#does it help if this isn’t close to the dumbest thing I’ve ever done?

[penguinslurs]

Attempted to take my meds with boba tea today and it went a little like this:

I put meds in mouth. I take big gulp of boba tea. I attempt to swallow pill. Instead of swallowing pill, I accidentally SHOTGUN TWO WHOLE BOBA PEARLS DOWN MY THROAT. Pill still hasn’t been swallowed.

Ok. That was bad. There is still a boba pearl in my mouth. Chewing is in order. I attempt to chew the remaining boba pearl. I miss. I instead CHEW THE OFF-BRAND ADDERALL. Fun fact! Fake adderall Does Not Taste Good.

My mouth is now dry and bitter. I take another sip of boba tea. This was a mistake. There are now MORE BALLS in my mouth and I have experienced the flavor of adderall-flavored boba tea. Adderall flavored boba tea is Not Good. I still haven’t swallowed the pill. I desperately chew the boba to a swallow-able level. The basic-bitch adderall continues to be chewed as I do this. It is so bitter. It tastes so bad.

I finally manage to swallow the pill. I have been scarred forever from this experience. Did I learn my lesson? Probably not.

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Nie Huaisang hasn’t found anyone to do the body sacrifice ritual for him, and so in desperation he tries it himself. However, the ritual was not designed with a Nie cultivator in mind—something Nie Huaisang does not realize until he’s doubled over on the floor, far too close to a qi deviation, because his (admittedly tiny) saber spirit has been replaced with Wei Wuxian.

ao3

Well, that was the dumbest thing ever.

The thought so closely matched Wei Wuxian’s that he didn’t even notice that it wasn’t his own.

How could you be so stupid? Wei Wuxian tried to shout at Nie Huaisang, who was curled up gasping on the floor. The floor, which was stained with Nie Huaisang's own blood, with cuts he had made himself on himself, with the ancient body sacrifice summoning that – that –

Don’t you realize that you’d be gone? You absolute idiot! Wei Wuxian howled, even though he wasn’t actually a person right now. He didn’t know what he was, a ghost or spirit, maybe, but he was there and he was angry and Nie Huaisang’s arms were covered in blood from where he’d cut himself up in order to destroy his own soul – Nie Huaisang, the mincing sensitive little master who would complain for three weeks about having stubbed his toe! – and his robes that he had always taken such great care to keep clean and neat were a mess and he was bleeding from the nose and eyes and ears because something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong, and Wei Wuxian hated to be grateful for it because he didn’t want to be brought back by Nie Huaisang’s death.

Not anyone’s death, really, but definitely not Nie Huaisang, who’d never hurt him or treated him badly. Even when the whole world had hated and reviled Wei Wuxian, isolating him in Yiling on the Burial Mounds, Nie Huaisang hadn’t – he’d waved jauntily to him during Phoenix Mountain, and Wei Wuxian had never doubted that if he’d somehow found his way to Qinghe, Nie Huaisang would have treated him just the same as always.

You – you –! You good-for-nothing!

“Don’t be rude,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, slowly uncurling. “Didn’t bring you back to be rude to me.”

You know what you’ve done, then? You could have died!

“Was I supposed to let someone else do it?” Nie Huaisang rubbed at his face with his sleeve, then frowned at the blood on it. “I thought about it, but I really just – couldn’t.”

So you decided to kill yourself?

“It’s like you said, Wei-xiong. I’m a good-for-nothing. I couldn’t – I can’t – I can’t fix this. So why not bring back someone who can?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have words to express how much that was not all right with him.

Go fix yourself, he ordered. I don't care what 'this' is; I’m not talking to you until you get cleaned up.

“After all that work I did? Wei-xiong…”

Nope! You’re not dying, so you can get cleaned up before we talk, and that’s that. I still can’t believe you nearly – I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt for me.

“Wei-xiong, you’re being silly. Who said I did it for you?”

Wei Wuxian would have stared if he had eyes.

“I did it for me,” Nie Huaisang said, and finally he got up properly and staggered over to a basin to start washing himself clean. “Obviously! I'm incredibly self-absorbed. It’s about what I need from you…hey, how did you come back? I thought the ritual only worked if I died.”

It should have, Wei Wuxian agreed, unwillingly intrigued by it. I don’t know, actually. It’s strange: it should have either worked, in which case you’d be dead and I’d be possessing your body, or else not worked at all, in which case I shouldn’t be here.

“I always mess things up.”

No, really, I don’t think you messed this up? The array is perfect. There’s no reason for it not to have worked.

“These cuts won’t heal,” Nie Huaisang observed, looking at his arms. “Did I accidentally curse myself to fulfill my obligations? Ugh, why.”

As the person you were going to impose said obligations on, I’m now going to laugh at you. Hahahahaha –

“Shut up, Wei-xiong. Where are you, anyway? I don’t see any ghostly figures that might be you, and anyway, we’re in the Unclean Realm; there are ghost-repelling arrays in every stone.”

I don’t know, Wei Wuxian said, and then something else said, Ghost-repelling arrays only repel ghosts.

At first Wei Wuxian thought that it was Nie Huaisang who had said that, and he was about to ask what he meant by that, only Nie Huaisang got there first and said, “What do you mean, Wei-xiong? Are you not a ghost?”

I didn’t say that, Wei Wuxian said. That – wasn’t me.

“Who was it?”

Me.

“…Wei-xiong…?”

No, that wasn’t me. I mean, it wasn’t me that said ‘me’ just now!

Of course not, the voice said, and it was Wei Wuxian’s voice – or not-voice, anyway, whatever it was that he was using to communicate – but not Wei Wuxian speaking. It was me, of course. Master forgot to account for me in his array.

What? Wei Wuxian asked, utterly confused, but apparently that made more sense to Nie Huaisang because his knees went weak and he fell down on his ass.

“Aituan?” he gasped. “I – what – is that you?”

Yes.

Can I interrupt? Wei Wuxian asked. Who – or what – is Aituan?

“My saber!”

Your – what?!

Nie Huaisang attempted to explain. It ended up being a fairly long explanation, involving his sect’s cultivation style, saber spirits, and his own personal saber spirit, which was named Aituan, and which Nie Huaisang swore up and down did not speak prior to this.

Of course not, the voice now known as Aituan said irritably. Why would I speak? I’m a saber. We’re sensible, not like you humans – but now you’ve shoved a human spirit in with me, so what am I supposed to do? Not use his abilities as my own?

I feel like I should feel violated, Wei Wuxian said.

“When in fact you think it’s really neat?”

…yeah, basically.

Aituan huffed. Can we get back to the part where we plan a murder? he (it?) whined.

Sorry, Aituan, Wei Wuxian said. No murder.

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Actually, about that…”

-

I think we should kill him.

“I can’t do that!”

Dunno, I think Aituan has a point, Wei Wuxian said. We should probably just kill him.

“You’re supposed to be helping me, Wei-xiong!”

I’m helping! I’m a saber now, I can totally help you stab him.

“Not helpful!”

I like this human, Aituan declared. Good human. Proper blade on his hilt.

You mean head on my shoulders?

Whatever.

Nie Huaisang threw his hands up in annoyance. “Would either of you like to remember the part where I can’t actually fight? San-ge would beat me black and blue if I so much as picked up a pocket-knife in his presence!”

Get someone else to help, Wei Wuxian suggested pitilessly.

“I tried! You!”

Someone else.

“Like who?”

Hmm. Lan Zhan? He’s great.

“I don’t know. He’s er-ge’s brother, isn’t he? He might not believe me…” Nie hUaisang grimaced. “He hasn’t been much inclined to believe me before.”

Why doesn’t the loudmouth do the talking? Aituan suggested.

Oh, that’s a good idea! Lan Zhan was always inclined to listen to me before.

“I thought you said he hated you?”

He still listened!

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh.

Your other alternative is stabbing your enemy directly, Aituan said. If you’d like to give it a try…

“…I’ll talk to Lan Zhan.”

-

“I can’t believe you’re perving after my saber,” Nie Huaisang complained.

I can’t believe Lan Zhan likes me! I mean, likes me!

I can’t believe I’m still stuck here with you idiots. Can I go share bodies with Baxia instead?

Lan Wangji just looked awkward.

Some people might mistake it for looking noble and genteel, but by now they all knew: it was just him being horribly awkward.

“I have no such intentions,” he said stiffly. “Only – if it was possible for Wei Ying to exit the saber…”

Nie Huaisang grimaced, humor falling away. “I…don’t really know about that.”

Wait, wait, wait. If I can’t – if I’m stuck as a saber – I can’t – but I really want to kiss Lan Zhan! This isn’t fair! I don’t want to have to wait until I reincarnate.

You won’t reincarnate, Aituan said. You’re a saber. Unless we’re melted down or get ground down by time…

No!

“Surely there has to be some way. Aituan, stop being a part of the problem and start being a part of the solution.”

Fine. Let him possess you.

“…what.”

He just needs a human body, right? Let him possess you. Problem solved.

I can do that?

Technically, I can do that, and you can do it because I can do it. But we’d need Master’s permission.

“There are many, many, many books about why you don’t grant your saber permission to possess you. Anyway, that’s my body!”

Yeah, I guess it would be weird for you to kiss Lan Zhan, would it?

“I mean, not really? He’s very pretty. I could swing it.”

You could?

“…you could swing what,” Lan Wangji said.

“Having Wei-xiong possess me,” Nie Huaisang explained. “So that he and you can get the whole missed opportunity thing out of your system.”

Lan Wangji’s face did a few strange things.

"Assuming that it wouldn't be an issue for you, that is, it being me on the other side..."

"No," Lan Wangji said, and cleared his throat. "That would be - fine."

Ooooooh. Does Lan Zhan like you, too?

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous, Lan Zhan doesn't like me like that."

He'd be willing to kiss you.

"Physical attraction isn't the same thing," Nie Huaisang argued. "Lan Zhan, you're with me on this, right? You wouldn't be interested in -"

Lan Wangji cut him off.

A few moments later, he pulled back and said, thoughtfully, "As suspected. It is fine."

Nie Huaisang opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"...well then," he said blankly, then frowned. “Aituan, can I revoke permission for possession?”

No idea. You'd just have to trust that we'd give it back; it's a risk you'd have to take.

“…well, as illustrated, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. Let’s try it, and then once everyone’s a little more focused we can go do what we need to do. Sound good?”

-

“I really didn’t expect you to start a relationship Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said to Lan Wangji, not long before the end. He sounded deeply puzzled. “I didn’t think you liked him like that.”

“Not by himself,” Lan Wangji said with a shrug. “But he’s good in company.”

“…you’re with other people too? Both of you?”

“Mm.”

Lan Xichen, knowing his younger brother’s reticent temper, especially of late, declined to ask who the other parties were. “Doesn’t that make things crowded?” he asked instead.

“…surprisingly no,” Lan Wangji said. “Not as much as you’d think.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we���ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fish

For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles

CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker

Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs

---

BAHRAM’S NOTES NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.

October 22nd, 20XX 3:45 am Mer in Residence: 19 Days

It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.

Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.

I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans. 

Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”

She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”

That’s not the point of this. 

I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.

I need some days off so badly.

Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.

I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L. 

I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.

No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.

Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.

So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.

She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.

Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.

Maybe not. 

We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so… 

I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?

I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse. 

It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.

She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.

I get too distracted by the mer.

He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces. 

They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.

I am.

A little.

I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?

I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous. 

She’d know I did it.

I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.

But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?

Anyway.

Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks. 

Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.

We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.

Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.

Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.

No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?

I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.

Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?

His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.

Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders. 

He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.

I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...

Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now. 

“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”

Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey. 

I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?

I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know? 

I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.

Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?

This is not helpful, Bahram.

I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…

I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.

But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.

The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to. 

I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”

He knows fish. 

I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.

I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle. 

But it makes sense, right? 

He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats. 

No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.

He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.

I’m hurting a child.

I’m teaching a child to be hurt.

I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.

No I’m not.

What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?

What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?

I need to stop thinking about this. 

“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk. 

I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.

I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater. 

“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.

He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled. 

“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”

Blank stare. 

Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”

I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that. 

I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously. 

Has it never seen fire before?

Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.

“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out. 

“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.

“No, wait stop-”

The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes. 

The big sad eyes are wrecking me.

“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”

He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound. 

The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting. 

“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”

“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.” 

“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.

Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing… 

I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.

I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.

He sounds like a child.

He IS a child

He’s just

I’m a fucking

No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.

The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated. 

He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other. 

Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”

“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”

The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”

I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they? 

But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.

Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”

The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”

“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.

“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”

The bloody thing knows my fucking name. 

He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has

I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I 

I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only

It’s going to get worse for him.

He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.

Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.

What else was I supposed to do? 

He knows my name!

He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.

But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…

Because what the hell do I do now?

I can’t tell Miah.

Can I?

 ---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @misspelledwitch @whumpfigure @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @whumpywhumper

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack, smut.  explicit.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities. 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020.  12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show.  How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice.  It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter. 

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.  

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,”  you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola.  It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry.  I’ve been so busy.  Things have just been—”  Crazy?  Out of this world?  Some kind of wonderful?  “—hectic.”  He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek.  It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind. 

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants.  “It’s fine , Jay.”  The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help.  “I know you’re a busy guy.  Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks.  You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances.  A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts. 

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying.  Not at first, anyway.  But when he does?  He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter.  So you were a little bit better than him.  “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”  

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self.  He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.  

“You’re mean,”  he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it.  “And yet you love it.”  

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice.  He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?”  You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his.  It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago.  “I’m good, yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You sure?  I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.  

“Yes, Mom .”  

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!” 

“Do you even know how old I am?”  Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.  

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged.  They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages?  Where you grew up?  Your real names?  That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen?  Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?”  You’re chuckling at your own genius.  He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve .  Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him.  It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing. 

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”  

It’s a joke.  Obviously , it’s a joke.  He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry.  It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too.  “I have something to tell you.”  There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity.  Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push.  “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.”  A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted.  You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent.  He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening.  “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…”  How does he start?  “I’m not just… some guy.”  Okay, that sounds bad.  He’s backtracking.  “I mean, I’m a guy.  I’m normal.”  This is going so poorly.  His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip.  “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy.  I’m actually like, uh...”  

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly.  He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.  

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart. 

“Jinny?”  It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation.  Still, nothing.  He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way.  “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own.  You’re trying to be serious, he thinks.  “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?” 

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.”  A beat.  He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission.  “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”  

Dammit.  Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault.  It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!”  He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”  

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.”  He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice.  Somehow, it feels different.  Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity.  “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?”  Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”  

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him.  “Of course not.  You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this.  He’s a million miles over the moon.  You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.  

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ?  Didn’t you hear what I just said?”  There’s no venom in your words.  “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.”  There’s that unabashed need to hear his name.  He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.” 

“Is your real name Jinny?”  He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin.  Jinny’s just my nickname.”  

“Well, Jinny—”  He says it dragged out and silly.  “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first.  He snorts.  “I live in Seoul .”  

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked.  It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”  He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more.  At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020.  10 PM.

Does he smell bad?  Should he have showered first?  Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail.  They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?”  Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.  

“Are you nervous?”  Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face.  He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.  

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring.  “Of course he is.”  Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!”  The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.  

“Shouldn’t you get going?”  It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet.  He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on.  The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room. 

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love.  He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.”  You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it.  It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet.  There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun.  His heart stutters in his chest.  He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance.  It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.  

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband. 

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are.  It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist.  You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.  

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed.  He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.  

“I’m so sorry,”  he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.  You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.  

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume.  Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home.  You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips.  Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw.  He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”  The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence.  They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head.  He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas.  It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district. 

“Your laugh is even better in person.”  You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.  

“Yeah?”  Can you see the hearts in his eyes?  He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils. 

“Yeah.  But don’t let that get to your head, mister.” 

“Already has - sorry.”  

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. 

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.  

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red;  how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty.  He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour.  You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny.  You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down.  You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.  

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face.  There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him.  You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on. 

“Open up!”  

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough.  He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting.  He probably looks stupid as hell.  

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound. 

“Too hot?”  You coo, feigning surprise.  You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you.  “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing.  It burns on the way down.  “You eat one now.”  He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.  

“I don’t like squid,”  you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours.  You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago.  He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.  

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food.  You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen.  He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover.  You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?”  You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip.  He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you.  “Of course.” 

“I won’t post it anywhere.”  

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t.  Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth.  You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,”  you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose.  “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his.  You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb.  It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.  

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp.  “No need,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you.  He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

“We’ll see about that,”  you return, equally as soft.  

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.  

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again.  It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.  

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills.  He should’ve booked you something later in the day.  Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea? 

“Right.”  He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides.  He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now.  The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move.  It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart. 

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.  

“Did you have fun?”  He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab.  You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.”  There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,”  he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back.  It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.”  There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection.  Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall.  Mozart would be proud. 

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud.  The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening.  He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.  

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard.  “I know.”  

“You do?”  He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.”  You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin.  “Can I kiss you?”  Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.  

“Hm.”  The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.  

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined.  It’s better than his wildest dreams.  It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful.  You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River. 

“I’m sorry.”  It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet.  “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”  

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation.  He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this.  He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible.  Needs it like he needs air - or more of you.  Either or.

“Thanks.”  

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers.  He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down. 

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor.  You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours.  He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.”  A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.  

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020.  2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior.  There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else.  No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.  

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival.  Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away.  You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,”  Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily.  “You haven’t even been inside.  Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back.  It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.  

“It’s a candle,”  you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.  

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”  

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots.  “What for?  Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has.  I know your birthday.”

Right.  Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge. 

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical.  He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear. 

“I had them before I met you.” 

“Right.”  It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him.  This is how the two of you are.  Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity. 

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?” 

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold.  If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.  

“Fine, fine.  Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride.  It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him.  You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary.  There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him.  There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece;  there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground. 

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space.  Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti.  A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should.  Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact.  There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen:  limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise). 

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?”  He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles.  You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank. 

“Maybe.” 

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork?  Really?” 

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up. 

“What’re you doing?”  You join him even as you ask.  He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.  

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”  

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer.  He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?”  Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure.  It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love.  You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm. 

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?” 

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd.  He doesn’t mind, though.  He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.  

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube.  He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?”  Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows. 

“No.”  Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.  

“Why not?”  

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear.  It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.”  He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle.  He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves. 

“Better?”  You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world. 

“Much,”  he hums, unashamed.  

“Welcome home, Kook.”  The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest.  He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.  

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet.  There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room.  It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game. 

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game.  He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in.  He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew. 

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.”  He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.  

You don’t move.  He wonders when the last time you slept was. 

“Jinny,”  he repeats himself, a little louder this time.  There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions.  “Do you want me to take you to bed?”  

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,”  you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”  

“Nothing, nothing.”  You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations.  It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of. 

Get it together , he scolds himself.  In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No!  Not yet.”  You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly.  It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.  

“You want to sleep out here?”  He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.  

“No!”  A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face.  You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely.  There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch.  He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair.  “I have a gift for you.”  

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.  

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken.  He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes.  He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?”  You’re looking at him with the strangest expression.  He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does.  It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him.  “I do.”  

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart.  It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.  

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.  

When he kisses you this time, it’s different.  It’s urgent but not rushed;  he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations.  His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours.  You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw.  Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose.  He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach.  Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.  

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.”  You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most.  He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap.  “You’re my dream girl, you know that?”  The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in. 

“You’re not too bad yourself.”  You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands. 

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind.  You really could read him like a book.  He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.  

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,”  you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,”  he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.  

“Show me how sorry.”  

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south.  He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.”  The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you. 

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan.  “Seriously - dream girl.”  

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church.  They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh.  His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.  

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?”  He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile. 

You’re impatient though - always have been.  “Straight down the hall.  Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight.  Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen.  He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,”  he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.”  You say it a lot.  He wonders if you really know. 

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea.  It’s not enough, though.  He wants to show you - needs to show you. 

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious.  “Are you sure you know?”  The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes.  “Maybe?”  You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do.  It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?”  He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach.  It’s like a switch has flipped.  For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour.  A force to be reckoned with .  “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer.  You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?”  You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen.  But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one. 

“Yes,”  you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted.  There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed.  You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,”  he says simply.  It’s gone before you can think twice.  Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”  

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was.  The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.  

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist.  “Please don’t hide from me.” 

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?”  He means your tattoos, of course.  They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream.  There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink.  Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green.  Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows.  He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.  

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.  

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion.  You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.”  He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out.  “My mom’s a big gardener.  She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?”  The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?”  That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way.  You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,”  he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,”  you retort - or try to at least.  You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with. 

“ Nicer , baby.”  

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close.  He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily.  It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening;  it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say. 

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat. 

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong.  He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds.  He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth.  He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.  

“Can you do that for me?”  He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.  

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting.  “What?”  

“I said—”  It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain.  He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries.  “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion.  It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.  

“Kook.”  You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life.  Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.” 

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him.  Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought.  You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—”  He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.   

“What do you need?  Ask nicely.”

“M-more.  I need m-more .”  A hiccup.  “Please.”  

“Like this?”  You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat.  “Or like this?”  The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times.  “Maybe like this?”  

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.”  Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system.  He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.  

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,”  he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb.  Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him.  He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.  

“Give me another, okay?”  

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit.  The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers.  There’s too much stimulation.  You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook.  Jungkook .”  His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips.  He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot.  He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving. 

“Come on, baby.  Let go.”  The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut.  You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort.  “That’s my girl.”  

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you.  He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest. 

“You did so good.”  

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.  

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.  

“I want you.”  

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest.  “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.  

“I know what you meant,”  he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately.  “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep.  Patience is key, remember?” 

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there.  It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed.  “Fine.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.”  It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave.  “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly.  “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs.  He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.”  You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more.  Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly.  The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place.  “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes.  the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic).  this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it.  i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple.  as always, let me know your thoughts.  xo

tag list.  @letmebeyour-sun​ @teawithbucky​

[ask-spider-man-61610]

So I think you’ve talked about your Doc Ock a bit on here... but have you ever encountered any other Ocks in other dimensions? How do they match up to yours?

Yes, I have. Doctor Octopus might not be exactly a universal constant, but it's certainly a common enough title that I've crossed paths with a fair number of them. I'm going to give a short little rundown of each of them, and why they should go to hell. This is gonna be a salty list. If you didn't want that, you should've come to someone else.

The Otto Octavius of Earth-1512 was the first alternate Ock I ever encountered. Unlike most of the Ocks on this list, I don't know or care what his deal is--I just spent an hour in my first ever alternate universe before I saw a man in armored green and yellow throwing cars around with mechanical tentacles. He was also working with the Green Goblin and holding civilians hostage at the time, which in my opinion is reason enough to put him in the ICU like I did. I've never been back to this universe and never will, but presumably he's just doing the same shit every month or so.

The Otto Octavius of Earth-8363, colloquially called God Ock because I guess we can't fucking help but stroke his ego, was the Ock I met during my first outing with what'd eventually be the Cluster. He's a weird edge case. First we fought a robotic duplicate of him, then his actual self after he'd done the dumbest thing I've ever seen an Ock do and integrated an extradimensional energy source into his fucking body in a bid for omnipotence. I suspect he was already basically dead when Gwen ripped the Shard out, but he had a backup personality on a secret hard drive and so we've met his AI self. He agrees it wasn't his smartest move. Still, fuck this guy. He apparently stabbed my alternate self in the back so he deserves what he got.

Oliver Octavius, of Earth-42711a, isn't a doctor. I refuse to call him Doctor Octopus, but he's calling himself that because he claims to be the son of Otto Octavius. Knowing Otto, I'm more than a little skeptical of that claim, but that doesn't change the fact that in a bid to be just like Daddy he dropped out of college to become a supervillain. When Melly noted that this plan was less than stellar he interpreted that as a personal betrayal and has sworn revenge on her. He's temperamental, idolizing of a man he's never met, and has an ego more fragile than sugar glass--and he's not even good at villainy. I walked into his lair, kicked his ass, and walked out again in less than five minutes. Oliver's pathetic. And he knows it, because he's scrambling to compensate with a desperation that anyone with half a brain can see is going to kill him very, very soon.

The Otto Octavius of Earth-22701 needs to fucking leave Morgan alone. The Peter Parker of that universe died like a century ago, and that Otto's engineered a way to stop aging so he doesn't even need to fight superheroes anymore. But no, he reads about a kid in New Orleans with my powers and decides that that's obviously his dead enemy having, I dunno, reincarnated or something. Instead of being the result of the spider-related experiments that he funded. I don't have a lot of respect for this Otto's intelligence. I've only met him in-person once, when I was going on the warpath and beating up everyone who's ever tried to kill Morgan, but for some reason having an actual Peter Parker knock two of his teeth out wasn't enough to deter him from his theory about Morgan being me. I'll try again as soon as I get a chance.

Odyssia Octavius, the Ock of Earth-777, is probably the least scientist and most mad of all the mad scientists here. Also the one who leans the hardest into the Octopus aesthetic, because alone among the Ocks she's a marine biologist. Now, unlike certain counterparts of mine I could mention, I actually don't give a fuck about her decision to serve an eldritch sea monster for power. Nor am I opposed to her overall goal--obviously we gotta save the environment, and obviously we're gonna have to fuck up some industries to make that happen. That's fine. My problems with her are more related to her habit of painfully twisting people she's got a grudge on into horrific monsters and then siccing said monsters on the populace. Even if that wasn't fucking abominable and evil beyond all recompense, it doesn't exactly convey the green message she's trying to go for. Maybe the Writhing One is modifying her logic to suit its own ends, using her as a puppet to get what it wants. Maybe she just fucking sucks. I've only ever spoken to her through the Internet, but if we ever meet face to face I'll be sure to ask which one it is right after I kick her ass and rip off big handfuls of that magic tattoo.

October Otto, the Doctor Octopus of Earth-2, is the only person in this list who I'm not inclined to attack on sight. It took me a little while to get to that point--when the me of Earth-2, Pax, introduced us I was pretty suspicious. But out of all the Ocks I've ever met, this is the only one who's not...nefarious. They're a little eccentric, more than a little shy, but overall a very well-meaning and selfless biologist. I'm glad I met them, even if their tentacles make me a little nauseous to think about. They and I still communicate occasionally, and after what happened to Pax I've been checking in with them to ask about their progress on a cure. This is one of the few people with whom I've ever felt the need to share my files on the Oz virus. I hope it does them good.

With the exception of October, all of these people are fucking awful. But none of them are as dangerous or as detestable as the Otto Octavius of Earth-61610.

The Otto I know is an unrivalled genius. His entire existence is devoted to biorobotics, and over the years he's integrated man and machine on a level that makes the Iron Man armor look like a remote-controlled action figure. He's modified his tentacles to counter my super speed, he's designed and redesigned a zillion different personal helpers, he's made himself the center of a technological superpower controlled solely by his mind. And unlike a lot of Ocks, he's not being manipulated by his tentacles. Nor was he driven insane by the accident that fused them to his body. No, this is a perfectly sane, rational prosthesis engineer who got so frustrated with the bounds of the law that he decided he had the right to start snapping necks.

He's a futurist, is the thing. A man with a grand vision of the technological utopia he could turn the world into, who thinks without a shadow of doubt that he knows what's best for the world and everyone in it, and who's decided that if you try to stop him from realizing that vision that the best thing to do is Remove you from the equation. Worse, he's written off massive swaths of the human race off as expendable--as little people whose lives are a perfectly acceptable sacrifice to bring about his future, who maybe even should be thanking him for the chance to finally mean something.

Every Octobot contains at least a few pieces of human brain. He kidnaps people, lobotomizes them, and integrates parts of their central nervous system into his systems to make his robots more adaptable and independent than purely mechanical systems could be. He's seeded mass-produced medicine with nanotech that hijacked the nervous system of the people who took it and turned them into unconscious parts of a worldwide neural network. On more than one occasion, he's tried to turn entire cities into his own personal laboratories, and everyone inside into lab rats.

Otto Octavius is a monster. No other Ock I've ever met even comes close.

[ayatosmlktea]

best boyfriend series | kirishima

A/N: So there is a list me and the gal pals have compiled of who we think are the best boyfriends in the entire world. I haven’t been in a thirsting mood for so long probably bc im mad ✨depressed✨ so the only thing on my mind is soft boys and how amazing they are. This is the most writing I've done in months but I wrote this for Bri’s birthday a while back and am now sharing them with you bc we could all use some wholesome kiripima 

I wrote these as the thoughts came to my mind so...its not really organized ANYWAY enjoy!

- Your sense of humour and easy going personality is what draws him in even if he doesn’t realize it to be love in the beginning

- Even when he’s training with bakugou his eyes are always searching you out, the way you handle your quirk takes his breath away he just thinks you look so badass in combat

- Every time you ask if he wants to study together his heart starts racing so fast it feels like it’s going to burst out of  his chest and he has to fight back the blush that burns the back of his neck and ears whenever you giggle

- As you and Mina become closer, you start hanging out more with the bakusquad.

- Kiri finds himself getting increasingly distracted by you, he notices every little thing like the way your eyes shine whenever you smile, the way cover your mouth when you laugh which bothers him because the entire world deserves to see how beautifully radiant you look when you’re happy

- He notices the way your body language changes when you’re tired, how your attitude gets a little grumpier when you’re hungry and through learning all of that Kiri steps in to make you whole

- When you’re tired he passes you his notes to copy after class just giving you a knowing smile and ignoring the way his heart flutters when you stare at him like he’s your knight in shining armour

- He doesn’t like the way that Denki and sero playfully flirt with you, it makes him feel weird although he knows he has no right to be jealous so he ignores it

- During your second year you start dating Shinsou and Kiri can feel his world come to a halt, his heart plummets into this stomach but he puts on a fake smile and tells you that he’s happy for you and he hopes Shinsou treats you right

- You don’t seem to notice the way the light in his eyes is gone, how much more time he puts into training now that you’re busy with your new relationship and as bitter and mad as he wants to be he knows you deserve to be happy, even if it isn’t with him so he pushes his feelings down and acts like he isn’t being punched in the gut every time you kiss shinsou and not him

- Your last night in the dorms before summer vacation Kirishima finds himself being woken up by a quick series of knocks on his door

“Denki I told you already pennywise is not under your be-” he stops mid sentence when he finds you outside of his door, sniffling with red rimmed eyes

- He’s barely awake and processing what’s happening as he opens his door wider so you can come inside before one of the teachers catches you out of bed and on the boys side of the dorms

- He can hear that you’ve been crying and are still trying not to when you apologize for waking him up so late but you didn’t know who else to go to and suddenly his entire body is burning with anger when you tell him that Shinsou broke up with you

- He can’t help but let out a broken laugh, Shinsou never deserved your heart in the first place. If he couldn’t see how dedicated you were to the people you loved, how you cared for your friends and put their needs above yours, how incredibly talented and hardworking and beautiful you were then he was the dumbest man alive

- You’re suddenly quiet and Kiri realizes that he’s said all of that outloud and the overwhelming urge to disappear consumes him. He was sure that you were going to get up and walk out and never speak to him again but you don’t

- Instead you ask if he means what he said so quietly he can barely hear it and despite how hot his cheeks are burning with embarrassment he tells you he does

- He stops you when you lean in to kiss him and his heart hurts when he can see the rejection and embarrassment paint your features but he tells you that it’s not because he doesn’t want to kiss you, because of course he wants to, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of your feelings when you’re going through an emotional time

- You two spend the summer hanging out- just as friends, he wants to give you time to get over Shinsou because the last thing he wants is to be your rebound

- But with every day that goes by he finds it harder not to kiss you, not to hold your hand, not to text you every second of the day, not to tell you that he loves you

- The realization that he loves you doesn’t scare him, but it is the first time he admits to himself and accepts it rather than trying to bury it and so after he walks you home and you turn to go into inside he grabs your wrist and pulls you in for a kiss

- It’s not the most coordinated kiss but it sets every nerve in his body on fire and you’re both clinging onto each other like it’s your only lifeline. You break apart with the biggest smiles on your face and in that moment Kiri knows he’s going to spend the rest of his life with you

‧͙⁺˚*·༓☾　　☽༓·*˚⁺‧͙

- Well i wasn’t planning to write all that so now let’s get into WHY he’s the best bf

He’s 100% devoted to you, literally you could be in a room full of fkn models and his eyes would be focused on you because he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman to walk the earth

Any other relationship you’ve had in the past does not even come close in comparison to how Kiri treats you

- He would give up his life to make sure you’re happy, seeing you upset breaks his heart because he cannot stand the sight of you crying. It literally tears a whole in his chest

- If it’s within his power to deal with, he will make sure that whoever hurts you does not make the same mistake again. Maybe its a little unethical to use his pro-hero status to strike fear into the heart of creeps who won’t leave you alone at work, or the girls who enjoy gossiping about your relationship behind your back but he does not give a single fuck

- Your happiness comes before his and if you aren’t happy, he’s not happy.

- If he hears people talking about your relationship and making it seem as though you’re only with him for the fame or money he’ll tear them down with the brightest smile on his face not missing a beat

- While he acts all big and scary fighting villains, when he comes home to you at the end of the day he is the most cuddly person you’ve ever known. It doesn’t matter how exhausted he is, he always grabs you in for a hug and doesn’t let you down until he’s satisfied.

- Kiri is really big on skin to skin contact, expect him to constantly be slipping his hands under your shirt and wrapping his arms around you at the most random times

- When you guys are getting ready to sleep he’ll pull you snug against his chest and bury his face in the nape of your neck,

Your scent helps him fall asleep, not in a creepy way but in a ‘you’re safe and here with me so i can close my eyes knowing that everything is okay’ kind of way.

‧͙⁺˚*·༓☾　　☽༓·*˚⁺‧͙

- In my humble opinion, once kiri catches feelings for you they’ll never fade

- Even if you fight, it only reminds him of everything you two have built together and that you’re worth fighting for

- You hear a lot of your friends complain about how their boyfriends never listen to them, or how they don’t know what they like, you watch them shamelessly flirt with other guys and wonder what it must be like to be in such an unsatisfying relationship

- Kiri knows you better than you know yourself, he’s so in tune with you and your body that you don’t even need to ask him to do anything, he just knows

- He remembers little dates that most boyfriends dont, your first kiss, your first date, the first time he said “i love you” outloud

- He also is the first one to say it and it happens when you’re just hanging out in his room

- He’s known that he’s been in love with you for months but didnt want to say it too soon and have you freak out but after nearly six months in it’s driving him crazy not being able to tell you he loves you

- When he does your eyes glisten with tears and he freaks out thinking that he’s said too soon until you’re crushing him in a hug and tell him that you love him too

- When you’ve had a bad day at work or life is just becoming too stressful for you to deal with he puts everything else on hold to comfort you

- Makes you your favourite meal for dinner, gets your favourite show ready to watch after your shower and massages your feet while you snack on some ice cream for dessert

- Ever since you’d started dating Kiri had a habit of “accidentally” forgetting his hoodies at your place, spraying them with a bit of extra cologne while you were in another room

- He loved it when you wore his clothes, it filled him with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe but it solidified in his mind that you were his

- After almost four years of dating he knows that he can’t spend another second without you being his, forever

- He stays up all night looking at engagement rings but none of them are good enough for you so he does a little more research and finds a place that makes custom rings and has the date the first time he kissed you engraved on the inside of the ring

- He 100% cries the second he sees you walk down the aisle, if he thought you were beautiful before, there’s nothing else that compares to you on your wedding day

-  Everything else drowns out around him and the other thing that matters is you, sliding your rings onto each other fingers and sharing your tearful vows and then you’re pronounced husband and wife and his entire being is elated

- He kisses you with a passion and fervour you’ve never felt before, like he’s pouring his soul into the kiss , every promise he’s ever made and will make and all the things he can’t find the right words to say are transmitted

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch①

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major 

※ mlist | ● ② ③ ④

you knew it was a dumb bitch move to procrastinate on your science requirement.

trying to schedule gen-eds around the demanding requirements of your theatre degree was already a nightmare, and your aversion to maths and sciences makes it even more difficult to find classes that both fit in your schedule AND don’t make you want to actively drop out of school. you weren’t sure why you thought putting off your one and only science credit until your final semester was going to solve any of that. so, you couldn’t be shocked when your only option to graduate on time ended up being 9am chemistry 1. on a monday, no less.

the first class is just as bad as you expect. the lecture drags on for ages, and as much as you will your sleepy morning brain to wrap your head around the concepts being thrown at you, no amount of caffeine, color-coded notes, or mental gymnastics can ford the river of brain-muddling frustration standing between you and a passing grade - the one you need to graduate.

panic begins to set in as you visualize all the hard work you put into your degree rendered useless, all because of a class that doesn’t even have to do with your field of study. who decided there had to be a science requirement anyway? i don’t need fucking chemistry to get a theatre degree??

“if you’re having trouble with anything,” your professor announces, bringing your attention back to the lecture that's finally wrapping up, “the tutoring center on campus is a great resource. i also hold office hours at the times listed on the syllabus. that’s our time for today folks, have a good week.”

you check the syllabus - all of the professor’s office hours conflict with your other classes, of course. asking your classmates is out of the question, seeing as you’re the lone arts major in a sea of STEM and pre-med. as annoying as it is to have to add another item to your schedule, tutoring seems like the only option if you want any hope of graduating. luckily you have some time before your next class, so you pack up your things and head for the tutoring center.

you pray that a decent chem tutor is available during any of your limited free time as you approach the lady at the desk of the tutoring office. she informs you of several with hours later in the week, none of which align with your schedule, and one who is available for the next hour. you figure tutoring right after class isn’t a bad deal - especially considering it’s your only option. the woman gives you a classroom number and a name - kuroo tetsuro - and you set out.

it doesn’t take you long to find the right classroom, but you aren’t prepared for the sight that is waiting for you there. a strong jawline and a mess of black hair that appears to stick up on its own catch your eye first as he taps away at his phone screen, his bored slouch doing nothing to hide his imposing height.

“um... hi, kuroo?” you say tentatively. his eyes glance up from his phone, slightly startled.

“oh, hey,” he responds, sitting up a bit, “you here for tutoring?”

“i am,” you reply with a half smile, “y/n.”

“kuroo. nice to meet you, y/n,” he pulls out the chair next to him as an invitation, “what year are you?”

“i’m a senior,” you say as you make your way over and sit down, “i’m in chem 1.” he definitely seems taller up close, even sitting down.

“chem 1? as a senior?” he asks derisively, his lips curling into a smirk. embarrassment and annoyance shoot through your chest.

“i’m a theatre major, alright,” you respond dryly, “i’m just trying to get my science credit and go.”

“left it ‘til the last minute, huh?” that smirk is still on his face.

“yeah, not my best decision,” you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep through, “but i’m just trying to pass this class so i can graduate.”

“well, hopefully i can help with that,” he says smugly, “i may be a lowly business major, but i’m pretty good with chem if i do say so myself.”

a business major. of course. you’re familiar with the future capitalist machinery of the business school from your limited experience with the frat parties they so densely populated. needless to say, the impression was not good.

“so what do you need help with?”

“um...” you pondered, “all of it?” he snickered.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific if you wanna get anywhere.” his tone is dripping with amusement. is he trying to piss you off?

“ugh,” you let out an exasperated grunt, suddenly averse to showing any kind of weakness to this jerk. you pull out your notebook and flip to the page where you had attempted to take notes earlier. “this stuff.”

he leans over to take a look at your notes, and as his eyes scan the page you suddenly notice his smell - some fancy-smelling cologne with like, sandalwood or some shit - and his strong but elegant bone structure. i could cut myself on those cheekbones, you think.

“these notes are terrible.”

annnndddd he ruined it.

“well i can’t exactly take good notes if i have no clue what’s going on,” you counter, “isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me with?”

“i can try,” he says with an amused grin, “but I’ve never seen someone struggle this much with the basics on day one.”

now, you could put up with a lot of shit, but the one thing you cannot stand is being condescended to. especially not by some egotistical capitalist fucker who barely knows you.

“look,” you say pointedly, holding back the urge to throat punch him right then and there, “i’m really busy, and i just wanna pass this class, so if you could help me without being a dick about it i’d really appreciate it.”

“aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

his lips twist back into that patronizing smirk - he’s definitely trying to get a rise out of you.

“fuck off,” you say with a roll of your eyes, refusing to take his bait, “are you gonna teach me chemistry or not?”

he chuckles quietly again, thoroughly entertained. “sure. only because I’m so kind, and i could use the challenge.”

you scoff, but hold yourself back from retorting. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

at first, it’s excruciating. you loathe this douchey business bro getting off on being condescending while explaining chemistry to you like you don’t understand anything - which, to be fair, you don’t. but that somehow makes you resent him more.

granted, once you actually get down to business, kuroo is actually a pretty good tutor. he’s not actively annoying when he’s actually trying to teach you something, and he’s surprisingly patient and good at breaking things down. dude is smart, there’s no denying that.

nevertheless, even when he’s not being snarky, every correction he makes seems to fluster you more. you hate looking stupid in front of others, and something about kuroo seems to amplify that feeling by a thousand. you blame his attitude.

as you fumble trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar numbers, symbols, & formulas, you’re simultaneously attempting to maintain a shred of dignity in front of this man who clearly thinks of you as the dumbest bitch on the planet. and the more you struggle, the more you worry he’s right.

“seeeee? i told you it wasn’t that hard!” he hums as you finish off another homework question you’d been struggling with. he can’t seem to praise you without being patronizing as fuck, either. you look up from your page momentarily to shoot him a glare.

frustration and embarrassment simmer inside of you with each of his snide remarks, but you hold yourself together and divert the attention back to studying each time. the restraint it takes not to deck him right in his pretty face is honestly deserving of a nobel peace prize.

“not bad,” he muses as you finally finish off the last of your homework, “and it only took you two and a half hours!”

“i’m floored,” you deadpan. your brain is too exhausted to formulate a more clever comeback. then you suddenly realize - “hang on... has it actually been two and a half hours? i thought you were only available for one??”

“technically,” he shrugs, “that’s when my tutoring hours end. but I wasn’t doing anything after, and you seemed like you needed the extra help.” that shitty smile is back. you can feel your blood boiling, but at the same time that... is actually pretty nice of him?

“ah... th-thanks,” you mumble, still resistant to showing any signs of weakness - much less gratitude - to the messy-haired prick.

“so, should i expect you back next week?” his stare reminds you of a cat sizing up its prey.

“uh... maybe,” you say. you honestly don’t have an answer yet. “i have to run though, i’ve got another class to get to.”

“don’t be a stranger,” he grins, “you’re gonna need a lot of help if you wanna graduate.”

you shoot him another glare as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“i’ll think about it.”

he's still smirking at you as you walk out the door.

—

as much as you’d like to deny it, there’s not much to think about. none of the other chem tutors are available when you are, and there’s no way you’re passing the class without the extra help. and, as insufferable as he is, kuroo did help you get through your entire first week of homework successfully.

of course, you still resent having to rely on some nasty ass, pompous business major to mansplain chemistry to you every week so you can graduate. well, technically it’s not mansplaining since you don’t actually know anything about chemistry. and you technically also asked him to do it. but god, does he have to be such a dick about it??

it’s just an hour or two once a week, you reassure yourself, you can put up with it.

this is easier said than done, of course. the following monday, you begrudgingly approach the same classroom, empty except for one (1) chickenhead douchebag, who promptly stares you down with the most shiteating smile you’ve ever seen.

“oya oya~ look who decided to come back!” he croons.

“don’t flatter yourself, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you respond flatly. why is he still looking at me with that dumb expression?

“true, there’s no way you’re passing on your own.”

“listen,” you reply pointedly, “some people have better things to do than worry about how many neutrons are on hydrogen or whatever”

“hydrogen doesn’t have any neutrons.”

“COOL!!!! i just want to graduate!!”

“well then you’re gonna need to know that hydrogen doesn’t have any neutr-”

“ALRIGHT, i got it,” you huff, “can you just… help me figure out this balancing equations shit? WITHOUT being an asshole about it?”

“hmm… sorry, i can only accept one request at a time.”

this is gonna be a long fucking semester.

a/n: eeeeee this is the first time i’ve actually wholeheartedly attempted to write a fic in lord knows how long (possibly ever?? idk them memories repressed) and my first time posting my own writing so i hope y’all like it !! everybody who’s ready to see me trash talk k*roo t*tsuro say way ho

[lostonehero]

Surprise the nerd isn't a nerd

Contains swearing, minor sexual themes, redneck characters, mentions of child endangerment, threats of violence and violence. Trans character.

Archie held the black box in his hand, he was so nervous, but he was confident in what he wanted. It was just as he was a he. After the whole legend fiasco, Maxie and him grew close, and two years later Archie was head over heals for the red head. He even got input from Courtney and Tabitha for the ring, all that was left was meeting Maxie's family.

Archie knew Maxie had a large family from the limited information he had, five older siblings, parents, and his grandmother was still around. The now combined magma and aqua base had more then enough room to house everyone for the holidays. His family was also coming, and he knew Maxie would have the occasional pirate jab, but his parents did like the red head enough. Hopefully there combined families will get along.

He stuffed the black box in his pocket as he headed back to the base. Steven gave them the holidays off, and gave them extra time after Archie told his plan. Steven could be a hardass sometimes but he was weak when it came to romance. Only one more week and he will be meeting Maxie's family, and proposing. Archie couldn't be any happier.

.....

"Y'ain't coming here with no guns, I ain't gettin more legal troubles." Maxie huffs. "Ma use a cane not your Betsy."

Archie couldn't help but overhear Maxie's conversation. Sure he knew Maxie was from the country, but he just assumed a small farm town, he had a funny feeling that wasn't the case anymore.

Maxie sighs. "Yah Ma will do, love ya too." He hangs up and looks over to Archie. "Ma is bringing some food over I told her it wasn't a potluck."

"Let your mom cook Maxie it's not the end of the world."

"Grandma Archie, we just call her Ma, mom is my mother."

"Oh uh ok, that's fine let the old woman cook." Archie rubs the back of his neck.

"I do miss her Chili. Anyhow you were watching me on the phone." He gets a little red. "Sorry my accent does come out talking to family."

"Its cute Maxie don't worry about it, I like that your a bit country."

"A bit?"

"Yeah you grew up in a small town right?"

"Yes and no, I grew up on a farm Archie by a small town."

"Ah...."

"Yeah don't worry my family isn't like a stereotype with being transphobic or homophobic."

Archie frowns kind of forgetting that glaring fact about the two. "Are you sure?"

"My Ma clocked me for gay before I turned 10, and one of my sisters is trans. Ma did nearly kill one of my uncles for misgendering her though." He pauses. "I got to tell mom to keep Ma from bringing Betsy."

Archie suddenly gets a bad feeling. "Your grandma nearly killed your uncle?"

"Well not nearly she missed her shot on purpose it was a warning."

"Maxie guns are illegal."

"Oh yeah.... never stopped us before."

Archie's bad feeling becomes a bad omen in his mind.

......

Tabitha looks Archie dead in the eye digesting what he was telling them. "So let me get this straight, you invited Maxie's family out for the holidays?"

Archie nods

Matt looks down at Tabitha sitting in his lap. "Why's that such a big deal again? Isn't family a good thing, I'm sure that nerd's family is as stuffy as him."

Tabitha covers his face. "I've only met one of Maxie's brothers and well Maxie only looks like a nerd. I don't like speaking poorly of Maxie but that man is a redneck, hick, a country boy of every type."

Archie begins to chuckle. "Sure he has his temper and the accent when he lets it slip but it isn't that bad."

"A hick? Tabby what are you talking about?" Matt hums

"Let me make this clear with an example of something Maxie told us." Tabitha sighs. "Maxie didn't get his first pair of glasses till he was 16."

Archie gets that bad feeling again but shrugs it off. "Isn't he legally blind without his glasses? Why did it take so long?"

Tabitha frowns. "To quote Maxie 'I'm a better shot without the glasses."

Matt pauses. "Shot? Do you mean gun?"

Tabitha nods. "He got his first gun at 13."

Archie pales and so does Matt.

Archie loves Maxie but as he learns more information he is slowly starting to fear the man.

.....

Archie smiles seeing a old woman alone, and of course he goes over to help the scowling woman. "Are you lost ma'am?"

The woman looks up and her glare sends daggers through Archie as she slams her cane down. "I am looking for my grandson, not his boy." Her accent is thick

Archie kind of freezes and stutters. "I uh"

"Straighten your back I can walk on my own." She continues foward. "Don't keep me waiting boy."

"Y-yes ma'am." Archie nods following behind her.

Archie sighs in relief spotting Maxie.

"Ma you're early I told ya wait at the train station." Maxie smiles giving the old woman a hug.

"Nonesense my baby boy doesn't need to come on out for little old me." She smiles then frowns looking back at Archie.

"Ma that's Archie he is my partner." Macie smiles softly moving to hold his hand.

"He better be worth your effort Max." She sighs

Maxie sighs. "Yes Ma he is. Do you need help with your bags?"

"Thank you kindly for you asking but I ain't that weak." She smiles "just show me to my room darling."

Maxie nods and leaves Archie to show his grandma to her room.

.....

Archie has a newfound fear of Maxie listening to stories about Maxie growing up. He is more so shocked that the man isn't dead yet, also how many guns has he hidden in the base, and why can't Archie find a single one.

"As I was saying this little prick decided to run into the camerupt pen, eight years old he goes in and runs out with an egg biggest smile on his face screaming 'I found my partner.' " his oldest sister was holding back laughter. "The brat was covered head to toe in mud so happy with himself."

Archie just looks at Maxie wide eyes. "You weren't trampled to death?"

Maxie red faced. "What no why would I be?"

"Maxie you were eight years old surrounded by camerupt." Archie looks at him wide eyed.

"Pssh wasn't the dumbest thing I did growing up." Maxie chuckles the red leaving his face his accent in full force.

"Fucker shot fireworks off the roof git jessabell to light them. That hellhound only liked him." One of Maxie's brothers snickered.

"You're the one who got the fireworks Henry." Maxie scoffed

"Yeah and? You lit them up." Henry sticks his tongue out.

Archie just nods as the stories continued, Maxie wasn't just a nerd no that was a cover, Maxie is a full redneck. He was too in love to back out now.

......

The food was way too spicy for Archie, but desert was the beat thing he had ever eaten. Granted his nerves were getting the best of him, and Maxie's grandmother was glaring at him because he refused anymore food. He took out the black box from his pocket and turned to Maxie.

"Archie?" Maxie looked back at him.

"Maxie I love you more then anything you know that right?" Archie smiles getting down on one knee. "And we've done our worst but also our best together, and I wanted that to continue, like the land needs the sea I need you Maxie." He takes a deep breath "will you marry me?"

Maxie covers his mouth and nods. "Archie is that why you asked my family out here?" He looks around then back at Archie and pulls the man into a kiss letting Archie put on the ring. "Of course I'll marry you."

Ma gives a look Archie can't decipher. "You better teach him right Max."

"Yes Ma." Maxie smiles and whispers to Archie. "She likes you."

Archie looks back to the glaring woman not being able to comprehend that fact.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 5- Bread Cat Power Pack

Co Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

 Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

TLAYLI Masterlist  // Main Masterlist 

Stella stood at the trunk of the CIA issued Sedan, grimacing. It was the middle of January, cold and snowy, and she had a few bags of shopping to get back into her apartment. She was trying to figure out if she could make it upstairs with all of it at once, to prevent having to come back down, but was failing to see how it was possible.

“Needs some help?” a familiar voice asked and she turned to see Jake coming towards her, still in his uniform, his heavy boots leaving prints in the light, powdery dusting of fresh snow.

She smiled “Yeah, actually. You can grab a couple of these, save me coming back down.”

Jake looked in the trunk and scoffed “You stocking for winter, Stel?” he asked as he grabbed three of the bags.

She snorted “I literally have nothing in my cupboards.” She picked up the remaining two, locked the car and followed him to the main doors of the Condo building. “I’ve not really been here over the last two weeks so…” “I guess you’ve been spending time at your boyfriend’s huh?” Jake asked, his voice neutral as Stella managed to open the door.

“His name is Evan.” She rolled her eyes “And yeah, you could say that.”

Jake remained quiet as they strode to the elevator. Stella called it down and once the doors pinged open, they stepped inside and Jake placed the bags he was carrying down at his feet.

“So, I haven’t seen you since New Year.” Stella looked at him “How’s stuff going? You and Britney good?” “Yeah, erm, about that…” Jake cleared his throat a little as he selected their floor.

As the doors shut, Stella turned to look at him, frowning “Is there something wrong or…”

“That depends on who you ask.” Jake mused “If you ask her then yeah.  She’ll probably tell you I’m a…what were her exact words? Oh right, a fucking asshole”

“What did you do?” Stella sighed and Jake grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dumped her.”

Stella raised her eyebrows “Well speaking from experience, I can kinda see why she might be a little upset.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to respond to her little dig but in the end he didn’t get chance as the elevator stopped and opened on their floor. Jake picked up his bags and followed her across to her apartment. She set the bags she was carrying down, grabbed her key and the door swung open. Jake stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with his foot and instantly that familiar smell of vanilla, fresh laundry and the light tones of her perfume hit his senses. He hadn’t been in here for months. They made their way through to the little kitchen and she flipped on the lights, Jake dropping the bags onto the side.

“So are you ok about the pair of you being over or…” Stella turned to face him and Jake wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I wasn’t that into her. I mean, she was just…” he stopped and shrugged a little “I’m all right, yeah.”

Stella snorted, shaking her head “Wow.”

“Had to be honest with her.”

At that Stella couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat “That’s a first”

“Wow, that’s the second dig in the last 2 minutes.” Jake arched an eyebrow and Stella inwardly cursed herself. He’d done nothing to deserve either of the shots she’d taken, especially after he was being nothing but helpful

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” he asked.

There was a moment’s pause before they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Jake, I don’t wanna…”

“I miss you Stel…you know, us hanging out.

The last bit of Jake’s sentence was added hastily and Stella took a deep breath.

“You’ve been a jerk to me recently, JJ”

“I know I fucked it all up.” He continued pleading his case “But I love you Stel, as friends, ya know?”

She studied him for a moment, and Jake held his breath before her eyes softened, the way they always did when she was coming round, and he exhaled slowly.

“Guess I miss you too.” She said quietly.

At her words Jake’s face split into a grin. “You guess or…”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed, and on a roll he decided to see how far he could edge his luck. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, maybe grab a pizza, I got beer.”

Stella felt her face fall “Sorry JJ, Ev’s coming over.” and as she spoke she realised she actually was sorry. For a split second she considered calling Ev and cancelling, which in itself confused her. Why was she even thinking that? And then she realised, it was because she missed Jake. Despite everything, they’d been through too much for her not to care for him.

Jake nodded, “Okay, well, maybe another night?”

Stella blinked, she’d been expecting some sarcastic quip about Evan but none had come, which surprised her a little. That said, she smiled and nodded “Yeah I’d like that.”

Jake nodded “Right, I’ll err…let you unpack all that then and see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, great. Oh, and thanks.” She smiled “For helping me.”

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to leave a damsel in distress.” He winked. “I’ll see myself out.”

He made his way out of the apartment, closing her door behind him, taking a deep breath as he headed over the landing. Despite the setback about the pizza and beer, he felt good. The air was clearer, it was good progress, easy easy catch a monkey and all that.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and just as he was opening his door he heard hers open behind him.

“Look, I got a little while.” Stella spoke “I was gonna bake some cookies, you wanna help?”

Jensen allowed himself a grin before he turned to face her “You miss me already?”

“Don’t push it asswipe.” She shot back and he laughed.

“Gonna make extra dough so I can eat it?”

She rolled her eyes “Yes, dur.”

“Ok, gimme ten to change and I’ll come over.”

“Use your key.” She nodded, before she pulled her head back in her apartment and shut the door.

Jensen gave a little fist pump of victory as he stepped inside his hallway, smirking to himself “Operation Petunia is a go…”

**** After a quick shower, Jensen changed into a pair of grey sweats, a plain navy blue t-shirt and headed over the hall in his socks. As instructed, he let himself in and walked through to the kitchen, the sound of the radio growing louder as he went. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Stella stood with her back to him, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white- slouchy vest top with a tighter cami underneath, rifling in a cupboard. He felt a sudden, nostalgic pang for the times she used to dress casually like that around their student quarters or back at home when they were slobbed in front of the TV at her Ma’s or his Parents. With a little breath, he coughed and she turned to face him, smiling before she nodded to the fridge.

“Make yourself useful and grab us a coupla’ beers will ya?”

He saluted her and she gave a snort as he headed to the fridge and pulled it open, giving a groan as he spotted the Sam Adams. Grabbing two, he popped the tops before he handed her one. She thanked him and continued pulling the ingredients she needed out of the cupboards, the pair of them falling into an easy, but still careful conversation. Stella cursed as she mumbled something about her digital scales running out of batteries and then retrieved the old faithful analogue ones.

“Why is it, when you need something, that’s always the time it’s gonna end up nor working?” she grumbled, setting the dial to zero carefully.

“One of life’s many mysteries Stel.” Jake said wisely as she began to measure the flour out. “Along with why cats always fall on their feet, snidey little bastards.”

Stella snorted, “Or why buttered bread always lands butter down when you drop it? Although I think there’s a scientific explanation to that.”

“There is.” Jake nodded, taking a drink from his beer “When the bread falls out of your hand, it does so at an angle, see, by nature of it having slipped from its previous position, and it rotates.” Jensen twisted his hand in the air to demonstrate his point “Given that it’s normally dropped from a hand or a table, which is like two feet or so, there’s enough time for the toast to rotate about one-half of a turn and thus it lands upside down relative to its original position and oh my God, I’ve just had a brainwave!” he trailed off, grinning

Stella looked at him, her mouth dropping open “What, hang on, back up!”

“No, listen. I just said a cat always lands on its feet right?”

Yeah.” Stella looked at him.

“And you said that bread with butter always falls butter side down?”

Stella’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Jake, what the fuck are you…”

“Just hear me out.” he looked at her as he placed his beer bottle on the side behind him. “If…” both his hands flew up, pointers extended, the bottom of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he did so “If you fastened bread with butter to a cat’s back, then the Cat will keep turning and never fall on the ground.”

Stella blinked and simply looked at him, the way she always did when he was being utterly ridiculous.

“And then, if I attached the bread cat to a generator…” he grinned and held his hands out by his sides, palms open facing upwards “Infinite energy.”

There was a pause before Stella bust out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard!” she shook her head “And that’s saying something coming from you!”

“You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.” Jensen said sagely. “Bread Cat Power Pack, copyright Jacob Calvin Jensen.”

“The only way you’ll ever become a millionaire is if they give you a dollar every time someone laughs at your stupid, shit ideas.” She shook her head, her hands falling to her hips.

“Laugh all you want Stelly, but I’m planning on buying a yellow hummer with the profits.”

Stella paused. That was the first time he’d called her Stelly in…well, she couldn’t actually remember. But it felt nice. This whole scenario felt nice in fact, the pair of them, just hanging out. Just like old times, before it all went to shit.

She smiled “What is it with you and hummers?”

“I just like them.”

“They’re vile, JJ.”

“No, they aren’t. They’re classy.” He picked his beer back up.

“Classy.” Stella snorted and Jake pointed his bottle towards her.

“You never could appreciate the finer things in life.” he sighed dramatically.

“Considering I appreciated you for years that’s a dumbass thing to say.” she arched an eyebrow at him

“Aww you sayin’ I’m a finer thing, Stel?” he teased and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“Why yellow?”

“Why not?” he popped a shoulder at her question before he grinned “It matches my sunny disposition.”

At that Stella gave another snort “God, Jake!”

Jensen simply grinned back and Stella watched him for a second, noticing how relaxed he seemed. Every time she’d seen him over the past month or so he’d been tense. But today, gone was the unusual sulky demeanour he’d embodied recently and he wasn’t snapping or being mean. He was simply being Jake. The Jake she adored.

“Hey, Stel?” Jake asked, dragging her from her thoughts. “Reckon we can make these cookies in the shape of Hummers?”

“Do you have a Hummer shaped cookie cutter?” she asked, turning her attention back to the job in hand, tossing the ingredients into the mixing bowl.

“No.” Jensen wrinkled his nose “Why would I have one of those?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

“Buzz kill.” He muttered, fighting to keep the smirk of his face as he knew exactly what effect those words would have on her. She hated it when he insinuated she was no fun.

“Buzz kill?” she turned to look at him.

“Yup.”

“Fuck you.” She retorted, and Jake gave a splutter as a handful of flour hit him straight in the face, going right up his nostrils and into his mouth.

He blinked, looked at Stella before he shook his head "Oh, Stel, it's on..." he smirked before he moved towards her and she gave a shriek as he easily manhandled her out of the way and grabbed the flour she was trying to move out of his reach. The kitchen filled with yells and laughter as handful after handful went flying around into faces, hair, just about any visible body part and suddenly they were jerked from their little flour war when a clearing of a throat could be heard. Both of them turned to see Evan standing in the kitchen door, a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

"How the fuck did you get in?” Jensen blurted out before he could stop himself and Stella punched him on the arm “Ow, Stell, shit!”

“Don’t be rude.” She glared at him.

“For your information,” Evan stated as he walked into the kitchen “, not that it’s any of your business, but Stel gave me the spare key.”

“Huh.” Jake looked at him before he grinned “I got one of those too.”

Evan looked at him, his eyes squinted slightly “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jake continued, the grin still stood on his face.

The two men remained staring at one another, Jake covered head to toe in flour as Stella gave a little groan but before she could tell the pair of them to behave, Evan spoke.

“What’s all this mess?” he asked, nodding to the flour all over the room.

“Oh, we had a mission where we seized over Forty kilos of cocaine.” Jake spoke, his voice deadly serious “I thought I'd bring it round for a good time.”

At that point Stella gave a snort of laughter, nudging Jake hard on the arm, the pair of them giggling again before she spotted the look on Evan’s face. His features were completely serious and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. So she coughed and shook her head.

“I was trying to bake some cookies and Jakey was helping me, sort of.” She shrugged “He’s more of a pain in the ass than a help, mind.”

She didn’t miss the way Evan cringed when she called Jensen ‘Jakey’ but before she could say anything Jensen grumbled.

“Rude.”

“Well you are. You're a monumental pain in the ass” Stella rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but you love me Stel” Jake winked and Stella arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in cloud of flour.

“Jury's out”

“You know…” Evan spoke, his tone sarcastic as he set the bottle he was carrying on the kitchen side “..if i'm interrupting something I can leave.”

“Easy man! But yeah-“ Jensen flashed his trademark grin “You just interrupted us.”

Stella slapped him round the back of the head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Stop hitting me!” Jensen rubbed the place where her palm had connected.

“Well stop being a jerk!”

He turned to face her and sarcastic quip he had prepared died as he saw that she was no longer grinning at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and get cleaned?” Evan spoke and Jake looked at him, wrinkling his nose.

“I kinda like being dirty.”

Stella groaned again as she wiped her face and hands free from flour and then nodded to the bouquet Evan had in his hands “Are they for me?”

“No, I bought them for Jensen.” He dead panned with a roll of his eyes, before his handsome face split into a grin. “Course they're for you baby.”

Jensen watched as Stella smiled broadly and he took in the bunch of brightly coloured gerberas and roses, frowning a little. And then, once more he just couldn’t help but stir the pot at little bit more.

“Oh man. She hasn’t told you about her favourites, hasn’t she?” he nodded to the flowers. Evan frowned and Stella wheeled round to glare at Jake.

“Seriously Jake, shut up.”

“You should have brought her petunias.” Jensen sighed, his hands on his hips as she shook his head with the manner of a father disappointed at his child.

“Yeah, see you're talking but all I'm hearing is noise.” Evan rolled his eyes as Stella reached for the bouquet.

“I’ll put them in a vase. Thanks baby, they’re gorgeous” she beamed at him.

Jake couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug look on Evan’s face, most likely cos she just called him baby in front of him. But seriously, what kind of dick boyfriend doesn’t know what his girl’s favourite flowers are?

Evan then picked up the bottle he'd set on the side with a flourish and spun it so the label was facing Stella "I also saw this at one of the stalls at the market and it made me think of you."

Stella looked at him, not understanding for a moment, before she read the label and her eyes opened wide.

“Pumpkin spiced gin…oh my god!” she laughed, taking it from him.

Evan grinned “Now you can make alcoholic lattes.”

“Or just drink it neat over ice.” She smiled at him “I bet this tastes amazing.”

At that Evan smirked and when he spoke again his voice dropped an octave “Probably not as good as you but we’ll give it a go.”

At that Stella flushed and Jake gave an audible groan and then immediately wished he hadn’t as he’d given the dickhead everything he wanted. Evan turned to him with a maddeningly smug look on his face “Still here Jensen? Thought you were going.”

“You wish.” Jake mumbled, but thankfully neither of them heard him as Stella was studying the bottle label to try and hide her embarrassment. He took a deep breath, he knew he had to be careful not to make Stella pissed at him again. So, in a rare self-aware moment, he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder “Well as riveting as chatting with you is, Ev, you're right. I got stuff to do, you know, places to go, people to see..."

“Yeah, sure you do.” Evan replied flippantly “Tell Britney I said hi.”

“Ev, don’t.” Stella shook her head and Evan frowned, turning to her.

“What, I’m not…”

“It’s ok Stelly, he didn't know.” Jensen hid the little smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips at the flinch Evan had made when he used Stella’s old nickname and he gave a shrug. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?” Evan repeated, his face blank. “I’m sorry man.”

“Don’t be.” Jake waved a hand. “Actually it was me who broke it off.”

“Well, still, you must be a little bit...upset, I suppose?”

“Nope.” Jake shook his head “What's got 2 thumbs and is free, single and ready to mingle?” he jerked his thumbs at himself. “This guy"

With that he pat Evan on his shoulder “See ya later.” and he made his way out of Stella’s apartment, closing door behind him. Once it was shoot he paused and took a deep breath.

Fuck that guy.

Up until him turning up they’d been having a great time, simply messing around in the kitchen like they used to. Mind you, it had been a good afternoon, the pair of them were back on even terms, so all in all…yeah, Jensen felt buoyed. With a little spring in his step he headed over the hall back to his apartment and straight to the fridge for a beer. As he popped the lid his phone pinged with a message from Pooch. He, Cougs and Roque were heading out for a few beers and Jake’s presence was apparently “not required but welcome.” Jensen smiled, he was in a good mood so, yeah, drinks!

He showered again to get rid of the flour, changed into a pair of jeans and a casual black sweater before he shrugged on his warm SuperDry coat and headed back out. As he passed Stella’s door on the way to the elevator he could hear her raised voice and instantly he felt his skin prickle. His Jakey Sense as Stella had jokingly dubbed it was tingling. He paused and moved closed to the doors and could hear her and Evan were arguing.

He shouldn’t listen, he knew that, but they were being so loud it was impossible not to. Plus, when all’s said and done he was also a nosey bastard.

“For fucks sake, Ev! You've been fine for the last twenty minutes, why are you brining this up now?”

“All I said was I wish you'd told me about the flowers! I've bought you bouquets before and you never mentioned petunias.”

Jake smirked a little as Stella groaned.

“It’s really not that big a deal!”

“Well apparently it is according to Jensen!” Evan shot back.

“So that's what this is about. It isn't the flowers at all is it? It's Jake” Stella responded, her voice agitated and Jake could completely picture her stood there, arms folded, glaring up at him. He’d seen it often enough himself.

“And what if it is?” Evan’s voice was equally as loud.

“Oh for fucks sake...he's my friend, my best friend.”

“And your EX, Stella!”

“Carry on this way and you will be as well!” Stella shot back and at that Jake felt his smirk grow even wider.  

“Way to go Stel…” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Evan’s voice was louder still “You hang out with your ex and I’m the problem?”

“No, the problem is you being all pissy about something that isn't really a big issue. Jake and I...” Stella sighed, “We have history, a lot of history. Even before we dated we were friends and it's been so shit recently when we haven't been talking and...” her voice was gathering in speed and Jensen could tell she was starting to get upset. He had heard it and seen it a thousand times before.

“And why do you think that is, Stel?” Evan’s voice was now quiet, but the tone was cold and threatening, and Jensen took a deep breath. He didn’t like the way this was going. “Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” Stella didn’t reply, and Evan continued “See, you know I'm right. You were on bad terms because he was a jealous asshole, you said it yourself with the way he behaved when we had our first date in the coffee shop. And everyone knows he was only dating that Britney bint to try and piss you off. Even your own sister said that.”

Jensen could feel himself getting hot with anger at the way the bastard was using Rey against Stella, despite the fact Evan was completely right. As much as Jensen had denied it at the time, that was totally why he ended up with Brit. Call it a rebound, a stubborn attempt to prove to himself he didn’t need Stella, whatever. The core of it was always down to her.

“Huh, he aint actually as stupid as he looks.” Jensen muttered to himself.

“He wasn’t jealous.” Stella responded, her voice quiet “How could he be when he dumped me? Twice.”

At that Jensen bowed her head, the hurt in her voice was evident.

“Who knows what goes through his head or why he did that, I've no idea, but if you think he's over you then you're mistaken. And I don’t like it, Stella, not one bit.” Evan took a deep breath “I think you should stay away from him.”

Jensen felt his mouth drop open a little and he blinked, had he seriously just told her that? He waited with baited breath for Stella’s reply, which came a second or so later, in a tone he knew only too well, she’d had enough.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for going out tonight.”

“Okay, well, let’s stay in then.” Evan’s tone suddenly flipped to the doting boyfriend again and Jensen frowned once more. This guy was unreal. “I can cook us something”

“Dumb bastard, take the hint.” Jensen grumbled as Stella audibly sighed. He could picture her, running her hand through her hair, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes.

“I need to get cleaned up and then sort out this mess.” She replied “I think it’s better if you go home.”

“Seriously?” Evan spoke with disbelief “You’re actually telling me to go?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause “Fine.” Evan responded “I’ll leave you to it. You and Jensen can finish whatever it was you were doing.”

“We were making cookies.”

“Whatever, Stella. If you’re more interested in defending him than having dinner with me then, that’s you’re call.”

And then Jensen realised he needed to disappear before Evan came out and found him. He hastily made his way back to his apartment, and had just gotten inside when Stella’s door was wrenched open. So as not to attract attention to himself with the sound of the lock clicking, Jensen didn’t quite close his fully and stayed waiting for Evan to disappear. To Jensen’s horror he paused, looking directly at his door, before he looked back at Stella’s and then made his way to the elevator. After what seemed like an age it arrived and he stepped into it, the door pinging shut behind him.

Jensen felt bad, he really did. He hadn’t wanted Stella to be upset. But more over he felt uneasy. The way Evan had spoken to her, and directed the blame straight back onto her and then told her to stay away from him was  manipulative, controlling almost.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

****

“Jensen, what’s with you man?” Roque asked, placing his empty bottle on the table. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-annoying tonight.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He felt Pooch’s eyes on him and purposely ignored him, looking around the bar at anything and everything. His eyes fell momentarily on a table of girls some four or so down from theirs one of them bore a fleeting resemblance to Stella actually and he hastily looked away, glancing down at his beer. He necked the rest and set the empty bottle down.

“My round.” Pooch nodded as he stood up, his hand falling onto Jensen’s shoulder “Give me a hand man?”

“Sure.” Jake stood up and followed him to the bar, passing the table of girls as they went.

“The brunette is giving you the eye.” Pooch nudged him. Jensen looked at him.

“What?”

“Okay, out with it.” Pooch demanded as they reached the bar “What’s wrong Jensen, and don’t tell me everything is fine coz I know you, and you’re not being you. You’ve been positively pleasant all evening and now when some chick is giving you the eye you don’t even notice?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m just a bit worried about Stel, man”

“Arty?” Pooch frowned, “What’s wrong with her? Is she ok? I though Evan was coming over to hers tonight?”

“He did. They had an argument, he left.” Jensen shrugged.

“They had an argum-wait? How do you know? Did she tell you? Coz I thought you weren’t on particularly good terms.”

“We sorted stuff out.” Jensen shook his head

“You were listening weren’t you?” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Jensen shook his head and Pooch groaned having been given all the confirmation he needed “The point is what he said. And how he said it. He was angry, Pooch.”

“Everyone gets angry when they argue.”

“Yeah but he…I dunno, I don’t trust him.”

“Oh come on Jensen. Stop it. Enough with that shit. Stel is with him and she’s happy, face it.”

“He told her that he thinks she should stay away from me.” Jensen looked at Pooch. “Does that not strike you as, well, controlling?”

Pooch looked at Jensen and could see on his face that he was genuinely concerned.

“Ok, start from the top.” Pooch instructed, so Jensen did, explaining and Pooch took a deep breath “So now you’re worried he could be manipulating her?”

“I'm worried he’s not everything he’s cracked up to be.” Jensen replied after a short pause “And that she could end up hurt. And I don’t mean merely emotionally.”

“Woah, man that’s…that’s a big leap.” Pooch looked at him, before he turned to the bar tender and ordered their round, before looking back at him. “From being a little narky and, ok, possibly maybe slightly overbearing to being a fuckin’ woman beater.”

“Maybe.” Jensen sighed, “But isn’t it always the one’s you don’t expect to do it that do?”

At that Pooch was forced to accept Jensen made a good point and he bit his lip, cocking his head to once side. “Ok, suppose you heard right and the guy’s dodgy so to speak. What you wanna do about it?”

“I suppose I could do some digging.” Jensen mused “See if I can find any of his old girlfriends out there, see what they have to say.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Pooch groaned.

Jensen sighed, “I honestly have no idea Pooch. My gut was to tell Stella that I was concerned but knowing her she'll just accuse me of being a dick and it would just make it look like he was right about me.”

“Which he is.” Pooch snorted “You are jealous.”

“Yeah, well that's maybe but I'm being serious here Pooch. I don't trust the guy, and if she ends up hurt when I could have done something to stop it I'll never forgive myself.”

Pooch bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Jensen, he could see the worry etched into every line on his friend’s face. With a loud sigh he shook his head, “Listen man, whatever you want to do I have your back. Wanna go all CSI on the guy? Then count me in. But do you and the rest of us for that matter a favour and admit to your feelings for her once and for all and do something about it or leave her be.”

Jensen snorted “You been talking to Clay, Pooch?”

“What? No.” Pooch handed over his card to pay for the round. “Why would you think that?”

“He just said something similar at New Years. That's all.” Jensen took a deep breath “This would never have happened if I hadn't been such an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Not helping Pooch.”

“Listen man, we don’t need to talk to one another to see you have strong feelings for her. We all know that and we all have been putting up with your stupid ass decisions.”

“Still not helping Pooch.”

“Ok Jensen.” Pooch shrugged, taking his card back off the man behind the bar with a thanks. “You could always try actually talking to him? You never know, he might be genuinely-“

“Are you nuts? The guy hates me!” Jensen practically exploded “And suppose I am right, which I may not be, I know, it happens occasionally.” He shrugged as Pooch rolled his eyes “Not only do I tip him off I’m onto him, he’ll rush to tell Stel as soon as I turn my back. Make it seem I’m harassing him.”

“So instead you wanna track his old girlfriend’s down and go poking into his past?”

Jake flashed his signature grin.

“Coz thats not harassing him. At all.” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“It’s not if he doesn’t know I’m harassing him.” Jake shrugged and Pooch let out an exasperated moan of a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I already told you Jensen. Whatever you want man. Just...oh, I dunno, try not to fuck it up with your usual chaotic dumbassery.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jensen shrugged as he picked up 2 of the bottles from the bar.

“Sure you don’t.”

******

Two more beers later and Jensen called it a night and headed home, he wasn’t in the mood all things considered. Kicking off his sneakers he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. But it was no good, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was working overtime as he was trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do. It was frustrating, because normally he’d just talk to Stella, they never had secrets but this was completely out of the question, and that frustrated the fuck out of him.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Frowning, because that meant that either someone had gotten into the building or it was a resident, he stood up and made his way over to the door. He pulled it open and gave a little blink as he saw Stella stood there in a large, oversized sweater, leggings and thick socks, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, a batch of cookies in her hands.

“Oh, hey Stel.” He said, surprise evident in his voice “Come on in.”

She smiled as she stepped into his flat. “I thought you’d be out all night because Pooch said you were all out for drinks this evening. But I heard you come in so I came to bring you some cookies. After all you helped me with them, well, sort of.”

“Thanks Sel.” He smiled, genuinely as he took them from her “You want a drink or…”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

“Ok, well, go through, be with you in a second. I’ll just put these bad boys away.”

She nodded and turned, heading towards the lounge as Jensen made his way quickly into the kitchen and deposited the cookies in the tin, grabbing one as he did so. God they tasted just as good as they always did. He grabbed the empty container and headed into the lounge where Stella was sat on the couch and she smiled as he handed it to her.

“You ok?” he asked and she looked at him, nodding but Jensen could tell she wasn’t so he decided to call her out, see if she’d open up to him.

“You know, I've known you too long. You can't lie to me.”

She sighed.

“What’s bothering you, Stel?” he pressed as he sat next to her keeping a respectful distance of one seat cushion between them.

“Me and Ev, we err...had an argument before. Kind of a big one”

“How big?” Jensen asked, all the time knowing he had to play it cool or she would know he overheard.

“I… “ she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater a little before she snorted “I sent him home big”

“Can I ask what you argued about? I mean if you sent him home it must have been pretty serious.”

Stella looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to tell him and then she sighed “He wanted to go out, I didn't. It spiralled from there.”

Jake took a deep breath as Stella looked at him having just told him a barefaced lie. What killed him the most was he knew she was doing it to spare his feelings, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss her more. But he couldn’t, so instead he gave her a small nod and what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I'm sorry if any of it was my fault. And I'm sure you'll sort it out.”

“Yeah, I guess. In any case thanks for listening.”

Jake laughed “That it, we done?”

“Not much else to tell you. We fought, and maybe I overreacted to something he said. It’s just...” she studied his face and Jensen got the impression she was searching for some indication Evan was right about him being jealous. He fought so hard not to give her any, and in the end she shrugged “It doesn’t matter, it’s no big deal.”

“Big enough to make you upset though.”

“Well, it’s the first argument we’ve had.”

“Well you can drown your sorrows in pumpkin flavoured gin.” Jensen sniffed and at that she grimaced.

“Between you and me, I tried it before. It’s fucking awful.”

Jake laughed, “Then I guess Evan was right and you do taste better.”

“Jake!” Stella scoffed, slapping his arm.

“What? It was a compliment!”

“You're gross”

“Yeah but…”he smirked “…made you smile”

“Yeah, you do.” She looked at him, “I mean did. You know, just then…”

“I know.”

Stella gave him another soft smile “Thanks again, I should…” she gestured to the door with her head and Jake nodded.

“Walk you home?”

“I live across the hall.” She scoffed as she stood up

“Yeah but…” Jensen breathed in through his teeth as he also rose from his seat “Some dodgy people in this building Stel”

“Yeah, you're one of em.”

“Hey, you could be attacked by Mrs. Hunter’s Cat. You know it went for my ankle yesterday?” He looked at her seriously. “Like I said, snide little bastards. Cats are not to be trusted.”

“Alright then badass, you better see me safe across the hall.” She chuckled.

Jake followed her to the door where she turned and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a soft hug. Pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head he stepped back and looked at her.

“You know where I am if you need me, don’t you?”

She nodded “Thanks. Night Jakey.”

“Night Stel.”

He watched her cross the hall, and when she walked inside she gave him a last smile before she shut the door.

Jensen exhaled loudly, before he turned and headed back into his own apartment, the door clicking behind him.

*****

Jensen didn’t sleep particularly well that night. His worries and concerns about Stella kept running through his mind and at six am he gave up, hauling himself out of bed for a run. On his way back he stopped by the bakery on the corner of the street to grab himself a croissant and a coffee and headed back to the condo, munching his breakfast. As he walked across the parking lot he spotted Evan’s car was parked outside the main door, the man himself sat inside, waiting.

And then all logic flew from Jensen’s mind. Fuck treading softly.

He stalked over and round to the passenger side, yanking it open and sinking into the seat besides Evan as the man looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“S’up Agent E.” he smiled at him, taking another bite of his croissant. “You waiting for Stel?”

“Why else would I be here?”

Jensen shrugged “Maybe you like parking lots.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m waiting for Stella.”

“Why not just use your spare key?” Jensen asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee before he looked at Evan. “Wait, more to the point, why are you not up there? Did you not stay?” The nerve in Evan’s jaw twitched and Jensen grinned. “You guys aint had a fight have you?” When the agent didn’t reply Jake took a bite of his croissant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What do you want, Jensen?” Evan looked at him, his features dark and Jake knew the time for joking was done. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Honestly? For you to fuck off.”

“Oh I bet you do.” Evan narrowed his eyes, his voice low and Jensen snorted.

“Not much of a bet, I just admitted it but whatever.”

“Well unlucky for you I’m not going anywhere.”

“For now.” Jensen shrugged “She’ll see through you at some point.”

“Face it Jensen, you fucked up.” Evan shook his head “Now I’m warning you, stay away from her, and me, and leave us alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Ok, I was trying to be polite but I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do.” Evan’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” Jensen stated and Evan gave a huge guffaw of laughter, Jensen merely shook his head “Yeah, you might laugh but I swear to God you hurt her and I will fucking kill you slowly and painfully.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Evan asked.

“Yes.” Jensen said simply “You forget, I’m a lethal trained killing machine.” He shrugged “And then there’s Clay, and Roque, and Pooch and Cougs…you kick one of us, we all shout ouch, you get my drift.”

He saw a flicker of something that might have been concern on Evan’s faced but no sooner had he spotted it, it was gone and the Agent simply swallowed and fixed Jensen with a glare.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to hurt her?”

“Because when I mentioned it before, instead of protesting that you wouldn’t, you simply turned it back to being about you.” Jensen shrugged “Now if someone had said that to me, I’d be doing everything I could to try and convince them they were wrong.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Evan snorted, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t” Jake shrugged “But you will answer to me if you do hurt her, like I said, I’m watching you shithead.”

“You know, when Stella hears you’ve been threatening me…”

“We both know you’re not going to tell her.” Jake shook his head “I mean you’ve already argued once. And I’d lay odds on that being about me. So, are you really gonna push it again when you’re hanging on by a thread? Don’t think so buddy.”

He took another obnoxiously loud slurp of his coffee and there was a pause before Evan exploded. “Ok, I’ve had enough of this, get out of my fucking car!”

“Gladly.” Jensen nodded, scrunching up the wrapper his croissant had been in. He tossed it into the foot-well and looked at it for a second before he shrugged “This car is full of garbage anyway.” And with that he climbed out headed inside, not bothering to look back.

[just-jordie-things]

Accidental Naps - Richie Tozier

word count: 1911 warnings: swearing, mentions of weed (?) summary: pretty much the request :)) request: can you write something for richie? reader and him end up falling asleep in the clubhouse and the losers wake them up (a/n) this one’s dedicated to my wife who needed some romantic pining :3

___

“Come lay with me,” Richie called out, making grabby hands towards (y/n).

She looked up from where she was sitting in her bean bag chair, reading one of his comic books.  She pulled a face, because Richie was laying in the hammock, and he’d proven before that two people did not fit, when Eddie had forced himself into the hanging swing.

“Come on” The boy whined again, his arms hanging off the side dramatically.

(y/n) raised her brows, not out of surprise, he was always dramatic, but it was still entertaining to watch him pout like a child.

“It’ll break” She told him, and looked back down at her comic.

“No it won’t” Richie argued back hopefully.

“One of us will fall out- or we both will” She answered, still reading.

“You won’t fall out!” Richie pleaded.  “It’ll be fine, please?”

Her eyes flickered up to his, and when he gave her that big stupid cheesy grin, she knew she was done for.

“I need attention” He added in a whine.

“You always need attention” (y/n) sighed.

She marked her spot in the comic as she stood up, and made her way towards him.

“And you always give in!” Richie told her- like she didn’t already know- and wrapped his arms around her as she carefully crawled into the hammock with him.

She tried to be slow in her movements, but Richie didn’t care if they flipped the swing, so he pulled her the rest of the way until she tripped and fell into him.

“Richie!” She tried to scold him, but she was laughing too much to really be convincing.  “You could’ve flipped the whole thing over”

“Nah, calm down babe,” He shrugged while she got situated.  “Here, I’ll keep it steady”

Richie stuck a leg out of the swing, and since the boy was a tree, it wasn't difficult for him to keep one foot on the ground, so they would stop swinging back and forth.

(y/n) cuddled up against Richie’s side, even though she was already half on top of him, since the hammock was so small.  Neither of them would admit, but they didn’t mind anyways.

“Better?” She asked, laying her head on his chest and opening up -her- his comic book again.

He grinned at her.

“Much” He says, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her close while she started to read.

He could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, but he wanted to enjoy his time with her.  So he squeezed her tighter and buried his face into her hair.

“That tickles,” (y/n) giggles, her shoulders flinching while Richie only buried his face further.  She squealed when his nose grazed over her neck.  “Richie! Cut it out!” She said between giggles, until eventually she dropped the comic book to the ground, and flipped over onto her stomach so she could lift her head away from his face.

“We don’t hang out enough” Richie declared, and the sudden change in mood made her brows furrow.

She stared down at him, an almost worried expression on her face.  Had she been a bad friend? Had she not reached out enough? Sure the whole gang hangs out plenty, but did she not do a good enough job creating special relationships with each of her friends individually?

“I’m sorry,” The words slipped out rather awkwardly, but she didn’t take it back.  “We should hang out more, but you know Beverly always wants to go to like the mall or something-”

“We can just do this,” Richie said, pulling her back down.    She was laying on top of him now, but again, neither cared.  “Just lots and lots of this”

She grins, shaking her head at him, but she was still smiling.

“I guess I’m okay with that” She mumbled, before laying down against him again.

Her legs tangled between his, and she threw her arm across his torso.

“You guess?” Richie teased, and she chuckled against his neck.

“You’re actually pretty comfortable,” She hummed, starting to feel sleepy as the soft material of his tee shirt caressed over her cheek.  “Even though you’re a skinny ass tree”

When she let out a yawn, Richie grinned at her, even though her eyes had fallen shut.

“You gonna fall asleep?”

“Play with my hair a little and you bet” She joked, peeking an eye open at him for a second, just so she could stick her tongue out.

“You got it” Richie replied, and before she could laugh it off, his hand was in her hair, combing through gently.

She giggled, looking up at him with a dopey smile that she couldn’t bite back if she tried.

“You’re so dumb,” She teased affectionately.  “The dumbest, really”

There’s a blush on her cheeks that Richie doesn’t miss, because the proximity between their faces is so small it’s almost nonexistent.  If he didn’t know better, he would kiss her right now.

He wondered briefly if he did know better, though.

He knew he should say something, because he’s just staring at her like a love-struck idiot -which he was- and it’d been so long now he was blushing too.

(y/n’s) eyes wandered down to his lips, and paused for a moment, staring just long enough for Richie to notice, and for his cheeks to darken to a red.

A beam stretched across her lips when she saw this, and her eyes flickered back up to his.

“You’re blushing” She whispers, and she pokes his nose and then his cheek.

“Yeah well you’re starin’ at me” Richie retorted.

(y/n) quirked an eyebrow.

“And that makes you blush like that?” She asks, her grin turning into a sly sort of smirk.

“You’re frightening, babe”

He was murmuring, and something about the drop in his voice when he used the cute little nickname made her heart skip a beat.  Maybe even two beats.

“I’m frightening?” She asked, confused as to what part of her made him nervous.

Richie chuckled, his hand still petting her hair comfortingly.

“Hell yeah” He said, and her brows furrowed.

“What about me scares you?” She asked.  “I think I’ve always been nice to you?”

“You have,” He told her.  “But unfortunately you’re really pretty, so it doesn’t matter”

Both of her eyebrows raised out of surprise, and Richie only grinned back at her.

“And- and that scares you?” She asks, and she tries to get the feeling to go away, but her cheeks feel hot again, and they must match the same rosey shade on Richie’s face.

“Well, it’s certainly intimidating,” He said, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly.  Her head moved with it, and she giggled at the action.  “You’re a frightening, intimidating, pretty girl”

She giggles again, because it’s the weirdest and cheesiest thing she’s ever heard.

“I didn’t know you thought that,” She mumbled, her eyes drooping a bit as she spoke.  “You’re not actually like… scared of me, are you?”

“No, not completely, I mean, Stan is way scarier than you are, so there’s that”

She laughs and so does he, and the hammock swings them a bit from the commotion.  But Richie places his foot on the ground and steadies them again.

“For what it’s worth,” (y/n) whispers, before yawning, and tucking her head against the crook of his neck.  “You’re pretty too”

“Thank you, babe” Richie chuckles, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

(y/n) hums, and her nose pressed into his neck as she readjusts her head to be more comfortable, and Richie squirmed a bit from the sensation, despite trying not to.

“You’re welcome, Rich” She murmured, quietly, and slowly.

He realized then that she was going to fall asleep on him, and was making no effort to try and stop it.  Then again, he didn’t make any effort either.

So he wrapped his arms around her snugly, and rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his own eyes.

“You fallin’ asleep on me?” (y/n) asked, words a bit slurred, and muffled.

“No, you’re falling asleep on me” Richie corrected.

“I already told you that you’re comfortable,” She argued back.  “But if you don’t want to nap with me, you’re free to leave the hammock Tozier”

He chuckled, and couldn’t help but press a little kiss into her hair.  So small and quick she probably wouldn’t even notice.

She did.

“I’ll nap with you” He told her, and she smiled.

She doesn’t say anything, but her hand falls from where it had been lying on his hip.  She reaches tentatively for his free hand- the one that isn’t tangled in her hair- and ever so carefully slips her fingers into his palm, before slotting in between his.

Richie doesn’t dare move a muscle, until her fingers are perfectly intertwined with his, and then he carefully clasps her hand in his own.

His heart is beating so fast that he’s sure she hears it, or feels it against her cheek, but he doesn’t really care.

She’s holding his fucking hand how could he care-

“Richie,” (y/n) whispers, voice barely audible.  “Your heart’s beatin’ real fast”

“Sorry” He apologizes impulsively, but she chuckles sleepily.

“It’s okay,” She mumbles.  “It’s cute”

It’s the last thing she says before she falls asleep, and he can tell because her hand relaxes a bit, and her breathing evens out.  Richie doesn’t fall asleep himself for a couple more minutes, enjoying this moment way too much.

But eventually his body gives in and his eyes get heavy and he passes out with her, in what they would later describe as the best nap they’ve ever taken. ___

“What the fuck?”

“Sh-should we w-wake them u-up?”

“Are they… together?”

“Oh my fucking god- holy fucking shit- did they hook up?”

“Don’t be stupid, they couldn’t have hooked up in the hammock”

“Well, they could have done it all over and then fallen asleep in the hammock”

“Oh my fucking god.  I’m gonna throw up.  Yeah- yeah, I’m about to barf-”

“Shut up dumbass you’ll wake them up”

The rest of the Loser’s Club had made plans to hang out at the clubhouse, smoke a little weed, play dumb games, the usual.  They’d tried calling (y/n) and Richie, but neither had picked the phone, so everyone got together anyways.

It made for quite the surprise when they got to the clubhouse, only to find their missing friends cuddled up in the hammock.

“Do you think Richie confessed?” Beverly whispered to her friends, lighting a cigarette and smirking at the sleeping pair.

“Doubt it” Stan muttered.

“They’re holding hands though,” Ben pointed out.  “That doesn’t just happen in your sleep”

“(y/n’s) a-affectionate,” Bill shrugged.  “Sh-she p-probably j-just-”

“Can we wake them up now?” Eddie cut him off.  “I don’t wanna look at them anymore”

“You’re just jealous” Mike said, and Eddie stuck his tongue out defensively.

“We’ll just smoke outside,” Beverly declared.  “We’ll let them sleep, and when they wake up, they can come up and join us”

“They’re gonna have to talk when they wake up anyways,” Ben said, heading back to the ladder.  “You know, about their feelings-”

“Disgusting,” Eddie shoved Ben’s back.  “Go faster”

“Jealous” Everyone said in unison.

It only took about twenty minutes before (y/n) and Richie awoke from their slumber.  And the Losers definitely eavesdropped from the open hatch while they talked through their feelings for one another.

___

taglist: @fiantomartell​ @lemonypink​ @darling-egg​

xoxo ~ jordie

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 5: Bread Cat Power Pack Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 Part 2

Stella stood at the trunk of the CIA issued Sedan, grimacing. It was the middle of January, cold and snowy, and she had a few bags of shopping to get back into her apartment. She was trying to figure out if she could make it upstairs with all of it at once, to prevent having to come back down, but was failing to see how it was possible.

“Needs some help?” a familiar voice asked and she turned to see Jake coming towards her, still in his uniform, his heavy boots leaving prints in the light, powdery dusting of fresh snow.

She smiled “Yeah, actually. You can grab a couple of these, save me coming back down.”

Jake looked in the trunk and scoffed “You stocking for winter, Stel?” he asked as he grabbed three of the bags.

She snorted “I literally have nothing in my cupboards.” She picked up the remaining two, locked the car and followed him to the main doors of the Condo building. “I’ve not really been here over the last two weeks so…” “I guess you’ve been spending time at your boyfriend’s huh?” Jake asked, his voice neutral as Stella managed to open the door.

“His name is Evan.” She rolled her eyes “And yeah, you could say that.”

Jake remained quiet as they strode to the elevator. Stella called it down and once the doors pinged open, they stepped inside and Jake placed the bags he was carrying down at his feet.

“So, I haven’t seen you since New Year.” Stella looked at him “How’s stuff going? You and Britney good?” “Yeah, erm, about that…” Jake cleared his throat a little as he selected their floor.

As the doors shut, Stella turned to look at him, frowning “Is there something wrong or…”

“That depends on who you ask.” Jake mused “If you ask her then yeah.  She’ll probably tell you I’m a…what were her exact words? Oh right, a fucking asshole”

“What did you do?” Stella sighed and Jake grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dumped her.”

Stella raised her eyebrows “Well speaking from experience, I can kinda see why she might be a little upset.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to respond to her little dig but in the end he didn’t get chance as the elevator stopped and opened on their floor. Jake picked up his bags and followed her across to her apartment. She set the bags she was carrying down, grabbed her key and the door swung open. Jake stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with his foot and instantly that familiar smell of vanilla, fresh laundry and the light tones of her perfume hit his senses. He hadn’t been in here for months. They made their way through to the little kitchen and she flipped on the lights, Jake dropping the bags onto the side.

“So are you ok about the pair of you being over or…” Stella turned to face him and Jake wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I wasn’t that into her. I mean, she was just…” he stopped and shrugged a little “I’m all right, yeah.”

Stella snorted, shaking her head “Wow.”

“Had to be honest with her.”

At that Stella couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat “That’s a first”

“Wow, that’s the second dig in the last 2 minutes.” Jake arched an eyebrow and Stella inwardly cursed herself. He’d done nothing to deserve either of the shots she’d taken, especially after he was being nothing but helpful

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” he asked.

There was a moment’s pause before they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Jake, I don’t wanna…”

“I miss you Stel…you know, us hanging out.

The last bit of Jake’s sentence was added hastily and Stella took a deep breath.

“You’ve been a jerk to me recently, JJ”

“I know I fucked it all up.” He continued pleading his case “But I love you Stel, as friends, ya know?”

She studied him for a moment, and Jake held his breath before her eyes softened, the way they always did when she was coming round, and he exhaled slowly.

“Guess I miss you too.” She said quietly.

At her words Jake’s face split into a grin. “You guess or…”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed, and on a roll he decided to see how far he could edge his luck. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, maybe grab a pizza, I got beer.”

Stella felt her face fall “Sorry JJ, Ev’s coming over.” and as she spoke she realised she actually was sorry. For a split second she considered calling Ev and cancelling, which in itself confused her. Why was she even thinking that? And then she realised, it was because she missed Jake. Despite everything, they’d been through too much for her not to care for him.

Jake nodded, “Okay, well, maybe another night?”

Stella blinked, she’d been expecting some sarcastic quip about Evan but none had come, which surprised her a little. That said, she smiled and nodded “Yeah I’d like that.”

Jake nodded “Right, I’ll err…let you unpack all that then and see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, great. Oh, and thanks.” She smiled “For helping me.”

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to leave a damsel in distress.” He winked. “I’ll see myself out.”

He made his way out of the apartment, closing her door behind him, taking a deep breath as he headed over the landing. Despite the setback about the pizza and beer, he felt good. The air was clearer, it was good progress, easy easy catch a monkey and all that.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and just as he was opening his door he heard hers open behind him.

“Look, I got a little while.” Stella spoke “I was gonna bake some cookies, you wanna help?”

Jensen allowed himself a grin before he turned to face her “You miss me already?”

“Don’t push it asswipe.” She shot back and he laughed.

“Gonna make extra dough so I can eat it?”

She rolled her eyes “Yes, dur.”

“Ok, gimme ten to change and I’ll come over.”

“Use your key.” She nodded, before she pulled her head back in her apartment and shut the door.

Jensen gave a little fist pump of victory as he stepped inside his hallway, smirking to himself “Operation Petunia is a go…”

**** After a quick shower, Jensen changed into a pair of grey sweats, a plain navy blue t-shirt and headed over the hall in his socks. As instructed, he let himself in and walked through to the kitchen, the sound of the radio growing louder as he went. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Stella stood with her back to him, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white- slouchy vest top with a tighter cami underneath, rifling in a cupboard. He felt a sudden, nostalgic pang for the times she used to dress casually like that around their student quarters or back at home when they were slobbed in front of the TV at her Ma’s or his Parents. With a little breath, he coughed and she turned to face him, smiling before she nodded to the fridge.

“Make yourself useful and grab us a coupla’ beers will ya?”

He saluted her and she gave a snort as he headed to the fridge and pulled it open, giving a groan as he spotted the Sam Adams. Grabbing two, he popped the tops before he handed her one. She thanked him and continued pulling the ingredients she needed out of the cupboards, the pair of them falling into an easy, but still careful conversation. Stella cursed as she mumbled something about her digital scales running out of batteries and then retrieved the old faithful analogue ones.

“Why is it, when you need something, that’s always the time it’s gonna end up nor working?” she grumbled, setting the dial to zero carefully.

“One of life’s many mysteries Stel.” Jake said wisely as she began to measure the flour out. “Along with why cats always fall on their feet, snidey little bastards.”

Stella snorted, “Or why buttered bread always lands butter down when you drop it? Although I think there’s a scientific explanation to that.”

“There is.” Jake nodded, taking a drink from his beer “When the bread falls out of your hand, it does so at an angle, see, by nature of it having slipped from its previous position, and it rotates.” Jensen twisted his hand in the air to demonstrate his point “Given that it’s normally dropped from a hand or a table, which is like two feet or so, there’s enough time for the toast to rotate about one-half of a turn and thus it lands upside down relative to its original position and oh my God, I’ve just had a brainwave!” he trailed off, grinning

Stella looked at him, her mouth dropping open “What, hang on, back up!”

“No, listen. I just said a cat always lands on its feet right?”

Yeah.” Stella looked at him.

“And you said that bread with butter always falls butter side down?”

Stella’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Jake, what the fuck are you…”

“Just hear me out.” he looked at her as he placed his beer bottle on the side behind him. “If…” both his hands flew up, pointers extended, the bottom of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he did so “If you fastened bread with butter to a cat’s back, then the Cat will keep turning and never fall on the ground.”

Stella blinked and simply looked at him, the way she always did when he was being utterly ridiculous.

“And then, if I attached the bread cat to a generator…” he grinned and held his hands out by his sides, palms open facing upwards “Infinite energy.”

There was a pause before Stella bust out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard!” she shook her head “And that’s saying something coming from you!”

“You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.” Jensen said sagely. “Bread Cat Power Pack, copyright Jacob Calvin Jensen.”

“The only way you’ll ever become a millionaire is if they give you a dollar every time someone laughs at your stupid, shit ideas.” She shook her head, her hands falling to her hips.

“Laugh all you want Stelly, but I’m planning on buying a yellow hummer with the profits.”

Stella paused. That was the first time he’d called her Stelly in…well, she couldn’t actually remember. But it felt nice. This whole scenario felt nice in fact, the pair of them, just hanging out. Just like old times, before it all went to shit.

She smiled “What is it with you and hummers?”

“I just like them.”

“They’re vile, JJ.”

“No, they aren’t. They’re classy.” He picked his beer back up.

“Classy.” Stella snorted and Jake pointed his bottle towards her.

“You never could appreciate the finer things in life.” he sighed dramatically.

“Considering I appreciated you for years that’s a dumbass thing to say.” she arched an eyebrow at him

“Aww you sayin’ I’m a finer thing, Stel?” he teased and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“Why yellow?”

“Why not?” he popped a shoulder at her question before he grinned “It matches my sunny disposition.”

At that Stella gave another snort “God, Jake!”

Jensen simply grinned back and Stella watched him for a second, noticing how relaxed he seemed. Every time she’d seen him over the past month or so he’d been tense. But today, gone was the unusual sulky demeanour he’d embodied recently and he wasn’t snapping or being mean. He was simply being Jake. The Jake she adored.

“Hey, Stel?” Jake asked, dragging her from her thoughts. “Reckon we can make these cookies in the shape of Hummers?”

“Do you have a Hummer shaped cookie cutter?” she asked, turning her attention back to the job in hand, tossing the ingredients into the mixing bowl.

“No.” Jensen wrinkled his nose “Why would I have one of those?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

“Buzz kill.” He muttered, fighting to keep the smirk of his face as he knew exactly what effect those words would have on her. She hated it when he insinuated she was no fun.

“Buzz kill?” she turned to look at him.

“Yup.”

“Fuck you.” She retorted, and Jake gave a splutter as a handful of flour hit him straight in the face, going right up his nostrils and into his mouth.

He blinked, looked at Stella before he shook his head "Oh, Stel, it's on..." he smirked before he moved towards her and she gave a shriek as he easily manhandled her out of the way and grabbed the flour she was trying to move out of his reach. The kitchen filled with yells and laughter as handful after handful went flying around into faces, hair, just about any visible body part and suddenly they were jerked from their little flour war when a clearing of a throat could be heard. Both of them turned to see Evan standing in the kitchen door, a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

"How the fuck did you get in?” Jensen blurted out before he could stop himself and Stella punched him on the arm “Ow, Stell, shit!”

“Don’t be rude.” She glared at him.

“For your information,” Evan stated as he walked into the kitchen “, not that it’s any of your business, but Stel gave me the spare key.”

“Huh.” Jake looked at him before he grinned “I got one of those too.”

Evan looked at him, his eyes squinted slightly “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jake continued, the grin still stood on his face.

The two men remained staring at one another, Jake covered head to toe in flour as Stella gave a little groan but before she could tell the pair of them to behave, Evan spoke.

“What’s all this mess?” he asked, nodding to the flour all over the room.

“Oh, we had a mission where we seized over Forty kilos of cocaine.” Jake spoke, his voice deadly serious “I thought I'd bring it round for a good time.”

At that point Stella gave a snort of laughter, nudging Jake hard on the arm, the pair of them giggling again before she spotted the look on Evan’s face. His features were completely serious and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. So she coughed and shook her head.

“I was trying to bake some cookies and Jakey was helping me, sort of.” She shrugged “He’s more of a pain in the ass than a help, mind.”

She didn’t miss the way Evan cringed when she called Jensen ‘Jakey’ but before she could say anything Jensen grumbled.

“Rude.”

“Well you are. You're a monumental pain in the ass” Stella rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but you love me Stel” Jake winked and Stella arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in cloud of flour.

“Jury's out”

“You know…” Evan spoke, his tone sarcastic as he set the bottle he was carrying on the kitchen side “..if i'm interrupting something I can leave.”

“Easy man! But yeah-“ Jensen flashed his trademark grin “You just interrupted us.”

Stella slapped him round the back of the head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Stop hitting me!” Jensen rubbed the place where her palm had connected.

“Well stop being a jerk!”

He turned to face her and sarcastic quip he had prepared died as he saw that she was no longer grinning at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and get cleaned?” Evan spoke and Jake looked at him, wrinkling his nose.

“I kinda like being dirty.”

Stella groaned again as she wiped her face and hands free from flour and then nodded to the bouquet Evan had in his hands “Are they for me?”

“No, I bought them for Jensen.” He dead panned with a roll of his eyes, before his handsome face split into a grin. “Course they're for you baby.”

Jensen watched as Stella smiled broadly and he took in the bunch of brightly coloured gerberas and roses, frowning a little. And then, once more he just couldn’t help but stir the pot at little bit more.

“Oh man. She hasn’t told you about her favourites, hasn’t she?” he nodded to the flowers. Evan frowned and Stella wheeled round to glare at Jake.

“Seriously Jake, shut up.”

“You should have brought her petunias.” Jensen sighed, his hands on his hips as she shook his head with the manner of a father disappointed at his child.

“Yeah, see you're talking but all I'm hearing is noise.” Evan rolled his eyes as Stella reached for the bouquet.

“I’ll put them in a vase. Thanks baby, they’re gorgeous” she beamed at him.

Jake couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug look on Evan’s face, most likely cos she just called him baby in front of him. But seriously, what kind of dick boyfriend doesn’t know what his girl’s favourite flowers are?

Evan then picked up the bottle he'd set on the side with a flourish and spun it so the label was facing Stella "I also saw this at one of the stalls at the market and it made me think of you."

Stella looked at him, not understanding for a moment, before she read the label and her eyes opened wide.

“Pumpkin spiced gin…oh my god!” she laughed, taking it from him.

Evan grinned “Now you can make alcoholic lattes.”

“Or just drink it neat over ice.” She smiled at him “I bet this tastes amazing.”

At that Evan smirked and when he spoke again his voice dropped an octave “Probably not as good as you but we’ll give it a go.”

At that Stella flushed and Jake gave an audible groan and then immediately wished he hadn’t as he’d given the dickhead everything he wanted. Evan turned to him with a maddeningly smug look on his face “Still here Jensen? Thought you were going.”

“You wish.” Jake mumbled, but thankfully neither of them heard him as Stella was studying the bottle label to try and hide her embarrassment. He took a deep breath, he knew he had to be careful not to make Stella pissed at him again. So, in a rare self-aware moment, he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder “Well as riveting as chatting with you is, Ev, you're right. I got stuff to do, you know, places to go, people to see..."

“Yeah, sure you do.” Evan replied flippantly “Tell Britney I said hi.”

“Ev, don’t.” Stella shook her head and Evan frowned, turning to her.

“What, I’m not…”

“It’s ok Stelly, he didn't know.” Jensen hid the little smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips at the flinch Evan had made when he used Stella’s old nickname and he gave a shrug. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?” Evan repeated, his face blank. “I’m sorry man.”

“Don’t be.” Jake waved a hand. “Actually it was me who broke it off.”

“Well, still, you must be a little bit...upset, I suppose?”

“Nope.” Jake shook his head “What's got 2 thumbs and is free, single and ready to mingle?” he jerked his thumbs at himself. “This guy"

With that he pat Evan on his shoulder “See ya later.” and he made his way out of Stella’s apartment, closing door behind him. Once it was shoot he paused and took a deep breath.

Fuck that guy.

Up until him turning up they’d been having a great time, simply messing around in the kitchen like they used to. Mind you, it had been a good afternoon, the pair of them were back on even terms, so all in all…yeah, Jensen felt buoyed. With a little spring in his step he headed over the hall back to his apartment and straight to the fridge for a beer. As he popped the lid his phone pinged with a message from Pooch. He, Cougs and Roque were heading out for a few beers and Jake’s presence was apparently “not required but welcome.” Jensen smiled, he was in a good mood so, yeah, drinks!

He showered again to get rid of the flour, changed into a pair of jeans and a casual black sweater before he shrugged on his warm SuperDry coat and headed back out. As he passed Stella’s door on the way to the elevator he could hear her raised voice and instantly he felt his skin prickle. His Jakey Sense as Stella had jokingly dubbed it was tingling. He paused and moved closed to the doors and could hear her and Evan were arguing.

He shouldn’t listen, he knew that, but they were being so loud it was impossible not to. Plus, when all’s said and done he was also a nosey bastard.

“For fucks sake, Ev! You've been fine for the last twenty minutes, why are you brining this up now?”

“All I said was I wish you'd told me about the flowers! I've bought you bouquets before and you never mentioned petunias.”

Jake smirked a little as Stella groaned.

“It’s really not that big a deal!”

“Well apparently it is according to Jensen!” Evan shot back.

“So that's what this is about. It isn't the flowers at all is it? It's Jake” Stella responded, her voice agitated and Jake could completely picture her stood there, arms folded, glaring up at him. He’d seen it often enough himself.

“And what if it is?” Evan’s voice was equally as loud.

“Oh for fucks sake...he's my friend, my best friend.”

“And your EX, Stella!”

“Carry on this way and you will be as well!” Stella shot back and at that Jake felt his smirk grow even wider.  

“Way to go Stel…” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Evan’s voice was louder still “You hang out with your ex and I’m the problem?”

“No, the problem is you being all pissy about something that isn't really a big issue. Jake and I...” Stella sighed, “We have history, a lot of history. Even before we dated we were friends and it's been so shit recently when we haven't been talking and...” her voice was gathering in speed and Jensen could tell she was starting to get upset. He had heard it and seen it a thousand times before.

“And why do you think that is, Stel?” Evan’s voice was now quiet, but the tone was cold and threatening, and Jensen took a deep breath. He didn’t like the way this was going. “Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” Stella didn’t reply, and Evan continued “See, you know I'm right. You were on bad terms because he was a jealous asshole, you said it yourself with the way he behaved when we had our first date in the coffee shop. And everyone knows he was only dating that Britney bint to try and piss you off. Even your own sister said that.”

Jensen could feel himself getting hot with anger at the way the bastard was using Rey against Stella, despite the fact Evan was completely right. As much as Jensen had denied it at the time, that was totally why he ended up with Brit. Call it a rebound, a stubborn attempt to prove to himself he didn’t need Stella, whatever. The core of it was always down to her.

“Huh, he aint actually as stupid as he looks.” Jensen muttered to himself.

“He wasn’t jealous.” Stella responded, her voice quiet “How could he be when he dumped me? Twice.”

At that Jensen bowed her head, the hurt in her voice was evident.

“Who knows what goes through his head or why he did that, I've no idea, but if you think he's over you then you're mistaken. And I don’t like it, Stella, not one bit.” Evan took a deep breath “I think you should stay away from him.”

Jensen felt his mouth drop open a little and he blinked, had he seriously just told her that? He waited with baited breath for Stella’s reply, which came a second or so later, in a tone he knew only too well, she’d had enough.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for going out tonight.”

“Okay, well, let’s stay in then.” Evan’s tone suddenly flipped to the doting boyfriend again and Jensen frowned once more. This guy was unreal. “I can cook us something”

“Dumb bastard, take the hint.” Jensen grumbled as Stella audibly sighed. He could picture her, running her hand through her hair, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes.

“I need to get cleaned up and then sort out this mess.” She replied “I think it’s better if you go home.”

“Seriously?” Evan spoke with disbelief “You’re actually telling me to go?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause “Fine.” Evan responded “I’ll leave you to it. You and Jensen can finish whatever it was you were doing.”

“We were making cookies.”

“Whatever, Stella. If you’re more interested in defending him than having dinner with me then, that’s you’re call.”

And then Jensen realised he needed to disappear before Evan came out and found him. He hastily made his way back to his apartment, and had just gotten inside when Stella’s door was wrenched open. So as not to attract attention to himself with the sound of the lock clicking, Jensen didn’t quite close his fully and stayed waiting for Evan to disappear. To Jensen’s horror he paused, looking directly at his door, before he looked back at Stella’s and then made his way to the elevator. After what seemed like an age it arrived and he stepped into it, the door pinging shut behind him.

Jensen felt bad, he really did. He hadn’t wanted Stella to be upset. But more over he felt uneasy. The way Evan had spoken to her, and directed the blame straight back onto her and then told her to stay away from him was  manipulative, controlling almost.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

****

“Jensen, what’s with you man?” Roque asked, placing his empty bottle on the table. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-annoying tonight.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He felt Pooch’s eyes on him and purposely ignored him, looking around the bar at anything and everything. His eyes fell momentarily on a table of girls some four or so down from theirs one of them bore a fleeting resemblance to Stella actually and he hastily looked away, glancing down at his beer. He necked the rest and set the empty bottle down.

“My round.” Pooch nodded as he stood up, his hand falling onto Jensen’s shoulder “Give me a hand man?”

“Sure.” Jake stood up and followed him to the bar, passing the table of girls as they went.

“The brunette is giving you the eye.” Pooch nudged him. Jensen looked at him.

“What?”

“Okay, out with it.” Pooch demanded as they reached the bar “What’s wrong Jensen, and don’t tell me everything is fine coz I know you, and you’re not being you. You’ve been positively pleasant all evening and now when some chick is giving you the eye you don’t even notice?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m just a bit worried about Stel, man”

“Arty?” Pooch frowned, “What’s wrong with her? Is she ok? I though Evan was coming over to hers tonight?”

“He did. They had an argument, he left.” Jensen shrugged.

“They had an argum-wait? How do you know? Did she tell you? Coz I thought you weren’t on particularly good terms.”

“We sorted stuff out.” Jensen shook his head

“You were listening weren’t you?” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Jensen shook his head and Pooch groaned having been given all the confirmation he needed “The point is what he said. And how he said it. He was angry, Pooch.”

“Everyone gets angry when they argue.”

“Yeah but he…I dunno, I don’t trust him.”

“Oh come on Jensen. Stop it. Enough with that shit. Stel is with him and she’s happy, face it.”

“He told her that he thinks she should stay away from me.” Jensen looked at Pooch. “Does that not strike you as, well, controlling?”

Pooch looked at Jensen and could see on his face that he was genuinely concerned.

“Ok, start from the top.” Pooch instructed, so Jensen did, explaining and Pooch took a deep breath “So now you’re worried he could be manipulating her?”

“I'm worried he’s not everything he’s cracked up to be.” Jensen replied after a short pause “And that she could end up hurt. And I don’t mean merely emotionally.”

“Woah, man that’s…that’s a big leap.” Pooch looked at him, before he turned to the bar tender and ordered their round, before looking back at him. “From being a little narky and, ok, possibly maybe slightly overbearing to being a fuckin’ woman beater.”

“Maybe.” Jensen sighed, “But isn’t it always the one’s you don’t expect to do it that do?”

At that Pooch was forced to accept Jensen made a good point and he bit his lip, cocking his head to once side. “Ok, suppose you heard right and the guy’s dodgy so to speak. What you wanna do about it?”

“I suppose I could do some digging.” Jensen mused “See if I can find any of his old girlfriends out there, see what they have to say.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Pooch groaned.

Jensen sighed, “I honestly have no idea Pooch. My gut was to tell Stella that I was concerned but knowing her she'll just accuse me of being a dick and it would just make it look like he was right about me.”

“Which he is.” Pooch snorted “You are jealous.”

“Yeah, well that's maybe but I'm being serious here Pooch. I don't trust the guy, and if she ends up hurt when I could have done something to stop it I'll never forgive myself.”

Pooch bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Jensen, he could see the worry etched into every line on his friend’s face. With a loud sigh he shook his head, “Listen man, whatever you want to do I have your back. Wanna go all CSI on the guy? Then count me in. But do you and the rest of us for that matter a favour and admit to your feelings for her once and for all and do something about it or leave her be.”

Jensen snorted “You been talking to Clay, Pooch?”

“What? No.” Pooch handed over his card to pay for the round. “Why would you think that?”

“He just said something similar at New Years. That's all.” Jensen took a deep breath “This would never have happened if I hadn't been such an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Not helping Pooch.”

“Listen man, we don’t need to talk to one another to see you have strong feelings for her. We all know that and we all have been putting up with your stupid ass decisions.”

“Still not helping Pooch.”

“Ok Jensen.” Pooch shrugged, taking his card back off the man behind the bar with a thanks. “You could always try actually talking to him? You never know, he might be genuinely-“

“Are you nuts? The guy hates me!” Jensen practically exploded “And suppose I am right, which I may not be, I know, it happens occasionally.” He shrugged as Pooch rolled his eyes “Not only do I tip him off I’m onto him, he’ll rush to tell Stel as soon as I turn my back. Make it seem I’m harassing him.”

“So instead you wanna track his old girlfriend’s down and go poking into his past?”

Jake flashed his signature grin.

“Coz thats not harassing him. At all.” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“It’s not if he doesn’t know I’m harassing him.” Jake shrugged and Pooch let out an exasperated moan of a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I already told you Jensen. Whatever you want man. Just...oh, I dunno, try not to fuck it up with your usual chaotic dumbassery.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jensen shrugged as he picked up 2 of the bottles from the bar.

“Sure you don’t.”

******

Two more beers later and Jensen called it a night and headed home, he wasn’t in the mood all things considered. Kicking off his sneakers he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. But it was no good, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was working overtime as he was trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do. It was frustrating, because normally he’d just talk to Stella, they never had secrets but this was completely out of the question, and that frustrated the fuck out of him.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Frowning, because that meant that either someone had gotten into the building or it was a resident, he stood up and made his way over to the door. He pulled it open and gave a little blink as he saw Stella stood there in a large, oversized sweater, leggings and thick socks, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, a batch of cookies in her hands.

“Oh, hey Stel.” He said, surprise evident in his voice “Come on in.”

She smiled as she stepped into his flat. “I thought you’d be out all night because Pooch said you were all out for drinks this evening. But I heard you come in so I came to bring you some cookies. After all you helped me with them, well, sort of.”

“Thanks Sel.” He smiled, genuinely as he took them from her “You want a drink or…”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

“Ok, well, go through, be with you in a second. I’ll just put these bad boys away.”

She nodded and turned, heading towards the lounge as Jensen made his way quickly into the kitchen and deposited the cookies in the tin, grabbing one as he did so. God they tasted just as good as they always did. He grabbed the empty container and headed into the lounge where Stella was sat on the couch and she smiled as he handed it to her.

“You ok?” he asked and she looked at him, nodding but Jensen could tell she wasn’t so he decided to call her out, see if she’d open up to him.

“You know, I've known you too long. You can't lie to me.”

She sighed.

“What’s bothering you, Stel?” he pressed as he sat next to her keeping a respectful distance of one seat cushion between them.

“Me and Ev, we err...had an argument before. Kind of a big one”

“How big?” Jensen asked, all the time knowing he had to play it cool or she would know he overheard.

“I… “ she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater a little before she snorted “I sent him home big”

“Can I ask what you argued about? I mean if you sent him home it must have been pretty serious.”

Stella looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to tell him and then she sighed “He wanted to go out, I didn't. It spiralled from there.”

Jake took a deep breath as Stella looked at him having just told him a barefaced lie. What killed him the most was he knew she was doing it to spare his feelings, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss her more. But he couldn’t, so instead he gave her a small nod and what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I'm sorry if any of it was my fault. And I'm sure you'll sort it out.”

“Yeah, I guess. In any case thanks for listening.”

Jake laughed “That it, we done?”

“Not much else to tell you. We fought, and maybe I overreacted to something he said. It’s just...” she studied his face and Jensen got the impression she was searching for some indication Evan was right about him being jealous. He fought so hard not to give her any, and in the end she shrugged “It doesn’t matter, it’s no big deal.”

“Big enough to make you upset though.”

“Well, it’s the first argument we’ve had.”

“Well you can drown your sorrows in pumpkin flavoured gin.” Jensen sniffed and at that she grimaced.

“Between you and me, I tried it before. It’s fucking awful.”

Jake laughed, “Then I guess Evan was right and you do taste better.”

“Jake!” Stella scoffed, slapping his arm.

“What? It was a compliment!”

“You're gross”

“Yeah but…”he smirked “…made you smile”

“Yeah, you do.” She looked at him, “I mean did. You know, just then…”

“I know.”

Stella gave him another soft smile “Thanks again, I should…” she gestured to the door with her head and Jake nodded.

“Walk you home?”

“I live across the hall.” She scoffed as she stood up

“Yeah but…” Jensen breathed in through his teeth as he also rose from his seat “Some dodgy people in this building Stel”

“Yeah, you're one of em.”

“Hey, you could be attacked by Mrs. Hunter’s Cat. You know it went for my ankle yesterday?” He looked at her seriously. “Like I said, snide little bastards. Cats are not to be trusted.”

“Alright then badass, you better see me safe across the hall.” She chuckled.

Jake followed her to the door where she turned and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a soft hug. Pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head he stepped back and looked at her.

“You know where I am if you need me, don’t you?”

She nodded “Thanks. Night Jakey.”

“Night Stel.”

He watched her cross the hall, and when she walked inside she gave him a last smile before she shut the door.

Jensen exhaled loudly, before he turned and headed back into his own apartment, the door clicking behind him.

*****

Jensen didn’t sleep particularly well that night. His worries and concerns about Stella kept running through his mind and at six am he gave up, hauling himself out of bed for a run. On his way back he stopped by the bakery on the corner of the street to grab himself a croissant and a coffee and headed back to the condo, munching his breakfast. As he walked across the parking lot he spotted Evan’s car was parked outside the main door, the man himself sat inside, waiting.

And then all logic flew from Jensen’s mind. Fuck treading softly.

He stalked over and round to the passenger side, yanking it open and sinking into the seat besides Evan as the man looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“S’up Agent E.” he smiled at him, taking another bite of his croissant. “You waiting for Stel?”

“Why else would I be here?”

Jensen shrugged “Maybe you like parking lots.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m waiting for Stella.”

“Why not just use your spare key?” Jensen asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee before he looked at Evan. “Wait, more to the point, why are you not up there? Did you not stay?” The nerve in Evan’s jaw twitched and Jensen grinned. “You guys aint had a fight have you?” When the agent didn’t reply Jake took a bite of his croissant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What do you want, Jensen?” Evan looked at him, his features dark and Jake knew the time for joking was done. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Honestly? For you to fuck off.”

“Oh I bet you do.” Evan narrowed his eyes, his voice low and Jensen snorted.

“Not much of a bet, I just admitted it but whatever.”

“Well unlucky for you I’m not going anywhere.”

“For now.” Jensen shrugged “She’ll see through you at some point.”

“Face it Jensen, you fucked up.” Evan shook his head “Now I’m warning you, stay away from her, and me, and leave us alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Ok, I was trying to be polite but I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do.” Evan’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” Jensen stated and Evan gave a huge guffaw of laughter, Jensen merely shook his head “Yeah, you might laugh but I swear to God you hurt her and I will fucking kill you slowly and painfully.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Evan asked.

“Yes.” Jensen said simply “You forget, I’m a lethal trained killing machine.” He shrugged “And then there’s Clay, and Roque, and Pooch and Cougs…you kick one of us, we all shout ouch, you get my drift.”

He saw a flicker of something that might have been concern on Evan’s faced but no sooner had he spotted it, it was gone and the Agent simply swallowed and fixed Jensen with a glare.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to hurt her?”

“Because when I mentioned it before, instead of protesting that you wouldn’t, you simply turned it back to being about you.” Jensen shrugged “Now if someone had said that to me, I’d be doing everything I could to try and convince them they were wrong.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Evan snorted, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t” Jake shrugged “But you will answer to me if you do hurt her, like I said, I’m watching you shithead.”

“You know, when Stella hears you’ve been threatening me…”

“We both know you’re not going to tell her.” Jake shook his head “I mean you’ve already argued once. And I’d lay odds on that being about me. So, are you really gonna push it again when you’re hanging on by a thread? Don’t think so buddy.”

He took another obnoxiously loud slurp of his coffee and there was a pause before Evan exploded. “Ok, I’ve had enough of this, get out of my fucking car!”

“Gladly.” Jensen nodded, scrunching up the wrapper his croissant had been in. He tossed it into the foot-well and looked at it for a second before he shrugged “This car is full of garbage anyway.” And with that he climbed out headed inside, not bothering to look back.

**** Chapter 6

[zwowow]

#7 please!

7.  “That is the dumbest excuse I have ever heard!”

"Let's make it Instagram official!" Kells laughs as holds his phone above them in bed and lines up the shot. Em snaps his head up and off of his chest and looks back at him, horrified. He wasn't serious, would never post anything Em didn't want out there, but the way he looked at him just then broke his fucking heart.

"You know I'm playin', right?" He says cautiously, the fun snuffed out of him. He doesn't even know why he keeps doing this. He just gets hurt every time. If he makes a joke about them coming out, Em shuts it down. If he tries to get his boyfriend to take it seriously, Em still shuts him down. 

At what point is he going to stop wondering when Em will be ready to at least talk about it, and just force him to listen and consider it? Or the alternative, at what point is he going to realize Em will simply never be ready to have the conversation because he won't ever be ready to come out? Kells refuses to even think it's the second one.

"You play too much." Em grumbles, but lays his head back down on Kells' chest. Despite being annoyed at him, Kells wraps an arm around Em and pulls him close.

"I'd stop playing if you'd just fucking talk about it." Em stiffens beneath his arm.

"Talk about what?" Kells scoffs at Em's feigned ignorance. He always does it. Kells could probably guess Em's next words in this repeated conversation.

"If you'd just talk about coming out. We've been together a while, at some point I'd like to be able to go out with you with more than one other person there." I want that too.

"You know I want that too." It's like there are cue cards over each of their heads, Kells sighs and plays his role.

"Then why haven't we done it? Why haven't we at least, I don't know, talked about it?" We can't right now.

"We can't right now." The short conversation is so cyclical, Kells knows they're reaching the end of it. But he doesn't want to let it go tonight. He needs to talk to Em at the very least so that he can set real expectations instead of living on a rollercoaster of hope and disappointment.

"Then when?" He tightens his arm around Em's stiff body to remind. He pleads with his body and voice. Still, he knows what comes next, the inevitable last word.

"I don't know, Kells." Em sounds so sad that Kells wants to back off like he always does. He wants Em to relax into him and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. Unfortunately, he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight unless he actually gets Em to talk about this. Tonight, he’s changing up the script. 

“Just give me a time. We’ll talk on Monday, we’ll come out two months from now, whatever the fuck you want. Em please, I need something.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Em breaks free of his grasp and sits up. There is a hard edge in his voice, a warning not to keep pushing. Kells can’t help it, that’s what he’s always done with Em, push him a little too far. 

“Why are you trying so hard to avoid it? What’s the worst that comes from letting people know about us?” 

“It could ruin our fucking lives, our careers. How do you not understand that? Do you really not fucking get how much our careers will change if this comes out?”

"That is just the dumbest excuse I've ever heard." Kells let out a wry laugh and shakes his head. Em's career? His millions of die hard fans that have religiously bought every album for twenty years, that ride his dick harder than Kells ever could? His career riddled with homophobic language that if they did come out would just serve as evidence of internalized hatred and make him a sympathetic victim of fucking ‘society’? His albums that go to number one regardless of quality or promo because of course they do, it’s a fucking Eminem album? His career? That's bullshit.

“You could run over a dog or some sick shit and you’d still go platinum. Do you really think you’re suddenly gonna flop when people find out you suck dick?” 

“It’s not about sales. I don’t want to be a fucking novelty again. You came up later, but when I was starting I couldn’t escape just being a white rapper. No matter how good my shit was, how hard my bars were, it was always good for a white boy. My songs were white, my albums were white, that’s all I fucking was: white. You know that the minute people know about this it’s going to happen again. Fuckin’ ‘best gay rapper’ headlines and Glaad awards for fuckin’ gay pride. I don’t want that shit.” 

Colson knows how that feels. Yeah, he’d come up after Em kind of changed the game for white rappers, but he’d been through the same shit, the othering. The difference between him and Em though, is that, in his opinion, coming out would be worth it. 

“Don’t you think you could get over that, to be honest with everybody?” Kells doesn’t understand Em. He doesn’t understand why it’s even a question. 

“Why the fuck would I want to be honest with people? It’s nobody’s business who I’m fucking.” He’s has known the entire time they’ve been together that Em likes to keep people out. But he’d thought Em would eventually come around to the idea that, if nothing else, Kells was important enough to let go of a bit of that privacy. 

Now he knows the full truth. Em doesn’t want to answer questions about them being together, he won’t want to talk about being queer, and he refuses to be tokenized as a ‘gay rapper’. But if they come out, those things would be inevitable. 

Kells looks at Em, at the hard lines of his face, and realizes something he’s been avoiding for months. 

“Will anything ever make it worth it to come out to you?” 

Em’s silence is enough of an answer. Kells supposes, his avoidance and his insistence that he didn’t want to talk about it were also answers he chose to ignore. 

Em may be content to stay in the closet, to stay hidden and isolated, an island of two, but Kells isn’t. He doesn’t think he ever will be, just like Em doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to come out. 

“If you really don’t think so, I don’t think I can stay.” 

Kells swallows. Em stares at him. Kells stares back. Em swallows. 

“You should probably go, then.”

[051093]

11 days masterlist

a collection of moments from each of the boys' routes — slice-of-life drabbles based off a prompt list that contain smut, angst, and everything in between.

this is the list i'll be using. i wish i could link the original creators because these are all fantastic, but i've had these in a document for so long that i’ve forgotten where i found them. i'll keep looking.

the goal is to have one fic written for most of the prompts below. pray for me.

coming soon & cross-posted on ao3. requests are currently closed. 

(M) means nsfw. + my masterlist.

“It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” | 707

“You didn’t do the dishes. I’m not doing you.”

“I swear this isn’t what it looks like.”

“I’m going to be late because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Why did I agree to marry you again?”

“Are you trying to flirt?”

“Where are your pants?”

“It’s 6 o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“What? Does that feel good?”

“If you can’t sleep… we could have sex?”

“Did you just hiss at me?” | Zen (M)

“Not interested, thanks.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“I think you got the wrong number but count me in anyway!”

“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.”

“We’re in public, you know.”

“Oh my god, do that again.”

“Teach me.”

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You’re satan.”

“I know I’m a handful but that’s why you’ve got two hands.”

“Let’s have a baby.”

“I’m sorry, what? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

“You need to see a doctor.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I will fight you.”

“I’m not angry, it’s just my face.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You can stay but your clothes must go.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.”

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

“Before I do this, I need you to know that I will always love you.”

“You taste like fucking candy.”

“I’m flirting with you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Just once.”

“How did that get stuck in there?”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Hang on, hang on, we’re gonna fall off the bed-” | Jumin

“Take my virginity.”

“Just sit on me already.”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“You mean so much to me.”

“Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“I can’t stay away from you.”

“Just once.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You lied to me.”

“You’re getting crumbs all over my bed.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” | V

”Bite me.” 

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Call me tonight, and I’ll make it feel like I’m there.” 

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Well, this is awkward…”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“You can’t keep doing this.”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“I might have had a few shots.”

“Say it!” 

“I could kiss you right now!”

“Are you still awake…?” | Jumin

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

“I could kill you right now!”

“Just admit I’m right.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Just pretend to be my date.”

“Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

“I think I’ve been holding myself from falling in love with you all over again.”

“I’m not going to apologise for this. Not anymore.”

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.”

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m flirting with you.”

“I’m yours.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are trying to seduce me.” | Saeran

“Oh my god! You’re in love with her!”

“What are you afraid of?”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

“Here, let me.”

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

“You’re such a good girl.” 

“Don’t be gentle.” | Saeran (M)

“I don’t care if it’s wrong.”

“Do you like it when they watch?”

“Let’s put on a show for them.”

“Ruin me.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“That’s gross. Unless you’re up for it.”

“Get on your knees.”

“I’ll meet you in the changing rooms.”

“I’m trying to drive here!”

“Don’t test me.”

“I’m the one in charge here, silly girl/boy.”

“Does this turn you on?”

“I’ll do anything for an A, sir.”

“Everything about this screams ‘recipe for disaster’. You do realise?”

“Things change around here when it hits midnight.”

“Feel free to admire me.” | V

“Are you really trying to cover my face up with a paper bag?”

“Somehow you don’t even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt.”

“You just give off the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at.”

“You make me nervous and happy and horny all at the same time and it’s confusing as fuck sometimes.”

“Friends don’t get each other off.”

“I did some calculations, and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

“I’m not going to die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.”

“Do you need me to kill someone for you?”

“It’s not a double date. We’re just… third and fourth wheeling.”

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“Did you just… finish?”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed there’s something wrong with you.”

“What the fuck do you mean there are security cameras in every room?”

“You know what rhymes with drunk? Sex.”

“What’s with the pigtails?”

“And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve.”

“Do you’ve any idea how thin the walls are?”

“That’s… not mine.”

“Shit, my parents are back early!”

“Why are you naked?”

“Stop hiding from me. I just want to help you, can’t you see that?”

“You should probably close the door.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I’m so lucky.”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!”

“Take your medicine.”

“I would do anything for you, you know that. Just…not this.”

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“I need a place to stay.”

“You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“You’re blushing.”

“My friends told me I shouldn’t trust you.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“I thought I’d find you here.” 

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You smell like a wet dog.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that right?”

“Quit beating me up!”

“You’re getting crumbs all over my bed.”

“Can I borrow that book of yours?”

“Okay.. This is new.”

“Just pretend to be my date.”

“I fell in love with my best friend.”

“You know my house has a door, right? You don’t always have to come in through the window.”

“I feel like we’ve met before…”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“But what if we wake someone up?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Here, let me.”

“I like to think we’re more than ‘just friends’.”

“Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.”

“The more I look at you, the more I think we need to leave.” | V (M)

“I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

“I wish I’d never met you.”

“I thought you had him!”

“How drunk was I?”

“I never thought I’d love you this much.”

“Did you do something different with your hair?”

“Please put your penis away.” | 707 (M)

“Why are you bleeding?”

“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

“You mean everything to me.”

“Don’t blame it on the alcohol, you tasted like you wanted me.”

“Look at me. I love you.”

“I’ll pay you to hit me with a car.”

“What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

“Ok, I give up. We’re definitely lost.”

“Let’s move in together.”

“You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

“Please tell me that you didn’t say yes.”

“Since when have we ever been friends?”

“You look a lot different from your profile picture.”

“I’m late.”

“Want to head back to my place and have a little fun?”

“You could have died! I could have lost you!”

“I need your help. I had nowhere else to go.”

“If we get caught I’m blaming you.”

“How do you feel about last night?”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You’re not scared of the dark are you?”

“Oh god, I need a drink.”

“Choose me.”

“I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor.”

“Thanks for helping me back there.”

“I haven’t slept in four days…” | Jumin

“I want to go home.”

“I love that show too!”

“Get that thing away from me!”

“Do you think you can teach me that?”

“We’ve become the clingy couple that you used to complain about.”

[animezing-fandoms]

No Regrets?

Nalu Week 2020 Day 2: Regret

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut

Summary: While camping together one night after a job, Natsu and Lucy have a conversation about things they do and don't regret, and why.

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

Natsu was a man who lived his life with very little regrets. He was reckless and carefree, never overthinking his actions, even when those actions caused destruction around him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a job that didn't end with some sort of explosion, and said explosion often led to some sort of property damage which Makarov would yell at him for when he returned to the guild but he didn't mind. He had gotten the job done, so even though he may have caused Makarov some trouble, he didn't regret his actions. But Lucy felt like he should.

"You seriously don't feel bad for making that sea monster wreck the pier!" Lucy exclaims.

"Nope, not at all. They told me it would be weak to fire and that I should just burn the hell out of it so I did. It's not like I had any control over where the thing was gonna land." Natsu explains before spitting a flame onto their dimming campfire.

"It landed on top of four buildings...and our hotel." Lucy grumbles as she tries to find a comfortable place to sit on the grass.

"They'll rebuild it in no time. And I'll even offer to help them out with that if it makes you feel any better." Natsu says.

"Considering you're the reason they have to rebuild their docks and buildings, I doubt they'd want your 'help' again." Lucy quips at him before trying to sit on the cold, muddy grass again, but finding it very uncomfortable.

Natsu notices and sighs before beginning to take off his jacket.

As soon as Lucy saw what he was doing, she was immediately flustered.

"Whoa! Natsu what are you doing?" She asks. "This is no time to get naked!"

"Relax, I'm not getting naked." Natsu assures her. "I'm just taking off my jacket so you have somewhere dry to sit." He explains.

Lucy watches Natsu fold up his jacket before setting it next to himself on the ground and gesturing for her to come and sit. She carefully comes over to sit next to him, blushing slightly from how close she was to him, and the fact that he was shirtless wasn't making it any easier for her. Which is why it certainly didn't help when he wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side.

"W-what are you doing?" Lucy stammers, her face red as a tomato from being pressed against his muscular torso.

"Keeping you warm. You might be sitting on something dry but I figured the ground might still be cold or something." Natsu explains.

"O-oh. That makes sense." Lucy agrees and tries to calm her beating heart.

She was glad Happy hadn't come with them on this job or else he'd be teasing them right now.

"So you really don't regret that you caused a lot of damage to the town?" She asks, figuring a change of subject would help get her mind off of how close she was to Natsu.

"Not at all. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad that it happened but I don't regret it." Natsu says.

"Why not?" Lucy asks.

"Because I didn't have a choice." Natsu explains. "The only way to defeat that monster was by burning it up, and I couldn't burn it up in the water, so having it crash on land was the only way to take it down. And besides, it's not like anybody got hurt either. Sure a few buildings got destroyed but like I said, those can be rebuilt, and then everything will go back to the way it was."

"So if someone did get hurt, you would regret it?" Lucy asks.

"Yeah." Natsu says and his face gets serious. "People aren't buildings. They're alive, they have feelings, and you can't replace them if you lose them, and fixing them isn't too easy either."

"Says the man who's always ready to beat someone up." Lucy reminds him with a laugh.

"Hey I only beat people up if they deserve it." Natsu tells her. "I was talking about innocent people. People that didn't do anything to deserve to get hurt. People that I care about that I've hurt."

"Like who?" Lucy asks without even thinking about it.

"You." Natsu says and her heart leaps into her throat.

"Me?" Lucy asks, sitting up so she can face him. "When have you ever hurt me?"

"After Tartarus, when I left for a year and then the guild disbanded and you were all alone. If I hadn't been so selfish I would have talked to you about it first, or asked you come with me. You were miserable for a year because of me. I regret that more than anything I've ever done in my life." Natsu says and look away from her at the ground.

Lucy already knew that he felt bad about leaving her alone, but she had no idea that he regretted it that much.

"You really regret it that much?" Lucy asks and shifts closer to him.

"Yeah, I wish I'd never gone." Natsu says, still avoiding her gaze.

"But you got so much stronger on your trip." Lucy reminds him.

"Yeah, but at the cost of your happiness. And that means more to me than anything in the world." Natsu says, finally daring to look up at her.

She was blushing in the way that she did sometimes when he would say something sweet to her.

"Do you mean it Natsu?" She asks shyly.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." Natsu says seriously. "You're everything to me Lucy. Leaving you was the dumbest thing I've ever done, that's why I promised you that we'd be together forever, so we'd never be alone and we'd always be happy. I want to be with you every day forever Lucy and I've never felt this way about anyone other than you."

As soon as those words left his lips, Lucy pressed her own against them. Natsu froze. His eyes were wide as he processed the fact that Lucy was kissing him. He hadn't expected her to do that, but he was really happy she did. But then she pulled away, and her face was bright red.

"I-I don't know why I did that." She stammers. "I probably got carried away. You probably didn't mean what you said like that."

"Like what?" Natsu asks with a smirk. "Like this?" He asks before leaning in and kissing her back.

"Natsu?" She asks him softly as he pulls back.

"I love you Lucy." Natsu says and cups her cheek.

Her eyes lit up with joy and she smiles back at him.

"I love you too." She says before throwing her arms around him and kissing him as hard as she can.

As they kiss, Natsu groans as he feels Lucy's hips grind against the bulge in his pants. He felt himself get hotter as his blood rushed to his stiffening cock, and Lucy lets out soft whimpers as she rubs herself against him, desperate for more friction just like he was. Natsu grips her hips and holds her steady against him as he begins to roll his hips against her, making her gasp and moan as she feels his erection rubbing against her damp core. They both needed more, they needed to be closer to each other's bodies and it was Lucy who made the first move by removing her top.

As soon as Natsu felt Lucy's bare skin against his chest, his body felt even more fired up when he realizes that Lucy wants to do more than just kiss, so he breaks their heated kiss to catch his breath and to clarify what both of them want from this.

"Lucy." He pants against her lips as he cups her cheek and looks into her eyes. "Are you...do you...want what I think you want?" Natsu asks shyly.

"Well, what do you think I want?" Lucy asks him.

"I think...you want to go all the way with me? Like Gajeel and Levy did to have their kids." Natsu says.

"Then we are on the same page." Lucy says and smiles at him. "I want to make love with you Natsu."

She gently takes his hand and Natsu gasps as she presses it against her abdomen, just above her skirt, before dragging it up under her unbuttoned top towards her chest.

"Are you sure Lucy? Won't you get pregnant like Levy if we do this?" Natsu asks.

"It's not guaranteed to happen but yes there is a chance that I could. But that's a chance I'll take, because you're the only man I'd ever want to have a family with Natsu, so even if you do get me pregnant, I won't regret it because it's with you, the man that I love." Lucy says and Natsu looks at her with nothing but love in his eyes.

"I love you too Lucy. So I'll give you all of me, if you'll give me all of you." He breathes against her lips before capturing her mouth in another searing kiss before flipping them around so that she was laying on his bedroll on her back and his hand was squeezing her breast.

He captures her moans in his mouth as his hot, calloused hands explore her body, mapping out every inch of her skin as she arches her body into his touch.

"Yes, Natsu..." She sighs as he moves his mouth to her neck.

Then she takes his hand and moves it down to her sash and her belt where she encourages Natsu to undo both before sticking his hand under the waistband of her skirt and panties.

"Rub me there Natsu." Lucy instructs and Natsu does as she says.

The gasp of pleasure he drew out of her just by rubbing his fingers against her womanhood made him happy, so he picks up the pace, and parts her folds to rub at her entrance and pushes a finger inside of her when she instructs him to.

His erection was straining against his pants from how turned on he was getting by watching Lucy writhe underneath him, and her pussy was so tight and wet around his finger, and they both moan when he adds a second and she gets even tighter. Then his thumb brushes against a small nub and Lucy gasps in pleasure.

"Yes! Natsu touch me there again!" Lucy begs.

He does as she asks and then she starts moaning even louder.

"Lucy, you're so tight and wet. You're going to feel so good around my dick." Natsu moans.

Lucy reaches for the bulge in his pants and Natsu groans as she palms his erection through his pants.

"And your dick is going to feel so good inside of me Natsu." Lucy says.

"Then what are we waiting for." Natsu smiles and removes his hand from her and starts taking off his pants.

Lucy smiles at the sight of his cock and removes the rest of her clothes before Natsu lines himself up between her legs and they both smile at each other before he pushes himself inside of her and they both moan from the feeling.

Once he was sure Lucy was comfortable, instinct took over and Natsu thrusts in and out of her while Lucy runs her hands along his back as they kiss.

"Natsu, you feel so good inside of me." Lucy moans.

"Lucy, you feel amazing around me." Natsu praises and reaches his hand down between them.

He finds that bundle of nerves again and Lucy moans and arches her back as she climaxes, shouting his name.

As soon as she tightens around him, Natsu finishes too, riding out the last of his release before pulling out and laying down next to her.

She turns to him and smiles at him with joy sparkling in her eyes, reflecting the light of the stars above them.

"Lucy, that was amazing and you're so beautiful. I love you, and I wish I told you that sooner." Natsu says.

Lucy giggles and kisses him.

"Natsu, don't regret that. You told me when you felt like you were ready, and I was ready. This happened exactly the way it was meant to. And I couldn't be happier." She tells him and they snuggle together before falling asleep under the stars.

[rewolfaekilerom]

why reread books?

//NOTE: This was originally posted to Wordpress on 04.24.2021//

I didn’t write last week. Whoops. I could come up with an excuse, but I don’t need to. I spent 7 years in grad school, and some 17 years before that in regular school; this blog is my way of reconditioning myself to love writing for the sake of writing and not to write out of some obligation or feeling that I’m not doing enough.

I work 40 hours a week, and most of that’s with writing in some way, shape, or form. I’m doing plenty.

So, today’s post.

I started reading P. D. James’s Death Comes to Pemberley today. (I promise I’ll write about the Sookie Stackhouse series. I finished it last week and have so many thoughts, but I’m not quite ready to share them.)

The first few pages of Death Comes to Pemberley (this is about as far as I’ve made it) are a clever retelling of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, because that’s what James’s book is based on. I read Austen’s novel ages ago–probably as a teenage and probably next to a pool. I think I was made to get a PhD because one of the challenges I set myself one summer as a teenager was to read all of Austen’s novels. I think I got through most of them, but I don’t really remember. I was a bit of an oddball and a nerd. My dad and I would go to the public library every weekend, and I went through a phase where I’d take out a stack of poetry books just . . . to read in study hall. Like I said, weird kid. I thank my parents for indulging my love of books, even if it meant that I was an overgrown child in grad school for too many years and filled their lives with sympathy stress.

Anyway. I think I mentioned in my previous post that I like to reread books. What I mean by this is a few different things, actually–or, rather, this rereading can come in a few different forms.

I, of course, mean it in the straightforward sense. I’ve reread Rebecca many times, and I’ve reread Barbara Michaels’s oeuvre many, many more times than I’d ever be willing to admit.

But by “I like to reread books,” I also mean “I like to reread books–sometimes immediately after I’ve finished them.”

I’m definitely not proud of this, but I reread both the After series by Anna Todd–you know, the One Direction fanfic that’s actually a really gross (in every sense of that word) depiction of a tremendously abusive and toxic relationship–and the To All the Boys… series by Jenny Han immediately after I finished them. Ironically, I wouldn’t have ever picked either series up if it weren’t for a podcast I started with two friends that will likely never see the light of day. In any case, Han’s series is genuinely good; I relate to Lara Jean’s character in the sense that she’s quite similar to how I was as a teenager; there’s a comfort there that’s coupled with a forced humility–I like laughing at myself, even when someone else is also laughing at me. And Todd’s series is . . . trash, which is probably what makes it compelling. It’s not a series you read to feel good about yourself or other people; it’s a literary car wreck, something you want to look away from because it’s terrible and you know it’s bad for you, but you also feel some inexplicable compulsion to stare it directly in the eyes and engage.

For all my bravado, I’m usually pretty good at picking my battles and not engaging, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t help but engage (and reengage) with the After series. Maybe I’ll delve into that in another blog post, though I’m thinking that’ll have to be something akin to a therapist visit, and it’ll most certainly be something I’ll have to work through repeatedly.

The most straightforward reason I can give for why someone might immediately reread a book is that they feel like they devoured it too quickly the first time so they need to go back and pay closer attention. I’ve done this with a few mystery books–Tana French’s The Witch Elm, for instance–because I’ve finished the book feeling a bit like I didn’t read closely enough and so missed out on some of the author’s brilliance. I immediately begin rereading in hopes of really appreciating what the author has to say and how they’ve said it.

I might also immediately reread a book because I feel like the ending came too soon–like I maybe didn’t get to spend enough time with the characters or in their world, like maybe I’m not ready to leave that fictional universe or to let go of that story. I think this is fairly relatable. I’ve read heaps of tumblr posts and heard from many friends that sometimes finishing a book is a sad experience because, as with any ending, there’s a certain degree of mourning that has to happen for the thing that has been lost. In the case of finishing a book, you might feel compelled to mourn the loss of a particular experience, world, space, or set of characters. Those things still exist on the pages of the book–hey, we write about literature using the present tense because those things continue to exist even after we’re finished with them–and they also exist in our minds. But the thing about finishing a book is that, though the memory of that reading experience stays with us, the experience of being guided through that fictional world ends. The author is, of course, our guide through their fictional world; when we finish a book, we lose that guide. Depending on how we feel about the author’s voice–or, perhaps more appropriately, the narrator–we may feel a greater or lesser sense of loss.

I don’t really Elizabeth Bowen’s or Alix Harrow’s writing styles (these are honestly the first two authors who came to mind; I know they’re very different–so, see, I’m well read!), so I don’t feel a great sense of loss when I leave their fictional worlds, however compelling they might be. But I do tend to like the types of narrators Emily St. John Mandel, Octavia Butler, or (the Janus-faced–multi-faced?) Carolyn Keene offer readers (again, it’s like I’m trying to pick completely unsuitable pairs, but I swear I’m not), so I feel a sense of loss when I’m forced to separate from those narrators because I’ve finished experiencing their physical manifestations–the bound collection of pages on which they live their finite lives.

Someone might argue that those narrators can live on in the reader’s mind just as the fictional world they inhabit gets taken up and finds new life in the reader’s imagination. I like that argument, but I think it overlooks the simple fact that the narrator’s voice isn’t all that matters here. That narrator is a puppet, and the author is the master puppeteer who directs what the narrator does, says, and conveys–that is, how the narrator guides us, the readers, through the story. So, again, when we finish a book, we lose our guide through–sometimes even our friend in–the fictional world.

To wax poetic for a second, when we finish a book, we get to move forward in time while the narrator is stuck back in time. There’s something so sad about leaving someone behind, and it’s especially sad when we have to leave someone in a not-so-pleasant world–even if it’s fictional. It’s the reason a story like Peter Pan is so sad–Peter is a nasty little tyrant, but we (or maybe just I) can’t help but feel bad for him because he’s left behind while everyone he loves and who loves him grows up, because that’s the natural course of action. As one of my grad school peers once pointed out, Barrie’s narrator begins the book by marking Peter as exceptional–as the exception–because he’s the only child who doesn’t grow up.

So, to get back to my point, when we reread a book, we’re trying to recapture and reunite with that guide, that friend, who we’ve had to leave behind because of the simple fact that we outlived them. After all, our lives continue to go on after theirs have ended. The operative word in that first sentence, though, is “try.” There’s a saying about how you can only experience something for the first time once, and I think that’s very true for reading a book. You can only be fully immersed in a narrator’s present moment and fully subject to the will of a narrator one time, and that’s the first time you go through their story with them. In every subsequent journey, you have the advantage (or disadvantage?) of knowing exactly where the story will take you, and so a bit of the mystery–or helplessness, or naiveté, or whatever–is gone.

That said, though, I’m not sure I’d go so far as to argue that you can only experience the story “as it’s truly designed to be experienced” one time–that first time. I’m sure this perspective has something to do with some deep-rooted prejudice I have against attributing meaning or intention to an author. I don’t want to probe that prejudice too much at the moment because I suspect it’s coupled with layers of anxieties that are all somehow connected to four years of graduate coursework spent feeling a bit like the dumbest person in the room.

I’ve read a lot of books (#humblebrag), so, naturally, I’ve read books in a lot of different environments, for a lot of different reasons, and in a lot of different states of mind. I like to think of myself as generally a pretty “good” reader–that is, in the sense that I’m able to appreciate stories for what they are and to suspend my disbelief, sometimes while a very distracting “real world” goes on around me. Again, that’s probably partially because of my training. I’ve read in silent libraries, backseats of cars and on crowded buses, at pools, in bed, in fields, at busy airports, in cabs, at bars and coffee shops, at house parties–and those are just physical places. I’ve also read in diverse situations, including while immensely happy, having just had a fight, while crying, because it’s assigned reading, while heartbroken, while trying to also keep a conversation going, during class, because this book reminds me of something else, while anxious, when very tired, during the middle of an argument, out of curiosity, while waiting, and the list goes on. The sheer volume of reading one has to complete (or at least try to complete) to keep up with a grad-level literature course means that one has to be okay with reading whenever and wherever. I’ve literally carried a book with me on a date and to the grocery story “just in case” I had some extra time.

To get closer to my point, this is all a very long way of saying that there are so many circumstances that can affect our reading experience that it’s impractical for an author or a reader to think that there’s only one way to read a story. Take a relatively broad circumstantial reading category like “beach reading.” There are so many different beach scenarios that an author–even one who’s willing to settle for a very broad interpretation of “beach reading” like “reading near a large body of water with some level of distractions but in a generally relaxed mood”–can’t attempt to predict. I’d honestly be surprised to hear that an author aiming to write “beach reading” would even try to get more specific than that. After all, we don’t really have categories like “tropical beach vacation with friends reading” or “rocky Maine beach on a solo vacation reading.” I doubt an author would attempt to get that specific because, after all, writing is a career and those who do it need to create a product that will be marketable to enough people to make it worthwhile and to secure a living. And for an author who isn’t writing professionally, it hardly seems worth it to even attempt to take the time to try to predict the circumstances that might surround their audience’s experiences with the finished story. There are simply too many variables, so the goal must be, to some degree, at least, to write a story that conveys something to someone in whatever circumstance they happen to be in at the moment they’re reading. That’s a monumental task. An author might, then, have an “ideal” reader in an “ideal” scenario or state of mind or whatever, but they can’t ever write to that “ideal” alone–and that’s even if they’re writing for themselves, since they don’t know what frame of mind they’ll be in when they experience the story again (unless, of course, they don’t intend to experience the story again, in which case nothing matters except the present, which is pretty interesting in itself but not what I’m talking about right now).

But something I’d also like to note is the simple fact that sometimes stories are better–more interesting, more effective, more whatever–the second time we read them. I’ve read books with perfect focus–in a quiet library, for instance–and not found them all that compelling; I’ve also gone back to those books later–once I’m in a slightly different place (mentally, physically, emotionally, without the pressure of reading for class, whatever)–and genuinely enjoyed them. I’ll readily admit that sometimes I’m just a better reader, and sometimes I’m a better reader of a particular type of book than I might be otherwise. As humans, we’re perpetually in flux. Books are more or less stationary objects that don’t really change. We’re what changes, so we might be in a better position to appreciate a book at one point in our lives than at another point.

So, I might reread a book to recapture that first reading experience. But I might also reread a book to have a different reading experience, to meet the narrator when I’m a slightly different person. My goal might be to relearn or refresh myself of the lessons I learned through reading that particular story, but it might also be to gauge how I’ve changed. Each time I reread a story, I have a different reading experience: I notice different things; I feel different feelings; I appreciate different characters or appreciate the same characters differently; I take away different ideas about my current world based on not only how my current world compares to the fictional world but also how my current world compares to the current (now past) world I lived in the previous time(s) I experienced the fictional world.

Oy, that was a lot. And I could complicate this all further by delving deeper into why we read at all–why we sign on to read a story, what we how to get out of the reading experience, and what reading actually does for us. But I already wrote a dissertation, so I’m not going to do that again. Also, we all read for different reasons and we each read different types of stories for different reasons, so there are so many variables that it’s hardly worth it to explore that topic in a really broad sense. Maybe a narrower sense would be more productive, but I’ve already written enough for today.

What I want to say is that I’m definitely not alone in rereading stories. There are ample reasons to reread stories, the most straightforward of which being that it can just be enjoyable to do.

And to think that this post grew out of the idle thought that I’d like to reread Pride and Prejudice. And I’m still only three pages into Death Comes to Pemberley! Well, okay, onward.

xoxo, you know.