to dry in his eyelashes. It’s quick work, the rhythm of all this, and any sleep that had been tying down Sasuke’s joints has slipped to the bathroom floor, left behind when he turns off the light to go find Naruto. It’s the middle of winter in the Land of Snow, so it’s no real guess as to where he’ll be standing—he says that it’ll probably never get old, watching snowfall in the almost-pitch darkness, broken only by streetlights and the glimpse of wood-burning stoves through windows.

Sasuke can smell incense as he cuts through the shoebox of their living room, passing by what passes for a shrine in a living space this size. Naruto’s mother looks like she’s smiling at him, which is uncomfortable. He doesn’t look at his own parents’ photo, framed off to the right; this is more Naruto’s area of expertise and, again, it’s uncomfortable.

His footsteps are silent against the stairs, a reminder about how difficult the death of old habits has been, can be, will be. They don’t creak when he hops the last two, and the tea shop only settles comfortably around him as he walks across the dining room on bare feet. It’s warmer down here, closer to the stove, regardless of the fact that heat rises, or whatever. The stove in the corner crackles softly—definitely refilled, certainly by Naruto.

Sasuke pulls on his boots, left very particularly by the front door, and lets the entry bell announce his exit.

The winter numbs his face almost instantly.

(That second winter had been unsurprising in its ferocity, though the building underneath the snowfall had groaned, a little, with the weight of it—the snow, the ice, and the snow again. The snow had just been relarning what it was like to have interlopers in this space outside its influence, and the murmur-rattle-chime of it all had been disorienting, had been disruptive. 

But some of the winter—some of the snow—had been tucked under the awning of the teashop-in-repair, not yet packed down by boots, or stones, or ice. It hadn’t yet melted and frozen and gathered again. It had only waited, pressed against the windows closest to the shadow of a cash register, fluttering in time with the almost-rusted ring when the register open-and-shut.

The sun’s personification breathed out a curse on a flame-curled tongue and was caught in a headlock by a flowered tree, her forearm tucked under his chin, her bicep pressed to the back-and-side of his throat. They’d been laughing, as far as the wintertime could tell. They’d been too far away to catch their laughter against the glass. 

Sasuke had been watching them almost as closely as the snow had been.

“he seems happy.” The artist spoke like curling paper, dried stiff with ink. The winter air only caught the words through the window itself. The wood around it had swallowed the words whole, refusing to let them go. “i wish i was surprised.”

Sasuke had said nothing. Or if he had, it’d been too quiet for the snow to even catch the memory of.

The pause between them had been frozen, three inches thick. The snow outside hadn’t known what weight it carried, but it was something—and it existed outside the reach of the sunlight’s smile and the flowered tree’s laughter. The floorboards creaked beneath the ice they’d shared.

“he’d’ve hated it,” the artist had spoken again, sharper than the first time, the pull of a brush against old parchment. “being hokage.”

The ice shuddered. It cracked, from the bottom.

“oh yeah?” Sasuke had leaned against the back wall, his bones speaking to the snowfall through the tea shop’s frame. “how do you figure?”

A scoff, the flutter of bristles casting aside excess droplets. “he’d only spend his time thinking about you. what you were doing, if you were hurt or not, if there was something he could’ve done.” The artist pitched his voice up just a little, thinning it out with the edge of a knife. “‘what good is a hokage if—’”

“‘—they can’t even save one friend.’ i’m aware.”

The ice cracked a second time, from the top. Whatever was pressing against it had increased its force.

Sasuke had shifted against the wall. Maybe he’d swallowed. The outside hadn’t been able to tell. “i can’t see why he likes you.”

The artist laughed, pressing an ink-dark thumb against his bottom lip. The shape of it had been unclear against the cold-fogged window, but it’d been clear enough to imagine. “just because he likes you doesn’t make you a good person.”

“case in point.” It might’ve been a laugh, in another life. Even then, it’d been close.

“case in point,” the artist agreed.

There may have been more that would’ve been said in that moment. They could’ve said anything else in that space, with the length of ice between them. The artist may have been about to see if Sasuke knew what Naruto had given up to be out in the middle of nowhere. Sasuke may have asked the artist what he’d known about the time before this, long after Sasuke had decided to bury himself alive, out of the sun’s sight. 

But instead, hair like flower petals had flashed before the window with sunlight to follow. The snow had been unable to feel anything but laughter, anything but shouting, anything but a welcome home said painfully. The tea shop’s frame had settled under the snow, had creaked at its joints, and had sighed out warmth against the cold. 

Behind the cash register, the tea shop had been able to feel the shape of a box of tea leaves tucked away on a shelf. While the tea shop had lived many lives as different things, it had known this—they’d been tea leaves dried for artian’s ink. 

They’d been wrapped in what could’ve been kindness in a different story.

In this one, it had likely been respect.) 

The heartbeat that underlies moments like these guides the teacup from Naruto’s hand into Sasuke’s like clockwork, ticking in the marrow of their bones. The teacup cuts through the chill with absolute impunity, which means that Naruto can’t have been out here that long, and Sasuke presses it to both of his cheeks to soak it up. 

“Smells like beef broth,” he says, and it feels like there’s steam coming out of his mouth with the teacup so close to his face. 

“That’s because it is,” Naruto tells him, sipping on his own teacup, using his prosthetic as a coaster as Sasuke leans against the side of the tea shop next to him. The snow huffs against the soles of his boots. “I was hungry, and this seemed like it would be toasty and satisfy my insatiable hunger.”

Sasuke takes a drink that almost scalds his tongue, but he can feel it warming its way down his throat and into his stomach. “Not a bad idea.”

“Well,” Naruto’s breath is smoky in the cold, his body temperature running too high to smother most of the time, “last time I made tea, you were like ‘this is disgusting’, because I oversteeped it or something, and it was, again, quote, ‘literally unpalatable.’”

“It was,” Sasuke says, taking another sip, “but I didn’t say it like that.”

Naruto snickers, sending clouds of white around his nose and mouth and cheekbones, catching frosted glimmers in his eyelashes. He’s beautiful, painfully so, and Sasuke remembers that at least a million times a day. Naruto will wink at a customer and Sasuke’s heart will quiver in the most unsubtle way, and it will remind him. Over, and over, and over again, it’ll remind him: god, i— 

He touches the shell of Sasuke’s ear, looping almost-too-long hair around his forefinger as he traces down Sasuke’s cheek. “Your hair’s getting long. Want me to cut it for you?” 

The softness is Naruto’s features pulls Sasuke’s stomach out from his body, leaving only a windfall where it ought to have been, and if he hadn’t been propped up against the tea shop, he’d probably go weak at the knees right about now. He takes another drink of molten beef broth to dislodge the stone that has made its home on the back of Sasuke’s tongue, threatening to close off his windpipe. 

Something overwhelming is crawling up, and up, and out of him: god, i— 

“Yeah, actually.” He sounds exactly like he’s supposed to when he speaks, and for that he is infinitely grateful. “It’s been starting to drive me up a wall.”

Naruto lets go, laughing, and brings his teacup back to his mouth, dusting snow from the windowsill behind him as he adjusts his position against the tea shop’s facade. There’s still some tiredness at the edge of his mouth, a little bit of exhaustion painted beneath his eyes, but even then he’s able to look comfortable, out in the freezing cold without a jacket around his shoulders. 

He’s always managed to look comfortable, even when his life had been under fire—maybe especially then. 

Sasuke clears his throat against the stone that’s struggling to move. It’s been there all day. All day, all week, a long time. It’s a thought and a question and every time he looks at Naruto’s face, he thinks about it. If he keeps thinking about it, he’ll run. If he speaks about it, he’ll die.

When he clears his throat a second time, it sounds like a hammer pulling back on a pistol. 

“You remember when I went to the store this week to get more milk?” Sasuke asks, pressing the teacup against the side of his throat for strength, for warmth.

“Sure do,” another laugh, this one more like a wheeze against the chill. “You were pissed about your stocking oversight, and were, like, going to swear yourself blue.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s not the important part.” Maybe the broth idea had been better than tea. He can almost feel its liquid warmth in his toes. “You know that elderly lady that owns the place?” Sasuke breathes and his voice doesn’t tremble. “She wanted me to ask how my husband was doing, since you never get sent on shopping runs.”  

It’s kind of comical, really—or it would be, if Sasuke’s hindbrain wasn’t threatening to throw him out into the street at a dead sprint. But Naruto has spit his beef broth onto the snow, coughing, and Sasuke is rooted to the spot, unable to go anywhere. It’s a feeling so far from panicked that he doesn’t even have a name for it, because the only thing panic has ever done is make him run away. He’s never quite been startled into stillness before.

The beef broth hisses into instant freeze against the snow. It steams into the nighttime.

Naruto’s cheeks are pink when he says, “oh, well, who could blame her, right? We share a last name,” which had been Naruto’s idea (“u-zu-ma-ki, u-chi-ha, so u-zu-ha. perfect, right?”), “we live together, i call you gorgeous all the time. Honestly, who wouldn’t make that assumption? I mean, you know, besides the fact that I think people still try to give you their number—”

If he doesn’t stop him, he’ll never stop talking. It’s his nervous habit, far off on the other end of the spectrum from Sasuke, who will literally shut his mouth for the rest of time, if given the chance. Naruto never gives him the chance; so Sasuke returns the favor, and tries to keep Naruto from talking himself to death.

Sasuke coughs up the stone in his throat and lets it hit the snow like deadweight.

“So,” he says, his breath competing with the beef broth currently still scalding his palms, “do you wanna get married?” 

This time, Naruto has nothing in his mouth to spit-take into the snow. It’s only silence, and the way Naruto is looking at him, and the screaming of his own abject stupidity in his ears. There’s a siren pressing against his eardrums, and he really, honestly, might just drop dead here. Naruto’s blinking, and his eyes are shining, and his jaw has gone slack with a complete lack of brain activity. He’s still breathtaking, even with an expression that could be described as almost vacant, if his eyes weren’t sharp enough to cut glass. 

“What?” The question lays itself atop Sasuke’s own, a snowball dropped from a low height. It barely even whispers when it hits the ground. god, Sasuke thinks, an echo of an echo of a thought, naruto, i—

“Do you want to get married?” Snow has started falling, casting shadows in the street lighting, and they look almost like teardrops on Naruto’s face.

The closest municipality is two hours away by truck, which Sasuke knows better than he knows the standard time to steep jasmine tea, at this point. He’s checked with town visitors, checked maps, checked online. It’s a two-hour drive and the paperwork is relatively simple. They would need their fake IDs, tucked away in a locked drawer upstairs. The municipal clerk could witness, especially if they didn’t ask any questions, like why are you sharing a name already? 

Sasuke’s thoughts run circles around themselves and begin to grow teeth, drawing blood when they get too close to one another.

“Sasuke,” Naruto says his name like a holy thing, and it’s so unbelievably romantic that the only possible option is that he’s going to say no. He’s going to say, he’s going to say— “I love you so fucking much.”

There’s a period after that sentence. It’s i love you so fucking much, not i love you so fucking much that or i love you so fucking much and. It is only itself, a statement of fact. 

god, i love you, says his own voice in his own head, a record set free from its place on a dusty shelf for special occasions, i love you so much, so much, so much. He’s either going to vomit, or—

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Naruto’s hands are on his face and his prosthetic is warmer than he expected, but then again, it was recently still being utilized as a coaster for the hottest beef broth on earth. “Are you okay?”

Or he’s going to cry.

Sasuke drops his teacup and hears it break against the frozen ground as he presses his hand over his eyes. “It’s just really fucking dry.” That’s the worst lie. That is the worst, most obvious, most feeble lie he’s ever told in his entire life, and that is including the whole thing about whims and severing bonds and whatever other shit he’s said in moments where his heart was being smothered with both his hands. “It’s dry and it’s fucking cold.”

Naruto’s hands are disgustingly gentle when he pulls Sasuke’s fingers away from his eyes. There’s no blood on his palms. “Are you okay? You’re acting like the love of your life just asked you to get married.” There’s those dimples, tucked in his cheeks. Sasuke could kiss them, if his nose wasn’t running. Gross.

“Maybe I’m acting like the love of my life didn’t give me a response?” It’s either let his nose run, or sniffle. He’s not really sure that he wants to do either.

“Oh, fuck,” and there it is. Naruto’s cheeks go scarlet, and then it’s all the way down his neck. “I mean, duh, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you now, if you want. I—of course we can’t invite anyone, or anything, but I think that—what, you thought I wouldn’t marry you? We’re basically—I mean, I just said we’re practically married.”

“You think I’m just going to assume what your answer is?” He has to sniffle, and he does. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it makes it a little less notable. “Like just forego the whole process?”

“I just—” That complicated look that Naruto will wear sometimes comes and goes in a flash, the flicker of a lightbulb that might be on its last legs. It’s the look he gets when Sasuke asks if he’s feeling okay, like he’d just decked him right across the face. “I thought you were going to do that thing where you say, ‘oh, i have robbed you of your youth by dragging you out into the middle of fucking nowhere and forcing you to live with me in this domestic nightmare.’”

Sasuke scoffs. “It’s never sounded like that.”

Naruto’s eyebrows rise. “It started sounding like that the sixth time we fought about it.”

(“i said that when we die, we’d be able to understand each other,” the seasons remembered, the words thrown out wide, shaking limbs free of snow, and flowers, and leaves, “so let me fucking understand you!”)

Naruto holds Sasuke’s face again, drawing his thumbs underneath Sasuke’s eyes. Both of his thumbs are cold. “Let’s get married.” 

Sasuke tilts his head to press a quick kiss to Naruto’s flesh and blood palm. “I love you,” he says there, and it makes his ears feel too warm.

“I love you back,” Naruto tells him, and he doesn’t make mention of Sasuke wearing his jacket when he warms his living hand against Sasuke’s throat, pressing his little finger against the backmost line of his pulse, “Uzuha-san.”

It’s normal, then, when Sasuke rolls his eyes, huffing out a breath of not-quite-warm air through his nose. He opens his mouth to speak, to offer to go inside, to suggest that maybe he go in to get gloves to clean up the broken teacup, but Naruto stops him, casting a glance toward the second floor of the tea shop, right where their living room should be.

“Oh,” Naruto says, and there’s an epiphany happening there. “We have to tell our parents.”

“What?” Sasuke dips his hand against Naruto’s hip for warmth. “No. You talked to them already. I smelled incense. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“We have to tell them now. Can you imagine? I mean, I can’t, but like, I’m pretty sure my folks would wreck my whole week if I didn’t tell them.” Naruto’s smile is small, and earnest, and beautiful. Another one of those reminders. “Your parents might flip! We have to tell them.”

Those stupid, shining eyes. Those stupid dimples. The unfathomable length of his eyelashes. 

“Okay,” Sasuke lets it go, because there’s something sleepy pulling at his body. Authentic tiredness, maybe. He’s so unfamiliar with it that it’s hard to identify. “But after I get the teacup. I’m not leaving shards of ceramic everywhere.”

Naruto’s laugh scatters across the empty street, hitting the silence with the force of a rock through a window. Sasuke’s heart skips. His heart skips, and his arm moves out, and he pulls Naruto forward, just a little. Sasuke’s limited height difference doesn’t mean much when they’re this close, but it never really does when it comes to Naruto’s gravitational pull determines most things anyway.

They kiss, and it’s freezing.

Naruto laces their fingers together.

Sasuke can taste laughter when he opens his mouth.

(It hadn’t been the first autumn that had been aware of itself, but it had been significant nonetheless.

The trees at the topmost edge of the Valley of the End would’ve been an array of burnt colors, if they hadn’t been pulled into the chasm with the ruined statues. There had been stones upon stones stacked against one another, brought low by a cataclysmic force. The air had been electric with discharged chakra, loose leaves scattered by the updraft from the waterfall. 

Water beaded on faces, on bodies, on clothes, all obscured by fallen rock. 

“hey,” the autumn heard a whisper, carried on the waterfall’s mist up and over the lip of the Valley, “i know you can’t go back there.” It’d been akin to the sound of sand against concrete, a familiar murmur of the Land of Wind—but it’d been different: exhausted but jubilant, like it had been trying to be louder than it was currently able to be.

The waterfall whispered a response that had been indistinct. The leaves hadn’t been able to catch it either.

“how about we leave?” The same sand-and-concrete voice. The autumn had known this voice in a different shape, had felt it reverberate through this Valley before, could recognize it, maybe, if the waterfall hadn’t been so loud. 

“what, just… go?” That time, the whispered response had been clearer, had been clinging to the stem of a leaf that fell to the jagged edge where a statue had once been. “with all that… shit you still have to do?”

The waterfall had thundered on, so long that the autumn wondered if the conversation had kept going, out of its influence, out of its sight. But then the waterfall lifted up the sound again, the mist passing it amongst itself until the autumn could pull it from the moisture there: “for all anyone knows, we’re dead,” said the sand. “if we just go, who’s to say we survived in the first place?”

It might’ve been a wheeze the autumn heard, but it hadn’t been sure. It listened anyway.

“where would we go?” The electric pop before a storm. That’s what that voice had been. Static, crawling up the surface of the waterfall, dissipating against the earth above.

“wherever you want.” The rustle of clothes, lost to the roar of the Valley. The groan of battered bodies, swallowed by the stones, the uprooted trees, the season itself. “as far away as you want.” Softer, even, than the first time the voice had spoken. If the autumn hadn’t made itself brittle at the top of the Valley’s mouth, the voice would’ve been lost entirely. It was as if the words had been spoken against another’s mouth.

“it’s probably really late to say this,” the static spoke, dying before it reached the Valley’s edge. The stone had hummed with its timbre instead, “but i’m pretty sure i’m in love with you.”

Rocks had shifted against one another, screaming out a sound that lasted eons, maybe. The autumn hadn’t been sure how to measure time so incrementally. It had never needed to, before. 

By the time stones had settled, only the waterfall’s voice remained.)

[rpgmgames]

March’s Featured Game: acai cOrner

DEVELOPER(S): moca & Mitty ENGINE: RPG Maker 2003 GENRE: RPG, Adventure, Surreal SUMMARY: acai cOrner is about Mizuki, someone who has fallen into the sewers and who happens to find their favorite electric guitar! Upon obtaining the guitar, Mizuki turns into a magical girl who must defend herself against spooky sewer creatures using the guitar's magical powers.

Download the game here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *moca: Hi, I'm moca, a Starbucks barista aspiring to be a writer and game developer. I have been making RPG Maker games for about six years now, with my first two projects being a Pokémon fan-game and a Corpse Party fan-game. Those two happen to be my two favorite franchises as well! I have also created the RPG Maker game MOMOKA (IGMC 2018). I have founded a group called 'Team Shibu!' dedicated to making horror games! Our current project is a RPG Maker survival horror game named 'Katharsis'.

*Mitty: Hey there, I'm Mitty! I've been working with Moca on several games for a while now, helping with mostly graphics! Please support him, as he is very kind and hardworking!! I'm also the main developer of a game called "Marinette", so I hope you'll check that one out too, when the demo is released!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *moca: acai cOrner is an experimental spooky RPG Maker game that only uses 4 colors! You are a magical girl with a just-as-magical electric guitar that you use to fend off spooky sewer slimes and other weird enemies you find in the surreal sewer system. It's half exploration and half RPG battles. What inspired me to create acai cOrner initially was to actually get myself back into the groove of making games again. I had just recently came back from a hiatus and found myself having trouble getting back into the development of 'Katharsis'. That's when I decided to make a short, experimental game to get the juices flowing.

How long did you work on your project? *moca: acai cOrner was finished in just about under a month!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *moca: I had always wanted to make a Yume Nikki-like game and thought this was the perfect opportunity to try. So for the more surreal parts of acai cOrner, I took inspiration from Yume Nikki and a Homestuck random planet generator. Gameplay wise though, I took inspiration from a RPG Maker game called Ghost Suburb 0! I really loved how unique it was, especially with the timer and no dialogue aspect. I knew I wanted to do something with a timer, so I tried a rogue-like approach with the gameplay.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *moca: If you played any of my previous projects, you know that acai cOrner is vastly different than anything that I have ever done. I'm so used to using words to describe the violence in my games, so when it came to making the story, I had a lot of trouble. It wasn't until I looked deeper into why people like these types of games that I had realized that people like to interpret the story on their own, guided by exploration, to enjoy these games. After that, I let loose a bit and made something more open-ended. Another challenge was the difficulty. I was the only one playtesting the game, and since I knew the game front and back, and had no trouble getting the ending. That's why when I sent out demos to friends, I was really discouraged to hear that the experience was mostly frustrating and rage quitting-inducing haha. I worked closely with their feedback and made changes accordingly to make the experience less frustrating but still difficult. *Mitty: I think I was going through a weird artblock during the development of the game, so for some of the illustrations and backdrops for each area's fights, Moca sketched out the basic idea of what it could look like, and I just put my spin on it! It made the work much easier and faster!

Did any aspects of your project change over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *moca: Well, the game was meant to be short so there wasn't room for any big changes. Sure there are a couple gameplay changes and enemy tweaks, but not anything mindblowing. I added in the idea of making four surreal worlds kinda last minute, if that counts, haha.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *moca: In the beginning, it was just me! I didn't think I was gonna need any outside help since this was supposed to be a relatively easy project to release, but the further in development I got, the more I realized the game needed pizazz. The four color limitation wasn't enough for my lack of graphical talent. That's when I contacted Mitty about helping with the games battle backdrops and sprite animations! She is also a member of Team Shibu!, but we have collabed together even before that. Her art really made the project shine and I enjoy working with them on games! *Mitty: Moca contacted me, and I wanted to help! We are working together on another game called Katharsis, so we are quite familiar with each other. I like working with other people, especially if I'm not in the lead, it releases a bit of the pressure I feel sometimes ahaha

What is the best part of developing a game? *moca: To me, it's seeing everything come together and just... working exactly the way you envisioned it. As a game developer, you section the game off into parts to make development much more organized and faster but seeing it all come together in the end. Pure bliss *chefs kiss*. *Mitty: I like a bit of everything, but currently I've been enjoying animating and spritework, as well as map assets' designs a little more than usual!

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *moca: Mm... not really! I have an idea of what the engine can do, so when I do go out of my way to player other RPG Maker games, it's usually for writing inspiration rather than gameplay inspiration. Ghost Suburb 0 is something that I accidentally stumbled upon and immediately fell in love with it the minute I played it haha. (Fun fact: the developer of Ghost Suburb 0 is apart of Team Shibu! and is in charge of monster design!)

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *moca: There is a rat in the game that is internally called 'Ratthew' who leads you into a funky room. I relate them the most. *Mitty: I relate to the land sharks the most on a spiritual level. They are pretty much confused beans, and that's very relatable.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *moca: I wish I added more random spooky events and trap rooms. But the game was also supposed to be short and I knew that if I kept adding more and more things, development was never gonna end haha.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *moca: Well, by the time this interview comes out, there should be a new update for the game. The update should include 100% custom music by a talented composer, and a nerf in difficulty. As for sequels, who knows! The next time you see acai cOrner may be in 3D.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *moca: Definitely the fan reaction! The satisfaction of seeing your work being noticed by people and actually enjoying makes me happy. It's also the relief of just... finishing something! *Mitty: For this particular project I was obviously looking forward to seeing what people said about the little animations and such ahaha! I also was curious about the reaction to the timed difficulty mechanic, I had never seen anything like that before Moca presented it to me, so I had no idea on what people's feedback would be.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *moca: How people will handle the difficulty. The game isn't supposed to be completed on your first playthrough, but in 2-3 playthroughs. There are rooms and places that are meant to waste your time that you should ideally skip the more you play. By later playthroughs, you should be shaving time and be better. I understand that it's not handled as best I could, but I think the experience should still be challenging and hopefully fun! *Mitty: I was a little conflicted on the timed mechanic, I loved it because it's pretty original and helps set an interesting athmosphere of worry and unease, and also seems to tell a bit of the vague story; and at the same time I don't like it much because I prefer more story-driven games and the vagueness mixed with the mechanic feels different from what I'm used to playing! I think it's more of a personal taste kind of thing, it was an experimental jam game, after all!

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *moca: Take it easy! Take short breaks throughout development. And most importantly, have fun. If it's a hobby and it's making you overly stressed, just take a step back!

Question from last month's featured dev @ressurflection: What would you say is the weakest part of your game development? *moca: Procrastination. I'm so bad at sticking to my own schedule, it's something that I try to keep in check when working with a team especially.

We mods would like to thank moca & Mitty for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out acai cOrner if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[dandelionflower]

Uhhh they both get snowed in in cafe thats about to close Freeing marinette gets a blanket from her bookbag and has to share with felix

[Send me Felinette prompts/requests]

“How wonderful it must be, not having a soulmate.”

That was what Marinette heard cooed over her cradle every night.

Of every possible soulmate connection, she had none of them, and her parents couldn’t be prouder.

“A life of your own,” her mother marveled, “never being pressured to chase after a Prince Charming that turns out to be less than charming.”

Marinette’s parents married outside of their soulmate bond. They met their soulmates, and they were both beautiful people, the stuff out of a cheesy romance novel for certain, but they felt a greater pull to each other.

Of course, people were enraged. Marriage outside of a soulmate bond? Unheard of!

Cruel theories popped up, claiming that the reason Marinette had no bond was because of this, a punishment for ignoring the ties of fate.

Her mother whispered to her, every night and every waking moment, that it wasn’t a punishment, wasn’t a problem, wasn’t a bad thing, not to have a soulmate. But in a world where blind dates were just sketching something on a palm, it was hard to believe.

Marinette still found herself on the receiving end of brutally harsh comments at school, usually by Chloe Bourgeois, who was born from a red string of fate bond, but whose parents parted ways after seeing the soul-tattoos on her leg. Andre supported his daughter. Audrey did not.

Kinder students theorized that Marinette wasn’t made for anyone, that she would never feel romantic attraction. Marinette knew, though, from every sigh that slipped through her mouth when a cute boy passed by, that it wasn’t true.

She wanted to have that unexplainable bond with someone, she prayed every night that she would find that special someone, but to no avail.

She had wasted almost ten years of her life over someone who didn’t exist, it was time to refocus, pick up a hobby. She adored the lovely clothes she saw in the fancy shops so she decided on trying her hand at designing.

Her first item; an easily portable blanket for the phantom chills she got at random times in the day.

—

“Disgusting, a child without a soulmate bond. Mark my words, he will be a disgrace to the family name.”

Those were the words Felix heard hissed at him from nearly birth.

His mother tried desperately to calm his father, to assure him of Felix’s inner worth.

But in the end, it wasn’t enough, and she filed for divorce, a phenomenon almost unheard of in a soulmate-centric society.

Felix was never going to be a disgrace to his father’s name, because he was raised with his mother’s.

He tried to ignore his lack of a soulmate, tried to tell himself that it wasn’t necessary in becoming a successful human being, but it got harder and harder with every day.

The final straw was when his mother met her true soulmate; it turned out that Felix’s father had staged their meeting, reading the words right off of her arm. She was married happily to their bodyguard in a matter of weeks.

Felix couldn’t take it, he couldn’t tolerate people looking down at him with distaste and pity. Poor boy. No soulmate, did you know?

He dove headfirst into soulmate studies, looking for anything, anything, doctors may have missed.

His only hope was his enhanced sensitivity to the cold, which could possibly mean he had a soulmate with a sensitivity to heat.

It was barely a shred of hope, but it was the only hope he had.

—

Marinette hunkered down in a large chair, drawing furiously in her sketchbook. She had two designs due for a contest next week and a commission for the week after.

It also didn’t help that she hadn’t had a chill in weeks, which meant that she would get an especially bad one soon.

Her only solace at the moment was coffee, black, in her secret place of inspiration; the Soulmate Garden, her favorite coffee shop.

It was just outside the community garden and was famously known for romantic but casual atmosphere, which made it a perfect place for first dates between soulmates.

Which meant tons of fashion that Marinette could gain inspiration from.

The dull chatter allowed her to sink into her notebook and draw whatever her heart desired.

But soon, the chatter faded and Marinette was left in almost complete silence. She didn’t notice. She didn’t notice the baristas leaving and locking the doors. She also didn’t notice the roaring storm outside, sending torrents of snow in piles against the door.

She was her work, she was in the zone.

A muffled “thump” was heard and Marinette looked up for the first time in hours to see a boy around her age, shivering on the floor.

—

This was it. This was how he’d die.

He knew everyone was leaving, before the storm snowed them all in, but he just couldn’t stop watching.

He looked at each person, and knew, knew what their soulmate bond was before even saying a word to them.

The bouncy adventurous girl in the corner? She was certain to see a red string handing from her finger.

The timid boy curled over his book? A black mark, soon to turn to color at the touch of his soulmate.

The snarky teenager, gossiping with his friends? He drew on his arms every night in conversation with his soulmate.

It was amazing what people missed when they had a soulmate bond. They forgot about everyone else’s and focused entirely on their own, never noticing those hidden connections between personality and soulmate bond.

The girl in the big reading chair, huddled to her notebook, was a mystery. No soulmate bond seemed fit for her.

Felix shrugged it off. So he didn’t know, it wasn’t a problem.

He continued watching the people entering, but mostly leaving, the café until he was practically the only person in the building.

The barista, Lark, same song bond, had left, evidently not noticing Felix still in the room.

He shuffled to the doors and gave them a shove, wincing at the feeling of the cold glass. He tried again with all his strength but nothing. He was locked in.

The room steadily chilled and Felix felt his body spasming with shivers. He fell to the floor and shook softly, wishing he could have said goodbye to his mother.

Suddenly, a feeling of warmth enveloped him and he opened his eyes to find a blanket covering him, the girl from the chair standing over him with a worrisome expression.

“Are you okay?” She asked, crouching down beside him.

“Yes,” he sat up so he was eye level to her, “I just have an extreme sensitivity to the cold.”

“Hmm.” She looked like she was about to say something else, but stopped as shudders wracked through her body. She dove under the blanket with Felix and shuddered beside him.

“Sorry.” She looked up at him. “I get these weird cold shakes sometimes.”

“It’s understandable. Besides, this is your blanket.”

“So it’s fine if I stay under here with you?”

“Of course, it will likely help both of us keep warm.”

—

Felix woke up with the girl slumping on him, completely asleep.

A knock sounded from the door and a barista, Pierce, color blind bond, waved a set of keys in the air.

Felix quickly nudged the girl awake and stood, relief coursing through his veins.

It took some time for Pierce to push all of the snow from in front of the door, but once he did, Felix had never felt so happy to be cold.

“Frick.” The girl spoke staring down at her bag.

“What?”

She picked up her phone and shook it at him. “We had our phones the whole time.”

Felix looked at the phone for a long time before groaning.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Anyway, do you want to exchange numbers? You seem like a nice guy, and I’d like to see if we can be friends.”

“That would be nice.” Felix agreed and told her his number, receiving a text soon after.

Unknown number: Hi :D

Blanket guy: Hello.

They talked for a while before she had to leave and get home.

Felix went home as well, and after describing the situation to his mother and stepfather, chose to take the day to rest and reread one of his favorite soulmate research books.

It wasn’t long after he had finished that his phone buzzed.

Blanket girl: I just realized I have no idea what your name is.

Blanket girl: So,,,, hi, my name is Marinette, what’s your name?

Felix answered quickly and leaned back in his chair as he waited for her reply.

“Marinette...”

@julia-evergarden

[kisskissbanggang]

Young Wings

[6.8K Words/20min. Read -- Pilot!Bang Chan x Female Reader -- Fluff, Smut, Developing Relationship, Nervous Situations, Pantyhose, Grounded Flights]

Masterlist | Feedback

For all intents and purposes, you were having a pretty great morning, considering it was starting at 9:00 p.m. local time. Sea-Tac was a nice airport; not quite as nice as PDX with its straightforward layout and proximity to the city, but infinitely nicer than anything south of there on this coast. The new spinner luggage your parents had sent you for Christmas was still working like a dream, gliding over pavement and not getting stuck in escalator platforms. It also expanded, would come in handy on the off-chance you used a voucher to Miami and got to peruse the duty-free and discount shops not far from the airport (or from the beach.) You wouldn’t have many more mornings like this. This was your last month in the skies. Next month, you were starting a sparkling new desk job in administration. The idea sort of scared you, but the idea of leaving behind 9:00 p.m. mornings did sound nice. Nevertheless, you couldn't shake this prematurely homesick feeling, that leaving the skies would weigh on you like you were literally grounded. 

You grabbed a latte in your reusable mug from the only business still open for the night near your gate, a lonely and frazzled barista smiling gratefully at your tip as she wished you a good flight. There was no reason to doubt her -- it was going to be a good flight. You relished your opportunities to lead your cabin crew, especially on smaller flights where it was more like being with three friends for six hours. Even adding two more flight attendants made it feel more like being a club president, and always added an extra percentage of pressure. A nice, easy-going red-eye, a low pressure nonstop from Sea-Tac to Newark: a perfect start to your week. 

The gate was easy to spot, not only from having been through this airport multiple times, but from being the only gate overflowing with sleepy yuppies and bored college students. You held a quick huddle on the jet bridge, your small crew bright-eyed and as awake as they could manage. Veronica from San Francisco and Brian from Virginia had flown with you before, but Tia from D.C. was a new face and apparently only on her third month in the skies. You did a quick run-down of tasks before leaving Ronnie and Brian to make announcements and take tickets, before leading Tia down the jet bridge to help you set up before seating began. 

You wheeled your bags all the way back to the galley, stowing your luggage in the crew’s storage and getting a lay of the land on your way back up the aisle. Obviously, you'd been on plenty of airplanes, and an A320 was your bread and butter but, regardless, eyeing the bathrooms and emergency exits as your hands brushed the seat backs on your walk up the single aisle felt good. Plenty of people had their rituals, and yours just helped reinforce that even though this was work and work was hard, that people depended on you to do your job well. Really, the little ritual helped you love your job more with each flight. All in all, you would miss every part of it, the great with the awful. 

The intense musk of Aqua Velva hit the top of your sinuses like you inhaled water at the pool when you entered the cockpit, but it was the edge of menthol cigarettes that let you know who your pilot was before he even turned around. 

“Hey, Jay,” you greeted. 

“Hiya, kid,” he grinned back. 

Jay was nice, almost too nice for New Jersey, and you should've guessed he’d be here for a medium-haul back to Newark. The co-pilot, however, was new. Incredibly new. The young pilot slipped his cap off as he settled in and shrugged his jacket off, brushing his fingers back through soft waves of bleached blonde. His half-smile more resembled a smirk, with a small dimple in his cheek to boot. You knew the type. He probably started telling girls he was a pilot the moment he got out of high school. Probably bought all his flight time and didn’t have to waste time teaching to get more. 

“First Officer,” you nodded cordially, and he gave a friendly wave. That was a good sign. Some of these guys liked to imagine that they were a celebrity, even sitting on the right side. 

“Chan here is a baby,” Jay heartily laughed and slapped him on the back, “he might as well  just got his hours in. Lucky this isn’t his first day.”

“Right?” Chan chuckled lightly. 

“No, I mean for us,” Jay erupted into laughter, his head leaned back as he slapped the poor guy on the back again, “Nah, kid, I'm just kidding. It’s gonna be a good flight.”

“You’re in really good hands,” you nodded reassuringly. It was true. Jay was from a dying breed, a veteran that got his wings flying in the Air Force -- only, when his breed was first introduced, they’d flown props in Germany, not jets in Vietnam like he did. Regardless of how you felt about his role in it, you had to admit it gave the older man some grit, and a cool head under pressure probably since he first started. 

“Let the kid greet the passengers with you,” Jay suggested, “we're looking at a fifteen minute delay while we finish de-icing, and we'll get the pre-flight done with plenty of time. I never get to greet passengers pre-flight. And can I please get a coffee before take-off? Last I tried getting it myself Ronnie damn near bit my head off. ”

You couldn't say no, right? Not without looking like an absolute jerk. Chan stood tall next to you, his cap back on because the couple of kids on the flight would love it. A few regulars greeted you by name, already half-asleep. More reasons to love red-eyes: almost the whole cabin is out cold, even more so in the winter, it seemed. Almost no one to demand colder soda with less ice or not-so-secretly pinch you as you passed by in the aisle. You looked back over at the First Officer. He really couldn't be much younger than you -- he could really even be older than you -- but Jay was right. He was a kid as far as career time went. 

Your crew was batty as you finished the safety spiel and joined them in the rear of the plane. 

“Who's the new guy?” Brian asked as he buckled himself into the jumpseat. 

“An actual fetus,” Ronnie rolled her eyes, “did he hit on you?”

“Is he nice?” Tia asked curiously. 

“First Officer Chan is nice,” you assured everyone, “and Jay is up there handling everything, anyhow.”

“The Captain called me Kid,” Tia raised an eyebrow as she quietly grabbed some snacks out of her bag. 

“He calls everyone Kid,” Ronnie waved her off, “he only stopped calling himself Papa Bear a couple years ago.”

“Weird call sign, right?” Brian asked as he carefully sipped from his coffee during taxi. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, “but I've heard worse. He swears he got the name after saving some kids.”

“Really?” Brian laughed, “he told me it was from keeping a grunt with a broken leg safe in the jungle for three days until help arrived.”

You all shared a hushed giggle fit during take-off. Once you hit altitude, you unbuckled, grabbing Tia and leading her with you to First Class to take drink orders while Ronnie and Brian handled Economy. You made a big show out of taking a vote on whether or not to turn the cabin lights off, and wished everyone a goodnight when a unanimous amount of hands shot up. You rounded up drink orders from the few passengers still awake and reconvened in the rear of the plane to grab everything. Drink service now, then snacks halfway through, then cleanup at the end. Tia was thankfully adept with the beverage cart, careful not to knock any ankles on her way up and down the aisle. Everything went by breezily, satisfying you to no end as you locked up the carts in the galley and buckled back in. Thankfully, you might even be able to catch a brief nap before snack service. You slipped off your low heels, stretching your toes as you closed your eyes and let the pitch and roll of the plane carry you to sleep. 

The sensation that awoke you was something you’d only been familiar with in bed -- the distinct feeling of surprising yourself awake. The plane was rumbling through some turbulence. You sighed as you checked your watch and nestled back into your seat, grumbling about being woken up as the plane rocked hard again. More grumbles sounded down the aisle as some other passengers were awakened. You quickly unbuckled, getting up to press the seatbelt sign and get a look around before you sat back down. The cabin jostled and shook, making it difficult to fall back asleep. This would be hard to miss, you decided. The moment you were finally able to close your eyes, you were rudely awakened once again by another distinct sensation -- this time of falling in a dream, the sheer drop in your stomach feeling eerily familiar. Only problem was, you were falling. 

You couldn’t be sure how exactly how long the plane dropped. It could've been three seconds, five seconds. It couldn’t have been ten seconds, but it still felt like an astonishing amount of time. Clear air turbulence, you’d heard in passing. Plenty of people told you that if you flew long enough, you’d get to experience it. Even Jay mentioned it to you once or twice, you were sure. Your ass thunked hard into the jumpseat, the skeleton of the plane groaning around you as it regained momentum. The moment had passed but was still incredibly present. Masks had dropped, overhead bins had popped open, luggage strewn all over passengers and the aisle. A few passengers who had slept through everything without buckling their lapbelts -- you could see one, halfway laying in the aisle and groggily cursing after having been bounced into the short ceiling. Of course this only happened a month before you were leaving. Thankfully, Jay seemed to have gotten the plane back on track, and you could focus on getting this sorted. 

Jay. 

You’d still gotten no word from the cockpit. The least Jay would’ve done by now is beep the telephone headset in the galley to ask if everyone was alright. He’d done it in lighter conditions. Now you carefully unbuckled, rallying your crew to get to work. Everyone followed you down the aisle, stopping to get the lights on and tend to passengers as you made your way into the cockpit. Thankfully the most damage for the moment appeared to be spilled coffee, but to your curiosity, balance still seemed off in the cabin. You pushed open the cockpit door and gasped, finding Jay slumped in his seat, a concerning drip of blood congealing under a deep bruise on his forehead. In the right-hand seat, First Officer Chan was attempting to hold it together. He shot you a concerned and crazed look. 

“What happened?!” You asked, suddenly distressed as you kicked the door closed behind you and tended to Jay. 

“Turbulence, then clear air turbulence, and the Captain cracked his head on the steering console. I’m thinking it was the air coming off the Rockies as we passed.”

“Are you alright?”

“Fine enough, despite how fubar this whole thing is. How is it out there?” He asked. 

“Fine enough,” you agreed, “what about the plane? We need to get Jay to a doctor and I promise he’s not the only one.”

“I agree. I’m just trying to figure this out. We can ask for a gate at Great Falls.”

“Awesome, let’s do that.”

“But my monitors are telling me a turbofan is beginning to fail from the fall.”

“What’s closer?”

“Helena, I think? I've heard of it but never flown into it.”

“It’s worth a try. Ask ATC for a gate and I'm sure they’ll get you in there.” You turned to leave, to scramble your team and get everyone prepared for landing before Chan desperately reached back and grabbed for you, only managing to get ahold of the hem of your skirt.

“Please don’t leave,” he sighed, “I’m a mess and landing still makes me anxious for some stupid reason.”

“Not stupid,” you reassured him with a hand on his shoulder, “that’s why you put in all this time as First Officer first before anyone expects you to.”

“Here,” he looked over his shoulder and handed you a headset and a flight manual, “can you page ATC for me while I do this? I'm on the brink of losing it if I'm being honest.”

“Of course.” You patted his shoulder again, now feeling bad for being so judgemental before. You didn't know this guy, and he was turning out to be perfectly capable and reasonable. The headset crackled to life, getting ATC and explaining your situation before asking for a gate at the smaller airport. Once you got clearance, you weren’t far off. You paged back to the rear of the plane, finally getting Ronnie to pick up and catching her up to speed. It was reassuring to hear her voice behind you out in the cabin, beginning to prep and organize everyone for landing. 

“I wasn't listening,” Chan sheepishly admitted, “how bad is it out there?”

“Of 198 souls on board, all are still alive,” you paused with a smile at the relieved sigh spilling out of Chan’s chest, “there’s three apparent injuries, a couple broken pairs of eyeglasses… And the Captain.”

Chan grit his teeth for a moment. “Fine,” he said, “If the Captain is the worst then that’s the best I could hope for right now.” 

You pulled down the jumpseat behind Chan and stayed during landing and taxi, keeping a soft but firm hand on his shoulder, but you couldn't help but wonder why: were you comforting him or yourself? Thankfully, your landing kept you from dwelling on it. Despite his trepidation, his landing was excellent. Outside, the blinking white and red lights of ambulances could be seen on the tarmac. Most of your regulars grumbled as they exited the plane, already hurrying to find new flights. You gave Chan one more comforting squeeze on the shoulder. 

“Good landing, First Officer,” you smiled. His returned smile was small as you opened the cockpit door and were instantly pulled into a hug by your crew. You all deplaned, luggage in hand and watching solemnly as Jay was carted off by EMT’s. An older man with a badge approached you. Thankfully, not NTSB. Just higher-ups from the airline. It wouldn’t be a huge deal, just a quick interview with each of you. You looked back to see Chan emerge from the cockpit, backpack slung over one shoulder and cap in his hands when he got intercepted by an investigator of his own. 

The interview was simple. You were sleeping, you woke up to turbulence, the plane fell, you went to check the cockpit and found the Captain out cold, you helped the First Officer decide on the smaller airport based on the factors at hand. Before too long you and your crew were all assembled at the front of the airport, huddled against the frigid winter air and climbing into your comped rental car to your comped motel. The city was still quiet, and none of you were ready to sleep. Thankfully, a small bar down the street from the motel was still open, its red sign a beacon in the still of the night. 

Ronnie carefully nudged Tia in your booth. “You alright?”

Tia nodded. “Sure. Just a little shaken up still. Dumb, right?”

“Not at all,” Brian shook his head as he sipped his beer, “that was fucking terrifying. Never dealt with that before.”

“Dealt with it once,” Ronnie shrugged, “hated it even more this time. You’re not being dumb.”

“How bad was it out there?” You asked. 

“The woman in 14 was having a fit,” Brian laughed, “She couldn’t understand, could not comprehend why we had to divert, and the dude next to her is, like, unconscious. He’s literally just out, he passed out from during the fall and she’s leaning over him and getting snippy with me.”

“Oh my god,” Tia laughed into her vodka cranberry, “what did you do?”

“What you always do,” Ronnie butted in, “Remember this sentence, Tia: I’m sorry you feel that way; if you’d like you can explain your issue to the ticket agent once we land.”

“That works?”

“They either drop it by then or the ticket agent has no patience for it. Just get it out of the damn cabin, you know? We’re already in a tuna can, the least you can do is be civil.”

The night went on like this, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to drink. It didn’t feel like you had anything to celebrate, like you didn’t do anything to warrant a reward. 

“Anyone want to head back to the room?” Ronnie finally relented. 

“Me!” Tia piped up. “I’m bushed and I would love to lie down.”

“Alright, alright,” Ronnie smiled. 

You gathered up your bag to join when you spied someone at the bar. 

Chan. 

How long had he been there? He just sat on the barstool, pensively nursing a hardly-touched beer and staring at his cap on the bar top. You let out a heavy sigh. 

“You guys go ahead,” you offered, “I’ll catch up.”

Brian raised an eyebrow as he closed the tab, his eyes catching the reason for your delay. “Are you sure about that?” Nonetheless, the three burst into laughter and still left, bundled up in their coats against the harsh cold outside. 

You casually approached the bar, taking the seat that Chan’s backpack resided in. You gently picked up the bag, making sure he was seeing you out of the corner of his eye as you set it on the bar top to sit down. A bright red fabric tag caught your eye, REMOVE BEFORE FLIGHT emblazoned across it in bright white with CHAN embroidered on the end. Cute. When you flipped the tag over, more casual script was stitched on the back. Good on ya, Chris. 

“Chris?” You asked out loud, audibly puzzled. 

“Yeah?” Chan finally turned to fully look at you. He raised an eyebrow at your confused face. 

“Wait,” you laughed, “what’s your name?”

“Oh my god,” he smirked, “you thought Chan’s my real name?”

“Of course I did!” You smiled and buried your embarrassed face in your hands, “Jay introduced you that way!”

“Jay was razzing me for the worst call sign on the planet when you came in.”

“It’s your call sign?!” You idiot, you silently admonished. He didn’t buy his flight time. He traded service for half the hours. 

“Horrible, right?”

“I’ve heard worse,” you smiled gently. 

“You didn’t see my name on the itinerary?”

“It said FO C. Bang,” you shrugged helplessly. Chan -- or Chris, rather -- watched curiously as you pulled out your wallet and placed a bill on the bar. “You don’t need a beer,” you shook your head, “you need to talk. Did you get a room at the motel, too?”

Chris nodded, watching as you picked his cap up from the bar and taking it hostage as you turned to leave. He quickly grabbed his bag and followed you as you marched out the door and onto the sidewalk back to the motel. 

“So that explains your name, but I still don’t get the accent. Australia? How did that work with the military?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, almost impressed, “moved here when I was younger. Immigration wasn’t the worst thing in the world for me, but it took forever. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to fly planes, and I knew military service got you half your hours. Got out, went to school, and started teaching businessmen for their private licenses.”

“The real grind,” you smirked. 

“Yup. They always get these planes that look better than they fly.” He stopped you for a moment on the sidewalk, grabbing his cap from your hand and placing it on your head. He grinned with satisfaction, the little dimple it caused looking cuter than it did earlier. “What?” He asked. Your look must’ve given you away. 

“Nothing, I--” you floundered, “I feel bad. I had you pegged wrong. When I met you earlier I had you figured for a rich kid who bought his hours.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris laughed. “Can't say I would've passed an opportunity to. But is that what made you a little… Cold?”

“Yes,” you winced at your admission, “if anyone has ever tried to pinch my ass or pull on my pantyhose or grab my skirt, it's businessmen or young pilots who think they’re hot shit.”

“Your pantyhose?!” Chris stared, visibly disgusted for you when you nodded. “I get it,” he shrugged reassuringly, “better to keep your guard up. How long have you been flying? Any tips you can give me?”

“I’m done next month, to be honest. It’s only been a few years but I think I’m ready.”

“No! You’re kidding. You think we’ll fly together again?”

“Well,” you blushed, “where are you based?”

“New York. I was going to deadhead to LaGuardia after Newark.”

“Makes sense. I'm based out of Sea-Tac. That’s where I'm starting my new job.”

“No!” Chris exaggeratedly sighed, “I can't believe it. You’re not flying anymore?”

“Nope,” you smiled, “grounded as of next month.”

“Bummer,” he shook his head, “you’re a champ. By the way, were you just walking me back to my room?”

You were caught entirely off-guard as you noticed you had accompanied Chris right up to his door, just a few doors down from where you were staying with everyone else. “What? No. I wanted to talk. You looked so out of it back there.”

“Well, we can keep talking in here, then.” Chris smiled, digging his room key out of his pocket and opening the door. You truly considered this for a second. This was a pilot, you were a flight attendant. However, he somehow seemed so helpless in this moment, so at the mercy of this dumb day. Or were you seeing things? No, his voice asking you to stay in the cockpit was still fresh in your ears, his panic as clear in your mind as he was now. You followed him inside and he set his backpack on the floor as he flipped on the lights, apparently not even having been inside the room until now. You followed suit, setting down your purse as well. 

“Was the interview alright?” You asked, pulling up a chair from the small table in the corner as Chris sat himself on the edge of the bed. 

He nodded nonchalantly, stretching and massaging the bridge of his nose. “Sure. Pretty standard stuff. ‘What happened’, ‘what did you do according to procedure,’ all the fun stuff. I was just worried about the Captain the whole time.”

“I don’t blame you,” you offered with a small smile, “But I wouldn’t worry. Jay’s pretty tough.”

“Of course, but… I dunno,” Chris paused, his eyes downcast as he chewed on his lip in thought. “Everything happened so fast. Alarms are going off, the Captain’s out, and all I could think of was how I didn't feel ready. I wasn’t ready for this to happen.”

“When would you ever be? What surprised you the most?”

“I guess… All the people on board. The pressure of almost 200 people depending on you. This wasn’t even a giant disaster but I was on the brink of not being able to handle it that whole time and I just felt like such a failure.”

“But you landed safely,” you sat forward in your chair. You were tempted to place a comforting hand on his knee, but was that too much? “Everyone’s alive. Why would you be a failure?”

“Flying planes was supposed to be it. The thing I'm going to do forever and be happy doing and be great at, but the first real test comes and I almost crumble. What do I do with that?”

“This is it? This is the ‘thing’?” You asked. This time you did rest a hand on his knee, but just for a moment. He regarded it thoughtfully before he nodded. “Then try again,” you continued, “The terrifying thing no one told us growing up was that finding your ‘thing’ isn’t a finish line. It’s not like you find it and that’s it. A lot of times it’s more like goalposts. You have to keep passing them and sometimes there's never a finish line, but you love it and that’s what matters.”

Chris smirked, his shoulders softening. He shrugged his coat and jacket off, laying them next to him on the bed. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m glad,” you grinned, “I'm sort of making it up as I go along. I thought being a flight attendant was it, too, but one day I woke up and I didn't feel at home in the skies anymore. I wouldn't worry too much, by the way. You’re a good pilot.”

“And you're a really good flight attendant,” he smiled. “Was today worse than any businessman trying to pull on your pantyhose?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but it would've been even worse if that happened, too. Besides, nobody flirts with you? That’s discrimination.”

“Of course they do! Last week a very friendly old man in Reno squeezed my arm for way too long when we were deplaning.” 

“What, like this?” You asked, playfully leaning forward and grabbing his bicep. 

“Not quite,” he wheezed out a laugh, “you’re not massaging it and leering at me.”

“This feels gross,” you wrinkled your nose as you tried it, “I feel like a perv.”

“Good, you’re really in the mindset then. It’s weird how old people think this is effective.” You both shared a laugh but you couldn't help but notice the restless look in his eye. 

“You’re still out of it?”

He shook his head. “Stupid, yeah?”

“Not stupid. Here,” you offered with a proactive clap, “an actual tip. Grab the pillow and bring it down here.” Chris eyed you curiously as he grabbed the pillow from behind him. Quickly, you got up and turned on the bedside lamp before flipping the ceiling light off. You took the pillow from him and shooed him off the bed for a second as you pulled aside the covers, laying the pillow on the foot of the bed. “I’m going to sound crazy, but just try it. Lay down now.”

“This way?”

You nodded seriously. Chris silently challenged you, only for a second as he rolled up his uniform sleeves before climbing into bed, his feet up where his head would've been. You took it upon yourself to sit beside him and untie the laces of his masterfully shined shoes. He stiffly looked down his nose, regarding his wiggling feet as you set the shoes together on the floor next to his bag. You reached over and pulled the covers over him, lightly tucking him in for full effect. 

“This feels weird.” He observed. 

“Right?”

“Absolutely bizarre.”

“But it feels new, right?”

“It does. But it’s just a bed,” Chris marveled. 

“Of course it’s just a bed, but 99% of the time you sleep in it one way. I sort of use this as a manual reset, like after a week of back-to-back nonstops and I'm in a different time zone and I don’t even feel like a person. Now how do you feel?”

Chris paused, considering it. “Weirdly enough… A little clarified. Almost a little reorganized. I think you’re right about the reset thing.”

“Glad you think so,” you clapped again as you arose, dusting yourself off. “And I'm glad I could help.”

You turned to gather your purse. Would asking for a phone number be too much? After all, what if you wanted to check on him? A tug pulled you out of your consideration -- literally -- Chris finding the first thing he could reach: the hem of your skirt once again. 

“Wait! You're leaving?”

You smiled down at his hand as he sheepishly let go. “Sure. You feel better now, right? We need some sleep. Want one more tip?”

“Please?”

You took the shabby comforter of the bed and tucked him back in, momentarily musing that you were restraining him from keeping you here longer. “Okay,” you smirked quietly at his careful attention, “one last tip: you actually can get your own coffee, but I would prefer if your pilot friends would ask before just taking over the galley.”

“No!” Chris let out with a surprised laugh, “That doesn’t count!” 

“Sure it does. You'll learn plenty more on your own. Sweet dreams, First Officer Chan.” You tucked him in just a little more, placing a playfully chaste kiss to his brow as a final touch, a final word and a closed door on the feelings you were telling yourself weren't there as you turned to grab your purse. 

Until yet another tug caught your attention. Only this time, it was a gentle pinch at the fabric of your pantyhose. You turned halfway around, the silence in the room crushing you as you locked eyes. Wordlessly, curiously, obviously, you sat back down on the bed and let Chris sit up to kiss you. You admired how his lips didn't waver on yours, even as they lingered. He meant it. 

“What's that for?” You whispered against him. 

“I didn’t want you to go yet,” he whispered back with a small smile, “And you're still wearing my hat.” 

You eyed him carefully despite your blushing face, weighing these heavy possibilities, all while tamping down the wild urge to ignore everything and kiss him again. However, maybe this was just a case of accepting everything… And kissing him again. 

So you did. First, you slipped off his cap from atop your head and set it on the bedside. Then, placing a hand on his shoulder, you attempted to match his confidence as you pushed him back onto the bed, following him down as you kissed him, your lips tight against his before you ultimately softened. Thoughts swam in your head as he slid your coat free from your arms, letting it fall off the side of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Is this alright? Chris asked softly against you, his hands already ahead of the curve and wrapping around your waist. He gently hauled you over to lay on his chest. The way he handled you made you feel weightless, only adding to the floating feeling in your stomach. You gave a short nod. Your fingers lightly brushed his fringe from his eyes, trailing down his cheek as if you were still confirming for yourself that this was real, and you were really making this decision that you had  never made in this situation before. There had been other pilots, other flight attendants, and even the occasional customer, but nothing had ever passed this barrier before. So you crossed it again with another kiss. 

Chris appeared satisfied with your affirmation as he rolled you both over in bed, his knee almost cautious as it parted your legs. The old mattress creaked beneath you, cradling your shoulders as Chris placed a tentative kiss to the nape of your neck. You reached down, lifting the hem of your skirt a little so his hips could settle between your thighs. On their way back up, your fingertips stopped at his belt, unbuckling him and sliding the leather free from the loops. Chris’ lips on your neck paused as he picked himself up from your chest. He watched intently as you pulled at his shirt, untucking it before he intervened. You waited a moment, catching your breath as he loosened his tie and pulled it away from the pressed collar of his shirt. This joined the belt you had dropped off the side of the bed. Both your hands reached for the top buttons of each other's shirts, making your ways down. You weren't sure if Chris was aware of how cutely and obviously he was staring at the slope of your breasts still concealed by your bra, until you took his hand and laid it on your chest. He got the hint quickly, his warm fingers firmly caressing and gently groping you. He seemed almost easily distracted, finding new things to be fixated on as you intermittently kissed and gasped. This time, it was him watching intently as you lifted your hips to reach behind you, unzipping your skirt and pushing it down. He eagerly took over, pulling your skirt off for you, also dropping it off the side of the bed. He sat back, taking a moment to slide off your low heels. A pang of affection thumped in your chest as he almost absent-mindedly massaged each foot before setting your shoes on the floor beside his. Next came your pantyhose. He leaned forward, softly kissing your bent knee as he nuzzled his way up your legs. Finally, his fingers dipped beneath the taut waistband and he watched, almost transfixed as he pulled the meager layer off of you. The sensation was so exposing that the panties that followed almost felt inconsequential. 

You sat up, wondering and watching as Chris kissed his way back up your legs once again, the light tickle of his lips making you smirk as you slipped off the remaining layers of your blouse and bra. He was almost caught off guard, the pause in his Adam’s apple giving away the deep breath he took at the sight of you before shedding his opened shirt as well. He swiftly shucked off his slacks and socks, barely giving you an equal opportunity to admire him before he leaned down to place a gentle introductory kiss just below your navel. Your breathless nod was all he needed to finally taste you. You gasped at the feel of him moaning against you, his tongue making you shiver as you grasped at the bedsheets. 

Too eager to wait, any amount of time he took savoring you between your legs seemed to fly by before he came up for air, running the back of his hand across his chin as he crawled up between your thighs. His hips rested heavy on yours once more, only this time the clear sensation of his erection against your damp entrance was only made more apparent by the thin layer of his briefs separating you both. He waited again for your approval before making another move, his hand poised at his hip until you nodded. The feel of the head of his rigid length was smooth against you, prodding shallowly into your soaked heat. The simultaneous moan that erupted from both of you was fuel on the fire. Your open legs wrapped around his hips, your fingers curled into his hair as you pulled him in for a hungry kiss. Chris slowly rocked his hips, working his way deeper into you until he bottomed out. His groan against your neck was so satisfied, almost as endearing as he was himself. 

You almost felt impatient as he gently fucked you. You wanted more -- more control, more pleasure, more of him. He was surprised as you pushed at his shoulder, feeling empty as he slid out of you and onto his back beside you. You sat up and brazenly pulled his underwear the rest of the way off, taking charge in straddling his hips. This time, however, it was your turn to wait for him. He gave a small, almost timid nod as he watched you. You humored the thought that maybe this was just as different of an experience for him as it was for you. Chris threw his head back on the pillow at the foot of the bed as you eased the walls of your pussy back down onto him, his hand clutching onto your hip and the other grabbing onto your thigh as you slowly began to ride him. Your hips firmly rocked on top of his, drawing more groans and soft curses made under his breath. It didn’t take long for him to get accustomed to you enough that his hands could wander. Now, one groped at your breast and the other traveled up your thigh to between your legs, allowing himself full access to caressing your clit with the pad of his thumb. His eyes lit up at your response, moaning louder than you meant to as your depths clenched around him. Soon enough, the set in his clenched jaw matched his furrowing brow and it was a sight to be enamored with. The stir between your legs started to build heat up your chest like a chimney, your head getting light the further along he pushed you. Chris’s hips bucked up against yours and bounced you harder onto his length. 

He took it upon himself to nod first this time, breathlessly warning you of how close he was and you shook your head, begging him to hold off as your nails lightly raked down his chest. The way he smirked, biting at his lip as he thrust even harder against you, his thumb rubbing faster circles on your clit -- no one had so playfully pushed you to cum before. And it was working. You could feel your toes curling at the unstoppable force at which you were approaching this orgasm, and the way Chris insistently watched only made it all the more intense as you finally locked up, hitting your peak and nearly going limp in the process. The way it hit you, the sound almost dropped out as if you were submerged underwater. He quickly took over, clutching onto your hips now as he fucked into your dripping pussy. You were practically a useless doll with how easily he handled you on top of him, but at the same time he was still so gently firm with you that it was as if you were precious to him. Maybe you were, with the eyes he made at you, at least for now. He watched your blissful face desperately until the moment he couldn't anymore, wrenching his eyes shut and letting his head fall back into the pillow with the force of his own orgasm. 

As his hands released your hips, you exhaustedly curled into yourself on his lap, leaning your head down to wrap around him. Chris held onto you, his trembling matching yours in the wake of your climaxes. His arms hugged strong around your waist nonetheless, embracing you closely as his length gradually softened inside of your sensitive walls. You stayed like that, listening to each other breathe in the quiet of the dimly lit room. As you rolled over to lay at his side, Chris followed you, nuzzling into your chest. You tipped a fingertip under his chin and he looked up at you, his sleepy eyes wrapped up in you and almost reminding you of a puppy. 

He closed his eyes as you kissed his forehead, your fingers lazily stroking his hair as you kissed his nose, his chin, and finally his lips again. 

“What was that for?” He quietly laughed. 

“Congratulations,” you chuckled, “I've never done this before.”

Chris pouted cutely, his eyes still closed, “You're not regretting this already, are you?”

“Of course not,” you soothed, “I'm just surprised it happened. But I'm not surprised it was you.”

He smiled warmly, even in his half-awake state. “What happens tomorrow?”

“You mean today.”

“Tomorrow is tomorrow until I fall asleep,” he laughed, “so what happens then?”

“I'm going to visit Jay if I can,” you decided thoughtfully, “and I'll buy you breakfast at a greasy diner before I put you on a plane to LaGuardia and never see you again.”

“You'll never see me again?” His pout renewed in spades, only with a touch more sincerity to it this time. 

“Sure,” you kissed him with a smile again, “it's hard to keep you pilots on the ground long enough.”

Chris hummed in thought, his grin returning as he caught you challenging him. “Hmm, no.”

“No?”

“No. I'll see you again,” he decided, “You have more tips to show me. I'll be useless without you.”

“Fine,” you laughed. You grabbed the shabby comforter of the bed, bundling up with him where you still laid the wrong way in bed. “I won't say no to that.”

Chris smiled contentedly as you kissed his forehead once more. Your eyes joined his in closing now, softly falling asleep in each other's arms even as a new day was forming outside. The hectic night you'd had finally hit you, gracefully knocking you out as you considered the way you weren't as nervous about being grounded next month. Maybe you wouldn't truly be leaving the skies if he was still up there. 

[starkerkeyz]

College Dorm Omega Part 1/2

You guys are so amazing but I can’t keep up with your love! 😂 I was going to wait until I hit 300 and write a follow up to that Barista Camboy fic that launched me from 100 to 200 followers in less than 3 days. I see you guys and your thirst has been heard! But then, when I was dicking around thinking about that story, I somehow thought of this one instead :))))) 

Warnings: ABO, implied omega-slavery/legal prostitution/something but doesn’t go into detail and Peter is overall positive about Tony purchasing him. That’s it for now the smut will be in part 2  😈

.

“Come here.” In the line up, he's the prettiest thing. Tony knows he’s taking him home then and there. His dad can eat the price tag and bitch from home all he wants; with Tony at MIT and old enough to claim his own omega he can’t even legally make Tony give him back. 

Not that he would have, but. It’s good to have his bases covered. He’s far too close to his rut to want to deal with his dad in person or via lawyer (Howard would definitely sue if he heard the news in the wrong sort of mood). 

The omega steps forward as instructed. He keeps his eyes downwards and his hands clasped. The collar around his throat reads ‘Peter Parker’ in a basic but nice enough font. 

“I’ll take him.” Tony isn’t in the mood for showy games. If his impatience comes off as rude or peculiar neither Peter nor the employee at this shop show it. Tony has enough money that he only needs one card to cover the full cost, no he doesn’t want a paper receipt just email it, thanks, bye.

He arranges for Peter’s things to be shipped to his dorm (he’ll figure out how to get it to fit later) and then he’s bundling the omega into the back of the car and his driver is taking them back to campus. Soon enough they’re stepping into Tony’s dorm room and Peter is being led to the bed. 

“So, you’re my omega now. Legally speaking. But I’m not going to fuck you.” Tony sits at his computer desk and spins in the chair, ignoring the college books and homework he should be getting to in favor of explaining the situation to his new charge. 

“Excuse me?” Peter’s eyes are huge and liquid. Tony’s broken enough sorority and fraternity hearts to be immune -if he looks away right now- and continues, pulling out his phone to scroll on social media. 

“Yeah, you’re cute, but I’m already taken. By an alpha. He’s great.” Tony briefly looks starry eyed. Peter’s charmed despite himself; his alpha -Tony, he thinks his alpha is named Tony- looks so excited and downright giddy at the mention of this other alpha. 

“But...why did you buy me then?” Peter doesn’t want to sound heartbroken, considering he’d been terrified of this day ever since he presented, but now that he’s here and his alpha doesn’t want him...

Okay, he’s a little heartbroken. 

“I need you there. For my rut.” Tony winces at how that sounds and hastens to explain. “Not to fuck, like I said, not going to force my knot on you, but I need you in the room. For your scent. Bucky will take care of the rest.”

“Bucky is your alpha?” Peter asks softly. He bites his lower lip and looks down at his hands when his alpha nods yes. His chest hurts and he feels so stupid. Why isn’t he happy that his alpha (Tony. He’s not really Peter’s alpha if he’s already Bucky’s) isn’t the kind of alpha to use and abuse his omega, like in all the horror stories? This is a dream come true for some of the omega’s left behind. Peter feels like he’s entered a nightmare. 

“Hey, hey, please- don’t cry, don’t cry, I can take you back, okay? I’m sorry, I thought you would be happy, I was going to enroll you here at MIT with me, but I’ll bring you back and find someone else. You can pick. Whatever you want, just stop crying, okay?” Tony gets off the chair and drops his phone on the floor in his haste to get to Peter. He kneels down and hovers his hands over Peter’s heaving shoulders, frantic and babbling.

“No, no, please don’t bring me back, alpha, I can be good! Please don’t bring me back, please d-don’t leave me alone, alpha-” Peter’s babbling just as much as Tony through his tears. 

“I won’t but can you, I mean, I know it’s not like- can you stop crying? I don’t like it when you cry or when anyone cries really but for some reason you crying is going right into my skull and my heart?” Tony can’t stop talking so who is he to ask Peter to stop crying.

“I don’t want to hurt you! I want to fuck you!” Peter’s wailing now. Tony’s even more confused on what he did wrong.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Bucky’s voice cuts across the chaos so cleanly Peter and Tony both freeze in place. 

“I can explain.” Tony starts and then doesn’t go on. Peter looks at Bucky with tears running down his cheeks and his broken heart in his throat. 

Bucky crosses the room and sits down on the bed beside Peter. He puts his hand over Tony’s mouth before the genius can speak and looks at the distressed omega filling the room up with pheromones that make his inner alpha want to find the threat and rip it apart. He tries to appear non-threatening.

“What did he do, Doll?” Bucky’s voice is soft and low, soothing like dark chocolate and warm blanket nests. He switches from his flesh hand to his metal prosthetic without taking his eyes off Peter when Tony licks his palm like the heathen he is.

“H-he...he bought me today...but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want me!” Peter’s tears start anew with this fresh baring of his emotional wounds. He startles a little when Bucky wraps an arm around his waist, wary instinctively of an alpha that isn’t his, but then he tips over into the bigger man when he understands it’s a hug on offer and not anything untoward. 

“Ah. Don’t worry about that, doll. You’re exactly his type of omega. He probably took one look at you and flashed his wallet like the spoiled brat he is.” Bucky gives Tony a look from over Peter’s head that’s fond and exasperated. 

“Then why-” Peter leans back to look at his alpha from out of the cradle of Bucky’s strong arm. His alpha still looks as handsome as Peter thought he was back at the shop he’d been sold at; Peter had taken one look at his boyish grin, one sniff of that masculine tang and alpha spice, and been gone for him. So when the alpha looked back, when he called Peter forward, when he also took one look, one sniff? Peter had been floating on cloud nine over the possibilities. 

“He’s not very good at communicating.” Bucky takes his metal hand back only because he can sense the pressure against the small plates in his palm from Tony’s teeth and it tickles. The little shit. 

“I told him you’re my alpha, how much clearer could I be?” Tony grouses. He’s grinning as he says it and Bucky knows he’s not annoyed or put out in the slightest. 

“You could have explained we were open to the idea of him joining, if he wanted to join, or he could stay platonic with you and be a free agent.” Bucky rolled his eyes at his lover. Really. He could understand the schematics of Bucky’s arm from one scientific discipline to the other but he couldn’t do interpersonal relationships for shit. 

“He started crying before I got to that part!” Tony shuffles closer to Bucky on his knees, moving like he’s a supplicant to Bucky’s open lap but the older alpha knows his bratty boy better than Tony knows himself. He reaches out and stops him before any seduction or offers of blowjobs can slip from his silver tongue. 

“I want to. Join you.” Peter’s words are followed by a blush and a skirting of his eyes up towards Bucky. He cuddles closer to the big alpha and lowers his lashes, face still stained by his tears but a different kind of heat burning in his eyes. 

“I want to join both of you.”

.

The next part will involve alpha ruts, alpha knots and omega sex, the typical ABO works and the typical amount of smut you see from me. Thanks again for being so positive and encouraging as a community 💖

[aquietplaceforthoughts]

A New Life

Why do this in the first place?

Where did that logic come from?

I knew I wasn’t happy doing what I was doing, e-commerce photography. But it paid the bills and provided a steady income.

Life was “good” on that steady income though.

Sure it wasn’t like being halfway across the world photographing in the jungles and temple grounds in Cambodia, or drunken sailing the Caribbean sea off some coast in Cancun, Mexico on a sailboat, or relaxing on a beach in Waikiki listening to Prof. G’s “You Are A Dream” audiobook.

I had a steady job at a brand new startup from late 2018 to late 2019. For once in my life, I didn’t need to worry about when the next check was gonna come and for how much. I didn’t need to worry about paying any bills because I knew I had a check coming in two weeks. Paying for last minute flights to visit a woman I was in a long distance relationship with? No problem! Planning trips and vacations a month in advance? Don’t even sweat it! It was all good. Inquiring about vacancies in a newly renovated 2 bedroom apartment in Downtown Long Beach? Here’s the pay stubs and the deposit. Approved.

Life was “good”.... Right?

As luck would have it, in late 2019 I was laid off suddenly. My world had changed instantly.

I had so much more time to myself now, but I was also aware of the kind of pressure I now had to face head on. We had just signed a new lease 3 months prior and now had to turn on our hustle mode to get back on our feet. Thank goodness for unemployment. I was also applying to jobs every single week too. What skills did I have? Just photography. And being a barista.

Neither of which paid any kind of REAL money to be able to sustain the lifestyle I had built for myself. Things aren’t free in this world. You wanna date someone? You have to be in place and circumstance to be fully present in the relationship. You want to live on your own in an expensive part of the city? Income is needed.

I had all these things, but didnt feel fulfilled or happy. Because I was just able to keep my head above water. Just barely.

I was in no position for a relationship much less dating someone.

I was in no position to be living on my own anymore.

I was in no position to be spending money frivolously.

Why is this? Why is it that everything that has happened to me in the past 12 years has always been centered around money? I know money isnt everything. Money isn’t and shouldn’t be the singular thing we focus on, yet it runs our world. Money doesnt buy happiness. But it helps you breathe a bit better when you have it.

I know this just from growing up in a lower middle class Filipino family. Money was always a central point of stress, anxiety, fear and everything in between. I had learned late in my life that my parents went through a bankruptcy when we were young. Yet, my parents now, are some of the most content human beings on this planet. They live a simple, humble life.

They also weren’t the type of parents to take much risks. Playing it safe is just the conditioning they’ve developed over years and years of not having much.

Growing up outside of the house and meeting friends however was a different story. I saw what it’s like to live the high life thru the lens of my friend’s lives.

Big houses, nice cars, new shoes, jewelry, the latest tech. These people were beaming with an energy and a zest for life I hadn’t seen outside of my household. Again, while I know very well that there’s more to life than the material things, I always asked myself: Why not me?

Why can’t I have the things my friends have? Why, after almost 31 years of living, couldn’t I experience the pleasures and success and happiness that my friends realize? Did I not take enough risks in my early 20’s? Maybe. Was I wasting time with “meaningless” pursuits in my mid 20’s? Maybe.

Do I regret anything? Honestly, no.

Because the clarity I’ve gained through my lived experience thus far has been monumental in orchestrating the latest plan of attack I’ve been working on since August of last year (2020). Amongst the COVID-19 Pandemic that has changed this Earth so much in just one year, I’ve learned so much about myself and have gotten more real with myself with each passing day.

This is a new life.

A very, very new life.

-end-

Fri Apr 23, 2021 - 11:12pm

In my own bedroom, writing this with my new M1 Macbook Pro,  hearing my Dad snore.

Life has come Full circle………..

[sakurasangcl]

Come Back

Pairing: werewolf!Jaehyun x reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warning: sexual harassment, possible rape (didn’t happen: Y/N wakes up in Jaehyun’s shirt in his bed)

Moonlight Symphony Masterlist

On the Friday after your 21st birthday, you and your friends went out to celebrate. You went to a dancing club to drink and have fun. Unfortunately for you, hindsight is 20/20. You should have eaten more and better food, as well as made sure to keep a (sober) friend with you at all times. Regretting things can't change the past, and you know this well. 

After one drink, you were a little tipsy. After two, you were drunk. Your vision wasn't too blurry, but everything was hilarious. A few drinks later and you couldn't quite walk straight and your words were a little slurred. 

"Hey," you tell your nearest friend. "I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air." 

And you do just that. Your heels click on the scuffed up wooden floor as you opened the door and took in the night breeze. 

You didn't notice the men who followed you outside until the spoke up. 

"Hey girl, what's your name?" One of them asked. 

"Y/n," you absentmindedly say.

"That's a sexy name. Did you come here by yourself?" A different one spoke. 

"Nope." You respond, popping the ‘p.’ 

If you weren't so drunk, you would have noticed the anxious looks they tossed around. 

"Do you want to come home with me?" One of them boldly asked, resting his hand on your hip. "I doubt who you came with would mind. I'll treat you well." 

"Any of us-" the second guy started.

"Or all of us," someone else interrupted. 

"Would treat you well," He finished.

You weakly shake your head no and turn to head inside. However, the one gripping your waist held you still. 

"Come on baby, why so prude, hmm? I'll make you feel real good, promise." He says, rubbing circles with his thumbs. 

Suddenly a rather muscular, attractive man appears. He growls and pulls you into him, and you swear he calls you his girlfriend. But before you can figure anything out, you pass out. 

When you wake up in the morning, the night before is a blur. You immediately notice that you're not in your own room, nor in that if a friend's. You look around and see the most attractive man in bed next to you. He's deeply asleep, and has the body of Michelangelo's statue of David, but better. 

A thrill of fear runs through you as you sit up to get out of bed and you're wearing just a shirt that definitely wasn't yours, considering that it was too big on you. 

Did we have sex last night? You cant… you cant properly consent when you're drunk… Did we at least use a condom? Shouldn't I be a little sore?

You had many unanswered questions as you quietly gather your things, hoping not to disturb the sleeping man. You quickly change back into your clothes, leaving his shirt on the floor. 

When you leave his room, you find yourself in a house full of boys. You turn red and keep your head down, feeling horrid. They look at you, surprised. One of them tries to say something to you, but you quickly leave before the chance is given. 

It makes sense why they're called the walk of shame…

You make it outside and find out that you really aren't in the city anymore. So, you call an uber and make it home. 

You don't talk to any of your friends about what happened… nor does it really seem like they know or remember themselves. Of course, most of them drank a lot, thought someone else took you home, or thought you went home with someone. One of your friends saw you leave with a hot, muscular guy. 

You didn't say much to anyone after that, and the same friend that saw you leave with the guy you woke up with, Yeri, was afraid that you were falling into a depressive episode. Because of who she was, you couldn't avoid her forever.

Yeri ended up showing up at your work right when you were leaving. She grabbed your arm with her surprisingly strong grip, and starts guiding you to a nearby coffee shop.

"I know you're stressed and going through a lot, so we are getting coffee and talking. And I know you have some extra spending cash because you house sat the other week." Yeri began, guiding you to the line. 

The intoxicating smell of coffee calms you for the time being, letting you relax a little. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" She softly asks you, moving up in line. 

"I know," you murmur, looking up at the menu. "But I just don't always know the words for what I need to say." It was then that you notice one of the baristas is extremely familiar. Your eyes widen in surprise and you look away blushing. It was the hot guy you woke up next to. 

"Earth to y/n, earth to y/n. Is everything okay?" Yeri asks, concerned. 

You gulp and nod as you realize your next in line, and he is the one taking orders. 

You shyly step up and order a green tea latte, not meeting his eyes. "What's your name?" He asks, and it sounds more like him being genuine than just needing to write it down on the cup.

"Y/n," you tell him, glancing up at his handsome face. 

He then asks you to spell your name and you do, glancing at his nametag that said 'Jaehyun.' He smiles brightly, dimples showing. "Alright. Thank you y/n. I can help who is next in line."

You stay rooted in your spot, your eyebrows knitting together. You hadn't paid for your drinks. You were about to say something when he adds, "Don't worry about it. It's my treat, okay?" 

You mutely nod and go wait for your drink and Yeri, dazed. 

A younger man calls your name, and he smiles at you as you take your drink. On it is numbers  you make it out to be a phone number. You look quizzically at the guy who gave you your drink, and he grins and points to the mysterious hottie, Jaehyun. You nod slightly and head to Yeri's side, going and sitting at a table. 

You two start conversing, and she pries you and gets you talking some. Eventually, she brought up the inevitable.

"So the barista. The one who wrote their number on your cup. He's the one you went home with." Yeri says, looking at him suspiciously. 

"Yeah, apparently…" you admit, not denying what must have happened.

"Do you not remember?" She asks, suddenly worried. "If he drugged you I don't care how big he is. I will fight him."

You shake your head no. "I was just drunk. Besides, I'm sure plenty of girls are head over heels for him and he's super hot. He could easily get laid if he wanted to."

"You're not wrong. But still, you did end up with him. That's suspicious." 

"I suppose he must have just changed me… that's why I thought we did something. My period came and went, so everything is fine that way. But I really don't know…"

"Wait, like he changed your clothes?" 

"Well, yeah…" 

"What the fuck?! No. So not okay," she says, standing up and about to march over to yell at him. 

"Please don't, Yeri. I'm as confused as you," You softly beg. 

"Fine, but I'm asking Joohyun if she knows him. But judging by his age.. I'll ask Sooyoung instead. If anyone knows anything, its her," Yeri derisively responds. She then sends a quick text before giving you her full attention. "Do you want to go over what you remember? I'm pretty sure Soyeon said she saw you leave with a guy… that's why I wasn't worried. But honestly, knowing you, I should have been. I feel bad I wasn't more cautious over you. I was too busy being the mom friend for everyone else. I hate being the mom friend," Yeri grumbles. 

You can't help but laugh at her rant, as it was true. No one liked taking the role of the mom friend when everyone was drinking. Yeri was just stuck with it as the designated driver. 

"I just… the last thing I remember was going outside for air. My head got clouded and there were some guys… then one guy, probably…" you gesture to Jaehyun, "since I woke up in his bed… called me his girlfriend. That's all I remember besides waking up. I made the walk of shame! I hated it!" You admit, glancing around to make sure no one heard you. 

When Yeri's phone buzzes, she reads the notification. "Sooyoung says he's a good guy, and really not interested in most girls... Maybe you're his perfect type? Okay, she said he isn't a player and is both overly confident and awkward as hell around girls. It varies. She also says he's not the kind to do the deed when drunk." 

"Did you tell her what I said?" You demand of your best friend, upset and turning red.

"Kind of? I asked about him and if he was a player especially around drunk people. She's not that thick headed to not know what happened at the party," Yeri explains.

Your shoulders slump in defeat and you nod, knowing Yeri was right. However, Sooyoung's response left you with more questions than before. 

"I can't- I don't know-" you try to let Yeri understand your frustration. You want to know the answers as to what happened, but at the same time, you're afraid of what they could be. You let out a heavy sigh as you formulate a proper sentence. "I want to know but I'm also afraid to find the truth," you tell her, fear clawing at your stomach. 

"I totally understand that. But wouldn't it be nice if nothing happened and it's just a misunderstanding?" Yeri suggests gently. "I mean, there's no harm in at least texting him. He obviously remembers you. Maybe he just wants to clear the air." 

You know Yeri doesn't mean to pressure you in a negative way, and she always seems to have your best interest in mind. This time… well, it feels different. You're torn between giving this man a bit of trust or doing your best to never see him again. You can't differentiate what your stomach is telling you or your head. You were completely conflicted. 

You start to feel overwhelmed, and your brain goes to autopilot. You listen to what Yeri said and type out a message to Jaehyun, that read: 

Hi. This is Y/N.

You know he wont reply right away since he is working, but you try to ignore the impulsivity of what you did and do your best not to regret it. 

"Well there's that…" you mumble, setting your phone on the table.

Less than a minute later, your phone buzzes anyways. 

Hey Y/N! Sorry, my coworker put my number on your cup… My name is Jaehyun, by the way. I’m sorry things ended up like this.

Would you maybe like to meet sometime so I can try to explain?

“What do you think I should do, Yeri?” you ask, showing her your phone and trying not to cry. 

“Give it to me. I’ll have Seulgi go with you. Does that sound good? You know how intimidating she can be when she wants, you know?” Yeri gently says, typing a response. “I have your back. We all do.” 

You nod and help Yeri figure out the logistics. Jaehyun isn’t even bothered by you asking to bring a friend. 

When you finally did agree to meet Jaehyun in person, you wore simple clothes. You had Yeri with you, and she was being very protective and careful with you. 

Jaehyun felt a pang in his heart, because he knew he messed up. He should have left you in his bed without him, but he couldn’t leave you. Not when you smelt like them. Looking at you with Yeri by your side, he could scent your fear and unease. He smiled sweetly at the two of you, and greeted you both. You were outside on campus, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

“Y/N, there’s a lot I need to explain to you,” he gently begins, glancing at Yeri. 

She smiled slightly, because she knew something you didn’t. 

“Okay?” you respond, looking to Yeri. She nods, so you look back at Jaehyun.

He smiles once more, and it’s contagious. You stop yourself from smiling, only because you were too anxious. 

“So,” Jaehyung begins. “First and foremost. You passed out drunk and I didn’t know what to do. So I took you home because I didn’t want those pervs touching you. My friend’s mate-uh, girlfriend, changed you into my shirt when she saw you, as she figured it wouldn’t have been comfortable. I stayed with you because I didn’t want you getting sick and throwing up and choking. I slept shirtless, but I was wearing pants. I swear. And you were the one who cuddled up to me in your sleep, so that just kind of happened on its own.” 

You stare at him blankly, taking in his words and judging the honesty behind them. 

“So you didn’t rape her?” Yeri asks for you, gently giving your hand a squeeze. 

If it weren’t crazy, you would have sworn his eyes flashed red. 

“I didn’t lay a finger on her like that. I would never harm her.” Jaehyun says, and you feel the sincerity in his words. “I’d rather hurt myself.” 

You give him a sideways glance, confused as to why he felt so strongly for you. He was being extremely altruistic, and it surprises you.

“Do you say that to every girl?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, looking away bashfully. “No,” he admits. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to start over with you. You’re… well, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you must be a wonderful person since you willingly met with me after that misunderstanding.” 

Before Yeri can stop you, or before you can even fully process what you say, you respond. “Yes, I’d like that.” 

[lvehui]

WHEN THE MOON MET THE SUN | JIHAN, CHAPTER FOUR

2:35 pm

Although he had fun coming to the Hollywood Sign with Jeonghan, basking in its ethereal view and his never-ending existential thoughts, he knew that it was the end--- the end of him seeing Jeonghan, and the end of him realizing new shit. Now, he'd return to being the anime watching, two friends having, barista named Hong Joshua.

Except he doesn't--- not yet at least.

"What's next?" Jeonghan asks the other man, who is caught off guard by the simple question.

"Huh?" Joshua can't help be perplexed at goes, "What do you mean?"

Jeonghan pokes his delicate finger into Joshua's chest, which was beating quickly enough to be felt. "What do you mean, what do you mean, dummy?" the other man jokingly chides.

Joshua goes red as roses at the sound of Jeonghan calling him a dummy in such a cute tone. His head turns away from Jeonghan's face while he shyly stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Um well... I thought that you... were done."

"Done?" Jeonghan repeats in amusement, hiccup-like laughter bubbling out. "Silly. Our adventure has just started!"

The brown-haired man's eyes go wide, but then he realizes how shocked he must look, so he quickly composes himself. An unexpected cough interrupts his chill facade, though, when he hears the word our, as in the two of them. Him and Jeonghan. Jeonghan and him.

He doesn't know if it's his lack of Korean speaking skills or his dual excitement and surprise that's stopping him from forming a coherent sentence. "Y-you want me to... go with you?"

"Yeah," Jeonghan easily replies, as if this is a no-brainer. His pretty eyes look into Joshua's cat-like ones. "But I mean... you don't have to..."

An exaggerated, guilt-tripping sigh escapes Jeonghan's lips. Joshua knows that he can just say no, go back to work, do what he had planned to do today, but once again, he finds himself saying, "Sure."

Jeonghan gets excited again. "Sure as in..?"

"As in I'll be your tour guide for a bit longer," Joshua answers. When Jeonghan suddenly grabs his arm and roughly shakes it side to side with that big grin of his, Joshua chuckles louder than usual, happier than usual.

"Yes, yes, yes! Okay!" Jeonghan says quickly, lightly bouncing on his toes. Then he lets go of Joshua and runs ahead, twirling at the very end. He fiercely points at Joshua and gives him a confident look. It shoots straight through Joshua's thumping heart. "We're going to take over this entire city today!"

Joshua doesn't doubt the other man's words--- because honestly, he feels like he can take over the world with Jeonghan by his side.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

As he noted before, Joshua isn't the social, outgoing type. He's the guy that you can count on to reject invitations to go to a bar, the guy to respond quickly to a text, only to sound like a complete robot. So in his opinion, he thinks that he makes a terrible tour guide.

But if anything, Jeonghan is the one dragging him everywhere--- Joshua is simply following him, clarifying whatever needs to be clarified, translating whatever needs to be translated as they move along the city like two fumbling teenagers, instead of two grown-ass adults.

And its more fun than Joshua wants to admit, so he keeps his enjoyment to himself until he can't, laughing at a clumsy Jeonghan who almost trips over a stair step. "Not so graceful, Jeonghan," he quips, getting a glare from the other man.

"Oh hush, you ass!" Jeonghan half-heartedly retorts, but is also laughing at himself. "Are we here or what?"

Joshua nods and stretches his arm out to showcase their destination. "Los Angele's finest Rose Garden, all here."

He doesn't throw in the word finest for no reason--- it really is. Every inch of the place is covered in lush, fluffy, tidy, bright green grass and lines and lines of roses in every variety, from vibrant oranges to soft pinks to dark reds in full bloom. There are old couples, young couples, parents, children, photographers and models situated in the garden. It's both chaos and peace, but beautiful nonetheless.

And who better to add to the garden, other than a flower prince named Yoon Jeonghan?

"This is so COOL!" Jeonghan exclaims, mouth hanging open and he spins around and around. Without warning, the man runs far into the open grass and does a cartwheel, expertly and fantastically, like a gymnast. Then, now sitting down with his palms into the Earth, he huffs and yells to Joshua, "Do it!"

Joshua yells back, "Do what?"

"What I just did, dummy dum!" Jeonghan tells him. Hands cupped around his mouth, he cheers, "I believe in you Shua!"

Slightly panicking, Joshua looks at the ground, then at Jeonghan, his body swaying backward and forward as if to prepare himself. It's hard to move forward, because now there's a bigger risk factor--- a broken neck and the death of his pride.

"Shua, honey, just DO IT!" Jeonghan hollers.

Without thinking, he does as Jeonghan says, launching his weight onto his right hand and propelling his left hand to the other side. When he does, he springs the rest of his body upward, and things seem to be going fine--- until they're not.

Before he knows it, he loses his balance and his back flops onto the ground with a thud, blinding sunlight beaming onto his face. He finds himself breathing hard, repeating the same inhale, exhale exercise, hand on his chest.

All he says is, "Holy shit."

"HOLY SHIT!" Jeonghan exclaims, and Joshua sees the other man sprinting over to him, panicked. When he arrives, he crouches down to Joshua and says, "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

Weakly, Joshua nods. "Slightly dizzy, but um, other than that... I'm alright."

"That's good because..."

Jeonghan is rambling, it seems, but Joshua isn't registering anything he's saying. He's simply gazing at Jeonghan, whose frame is hovering above him, his longish black hair hanging, his delicate face closer into view, pink lips, sweet eyes, ragged breathing... and it's surprising that their lips haven't touched yet.

Joshua considers making that move, but then he just remembers that they're practically strangers, barely friends, and Jeonghan is a foreigner, meaning that he's bound to leave. So he just watches each of his pretty features move, and wow, Joshua can't believe that he's thinking like this right now.

"...I'm sorry, like, I kind of pressured you into that one and I'm pretty sure you might have a concussion or something---"

Before Jeonghan can say anything else, Joshua grabs Jeonghan's left arm, gently. "Lay down," Joshua tells Jeonghan, whose face scrunches up in confusion for once. Joshua wishes that he could've said what he just said in a less weird-out-of-context way, but it came out of his mouth quickly.

Jeonghan doesn't question him and scoots over next to Joshua, who is already sprawled out on the grass, then flops down himself.

When he does, he goes, "I never get sick of looking at the sky."

Joshua hums, "Me neither," but what he really wants to say goes unsaid, a whole garden of roses blooming in his heart as they watch the clouds go by in silence.