#he has a cute bowl cut fringe

[sunshineandlyrics]

⌛️

Gosh. FITFWT Hollywood Bowl, 30 June 2023 via @ GalMarielena

[socks10858]

HOW TO TELL THE BEATLES APART AS SOMEONE WHO IS NEW TO LISTENING TO THE BAND!!!

- Bored and saw someone else do this, so I wanted to give it a shot -

NOW, it may seem a bit intimidating, seeing as, at first glance, they all look like four pale, British blobs with bad haircuts wearing identical suits, but I promise you that it gets far easier once you figure out the distinctions between them - OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY.

Firstly, let’s start off with with the least difficult (bc, IMO, he is easily the most distinctive-looking member of the the Beatles):

RINGO STARR!!

If you’ve been in the fandom for any amount of time, you’ll know that this little guy’s most obvious tell is that rather large, Roman-esque nose of his - unless he’s standing next to the others in a full body picture, seeing as he’s a good five inches shorter than the rest of them.

I’m guessing that his height goes hand in hand with him also having a very small face; his jaw is very narrow and triangular, with very little definition (not his fault ofc, I’m sure that mewing was a very foreign concept back then to everyone other than George) and a pointy-ish chin.

His eyes are actually very large, though they don’t come across as big as Paul’s do right away because they’re quite hooded and downturned (very sad-looking/puppyish, as has been quoted by many). His lips are kind of thick and his teeth are a bit crooked, especially his left canine - somewhat similar to George’s, but not as long. This also makes his big ol’ grin SO endearing, he’s absolutely adorable.

Also, if you’re looking at coloured photos of them, his hair is a mousy brown, with (although only every now and then, if you peer close enough and if he hasn’t dyed it) a thin grey streak above one of his ears. Overall, he’s very much a cutie.

(Just look at that smile)

Second of all, and my personal second favourite (although he and Ringo swap places every now and then):

GEORGE HARRISON!!

As the youngest and (once again, IMO) most ‘classically handsome’ Beatle, Georgie is also rather easy to tell apart from the others, as long as the photos are being taken in a dimly lit room to show off those defined features.

He’s as thin as a whippet (which I’ve heard was common for working-class kids at the time, seeing as they were growing up on rations after the war) but gracefully, if a little worryingly, so. He also wasn’t as pale as the others (or didn’t appear so in pictures at least) and his skin had a tendency towards acne/was a little pockmarked.

With a long, lean face, the sharpest jawline KNOWN TO MAN, and cheekbones that put Angelina Jolie to shame, he cuts a very striking figure. His dark brown eyes are clear, with especially long lower lashes, and his lower lip is very full.

One particularly cute trait of his is his long, snaggle-teeth - if you look closely at his grin, you can see how his canines stick out quite clearly, just like fangs, though on one side more than the other. Just like a little vampire.

His hair was also extraordinarily thick - like, quote unquote, “a fookin’ turban” - and appears to be a very rich brown. However, his haircut in the early bowl-cut days is easily the worst of the lot of them (sorry George fans, I love him too, but it’s the truth. The moment he saw the fringe he’d been given, he should have called the police.)

Still doesn’t take away from his beauty ofc 🫶🏻

Now, third of the lot:

PAUL MCCARTNEY!!

IK no one asked for my opinion, but, while I agree that Paul was definitely pretty for a man, especially at the time, I don’t find him as much more remarkably handsome than the others as he’s often described. He was kind of just a different type of good-looking, which may have come off as extraordinary in the 60s - however, I am not saying this to detract from his good looks, he’s a gorgeous man.

As absolutely the most PR-conscious of the four, Paul is usually the one with the most charming/friendly expression in any of the group photos or interviews. He has a pale, pixie-ish face, with a straight, almost upturned nose, a somewhat long chin and chubby cheeks that make him look quite cherubic.

His lips are small and dainty, with an evident cupids bow, and he has pretty cute bunny teeth when he smiles. His hazel eyes are large and droopy, framed by notably dark, curled lashes - you’d be able to see them from miles away, they’re like spider-legs. His brows are also VERY arched and defined.

His hair was black/a very dark brown, and DEFINITELY cut the best, for at least a while there in the early 60s.

Though I may not be as biased towards him, I can definitely see why he was called the Cute Beatle.

And, last but not least, my No. 1 Jealous Guy:

JOHN LENNON!!

This time I am being biased when I say that I find this man INCREDIBLY, oddly attractive. Actually, not even oddly - he is quite conventionally good-looking for the most part, but I have a feeling many people don’t acknowledge that bc he’s been so villainised throughout the media. It was also a very different look than what was considered particularly handsome at the time, which frequently makes me very sad to think ab, but whatever.

John can be a bit easier to mix up with some of the others bc his features may not seem as immediately striking in the black and white photos, aside from maybe his nose. His long face was kind made up of angles - similar to George’s, but softer, not as slim/sharp. His jawline was squarish and defined, but bc of his chubby/fuller features in the earlier days it didn’t always look as such. His skin was pale and apparently very delicate.

His very long, thin nose (an aquiline nose, as Paul has repeatedly called it) is one of his most obvious physical traits- in fact, it’s one of the things he’s most well known for. His lips were very slim and pert, and he had quite a huge, cheesy little smile that showed off a row of kind of small, almost sharp looking teeth.

His eyes were almond-shaped and brown, usually thin/squinted due to the fact that he apparently couldn’t see for shit, framed by long, though pretty feathery lashes. His eyebrows were also very thick.

His hair looked fairly brown in the pictures, if a bit lighter than the other’s, but it was actually described as quite shockingly red in person - and u can see it in a few of the coloured photos that r circulating around the place.

People are pretty unfair about him (for the most part, I’m not excusing him entirely) but I still think he was a VERY handsome young man.

[remuscore]

Been a few years since I’ve really touched this blog (blame Thomas) and My Opinions have changed. So here are some design qualities I still like and some that have changed.

Remus is not pale as fuck anymore!! Still pretty pale but Cheese and Rice that skin tone was HORRENDOUS before lol. He’s just kinda yellow/warm toned now instead of pink toned like Most of Them.

Also I gave him his grey streak and less Roman Looking Hair cause it looks better.

Virgil doesn’t have the fully purple hair anymore. And it’s also more emo instead of just Bowl Cut that covers his Eyes. His hair is now a darker (faded black box hair dye) brown color with a purple bit in it.

Not pictured with him but he has little canine fangs. I’ve decided he’s a little jumping spider bc jumpy = anxiety. Think it’s Cute.

Janus still has that growing scales thing because I still LOVE that idea. Best headcanon I’ve ever had. But anyways I also gave him a light green under it so that it blends a lot better. The dark green scales on top with the same fleshy skin underneath was clashing.

(Fucking everyone had a very over detailed clashing design why did you guys let me do that)

Also her hair is now a low ponytail with a little fringe covering most of her scaley side. I felt like the hair was more snake like tied up.

Call me out if this is Inappropriate but I gave Patton thinning hair. I KNOW he’s the most childish side, BUT he’s also dad and I Need Him to be more Old Man like. His hair was already a little grayer bc of the cool tone of it, but yeah.

Patton also has a lot less Freckles. It crowded his face too much.

There’s some of each side in Patton’s design too because he is Their Dad to me.

Roman with that Lion shit!!!! Love Lion Roman!!!!!! I gave him fluffy Prince Charming hair that is mane like, I gave him scruff and long sideburns, I gave him the BIG canines. I Love Lion ROMAN!!!!!!!!!!!

His and Logan’s designs didn’t change much because I genuinely think I nailed it Right Off The Bat. Hoe-ever. Logan is not Stick Thin anymore.

Who let me do that.

That’s all I got. I’m probably gonna doodle them more soon cause I’m in my doodle era.

[osakiharu]

HELPING THEM DYE THEIR HAIR !!

part 1 | part 2

content : gender neutral reader, fluff, shits and giggles because i think this would be a funny experience, suggestive comments from kazutora and sanzu whoops, swearing because why not, mikey is a little ooc - he’s less traumatised in this one because i said so

characters : mikey, kazutora, sanzu

notes : wrote this because i desperately need to change my hair but i have to wait for ages and im going a little insane rn - might do part 2 with rin and ran

˗ˏˋ MIKEY

- he got a haircut and he looked so good. we love short hair mikey here 👩‍💻

- he loved it too <3 it had been so long since he had short hair and he kept shaking his head around because it felt so light 💀

-then he said he wanted to dye it black and you were like oh :(( because you realised how similar his hair was to shinichiro’s

- he didn’t seem sad about it though - it was more just like a “what if i dyed my hair black it would look cool” sort of thing

- you knew it was also kinda to do with shin but you never asked him about it

- it’s a relaxing experience <3

- you do everything for him because he’s completely clueless about anything to do with hair

- he likes the smell of the dye and keeps picking up the bowl to smell it

- “why is it white if it’s black hair dye?” very confused and is very entertained by watching it turn darker on his head

- half way though his eyes are almost shut because it feels nice <3

- he kept wanting to lean back on you but every time he did he got dye on your shirt </3

- he gives you little story times about emma’s hair experiences

- “yeah, once she got it cut and she didn’t like how it looked on her… so i tried to help her but i kinda just made it worse and she cried.”

- you remember emma wearing a hat to cover her fringe for a little while because she didn’t like it so you guessed that was why

- “i thought it looked fine, but then she called hinata and she started laughing!” sits there like >:(

- he doesn’t want to get any on his forehead or around his face so he takes the brush off you and starts going around the edges - you’re surprised how careful he was

- he was so concentrated that his eyebrows furrowed and he looked so cute :((

- got annoyed when you kissed him on the cheek - “y/n, if you distract me and i get this all over my face i’ll kick you.”

- kisses you afterwards though <3

- when you’re finished you gather his hair up and put it in a blob on top of his head and he thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen

- takes pictures and sends them to his friends with no context

- he washes it out himself but doesn’t do it properly so you have to make him go back and do it again

- i know damn well he takes fast showers. stinky mikey >:(

- when you finish drying his hair and sorting it out he’s pretty quiet - you can kinda guess what he’s thinking about

- “y’look so pretty, mikey,” you kissed his cheek, “suits you.” <3

- “hm, thankyou, angel.” muah i love mikey

- calls draken later on because now they both have black hair and he’s all excited about it

- “ken-chin, we’re basically twins!”

- mikey>>>

˗ˏˋ KAZUTORA

- king has to touch up his roots - he lets them grow out really far too

- there’s just over three inches grown out and he’s like whoops i couldn’t be bothered

- prefers to do it with you because it’s more fun and he doesn’t wanna make his hair fall out - once he did it with chifuyu and they both decided that they’d never do it again

- usually gets the bleach in other parts of his hair because he isn't careful and he never puts the rest of his hair back

- you put his hair in two braids this time and he is not happy.

- “i look like that haitani motherfucker with his stupid blond strip in his hair… looks like a bee, i hope he changed it because he looked fucking stupid.” kazutora doesn’t like looking like ran

- laughs when you laugh at his insults though

- he can’t stand the smell of the bleach at all

- scrunches his nose up when he watches you mix it together

- “god, that fuckin’ stinks… it’s hurting my nose!” you agree with him on that one

- y’know how people put foil on their hair when they dye it to separate it - he does that but he didn’t know how to fold it or anything so you come back to the bathroom and he’s sat with a ball of foil on his head and his whole forehead out like “look 😁”

- embarrassed when you tell him it wasn’t necessary to do that

- he likes it when you take his hair out of the braids - he loves it when you play with his hair so he sits with his eyes half shut and smiling to himself because he’s so relaxed

- gets you to play with his hair a little extra while he’s waiting to wash it out <3

- said he showered in the morning so he was like it’s fine we can wash my hair over the bathtub

- he was giggling the whole time because it was so hard for you to wash the front of his hair from that angle and you kept slapping his forehead 💀

- “how come purple shampoo doesn’t turn your hair purple if it’s got all that purple pigment stuff in it?” not now kazutora.

- gets water in his eyes on top of it all

- enjoys having you wash his hair though - even though it’s chaotic it makes him feel all fluffy n shit inside <3

- it’s so fun and you’re both just laughing the whole time :(

- when you’re finished he wraps his hair up in a towel and he looks so cute

- “my knees hurt from kneeling down, is this how you feel sometimes?”

- boy.

- anyways his hair didn’t fall out and now he’s getting you to dry his hair for him too <3

˗ˏˋ SANZU

- “i’m gonna dye my hair pink.”

- when sanzu first said that you couldn’t imagine him with pink hair at all. if anything you thought he would dye his hair black or something darker

- now you can’t picture sanzu without pink hair

- but because of the colour it fades quickly and ehm.. because sanzu’s natural hair colour is so light if you let it grow out too far..

- it literally looks like he’s going BALD

- like as soon as he decides that you have to dye it thats when you do it no questions asked

- you’re busy and can’t do it today? okay, sanzu will just drag you there by the leg don’t worry

- he always mixes the dye though because he’s really particular about the colour - like there’s a certain ratio he has memorised, mostly because the first time he did it he almost looked like a highlighter and he didn’t like how bright it was

- “the fuck are you putting on gloves for?” believes in dyeing hair with bare hands

- he does the top and front of his hair whilst you to the back

- always puts on music because he finds dyeing his hair kinda boring

- makes your life ten times harder though because he leans over every 2 seconds to change the song or he keeps moving his head around to the beat of the music

- “haru, stop moving your head! i can’t do this properly if you keep moving.”

- “just move with me then, sweets.” he’s so annoying <3

- he does that thing where you kinda swing your head to one side and then the other and clicks his fingers to the beat of the song as a joke and he looks like a complete moron - makes you laugh though

- it’s his version of ‘dad dancing’ he says

- once all the dye is on he can’t leave his hair alone and has to keep messing with it

- “it’s fucking itchy.” he says whilst pushing the short parts of his hair up like a spike…

- it gets all over his forehead and hands and it doesn’t come off when you wash it

- “looks like i fucked a fairy or something.” he knows what he means

- “what?”

- it also gets in one of his eyebrows <3 when he sees it he just stops and goes :0

- you’re giggling because you know that it’s not gonna come out for a while and you’re trying to tell him it’s fine, his hair kinda covers it so it’s okay

- he let an intrusive thought win and just dips his fingers in the left over dye and rubs it in.

- “i said it would wash out, why did you do that?” you’re trying not to cackle at him because he just realised what he did

- “fuck.”

- he had pink eyebrows for almost 2 weeks after that

- ran and rindou will never let him hear the end of it.

reblogs appreciated <3

@swtsuya because sanzu and kazu >:)

[wonwoonlight]

Jeonghan – accidental confession + “Why won’t you let me braid your hair?”

1.3k~ words – a thousand starlights event

“Your hair has started to grow again, huh?” you say as you eye the way his messy red fringe falls over his face.

“Why, you don’t like it?” he looks up from his phone, strays of his hair hovering over his eyes as he does so. You simply hum without saying anything, eyes focused on his fringe. When you’re about to open your mouth, Jeonghan boredly returns to his phone as he tells you a strict ‘No’ out of nowhere.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“I know you and I know you’re going to say something I won’t agree to.”

You narrow your eyes at him, while Jeonghan simply gives you a side-look that obviously tells you he’s not buying it.

“But Han,” you whine annoyingly, knowing full well Jeonghan hates it when you try to use a cutesy tone at him. The guy manages to catch your wrist before your hand is able to touch his fringe, looking at you with accusing eyes. “Your hair looks so soft and fluffy.”

“Doesn’t mean I give you the permission to do whatever you want with it,” he says with a strict tone, though the grin threatening to bloom across his face is betraying him. “Last time I let you touch my hair, you cut it into a bowl cut.”

You giggle at the memory, telling him he looked cute anyway and no one said it was ugly because you did it properly.

“Well you could’ve gone to the salon and ask them to fix it to your liking if you hated it,” you shrug, still a little confused as to why he didn’t do it at the time. You did cut it properly, but you know Jeonghan isn’t into bowl cuts and you would’ve been fine if he had decided to change them right after.

Jeonghan doesn’t seem like he’s going to answer though, and when he lets go of your wrist and turns to take a sip of his drink, you can’t help but stare at his hair yet again. It’s not fair, really. How can someone look handsome and pretty at the same time? You’re absolutely certain Jeonghan is the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

You may or may not be biased, but who cares? Who doesn’t have a crush on Yoon Jeonghan?

You frown a little at the thought, remembering how true your own words are. Jeonghan is the kind of person that brings attention no matter what he does or wherever he goes. You’ve got the privilege of being Shua’s cousin, Jeonghan’s bestfriend, which is how you manage to secure a place in their circle to begin with.

You often wonder if Jeonghan just considers you a sister, because he seems to be more comfortable with you than the other girls in the circle. Comparably, he’s easier with you than he is with them even though they’re pretty good friends with him too. It does make your heart flutter, if you’re being completely honest. But you’re also convinced he treats you with ease because you’re the youngest in the circle even though you’re not that much younger either.

That’s also the reason why you don’t have any plan on confessing to Jeonghan even though Shua has encouraged you to do it. He tells you there won’t be any loss in confessing, because Jeonghan isn’t the type of person to avoid someone just because of something like this. You don’t want to take his encouragement as hope, because you think Shua probably says this because he sees how hard it is for you to hold your feelings in.

But, to be fair, Shua does prank you a lot, so it’s on him that you don’t easily trust any of his words. Still, knowing that Jeonghan has girls (and guys) lining up to be with him isn’t pleasant nor secure at all. Would confessing really help, though?

“Why are you frowning that much?” he asks after he notices you’ve been silent. “You wanna do something with my hair that bad?”

His tone is light, and you snicker to cover the fact that you’ve just been thinking about him in his very presence; as if afraid he’d somehow be able to catch what’s on your mind. “Why won’t you let me braid your hair?”

Jeonghan blinks at the unexpected request, tilting his head to the side as he looks at you. “That’s what you want to do?”

It’s really not, but you honestly just want an excuse to be able to run your fingers through his hair, so you absent mindlessly nod and tell him you want to see how he’d look with his hair half braided.

“Okay,” he shrugs and tells you to move behind, even leaning back so his hair would fall against his shoulder. You know he used to have even longer hair, and even though his hair right now isn’t even half of that, it’s still long enough and you’re not gonna miss the chance to play with it.

After you move, you happily run your fingers through his hair, and it doesn’t surprise you at all that it’s as soft--if not more--than what you’ve imagined. You put a little pressure on your fingertips against his scalp, and Jeonghan groans appreciatively at the sudden massage.

“You sound like an old man,” you chuckle at the sound he makes from the back of his throat.

“Don’t care,” he leans his head back as if to succumb into your touch. “I forgot how good it is to have someone play with my hair.”

“Someone used to play with your hair?” you ask bitterly as you start braiding his hair, hoping Jeonghan wouldn’t notice the tone you’re using.

He simply hums though, perhaps not really willing to answer. You can’t help the heavy feeling in your heart, blankly staring at his hair as you try your best not to mess up the braid. Your sudden silence and the way you slightly pull his hair don’t go unnoticed by him though, and when it goes on for longer than he’s expected it to be, he decides to talk again to fill the silence.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re pulling my hair harder than necessary?” he playfully asks.

“So your braid wouldn’t be loose, Han,” you answer curtly. “Don’t talk to me, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

He raises his eyebrows at the tone, quickly tracking back to what he’s said so far to see what could possibly get you annoyed out of nowhere. Are you like this because he said someone used to play with his hair?

“Are you jealous?”

“So what if I am?” you grumble loudly before you even realize, freezing as you realize what you just said and you feel Jeeonghan tense in front of you. Thank God he couldn’t see how flustered you look right now.

“Am sorry?” he says after a moment.

“What?”

“Did you just say you were jealous?”

“Who?”

“You did, didn’t you?” he grins to himself, about to turn to you when you simply pull his hair hard and make him scream instead. “Hey, that was uncalled for!”

“You turning your head when someone’s braiding your hair is uncalled for,” you manage to bark back despite your ears turning red from embarrassment.

Jeonghan snickers at this, though he dutifully returns to his original position before he opens his mouth again to your dismay. “No need to be jealous. It was just Joshua. Should I stop letting him play with my hair?”

“Shut up.”

“Shua told me--Ow! Stop pulling my hair!”

“Then stop saying nonsense!”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” he laughs despite the sting, not bothering to hide the giddiness in his voice over the situation. But if what you said earlier and the way you’re acting tells him anything, maybe Shua wasn’t joking around when he suggests him asking you out one of these days.

He grins to himself as you grumble behind him, already cursing Shua and his big mouth even though Jeonghan hasn’t even said anything about what your cousin said to him. He’s not going to correct you though--he just needs to wait for the perfect timing and he’s ready to go.

He knows for sure now you return his feelings anyway.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved.

A/N: i had that Jeonghan from the baseball going seventeen episode in mind as i write this D: the way this man almost made me chop my hair off bc he looks so pretty that way....

[lovelybarnes]

get the girl- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, mentions of ned, betty, mj, and brad warnings: unrequited love (kind of?? implied), lotsss of pining and fluff, a little long about: requested! (DF4) “you fell asleep, i couldn’t move.“ + (DF31) “maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance.” a/n: been wanting to write a peter parker friends to lovers for a while, so thank you so so much for requesting this. i swear i don’t usually take this long?? i got carried away and it got way longer than i expected, i hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting!

peter thinks it’s hopeless. the cliche he’s stuck in seems cruel- no matter what the movies you (and, fine, yes, him sometimes) make him watch say. nothing that happens in them ever transpires to real life; beautiful girls don’t fall in love with their nerdy best friends and guys like peter parker don’t get the girl.

it’s fun to fantasize, though. and especially fun to look at you, particularly when you’re laying on his bed, oblivious to him standing in the doorway, observing as you twist your neck to get a good look at the polaroids he hung up on his wall. a familiar smile grows on your face when your eyes scan them, flickering to the polaroid camera you got him for christmas years ago.

you move to try to get a better look at them without standing up, glancing down when you feel a sharp edge poke at your skin. he watches as your eyebrows furrow in possibly the prettiest way possible and you pull out a polaroid from under you. and oh, peter is just now realizing exactly what that photo is and why it’s on his bed instead of hanging off the empty miniature clothespin that comes from the pack you thrust at his chest when you noticed the increasing pile of pictures on his desk.

he’s moving on autopilot towards you, the foot already halfway through the door used as a stepping stone to go to your side faster. he’s with you in less than three steps, tugging on your ankle and then tackling you as sensibly as possible, laying his whole body on yours. you oof, dropping the picture, having seen it for too little to really question it, and laugh breathlessly. “pete!” you wheeze, curling your arms around his back, one of your hands absentmindedly drawing figures through his hoodie and your other one inching up to his hair, already beginning to thread through the chocolate curls. “yes?” he hums innocently, furtively grabbing the polaroid you dropped and shoving it in the pocket of his hoodie before his arms wrap around your thighs.

“i told you if you keep doing that, one day you’re gonna get hurt,” you scold, looking attentively as peter leans his head against your chest. “me?” he questions, feeling you nod under his cheek. “uh huh, you. you’ll hit your head or something. for a spider-”

“spiderman. superhero,” peter corrects, you ignore him, “you are really clumsy.” peter huffs in dissent, letting a comfortable silence blanket over the both of you for a minute before he looks up at you. “what?” you ask, a smile brimming at the edges of your words. you’re so pretty, peter wants to say, but instead, he goes with a more best-friend-friendly question, “d’you wanna watch a movie?”

you nod at him, pulling your hands away from his head to play with the strings of his hoodie, “sure, what do we want to watch today?” peter’s eyes immediately light up, and you realize you never actually needed to ask. “fine,” you agree, trying not to grin too hard at the way his face brightens. “which one?” you request, watching his freckled cheeks flush pink in excitement, “sixth one. the best one, of course.” you smirk, shrugging, “right, don’t know why i asked, i basically know the movie word for word now.” peter can’t help but give you heart eyes at the knowledge of your knowing the script of his favorite movie. god, you really were the dream girl.

“‘kay, go make some popcorn and get everything ready while i go to the bathroom,” you request, tapping peter’s shoulder as a way to tell peter to let you out from under his body weight. he does the complete opposite of what you imply, however, nuzzling further into your chest and inhaling deeply. “peter,” you laugh, poking his shoulder again, “‘m comfy,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “pete, c’mon, i gotta pee and you’re lying on my bladder,” you whine, “also, don’t you wanna watch episode six of star wars while i eat popcorn and play with your hair?” you singsong. he’s suddenly moving his body off of yours to let you go, although not before pressing a sloppy- friendly- kiss to your arm, “hurry up.”

you giggle as you stand, stretching out your limbs and walking to the bathroom while peter watches you walk away. once he hears the bathroom door shut, he digs his hands into his pockets, fingers tugging on the polaroid he had shoved inside. a smile grows on his face without his permission when he holds it at his stomach, the light reflecting off of the smile that was printed on the picture. he traces a nail over your face, bright and open in the way that makes you gleam. it’s his favorite picture ever, the only one that managed to catch you so in your element, your natural halo of glow apparent in your outline. peter had scrawled the words best girl in red marker on the white space at the bottom- something he thought he could explain away easily if he had to. the picture had its own designated space on his wall, right in the middle so the importance was clear, but it was rarely actually up there, instead always next to him for inspiration when he was doing homework and on his dresser for when he couldn't sleep.

his lips quirk one last time at the photograph before walking to the wall where all the rest of them reside. he hangs it up, glancing at it once more until he turns to walk out of his room.

the movie is ready to play when you walk into the living room, and peter is in the kitchen making your popcorn. “it smells good,” you say in a greeting, sniffing the air and exhaling in satisfaction. peter laughs, “you do that every time we have a movie night.” you tilt your head at him, “do what?” he motions to you, “that. the whole smelling thing and letting me know how good it smells, it’s cute.”

your face heats when it slips out of his lips, pausing to absorb the words he doesn’t seem to have noticed he said. his back is to you, dumping the popcorn into a bowl for you. you can’t see it, but he’s freaking out, trying to think of an excuse if you decide it was too weird. you don’t do anything to imply that, though, just blink until the words dissolve in the air. “thanks,” you finally reply, as nonchalant as you can make it while you grab his m&ms. he hums in response, turning around to head to the couch, “star wars time,” he winks, making you grin.

you follow him as he heads to the couch, settling down next to him once he puts on the movie. the star wars theme starts, the tune fringed by peter’s humming. cute, you think, snuggling deeper into the crook of his arm and shoving popcorn into your mouth. “hmm, good,” you compliment, watching the scenes you’d seen so many times pass on the screens. you mouth along when you recognize the lines until your eyes feel heavy and they shut completely.

-

quiet thwips wake you up hours later, when the black of the night has bled the sky blue and the stars have littered over the clouds, the moon replacing the sun. you see that the movie is long over when you blink yourself awake, beginning to cuddle deeper into your pillow when you realize it’s too warm and hard to be a pillow. you are met with the vision of your best friend, lip tugged in between his teeth as he concentrates on something behind you. he doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake, trying to remain as still as possibly while the thwip noises continue. he mutters a curse, scrunching his nose adorably before flicking his eyes to you. they widen when he notices you’re awake, dropping his hand. “what’re you doing?” you yawn, sitting up and away from the warmth of peter’s embrace. “uh- i just- the movie ended and you didn’t wake up, so i tried to get the remote, then i got hungry…” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, scanning the room and you turn to observe, stunned to see the mess of webs and dropped items you weren’t sure how you didn’t hear. “oh my god, what the- did you try to get everything with your webs?” you ask in bewilderment, eyeing a bag of gummy worms open and on the floor, you snap your neck towards him to observe his burning cheeks. “um. yes,” he confesses, blushing harder. “why didn’t you just get up?” you question, looking back at the ruined living room, exhaling in surprise as you notice the remote on the ground.

“you... you fell asleep on me. i couldn’t move.”

you pause, tilting your head slightly to look at peter, “pete, god, that’s so sweet. but you really don’t need to…” you motion to the dropped items, “do all that,” you laugh. peter shrugs, and you notice the tips of his ears are red, too. “i didn’t want to wake you up. i know how much of a light sleeper you are.”

you feel like you’re melting, every single muscle in your body drooping in the loveliness that was peter parker. you weren’t sure how the boy was real. you suddenly drop yourself on him again, wrapping your arms around his burning neck, “thank you, peter,” you say into his skin. like a reflex, his own arms go around your waist, holding you securely so you won’t fall, “‘f course.”

a moment of quiet follows until peter’s stomach rumbles suddenly, making you laugh, “i think i’ve starved you long enough. you pick today. also, when did you get so ripped? your arms are so big--” peter cuts you off with a groan, dropping his head on your shoulder, “you had to ruin the moment--”

-

peter doesn’t know what it is with you (actually, he does) that makes you so distracting. you’re just waiting in line for lunch, standing next to mj and laughing occasionally when she says something. all you’re doing is standing, and maybe it’s peter’s boy-hormones combined with his spider-hormones that magnify every single perfect feature of yours, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. you’re so pretty. the curve of the smiles that pulls into your cheeks, the twinkle that remains permanent in the color of your eyes, the way you look in that skirt--

“maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” a voice points out from next to him. peter scoffs, ripping his sight away from you to turn to ned. “i talk to her all the time. she’s my best friend.” ned shakes his head and sighs, “you talk to her about star wars, you talk to me about star wars, how is that supposed to help you have a chance--”

“i have a chance,” peter mumbles, trying to believe it himself, “she knows that she and you stand at different levels of best friends--” ned looks offended, “different levels? what is that supposed to mean--” peter stares exasperatedly at his best friend, “it means i want to date her and i don’t want to date you--”

“that’s a little rude--”

“hey you guys,” you greet, sitting down on the seat in front of peter’s and patting the seat next to you for mj. she stares at you silently, and you frown, patting the seat harder, “sit.” you instruct. she sighs and does what she’s told. “what were you guys talking about?” you ask, picking up your small plate of cherry pie to replace the bowl of orange slices that you took from peter’s plate. “thank you,” peter mumbles, digging his fork into the pie the moment you set it down. you hum, stealing a cherry tomato from his salad.

“oh, you know. the usual, your friendship with peter,” the latter shoots him a look and you raise an eyebrow, “that’s the usual? a little strange, don’t you think?” ned shrugs, “did you know that you and i stand at ‘different levels’ as peter’s best friends?” peter nearly chokes on his pie, glaring at ned. you cock your head at peter, thinking as you steal another tomato, “i… guess i thought so? i’ve known peter since, like, preschool, and we tell each other everything.”

“everything, huh?” ned wonders, a sound of pain falling from his lips when peter kicks him under the table. “peter.” he hisses. mj narrows her eyes at the two boys, “what is going on with you guys today? you’re acting weirder than normal.” peter’s face screws up in confusion, looking to you for help. you shrug, “she’s right.”

“i usually am,” mj mutters.

“so what is it?” you query, popping an orange slice as peter cringes at the mere thought of the taste. “peter has a crush,” ned informs helpfully, oblivious to peter’s dismay, “i- i don’t-”

you blink, feeling mj’s elbow shove into your ribs as her own way to make sure you’re okay. you ignore her, and it tells her everything she needs to know. “it’s liz, right?” you guess, trying to mask the hurt on your face with a teasing smile, “i saw you looking at her the other day. she’s pretty.” “no! it’s not- i mean, yes, liz is pretty, but i don’t like her or anything- ned doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” peter rambles. “pete, you don’t have to be embarrassed, i’m just upset you didn’t tell me,” you lie. peter’s eyebrows furrow, “you’re just upset that… i didn’t tell you?” he repeats. you nod, biting into another orange slice. “just that?” he asks meekly. you cock your head at him.

“i just- never mind. it’s not liz,” he says, poking at his pie. “so you admit you have a crush?” you start with a fake smirk, jabbing at your best friend with your fork, “just not on liz?”

“i didn’t… i didn’t say that-” peter stutters. your eyes narrow at him, lip tugged between your teeth, “i’m gonna find out who it is by the end of the day.”

peter is unfortunately sure you will. he’s not subtle as is, but you’re never deliberately looking for the signs, which makes it a lot easier to hide his embarrassingly large crush on you. but now, you'll be paying attention to his every move, and knowing you, he knows you won’t stop until you find out what you want, unless he tells you to back off. but, does he want you to back off?

he pushes his tray away, suddenly not feeling so hungry.

-

you stay true to your promise, hanging off his arm for the rest of the day, observing the way he acts around some of your classmates, but somehow not noticing the way he blatantly refuses to look at you- which proves humiliatingly difficult; peter never realized exactly how much he turned to look if you laughed at the joke too, or to catch one of your smiles when you hear something funny or peter whispers a joke into the shell of your ear.

by the end of the day when you’re walking to the train station together, you’re groaning at him, putting your full weight on his arm as you tug at him. “who is it? is it betty? oh my god, is it mj? is that why you kept looking at her?” you ask excitedly. peter wants to tell you the truth: he wasn’t looking at mj, he was looking at you, because as much as he tried, he couldn’t pry his attention off of you, who just so happened to sit next to mj.

“not mj. not betty,” he replies, pulling you inside the subway and scanning for free seats. you trail behind him when he finds a spot, letting you take it as he stands in front of you. “not them… it has to be liz, right?” you pry, sighing when he shakes his head. “brad- it’s brad, right?” you grin, whining when he denies it again. “can you just tell me if i got them already? i’ve practically said everyone in the school,” you complain, “they do go to school with us, right?” at peter’s nod, you drop your head against his abdomen, “and you have not said their name yet.”

“peter,” you drag out, reaching out for his hand to pull it, “just tell me! i can probably set you up with them!”

“y/n, just drop it,” he sighs, and you sigh too, mumbling a fine before noticing an older lady standing at the door. you wave her over, standing next to peter and letting her take your seat. peter feels like his heart will pop out of his chest.

the bumps of the subway push you close enough to him to feel the thundering of his heart, and your eyebrows knit together in worry, “are you okay? your heart’s beating, like, really fast-” yeah and your hand on my chest is not helping- “‘m fine.”

“is it because of the crush thing?” yes, “because i’m sorry about annoying you about it so much, if you don’t want to talk about it, i won’t bother you with it. just know that if they don’t like you back, they’re insane, because you, peter parker, are a ca-”

it was like a rubber band snapping, and peter suddenly couldn’t help it anymore, pushing his lips against yours, effectively cutting you off and catching you so off-guard, you freeze for a second before reacting, pulling his jaw closer. you almost tug him back when he pulls away, before you remember you’re still standing on a crowded, moving subway, and while kissing your best friend had been all you wanted for way too long, you were absolutely going to miss your stop if you didn’t stop.

“i- i’m sorry, i just-” peter stammered, stepping back. “no! so, please don’t apologize, seriously, it’s fine, it’s, like, better than fine.”

a beat of awkward silence passed before the tube halted to the stop right before yours. “it’s you. in case that didn’t… come clear. you’re the person i like,” peter informs quietly. “really?” you ask, cheek already pulling in a shy smile. “really,” peter assures.

this time, you don’t really care if you miss your stop, and neither does peter, now that he knows that, sometimes, peter parker does get the girl.

[2ynjns]

txt's reaction when their significant other dyed their hair

anon sent:

txt’s reaction to their s/o surprising them with a new haircut or colouring their hair, that was a big change from their old hair 🥺

yeonjun

months prior you’re like “jjunie, i wanna dye my hair like yours.”

and he was like “lemme dye it for you!!”

but you didn’t let him dye it himself because you wanted it to be a surprise

and you didn’t want him to burn your scalp when bleaching LOL

you got it done at the salon

you came home you were unrecognizable

you legit came at your place and yeonjun watching his cameo on live on on his ipad

he turned to the door to see a pink haired human being

i was reading to throw the ipad at you

but you’re like “jjun no! it’s me!”

:O

“you look like me!!”

guess what you finally dyed your hair after thinking about it for MONTHS

and you dyed your hair pink to match yeonjun’s :”)

as soon he was just UWU

he pulled you to him and he’d touch your hair and admire it

“you look beautiful baby”

and yk that red heart hair clip he wore on that one we lost the summer stage?

yes he got you one too

so you went out in public with matching hair clips

he’d go out on dates with you with matching hair styles

ponytail? cool. clips? great. space buns? bet put it on!

soobin

you just compulsively decided that you wanted to dye your hair

“soob, wanna go to the salon with me?” “yeah sure”

man just thought you’re just gonna get a hair cut

but

he saw the stylist whip out their bowl and brush

he was like (⊙_(⊙_⊙)_⊙)

he was starin at you and was scared for his life

you never done this before

you only got hair cuts before

but never dyed your hair

anyways

the stylist started bleaching your head and he was lowkey excited

“you never told me you wanted to dye your hair.”

“hehehe just thought of it earlier”

the final results were cute

you dyed your hair strawberry blonde and added fringe bangs

soobin went all uwu mode on you

he loves it!

he’d play with your hair 24/7, he’d curl it or straighten it for you

he’d also braid it

at the end of the day you’d both just take a lot of selfies and he’d set it as his wallpaper

that man just LOVES your hair okay

beomgyu

red hair definitely suited you, any color does

he’s the one who suggested to dye your hair

“your hair has been your natural color your whole life you should spice it up.”

and you’re like

“kai literally is brown haired throughout his eighteen years of existence, you tell him to dye his hair blonde.”

anyway

you both came to an agreement that you’re gonna dye your hair for him

that’s the birthday present you’re gonna give him

you dyingyour hair cherry red HAHA

here’s the catch

you dyed it yourself with him

it was scary as heck

please

i dont know why you trusted him, you could’ve been bald

but he was really careful with your hair

he loves your natural hair but he wanted to see you with a diff colored hair

you blacked it first then applied the color

y’all made a mess on the tub but oh well

finish product waS BEAUTIFUL

it was a lil bit patchy BUT THATS OKAY

BEOMGYU TRIED GIVE HIM A BREAK

you applied toner and extra stuff and the color evened out

you curled it and showed it

mans was hella happy

“BABE YOU LOOK SO GOOD SHOULD I DYE MINE TOO????”

you’re like hahahahahaha get your stylist do it

taehyun

as soon as you saw taehyun with blonde hair you were in awe

you got inspired to dye your hair

but you didn’t want to dye yours blonde

you wanted to dye yours a little subtle

light ash brown balayage

omFG

it’s subtle but it’s still noticeable yfm

taehyun was on schedule and you told him you’d go to the salon

you were really excited to see his reaction

as soon as you got home and brought home food

you settled on the couch and waited for tae to arrive home

(❤´艸｀❤)

that was his reaction

“my love, you look lovely…”

he cooed and smiled SO HARD

SO MF HARD

his iconic smile was plastered on his face

he was so in love oh my god

you both were eating and your hair was on your way

so he tucked it behind your ears like he usually do

and even got a clip to clip it back

mans is whipped as hell

he gave you compliments 24/7 until it grew out and the color faded

and insisted that you should redye it when it grew out

and made you do a blonde balayage instead

huening kai

wbk this man doesnt ever dye his hair throughout his career

so y’all made a bet on something

and hair was the punishment

both of you will dye your hair blonde if you win

and if he wins only you will dye hair

mf he won….

so you were the only one obligated to bleach your head

well kai we’re waiting for your dyed hair pls

dye in blonde for next comeback aka chaos chapter pls im begging

anyways

you were scared as heck what if you shed hair if you dont bleach it properly

but you didnt want to spend a lot on maney to get it done at the salon

so you did a lot of research prior bleaching

you’re not in the bathroom bleaching your head

the outcome wasnt that bad especially after the toning

your hair was now platinum blonde after so much bleaching and toning

rip your head

after three days of his busy schedule and not seeing you he came over to your place

as he saw you

(❤ ω ❤)

“AAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!’

he ran towards you and smelled your hair

“smells like strawberries…”

he wanted to eat it

but no he cant

he was actually inspired with your newly dyed hair

he now wants to do it and reconsidering dying his hair

“kaikai, you should dye it. i’ll do it for you.”

“uhhh.. ill have my stylist do it haha thanks tho ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)

[dawl-and-dapple]

rating: general word count: 1037

Essek and Jester being sweet, based on the prompt 'overgrown' supplied by @mllekurtz

***

Jester must have noticed his discomfort earlier, Essek thinks in retrospect. That would explain why she had brought up the topic rather abruptly over their campfire as Caduceus prepared their meal (sweet potatoes, roasted).

Jester then very helpfully pointed out that Essek’s fringe was curtaining his left eye and, gosh, that must be hard when you’re trying to aim your spells, huh? In truth, it wasn’t only his overgrown fringe which had been irritating him in the past few weeks, but she was right.

First, Beau offered to help. She and Fjord kept each other’s cuts neat and tidy on the road all the time, apparently. But the brusqueness of her offer and the, for lack of a better word, sloppiness of their respective hairstyles turned Essek off from the idea somewhat. Secondly, Caleb offered to help. He had pulled out a small shaving razor from a pocket in his coat which lit up with the firelight’s reflection. The offer was more appealing than Beau’s, but still Essek turned Caleb down.

Essek had said he would rather wait until they returned from their quest, until they were in a city again, until he could find a professional. He was lying.

It was during his watch that Jester had sprung her ambush. She must have waited for the others to fall asleep before crawling over to sit beside Essek at the edge of the dome, grinning and clutching a small cotton bag on her lap.

“So, you usually pay someone to cut your hair?” she says as she digs through the bag and pulls out a wooden comb and a small pair of scissors. “My mama always cut mine for me. I would look forward to it, you know. I like how it makes your scalp all tingly.”

Essek grudgingly doffs his outer coat and wraps his cloak around his shoulders, snug against his neck, knowing that it would be no use to fight this fate any further. “Um, yes. There is only one man in Rosohna I trust with my hair.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” She conjures a pool of lukewarm water into a bowl as she speaks. “No wonder your hair was always so fabulous, Essek.”

“I doubt I will ever pay him to cut my hair again.”

She pauses to look at him. “That’s okay though, right? I mean, I can learn how to do your hair perfectly too, eventually, if I stick with it.”

He has to smile at her, just to see her smile back at him. “Yes. You’re right.”

Jester casts a second spell to slowly lift the warm water over his head and hair in controlled globs. It is a frivolous use of magic, but he is not one to judge.

Once she begins shaving the hair on the sides of his head, Essek lets his eyes close and recalls his fleeting encounter with Jester’s mother at the party in Nicodranas. He and Jester have similar hair textures. Her mother’s is much the same, though much longer, thick, and wavy. But he doubts either woman need to trim their hair as often as he. Jester’s confidence as she drags the small razor across his skull begins to concern him.

“Have you cut someone else’s hair before, Jester?”

“Nope!” she replies.

Essek makes a metal note to prepare disguise self the following morning.

When Jester begins to fiddle with the damp hair on the top of his head Essek feels the warm tickle of sleepiness behind his eyes. He isn’t sure, but he might slip into a trance if she is as gentle as this for too much longer.

The quiet snip snip of Jester’s scissors is the only sound in the dome louder than the snores of his friends behind them and he hopes Jester is keeping an eye on the wilderness outside the dome, because he is not.

After fifteen more minutes the pleasant fog of trance drapes itself over his mind and body.

Essek is dimly aware of an itchiness around his neck and in the hollows of his ears where the clippings must be accumulating but he remains statue-still for Jester. He wants to make this fair on her, since she is doing him a favour. He thinks about what obscene shapes she might be shaving into the sides of his head.

After another ten or so minutes Jester speaks up.

“You did great today.”

“Pardon?” He blinks the drowsiness away.

“You were super cool in that fight, is all,” she says. Snip snip snip. “Even though you couldn’t see through your hair.” He giggles and shuffles on her knees until she is kneeling on his opposite side, then goes back to work. “Tip your head this way? Thanks. Oh! You could have kept your hair out of your face with a hairband or something, that would have been super cute, Essek.”

“I would rather you just cut it, thank you.”

When she finishes, Essek shakes the clippings from his cloak onto the ground and brushes his hands through his hair. It feels comparably lightweight, shorter than before, suspiciously neat. And now, it’s in no danger of falling into his eyes.

Jester sits patiently in front of him with her hands on her knees and smiles. “Wanna see it?”

He expects a mirror. Instead, Jester waves her hands in a familiar pattern and casts disguise and transforms into Essek. Across from Essek sits Essek, his hair trimmed neatly into a style impressively close to what it probably looked like five months ago, a crimson weasel asleep around his neck, grinning ear-to-ear.

Rather than pay too much attention to how disconcerting Jester’s blinding smile looks plastered across his own face, Essek stares at his hair. She hasn’t shaved obscenities into the sides of his head; she has shaved a pair of small, crooked stars behind his ears though.

“Jester, this is perfect. Thank you,” he says, running his fingers over the uneven, but comfortably short hair at the back of his head. “I will return the favour soon.”

Her eyes widen. “You’ll cut my hair?”

“That is, ah, that is not what I meant—”

“I bet you’ll do great! Making it up as you go is the best fun anyway.”

[sugakuns]

❝boyfie tings❞ — tadashi yamaguchi

yamaguchi definitely walks you to school when there’s no morning practice!! he loves the quietness in the morning and the feeling of slotting his hand with yours (tsukki joins the walk 10 mins later tho)

yamaguchi is the type of boyfriend to walk you to your class, ask you if you got everything or if you need something

boy will give you his textbook so you don’t get in trouble 🥺🥺

during breaks you’ll most likely go to his class and sit with him and tsukki,, tsukki prefers to listen to his music with his head down so it’s just you and yams

yams always brings a special snack for you each day!! and it’s always got a cute sticky note on it 🥺

he is very bashful at times so it’s 50/50 on his reaction when you read it in front of him

either he’s really blushy and can’t look at you or he’s smiling so confidently 🥺

when he has practice he feels awful about you walking home alone (even tho you live in walking distance) or when you’re meant to go to his and have to wait on him

he knows the team don’t mind you being there cause he always seems brighter and more active when you’re there but he knows at times you feel a bit,, out of place

like yachi, you always try and make sure he’s feeling fine and not too anxious,, so because of that the team like having you around during important matches (even if ukai scolds they team for smuggling you in)

when you do arrive at yams house he’s already taking your bags and blazer and hanging them up for you

you have your own house slippers and they match tadashis 😭😭

his family love you cause you’ve managed to make their son more confident and seemingly happier

he’ll always offer you a drink or some food before you go up to his room and even if you say no,, he’ll still bring up a bowl of fruit and plop some in your mouth

study dates!! although u get distracted when playing with his hair lol

he doesn’t like it when his fringe gets in his eyes but he doesn’t want to cut it so you’ll end up tying it up for him lmao

deffo cuddle session! maybe even a cheeky few kisses are shared but nothing much hehe tadashi is shy when his parents are in the house 🥺

dinner together is a must!! his mum always comes up and knocks on the door and asks if you’d like to stay for dinner, and you can’t say no

his mum is such a cutie she loves having you around and chatting with you

anyways tadashi 10/10 boyfie

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 3

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 5 k

note: hey, y'all. so last month i went on a new year's trip to my boyfriend's city (yes, covid has forced us into an ldr, fml) and got too occupied in all the celebrations and reunions, and this got delayed. also, you might have noticed how the chapters progressively grow wordier, lmao i'd been confused. but i think i've found the perfectly comfortable number now. expect this length from now on. thank you for reading~💜

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gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

You were, to be very honest, a complete mess at this point.

You hadn’t been quite certain as to what to expect when you’d picked Jungkook’s name out of the bowl in your office, but you could say with certainty that it hadn’t been even close to this. 

This boy was brimming with ideas! You hadn’t been able to get a single sentence in the midst of his own enthusiastic chatter, with words and ideas folding and layering all over each other. All you had done was nod, mumble words of agreement and appreciation—that you were pretty sure he didn’t even hear—and type it all. Freaking typing. So much typing.

So basically, the entirety of yesterday spent fussing over the repertoires to ensure that the list of tasks for the first set of three weeks were well-constructed had led to this—not being able to so much as tell him about the questions your team had so meticulously framed! You felt irked, amused, exasperated, exhausted, and at the same time, really fucking lost. 

How were you supposed to interrupt him without disrespecting him? You didn’t have a great amount of tact and usually just cut to the chase. Which was generally an appreciated quality in your profession, because no writer wanted to be just lathered with compliments to later find out his work was actually bullshit that no one wanted to read. But this situation was different. You felt pressured, nervous and out of your element. Because you really had no idea how to respectfully stop this guy from making a mess of all your hard work.

He was Jeon freaking Jungkook of BTS, for God’s sake!

How could you shut him up?

You were both in Jungkook’s personal studio in the BTS dorm. The boy was seated on a couch across the coffee table from your own, literally swimming in a trillion size bigger t-shirt and some loose sweatpants. His hair floof-ed all over the place as he spoke, bubbling and bursting with enthusiasm. Which he was doing a lot of. Speaking, that is.

For the better part of two hours now, you’d been listening to him go on and on about what all he wanted to include in the book. Your fingers were nearly cramping with all the typing, but you’d promised the guys no recorders and you didn’t wanna miss anything he said. But it was freaking difficult with the speed he was going at! 

And also with the mess and reluctance in your own head. You were used to pulling the reins with writers. This situation was making you feel incompetent.

You hadn’t even touched your list, yet. What would your teammates think of you if their very team leader failed to finish with the assigned data collection and messed up the team’s hard work? Ugh!

Currently, Jungkook was having you make a list of all the people he needed to talk about in the book.

“And there was this boy my age, Ji-Hyun, he was so much better than me at everything! It is him, truly, that I credit my overachieving traits to. I had to work so, so hard—oh! Please also note down Mun-Hee’s name! She was the best dancer in my entire school. So… wait, where was I?” He looked up at you with wide big, round eyes.

You opened your mouth to speak—was this when you asked him to shut up? It had to be, right, because this was the first time he’d actually prompted you to speak. 

You meant to take your shot, but then stopped. You blinked. Looked back at your laptop. Blinked again. 

You were so confused, right now. “Uh, Ji-Hyun was better than you—”

“Oh yes!” Jungkook exclaimed, launching off into a detailed story about how and in what respects, exactly, this guy was better than Jungkook.

You shut your eyes. This had gone beyond “taking notes” and was quickly turning into Jungkook enthusiastically reminiscing his childhood and freaking telling you tales about it. And he seemed to be enjoying himself so thoroughly, looking so adorable, that it felt very wrong to ask him to stop even when you tried to avoid the added pressure of him being a whole ass idol.

But you had actual work to do. And you were leading a team. You couldn’t act so unprofessionally.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have told the boys that this was going to be like “making friends.” Jungkook seemed to have taken it too literally.

Biting down on your lip, you cleared your throat. He didn’t acknowledge it. Sighing, you shut your laptop. “Jungkook?”

This time, he stopped mid-word, looking at you with his lips rounded in a pout, sparkling eyes turning into saucers. 

Now, you were in no way attracted to the guy, but you really could not deny how freaking cute he looked in the moment. 

“All okay?” he asked, looking at you and then the shut laptop on your lap.

You took a deep breath, winced a little, and then shook your head. “No, Jungkook. We need to pause…” You had to stop speaking when his face crumpled. “Whoa…um?”

Jungkook slumped in his place, shoulders sinking. “I’ve been giving horrible ideas, haven’t I?”

Your eyes widened. “What? No! Absolutely not! That isn’t the case, I was…”

He wiped his face with both his hands before looking at you with really sad eyes, all enthusiasm from some time ago washed away. “Then what? You can tell me, it’s okay.”

Now. You prided yourself to be a practical human being who strived to be as straightforward in her life as possible. But right now, you really could not stop yourself from lying your way out of this one. You decided to blame it on the fear of upsetting a client, and not the impossible-to-control empathy that Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to naturally draw out of people. 

“I just need a coffee. It’s been a while, my hands need a break. And my brain’s kinda overwhelmed, too,” you expertly lied, relaxing when Jungkook’s eyebrows lifted.

“We’ve been sitting here for long, haven’t we?” he said in an almost guilty tone before standing up. “And I didn’t even show you around the dorm!”

You tried to tell him how it was really not necessary, not to mention a bit too personal and…not what you were here for? But he was already moving towards the door and beckoning you along.

“Come on, let’s drop by the kitchen and then we’ll take a walk around the property!” he enthusiastically announced.

You stood up and followed him out of the room, awkwardly trying to ignore the two bodyguards that had stood as still as mannequins while you were in the room and then started to follow Jungkook wordlessly as you left.

The walk to the kitchen was a short one, and the place was, unsurprisingly, not empty.

Your team members along with their partnered BTS members had been assigned one particular space in the dorm, each. According to the email you received last evening, the kitchen was supposed to be used by Simon and— 

“Taehyungie-hyung! Are those chicken burgers?” Jungkook excitedly rounded the kitchen island to peek into the paper bag Taehyung was fiddling with. “They smell so good…”

You looked from Jungkook’s face that was awash with childlike excitement to Taehyung’s, and your breath caught when you found his eyes already trained on you. While you struggled to formulate a coherent thought at the intensity his eyes seemed to be emanating, yet again, his lips slipped into an easy smile.

“Hello!” he greeted you cheerily, bowing his head.

You, dazedly, bowed back and dragged your feet up to the island, standing across from the two guys. “Hey,” you mumbled in English.

His smile widened further to show his teeth. “Food?” he asked you in English, nodding at the burger Jungkook was pulling out of the bag.

You shook your head. “No, coffee,” you responded in Korean, earning raised eyebrows from him.

“I hate coffee.”

You smiled, this time. “You’re missing out.”

“Can I call you by your name?” he asked out of the blue, and you did a double take.

“Uh…yes?” you stammered. “Yes, of course Taehyung-ssi.”

“You should call me Tae.”

You swallowed, continually nodding your head like a damn puppet. “Yes. Tae. Sure.”

“I’m bac—boss?” 

You twisted on your heels at the familiar squeak. “Simon, hi,” you mumbled, professionalism slipping over you in the blink of an eye at having a member of your team in your vicinity. “Where did you wander off to?”

Simon seemed to be sweating a bit, and you really couldn’t really tell why. You’d just asked a simple question. 

Maybe you’d become too scary…

“Just the loo,” Simon responded with a forced giggle. 

You nodded, giving him a long look and observing how his smile grew progressively weirder. Then you turned back to the island. And nearly choked.

Taehyung’s fringe hung over his eyes, making his eyes look that much more hooded. His lips were twisted up as he watched you.

Oh, dear God, did this guy have a crush on you or something? But how? Why? 

He was a bonafide Greek God, and you were…well. Not.  

And needless to say, he was literally not allowed to have a crush on you. Or anybody else, for that matter. It was against BigHit’s policies. According to what you’d read, the boys were to wait out one more year, as of now, before indulging in any sort of romance.

You were, by contract, also bound to not encourage any such advancements. Not that smiling at you could be considered one, to be honest. He could very well be trying to make friends, and you could be reading too much into it.

You decided to stop thinking so much.

“You want to eat something?” Jungkook asked as he handed you a cup of brew.

You smiled and shook your head. “I don’t eat at work. None of us do.” You eyed Simon and he nodded with his gaze wide. “Disturbs the momentum.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t consider this strictly work,” Taehyung spoke up in that deep ass voice of his, startling you. “We’re also making friends, here. This is also not your office, but our home.”

And then he grinned at you with all of his teeth. You felt your cheeks heating up.

This was not going according to plan. 

You were panicking.

Flashing Taehyung a close-lipped smile, you stepped away from the counter. “Um, Jungkook?” you mumbled. “D’you guys have a pool in the house?” 

Jungkook looked surprised but as enthusiastic as ever. He nodded, his hair bouncing all over. “Come on!”

Throughout your walk around the house, you had tried to slip in ideas from your first three week’s layout to Jungkook that would fascinate him enough to make him at least want to hear them out. And, you’d proudly like to claim, it had worked.

Jungkook had heard your plans and had even asked you to pull the list up on your laptop to have a look at it. And henceforth, you’d made tremendous progress.

And now, at nearly nine o’clock of the night, you and your team were taking your leave for the day. 

You had exchanged brief words with all the members to see how they found their partners. Currently, you were conversing with Yoongi.

“ARMYs know a lot about all of that,” the guy said, referring to his life before BTS. “But there’s still a lot that they don’t. I talked to Nathan about all of it, we made notes. I’m really excited about the book.”

You gave him a professional grin. “I couldn’t be happier! Nathan’s got a really innovative mind. I’m sure he’ll make this a good experience for you.”

Nodding, Yoongi wished you a good night and bowed. You bowed back, moving away from the building and towards the vans waiting to drive you back to your hotel.

Jimin flashed you a wide grin as you got into the car. “Have a good night,” he wished you, shutting the door like a gentleman. Then he peeked and waved at Areum, your team member assigned to him. “See you tomorrow, Areum-ssi!”

Namjoon followed suit with a hand forwarded through the window for you to shake. “How did today go for you?” he asked you in English, causing Hoseok to elbow Jungkook, probably asking the younger to eavesdrop. Jungkook’s eyes met yours, though, and the two of you shared a covert giggle. “Did we meet your expectations?”

You smiled, formally. “It was… a good introduction of sorts, I’d say. Highly informative. Moderately productive. And we didn’t have any expectations, per se, but my team really loved you guys. We’re super excited to be working with you.”

You looked around yourself, prompting the three team members seated with you to nod in agreement. “Likewise!” Namjoon nodded at you, his smile turning his eyes to crescent moons.

“Thank you. How was your experience with Sana?” you asked him, nudging the girl sitting next to you.

Namjoon grinned with his teeth. “Amazing! She’s really compassionate and driven. Today’s session was interesting and felt comfortable. I’m eagerly looking forward to more.”

You secretly exhaled in relief. Sana had been the one person on your team that you’d been the most worried about. It was good to learn that she’d managed to impress Namjoon despite her initial nerves.

Next to you, she gave a short, very professional chuckle, and leant by you to nod at Namjoon. “Thank you, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Have a safe journey and a good night,” Namjoon wished you before peeking into the car. “Bye, Sana! See you tomorrow!”

You waved at the boys and their manager as your van started to move. You looked behind to check that the other one, carrying the remaining three members of your team, was following closely behind.

“What a day!” Simon exclaimed from his seat opposite you.

“You can say that again,” you mumbled, massaging your temples. “And what was up with you? You looked really wound up when I saw you in the kitchen.”

Simon took his glasses off and rested his head against the back of the van’s seat. “Let’s just wait it out, boss. I’ll tell you later if I absolutely have to. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

You frowned, but let him be. 

Today was just the first day. If you stuck to your schedule, you would have a hundred and twenty five more of these before this project was done.

You could do it.

Right?

You, as it turned out by the end of the first week, could do it. The same couldn’t be said about Simon, though.

On Saturday night, barely an hour after you’d all retired to your rooms after dinner, Simon sent an SOS to the group chat. The six of you were in his room within a minute.

“You look physically okay,” Nathan, the only other guy on the team, mumbled as he squinted at the bespectacled nervous wreck. “What’s up?”

“I can’t do this anymore!” Simon blurted out.

All eyes immediately landed on you.

You did a double take. “Come again? You can’t do what anymore?”

He sighed, shrinking into himself as Riya, another member of your team, sleepily sat on one corner of his bed. “You can’t quit the project, Si,” she mumbled, patting his shoulder. “You signed a contract.”

Simon’s wide eyes met yours. You raised your eyebrows.

“Then—then I need a different partner.”

Sana clicked her tongue. “No can do. We’ve all worked on our homeworks. No one’s gonna sacrifice theirs for you.”

You agreed, so you stayed quiet when Simon looked at you in hopes of a counter.

“I can’t go into another week, please! It’s…” Simon trailed off with a helpless expression on his face.

You sighed. “Everyone, out.”

Your team trickled out of the room, tossing curious glances and hushed whispers your way.

“What is it?” you questioned Simon when it was just the two of you.

“He’s too intense. I have a huge crush on him.”

Your jaw fell open. “Dude… I… what? You have a fiance!”

He exhaled. “Yeah, he cheated on me.”

You drew a sharp breath, shocked. “Oh. Oh, my God, what? What the hell���s been going on with you, I’m so sorry, Simon. Are you…okay? When did you find out?”

“I’d been suspicious for a whole week, hoping it’d turn out to be a lie.” He sighed. “Guess not. But, don’t worry.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll deal with it, no big deal. It’s happened before. I’ve done it before, too, that’s not the issue. The problem is that, right now, this is all making me wanna kiss Taheyung. What the fuck do I do, boss?”

You sympathised with the guy and felt responsible, in a way. After all, you’d been the one that forced him to propose to his boyfriend so that you could bring him with you on this project. If only you knew what kind of a toxic pair these two were! Goddammit. 

But, this guy was really telling you he couldn’t focus on work properly because he wanted to kiss Taehyung? For real?

What a guy.

“Get a fucking grip, Simon, what else?” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up. 

“No, I can’t. Don’t you think I have tried, already? Please take me off this project before I fuck things up for all of us and the company.” He shut his eyes, rubbing his face with both his palms. “And I’ve also, technically, broken the contract, so… Ask Boss to send someone else in.”

Was this happening for real? You were caught between wanting to smash the glass vase kept next to you over Simon’s head, and hurling yourself over the balcony.

You inhaled deeply, then exhaled. You could, realistically, do neither of the above. So you thought clinically and professionally, and made the sound decision to burden your boss with this mess instead of trying to sweep it under the rug by yourself.

“Fine.” You cleared your throat. “Take a break tomorrow. I’ll have a word with Manager Woo, he’ll talk to Taehyung. Tomorrow’s a Sunday, so I’ll be calling Boss for the first weekly check-in. I’ll ask her if something can be done to replace you on the team.”

Simon nodded with a grimace, which may have been his attempt at trying to smile.

You retired to your room on heavy feet. How could things go south in a week? You had barely begun and a buckload of bullshit was on you already.

Exhaling, you opened your laptop to leave a mail for Manager Woo. Quoting a personal emergency, you drafted an apologetic letter stating Simon’s absence tomorrow and asked the man to forward your apologies to Taehyung as well. At the same time, you were also mentally seasoning yourself for a possible confrontation with Taehyung when you went in tomorrow. 

You’d just put your laptop away when your phone rang. Frowning, you lifted it up, only to silent the ring with a groan.

Ever since you landed in Seoul, your best-friend cum roommate back at home had taken to giving you a call every single night. Even when you didn’t pick up. Ever.

Every morning you would text him an apology, and every night he would call again. It’d been a week to this pattern, now.

Why was he doing this? You’d made it abundantly clear that you weren’t going to get roped into any kind of affair with him—emotional or physical. What did he want, now?

For a second, you wondered if he was maybe only just concerned about your well-being in a foreign country? But then you dismissed it, immediately. Why would he? What had you ever done to deserve his—or anyone’s, really—concern? You were a bitch to the majority of people in your life, without trying and even meaning to. Why would anyone give a fuck about you without ulterior motives, right? 

Lying back on your pillows, you looked at the ceiling.

You’d been absolutely horrible at treating people with compassion and care for the majority of your life. You were always labelled either too prudish, too selfish, too career-oriented, or plainly, too narcissistic by people around you.

And, strangely enough, it never bothered you. 

But that didn’t mean you had not cared about anyone, ever. You had. Too much too, once upon a time. But what had that left you with? Expectations and hurt. 

So then, wasn’t it better to not care at all, and not expect at all? You never got hurt, this way.

Sighing, you rolled over to your side, tugging the covers up to your chin. Lifting up your phone from the nightstand, you turned it to silent.

An unread message was displayed on the locked screen:

Looks like you went to bed early again, lol. Hope you’re safe, warm and relaxed. Have a good day at work tomorrow xo

You sighed, yet again. You did not need anyone’s hugs and kisses for your day to be good. Why couldn’t people take a hint?

Shutting your eyes, you tried to get some sleep.

You were absolutely not surprised when, barely an hour into a fierce discussion about his school life, you and Jungkook were disturbed by a knock on the door. But Jungkook was, and jumped at the loud rapping, his wide eyes flashing to the door.

Your back being to the doorway, you looked at the boy expectantly to inform you of the intruder. Not that you didn’t already know.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, though, and simply kept looking behind you with raised eyebrows and rounded eyes. You sat very tightly wound up, contemplating whether to peek around the sofa’s high back or to stand up, when a deep, heavy voice enunciated your name. 

You stood up, slowly, pulling on a professional frown of very minute concern on your face. You willed yourself to act surprised when your eyes met a timid looking Taehyung’s. And, you actually slightly were, too. Why did he seem so shifty and nervous?

“Hello, Tae,” you wished, formally bowing to greet him.

He bowed back, licking his lips as he stood back straight up. “May I please borrow you for a few minutes?”

You twisted on your heels to look at Jungkook. It took him a few seconds to focus on your stare and recognise the question. “Oh! Sure! Of course! I’ll be here, I’ll wait.”

Nodding in gratitude, you stepped out of the studio to join Taehyung in the lounge area attached to the kitchen.

“I know what you would ask—”

“Have I not been cooperating well with Simon?” Taehyung cut you off with a question you were not expecting.

You frowned. “What makes you say that? He had a personal emergency today, Tae, that’s all! I’m sure he must be having a great time working with you.”

Taehyung sighed. “You think, or you know?”

How were you supposed to answer that? You bit your lip, trying to read Taehyung’s eyes, but the collar-bones peeking above the wide neckline of his oversized, brown t-shirt kept distracting you. On some level, you could understand what Simon must have been facing. But! You were all supposed to be professional adults and quell any unprofessional thoughts and not foster them!

You turned your face to your feet, not missing the wide-legged, knee-length shorts Taehyung wore. You mentally cursed yourself.

His sigh floated over to you. “I hope it isn’t something I did. I know I can seem a bit overwhelming sometimes and uninterested at other times, but… I am excited for this project and I really want to give it my best, too.” His eyes looked pained when you met them again. You softened. “Please tell me the truth.”

You drew in a breath. “It’s just as I told you, Tae. Simon has to sort some issues out in his personal life. And what makes you think you’re too overwhelming or uninterested? Did Simon say something?”

“No, no!” Taehyung immediately shook his head. “I just…speak from previous experiences. I don’t collaborate with people that well. I tire them out. And Simon… I don’t think we like each other’s approach very much. I feel like he doesn’t really agree with my ideas, just goes along out of courtesy.”

Your lips turned downwards. “I’m sure it’s none of that, Tae. Absolutely positive. And if worse comes to worst and the two of you actually aren’t able to work together, we will arrange for a switch-up so that you’re able to work comfortably.”

Taehyung seemed to perk up at that. “Switch-up? Will you work with me?”

You narrowed your eyes. He seemed a bit too keen about wanting to work with you, didn’t he? You could very clearly recall your first meeting and how he’d seemed to wane when you told him you were paired up with Jungkook.

Curious.

“We’ll see how it unfolds. But as of now, I am partnered up with Jungkook and you’re fretting over nothing. Simon will be back tomorrow, and things will get back on track. I promise.”

You hoped.

Taehyung nodded, excusing himself to visit the kitchen and you took your leave and came back to an eagerly waiting Jungkook.

He stood up the moment you entered the room. “Is everything okay? Hyung looked sad.”

You honestly had zero idea as to what to tell Jungkook. Pursing your lips, you slowly nodded in contemplation as you made your way to your seat. “He’s not working well with Simon,” you honestly told him.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s lips rounded, forming an adorable pout. “Taehyung hyung has a very artistic soul,” he said, taking you by surprise. You leant forward to listen in with interest. “He tends to get awkward and insecure about his ideas and conceptualizations. They’re usually off-beat and hard to work with, but they’re amazingly creative if you look at them like an artist. Not everybody has the right vision for those things, though. Maybe that is why Simon is…” Jungkook trailed off with a shrug.

You bit your lip in consideration. Taehyung’s words echoed in your head. 

‘I don’t think we like each other’s approach very much.’

Maybe they really were mismatched, outside of Simon’s immature, unprofessional, god-awful behaviour, too.

“Hey, could we add him to our group?” Jungkook suddenly asked, confusing you.

“Huh?” you very eloquently responded. 

He gave a small giggle. “Hyung. Could he work with us? We have been pretty efficient, and you certainly seem to have an artistic vision.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Jungkook, that’s really flattering. But also, no, I don’t think we can do that. The contract we’ve all drawn has a couple of strict clauses and one-on-one sessions is one of them.”

Frowning, Jungkook nodded in acceptance.

The two of you resumed your discussions from before, but the vigour and drive was now lessened to a great extent. You, especially, couldn’t stop worrying. You were the leader of the team, after all.

Sunday night brought in the awaited conference call with your boss. 

Looking at her excited, smiling face on your computer screen, you couldn’t help but dread the news you were about to break to her.

“So. How is it going?” Your boss rubbed her hands together, wiggling her eyebrows. “How is Sana doing? You were quite wound up about her, if I remember correctly.”

“You do remember correctly. There’s good news and bad news,” you responded with a grimace. “Which one first?”

Your boss pursed her lips. “Don’t wanna immediately spoil my mood, so, the good one please.”

“Sana has been doing fantastic. She’s been nothing short of professional, and according to what I’ve seen and heard, Namjoon is really pleased with her,” you relayed, smiling when your boss sighed in relief.

“Okay, so that’s out of the way. What’s wrong?”

You sighed. Better rip the band-aid straight off. “Simon has a huge crush on Taehyung and feels like he broke the contract. He wants to leave.”

You watched quietly as your boss choked on an inhale, coughed, had some water, and sat back down to blink at you with a blank face. “These words must not leave your room. Or Simon’s. None of the BigHit staff must catch a wind of it.”

You groaned. “Please don’t ask me to work through this, boss, please—”

“Work through it, Y/N!” your boss cruelly cut you off. “This is such a tiny, little, manageable thing! Resolve it.”

You gawked. “You literally just choked—how is this little, boss?”

“Counsel Simon. Ask him to push through. Threaten his employment with us, if necessary.”

It was your turn to blink at her, owlishly. “And? That’s it?”

Your boss shrugged. “And if it doesn’t work out, swap him with someone else on your team.”

You sighed. “This is all such high school, teen flick bullshit. What the hell.”

“I know, hun. Which is why I’m asking you to manage it. And I know you can. You’re my favourite, Y/N.” Your boss nodded at you with a solemn look. “I have believed in your capabilities since day one. It’s time to make them shine.”

You nodded, dumbly. The back of your mind was hinting at an inkling that you were being manipulated by flattery, but the forefront was basking in all the praise and could really not be bothered.

All you had to do was keep the whole thing hush-hush from the BigHit people and keep Simon in line, right? You could manage that.

Bidding your boss goodbye, you rung up Simon.

“Hey, boss.”

“You’re coming with us tomorrow and you’re gonna be a fucking professional like you’re supposed to!” you barked into the phone. “Bottle up your feelings, or eat them—I don’t care. You’ll do the job you were here for, and you’ll do it right.”

There was a long, suspended silence at the other end. And then a sigh escaped Simon. “I don’t think I have a choice. Fine, I’ll try.”

You put your phone to silent and shut your eyes, knowing you’d receive another call tonight and that you won’t pick up tonight, either.

You lay back in the bed, gearing up for tomorrow.

If worse actually did come to worst, and Simon sent everything down the rabbit hole, who would you make him swap places with? All of you had built really amazing rapports with your assigned partners in just a week. No one would be willing to start over.

If it came to it, would you have to? Would you be able to?

You could maintain professionalism a hundred times better than Simon, that much was certain. But you and Jungkook had been working so well! And who was to say Simon wouldn’t cause trouble with Jungkook, too? 

You let out a whine, beyond mad at the situation this guy had landed you in.

But you’d have to navigate out of it, somehow. This was the biggest project of your life so far—the first ever you were heading. You would ensure everything worked out at the end.

You would tie all the loose ends and make it all work. You would.

(You literally had no choice.)

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series masterlist

Tags: @tangledsparkles​ @hoefortaeshands​ @getmemyfries

[wordsoflittlewisdom]

Watching bop again

I kinda forgot Cass was at the roller derby game. Love how all the characters are connected

Why does Roman’s voice...sound like that

Boss Bitch is weirdly nostalgic now

I like that the whole roller derby team is wearing like. team jackets. and harleys got her whole fringe sleeves thing going on

YES LOVE WHEN SHE THROWS THE NECKLACE AWAY

The chemical plant blowing up as fireworks was a very Harley choice

“So I’ll start where I fucking want” four minutes ago

huntress huntress huntress huntress huntress

I read somewhere that this huntress and Montoya scene was one take and they just changed the lighting to show the change

romans middle name being beauvais is probably the clearest clue they could have given that he was from a rich family

Love that Renee finds the necklace and knows Harley and the joker broke up. I like this idea that superheroes/villains are kinda like celebrities in this world

The egg sandwich scene is great what more can I say

Love that there’re cars and people just living their lives in this city

It’s a crime that we never see Harley wear this glittery fanny pack

The music is really good in this

It’s neat how the line between her narration and her dialogue is blurred, like how she’ll say the first part of something in narration and the second part in dialogue

Huntress’s little flute theme

And Montoya knows Cass; c o n n e c t i o n s

Montoya’s been going after Roman, too

And now we’re flipping back to the bertinelli massacre and diamond

Even if the whole missing diamond plot isn’t that unique, everything’s woven together so neatly

And now Dinah and Renee are on the phone about Cass and the diamond

It’s all connected

Harleys whole “I’m here to report a terrible crime”—she could have just run in there but she wanted to be Dramatic

I do wish the vocals were a little louder here maybe?

Big fan of this fight choreography

Harley pausing on a frame where she’s making a weird face before rewinding to explain about the diamond—it’s so rare to ever get to see women like. making weird faces in movies. All the women in his this are gorgeous but they don’t always have to be; they look beat up after fights and get dirty and make weird faces and it’s great

Dinah singing? Exceptional

“Loans, liquidity, laundering” ah yes the three L’s of illegal business

I unironically listen to Black Canary’s man’s world.

I like that everyone just calls Dinah “Canary”

“I’m all on my lonesome. It’s great” Harleys even an unreliable narrator when she’s just talking

I’ve really never seen a movie that feel like it’s from the female gaze visually as much as this one—all the rings and earrings, the hair, the makeup, it feels like what women might fantasize about dressing like

Dinah yelling “you motherfucker!” While beating some creeps up is quality

What time of day is it? Dinah would probably be leaving early in the morning, but I Refuse to believe that Roman would be awake particularly early any morning

She either canary is leaving her nightclub singing gig in the late morning/early afternoon or roman is still awake from the night before and is going to go to sleep soon

Cass and Dinah in the same building. (Bernie voice): I am once again talking about the connections

I’ve riffed on this before but i refuse to believe that Roman can drive

This Dinah and Renee scene establishes character, backstories, and moves the plot along all at once

Jesus some of ewan mcgregor’s acting in this is painfully bad

I love that Cass has a big bomber jacket and longer, looser shorts

Jurnee’s abs wow

The lights from behind the hands with the eyes behind Harley, who’s surrounded by people and then Roman and Victor emerge from the back, whispering to each other? Beautiful

One of the grievances roman has against Harley is “constantly interrupting him, like I’m doing right now”

Harleys “you’re really not as complicated as you think” bit is almost satirical of this cult we’ve created of “complicated” white male movie villains who have massive fan followings (cough cough joker)

Interesting that Roman holds the knife to Harleys face but hands it off to Victor to do that actual cutting

Someone handed Roman a bowl of popcorn

Harleys pocket tampon

It’s diamonds are a girls best friend yeah babey!

The male backup dancers are wearing muzzles/masks (Roman has one too for a split second) is an interesting flip on the way women are typically the ones being silenced, as well as Harleys desire to silence the men around her and be the one telling and controlling her own narrative

“Hey! you’re that singer no one listens to!” “Hey! You’re the asshole no one likes!”

Harley with her glitter gun

Harleys reaction when the sprinklers go off is perfect—Margot makes her feel like a living cartoon

This cell block fight scene is a showstopper

I like that cass doesn’t immediately want to stay with Harley. It gives her some agency in a story where she’s mostly just following the curveballs life throws her

Harleys little stare straight into the camera when cass admits to eating the diamond

Harley at the grocery store really emphasizes that she’s a total weirdo

I think I heard somewhere that the pic of child Harley with the nuns is a pic of young Margot??? Not totally sure though

Cass not knowing who the joker is goes with the whole supers are like celebrities thing—cass probably follows a whole different group of them (like how most kids follow different celebrities than their parents)

Huntress huntress huntresssss

“Give me number 32. Mild”

This kid in helenas flashback doesn’t really look like she’s grow up to look like Mary Elizabeth Winstead

This filming in this flashback has so much style

Helena practicing in the bathroom mirror with her drawing and her multiple bottles of travel mouthwash

We’re in the scene where Roman makes the girl dance on the table and oh god it’s so uncomfortable

No no no no no not this hate this

Alright that nightmare’s done

“and that’s why you should never pay federal income taxes”

Harley offering to bring cass to Roman after hearing doc say “business is business is interesting

OH ITS HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT TIME

Dinahs car is yellow because it’s...canary yellow

Roman putting on the mask is cool and all but he’s just gonna have to take it back off to get changed

This Harley vs Renee fight is fun because they keep mirroring each other—they’re fighting each other, but they’re really on the same side

The way the women all kind of circle each other at first and don’t immediately get along

Cass popping up with the gun also gives her some agency—she’s at the end of her rope with the diamond and being betrayed by Harley

“I am nOT THE CROSSBOW KILLER”

The way Huntress sounds so uncertain when she says “...and now I’m done” Mary’s acting really popped off

Roman’s a bitch but I like his outfits

Helenas little smile when Harley says “you just killed his BFF”

I love how excited Harley is when they all agree to work together

Roman’s giving his little speech in the back of a pickup truck?

When all the guys turned around with masks on I got chills

“I love this chick she’s got rage issues.” “I DONT HAVE RAGE ISSUES”

Huntress stabbing the guy while going down the slide is peak cinema

This set lights up as the scene progresses and reveals more

I love love love that Helena is genuinely caring towards Cass and recognizing that children shouldn’t have to go through trauma like her

“When the fuck did she have time to do a shoe change?”

THE HAIR TIE YEAH

Forgot to mention this but it’s a stroke of genius for this place to be called the booby trap

Love me some canary cry

“Told ya she had a killer voice”

Harleys chase was a real group hurrah—the canary cry cleared the way and pushed her forward, Huntress towed her, Renee gave her the gun with one bullet

Cass and Roman are just sitting in the back seat. That must have been an awkward car ride

Cass pulling the gun away from Roman when he tries to shoot up at Harley when Harleys on top of the car is elite

Damn this is one foggy pier

When Harley starts with “your protection is based on the fact that people are scared of you” you expect her to say that it’s wrong or something but she says “I’m the one they should be scared of” this movie messed with tropes so much

That also includes the whole “one bullet” thing—Harley misses with her one bullet, and you don’t really know what’s gonna happen next

“I took your ring”

You can pinpoint exactly when Harley and Roman realize what Cass did

I’d put the entire taco scene here if I could

Renee moving the drink away from cass shows her caring side—she doesn’t want a kid to get into alcohol and make the mistakes she did

“Does she always talk like the cop in a bad eighties movie?”

Harley and Cass stealing the car is a fun way to show that she may be on the side of the good guys sometimes, but that doesn’t necessarily make her one

“Woman” by Kesha

Wow the outfits in this scene are iconic

I mean they are in the whole movie but I especially like these

Cass riding around with Harley and a hyena, wearing cute outfits and learning the ways of chaos

Harley got her sandwich!

The credit art for this movie is cool

Especially how they represent each character

In conclusion this is still my favorite movie

I know I’ve been kinda absent recently, but watching this again has really reminded me how much I love it. I got really busy but I’m going to Make An Effort to be a contributing member of the bop fandom again.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 13

cruel summer masterlist

AN: I’m obsessed with all your theories. Hearing from all of you made this week a little bit better. Enjoy this chapter of booze, bowling and jealousy.

Rowan doesn’t know what God he pissed off, but he feels like he’s being actively punished. All he attempted was one single day without Aelin, and instead, he ends up in a group hang with Aelin and the new guy she’s hanging out with, apparently?

His teeth grit as he thinks of Sam. Sam, who looked around the bowling alley and turned up his nose at the cheap beer and smelly shoes. Sam who wiped his chair down with a napkin before taking a seat. Rowan barely knows him, but he’s a hundred percent sure that he hates him.

At least he’s vaguely comforted by the fact that Manon is in an even worse position than him. Before bowling, she warned him of her entirely complicated situation involving Rowan’s two coworkers – he’s never seen Manon so vulnerable as when she explained that she thought Elide was into her. When she explained it, Rowan was inclined to see how she could misunderstand.

When Elide had confided in Manon that she’d had a crush on “someone” for years, and thought they liked her too, Manon assumed that “someone” was her. She knows firsthand how hard it can be to come out, and she thought Elide was just being delicate about it – saying without actually saying that she had a crush on Manon, asking her to make the first move. She didn’t realize “someone” is actually Lorcan, and now Manon’s trapped, helping Elide with the plan she thought was a ruse.

Rowan uses his frustration to propel the ball down the lane, knocking most of the pins down. He turns proudly and grins at the twin pairs of golden eyes that smile back at him. He can’t get over how much Manon’s cousin looks just like her, except he assumes with her natural hair color – a dark, dishwatery blonde, instead of Manon’s bleached platinum.

He’s only met her a few times before, but Asterin is fun. She’s the warm relaxed mirror to Manon’s shrewd ice queen. And he loves seeing how much she cares for Manon. As soon as Asterin heard about the Elide catastrophe confession dinner, she insisted on accompanying Manon and Elide on their next night out. And she’s been Manon’s hype person all night.  

He discards the ball and lets Manon step up to the plate. As she brushes by him she whispers, “Who’s the guy?” And Rowan shakes his head, shrugging her off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. At least not now. Not with Aelin in front of him. When all he wants to do is haul her into his lap and wrap his arms around her and let Sam know exactly what’s going on.

Rowan glances at Aelin, with her freshly dried waves cascading over her bare shoulders, which are exposed in her off the shoulder loose top that ends just above the waistline of her jeans, teasing him with a delicious strip of skin. Rowan frowns, wondering if the outfit is for Sam or for him.

Rowan takes his seat back at the table and tries to replace his emotionally turbulent insides with a mask of calm.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he begins.

“Clearly,” Aelin mutters under her breath, but Rowan hears her perfectly. He knocks her foot with his under the table, but she retracts it, moving her feet away from him and under her chair. It stings. He watches as her eyes glance around the table, landing slowly on Asterin.

“Asterin, I love your jacket,” Aelin says with a too-sweet smile.

Asterin removes her fringed suede jacket, revealing a threadbare t-shirt underneath. “Thanks!” she replies enthusiastically. “I found it at a thrift store last week and am obsessed.” Aelin smiles, waiting for Asterin to say something else. Asterin finally replies with, “I love your earrings.”

Aelin twists her long hair over one of her shoulders to fiddle with the large hoop on her ear and thanks Asterin. Rowan’s eyes bounce between the two women on either side of him, not exactly sure what the hell is going on.

“I’m going to grab a beer,” Sam interjects. “Can I get you anything?”

Aelin nods, asking for a Stella, and the knot in Rowan’s chest unfurls slightly as Sam departs from the table. Aelin’s foot finally returns a small nudge to Rowan’s ankle as she says, “I missed you at dinner last night.”

Rowan’s chest burns as he remembers the way Sam held Aelin’s hand over the dinner table last night, but he grins, regardless. He doesn’t want her to know how badly he’s bleeding. He’ll cover up all his wounds with smiles.

“Sorry. I was so tired from work,” Rowan says. “Plus, I had a new recipe for a bundt cake I wanted to try out.”

Asterin leans forward and puts her hand on his arm. He turns to her, her gold flecked eyes wide with wonder. “Wait, that cake Manon shoved into my mouth earlier was baked by you?” Rowan nods, and Asterin smiles widely. “Wow. That was like, professional.” She turns to Aelin and Elide. “Did you guys know Rowan is the best baker?” Asterin says.

“Yep,” Aelin says sharply. “I’ve had it.”

Her comment is interrupted by Manon’s loud strike, all the pins toppling over in a raucous heap. Elide leaps up from the table and squeals.

“My turn!” Elide pouts and asks Manon for help teaching her how to throw the ball. Rowan watches Manon as she helps Elide position her body squarely to the pins. With her hands on Elide’s hips, he notices that a distracted Lorcan, two lanes down, only downs one pin, much to his teammates’ chagrin.

While he’s looking away, Aelin grabs Rowan’s beer and takes a small sip. Her eyes peer over the rim, piercing holes into his carefully erected armor. “Busy day at work?” she asks casually, but her gaze is anything but nonchalant.

“No more than usual,” Rowan replies, grabbing his beer back and taking another long sip of his beer, and Asterin’s eyes flick between the two of them, curious.

“So, Aelin,” Asterin interrupts, attempting to diffuse the thick layer of tension settling over the table. “How do you know Rowan?”

“We’re friends,” Aelin says coolly, and Rowan tries not to let the word affect him. They are friends. Kind of. Maybe. “He works at my family’s amusement park.”

“Your boyfriend’s cute,” Asterin says, and he tries not to flinch when Aelin glances over her shoulder to where Sam waits at the bar.

“Oh, Sam’s not my boyfriend,” Aelin says. “Just another friend.”

Rowan tries not to flinch at the implication of her words, but he finds it impossible. He will be devastated if Sam is the same kind of friend to Aelin that he is. She pats his shoulder as she stands from the table, and Rowan can feel himself tense under her touch. Her fingers linger ever so slightly as she makes her way to the lane, and he can’t help but watch as her hips sway.

Asterin’s smile is feral as she looks between him and Aelin. “That’s the girl you’re supposed to be staying away from tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Rowan grumbles, annoyed that he’s so incredibly transparent when he’s working so hard to hide his feelings.

“Need me to run interference?” she asks, and Rowan smiles at the kind offer but declines. He turns his attention back to Aelin, who grabs a hot pink ball. She rolls a perfect strike, barely even looking.

“I think Manon needs you more than I do,” he says, glancing at Manon’s arm wrapped around Elide’s shoulders, and the way Elide can’t stop glancing across the room at where Lorcan sits with his teammates.

“I can be both your cheerleaders tonight, babe,” she says with an overzealous wink. “If you need a helping hand, just let me know.”

Aelin freezes a foot away from the table and mouths, “Babe?” while quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolls his eyes and finishes the rest of his beer.

Just as Sam returns to the table, it’s his turn, and they watch him throw a truly horrific gutter ball. The whole table chuckles softly as Sam admits bowling is not his sport.

“What is your sport?” Elide asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing Lorcan’s way again.  

“Sailing,” he says. Rowan smothers a sardonic laugh. Of course Sam’s sport is sailing. A sport where the equipment costs more than his yearly salary. Four times his yearly salary, actually.

“That’s not a sport,” Manon interjects. “That’s a trust fund hobby.”

“Tell that to my wall of regatta trophies,” Sam boasts, and even Aelin can’t control rolling her eyes at that, Rowan notices with satisfaction.

“Which reminds me,” Sam begins. “My family is throwing a big Fourth of July party on our yacht next week. It’ll be docked. No sailing experience required. You should come,” he says to Aelin. Then turns to the rest of the table. “All of you.”

“A yacht party?” Aelin says, and Sam flashes her a self-assured grin as he nods. “Oh, Dorian will die. He’s always wanted to do that, but his dad would never let him bring anyone on their boat.”

“Sounds fun,” Rowan says, forcing a smile.

As Sam continues to talk about the preparations for what is sure to be an extremely swanky party, Rowan begins to feel warm and in need of fresh air. He wishes he were a smoker, so he’d have an excuse to step out. Every time Sam name drops or makes an allusion to how much money he has, Rowan feels himself grow smaller. A few more minutes of listening to Sam talk and he can’t stand it anymore. He stands from the table, suddenly.

“Where are you going?” Aelin asks.

“Just gonna get some air.”

He bolts out the door before anyone can ask him anything else. The front of the bowling alley is far too well-lit with bright fluorescent lights, so he slinks around to the side of the building where the parking lot is mostly empty and he can remain covered in dark inky shadows. He leans against the concrete of the building and tilts his head back, trying to alleviate the tension that feels like it’s strangling him. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

His heart is finally starting to slow its pounding when he hears her voice cut through the darkness. “Rowan?” Aelin whispers. He opens his eyes and turns his head toward the sound, and he hears her soft gasp and jump. “There you are,” she says, approaching him slowly. Tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” Rowan finally answers, his deep voice filled with gravel.

“Are you?” she asks, finally coming to stand in front of him. In the dark he can barely make out the shape of her face, but still somehow her eyes glow blue and gold, reflecting the moon lit sky above. “Your date was worried.”

“My date?” Rowan asks, perplexed.

Aelin laughs humorlessly and clasps her hands in front of her stomach. That small sliver of bare skin still distracting him. “Yes, your date. You know. Blonde, very pretty?”

Rowan chuckles. “Are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

Aelin shoves at his chest. “Are you being obtuse on purpose right now?”

“Aelin, I didn’t even know you were coming tonight,” he says. She tosses her hands up in frustration to gesticulate wildly as she talks.

“I’m talking about Asterin, you moron,” she snips at him, and his chest warms as he grabs her hands, which are flailing mid-air between them. “Give me my hands back,” she warns him, but Rowan just smiles.

“You’re jealous,” Rowan finally realizes, and Aelin scowls, trying to pull her hands free from Rowan’s grasp, but he refuses. Instead, he pulls them into his chest and flips them around, so Aelin is the one with her back to the building.

“Am not,” Aelin insists, and he finally releases her hands, only so he can finally touch the skin of her waist that’s been tempting him since she sent that picture of herself hours ago. She shivers as his thumbs rub against her soft skin.

“You are,” he says, leaning down to whisper against the shell of her ear. His lips brush against it, and she clutches onto his shirt, pulling him down toward her. “I didn’t know you could get jealous,” he says, letting his mouth land on the bare expanse of her shoulder. “It’s kind of adorable.” He snickers against her neck, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more room, and her hands wrap around his waist to pull him closer.

“Are you finished ignoring me?” she whispers, and Rowan pauses.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he replies, and he feels her fingers tense against his back and then loosen.

“Okay,” she says, resigned. His lips brush against her neck, then her chin, then her cheek.

He shifts back to look at her, her chest heaving with labored breaths, her body curled around his, wanton and beautiful. And he just has to ask. Has to know. Even if it kills him. He still needs to know.

“You called us both your friends,” he begins, and Aelin’s eyes search his, looking for some hidden meaning to his words. “Is Sam your friend like I’m your friend?” he asks. Understanding flicks over her face as she shakes her head.

“No. Oh my god, no, Rowan.” Her voice is a thin whisper, but it’s firm. Resolute. “No one else is a friend like you. I promise, I would never.”

“Are you sure? Because… it’d be okay if… I mean, I’d understand if…” He tries to reply eloquently, but he can’t find the words. He has the worst habit of tripping up his sentences in front of her.

“Would it?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Because I don’t think I’d be as understanding.” She sighs. “I wanted to rip Asterin’s hand off you.”

Rowan smiles. “Yeah?”

“And like… maybe mount you in the middle of the room.”

“Mmm,” Rowan ponders. “That could be arranged.” He sighs, exhaling slowly as her arms wrap around his waist tighter. Rowan looks up into the night sky and then back down at her, trying to figure out what he wants to say. How he can say it without scaring her away. “I just didn’t know if being exclusive adhered to the rules of being casual.”

“Who says there have to be rules?” Aelin replies softly. “This is between us. We get to decide what that means. Fuck the rules. We make our own.”

Rowan wastes no time before crashing his lips to hers in a mess of lips and teeth and tongue. It feels like coming up for air again. The tension disappears from his shoulders as her fingers twine themselves in the back of his hair, which is almost long enough for her to pull. He feels like an addict, who’s getting his next fix. He breathes her in, letting her keep him as close to her as she wants. His hands go up her loose shirt, and he groans loudly when his hands come into contact with the underside of her breasts. She hasn’t been wearing a bra this whole time. He cups her as his thumbs run over her puckered skin, and she whimpers into his mouth as she grinds onto his thigh.

Rowan is about to slide his hands down the front of her jeans when a throat clears loudly in the distance. They both freeze, pausing and panting, waiting to hear who the voice belongs to.

“I’m not coming any closer because I enjoy my vision and don’t want to gouge my own eyeballs out,” Manon calls out to them. “But, there are three people at that table who realize you’ve both been gone for a suspiciously long amount of time, and I’m getting really tired of distracting Moneybags McGee. So come quickly.” Manon seems to realize her turn of phrase and groans at Rowan’s lewd snickering. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just… you know. Get back inside, please.”

“You could have come closer,” Rowan calls back. “We’re both fully clothed.”

“I couldn’t take that risk,” Manon says, and disappears back into the alley.

Aelin giggles into Rowan’s shoulder and leans her forehead against his chest. She kisses him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and hugs him tighter. She looks up at him and tilts herself up onto her tip-toes and kisses him softly.

“I missed you today,” she says, and he hates how much his heart blooms with hope at her words.

“It was one day,” he replies, smoothing her hair and shirt, so she doesn’t look like she’s just been ravaged in some back alley – even though, technically, that’s exactly what happened.

“Ask me how many times I got off thinking about you in that one day,” she asks saucily, and Rowan nearly chokes at the image of her touching herself.

“How many?” he asks, and she smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Um, yes. I really would,” he laughs.

She saunters away, and he watches her ass move side to side in her tight jeans. He runs to catch up with her, but he keeps his distance as they enter.

Back at their table, Lorcan has joined, much to Rowan’s surprise and Manon’s clear displeasure.

Rowan sits beside her and pats her shoulder. She throws him an aggressive scowl, and he retracts his hand. “So, Asterin clearly failed at her job tonight,” Manon whispers, and Rowan shrugs. He looks at Aelin, who smiles at him, before resuming her conversation with Elide and Sam and now Lorcan.

“I think I’m a lost cause,” Rowan admits.

Manon sighs sadly. “Me too.”

“Maybe we’ll both get what we want,” Rowan says, as they both stare across the table at Aelin and Elide respectively. Elide’s smile is lit up at something Lorcan’s said, and Rowan watches how Sam’s eyes follow Aelin’s every little movement.

“Maybe,” Manon says, but he knows she doesn’t mean it. Despite that, Rowan holds onto the small kernel of hope for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~*~

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[tarysande]

Lucifer Fic: Sheet Happens (1/1)

For @thedeckerstarnetwork’s Halloween Challenge. @calia05 asked for “ghost” and “trick,” and said she loved Ella and Azrael. This is the result! <3

Also on AO3

Sheet Happens

Miss Lopez delivered the invitation in typical Miss Lopez fashion: as exuberantly as the world's friendliest golden retriever high on Adderall. Clearly handmade, she’d cut the card into the shape of a cartoonish ghost, white bedsheet and all, and covered it with an absurd amount of silvery glitter. Meaning, of course, that it covered him with an absurd amount of silvery glitter in short order. The sparkles stood out against the black of his suit like snowflakes. Or dandruff. Not that the Devil was in any way personally acquainted with the latter.

“Thank you,” he said gravely, holding the glitter bomb at as close to arm’s length as he could politely get away with.

Miss Lopez wore her every emotion not just on her sleeve, but from the top of her head to the tips of her platformed running shoes. Today’s t-shirt featured a sad ghost with a spilled cup of coffee and the phrase ‘Sheet Happens.’ “So, you’ll come?”

“Ah.” Even as the syllable emerged, Miss Lopez’s face began to fall. “It’s a … popular evening at Lux. I do rather feel I owe my patrons an appearance.”

“Oh,” she said, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand and leaving ghostly glitter behind. “Duh. I should’ve thought of that.”

The glitter was sentient. He could practically feel it creeping up his fingers. He would have to burn the suit; once infected, recovery was impossible. He could only imagine how infested her home must be. The mind behind the creation of the stuff was truly devious; in the darkest of hellscapes, he’d never come across anything quite so … persistent.

“Would you … prefer to offer the invitation to someone else?” he asked, gesturing slightly with the ghost held between the tips of finger and thumb.

This was, evidently, the wrong thing to have said. She wilted, and when she shook her head, even her ponytail seemed sad. “I made it for you,” she tossed over her shoulder, already fleeing back to her lab as fast as her impractically high shoes would allow.

#

“You’re going, Lou.”

Lucifer blinked. Though the music and revelry, sin and sensation raged around him at top volume, the words reached his ears as clearly as if they were spoken into utter silence. Beside him, Azrael slouched, wearing the form so clearly influenced by Miss Lopez.

Or perhaps it was the other way around? The Azrael of old hadn’t slouched. She hadn’t worn bizarre spectacles or sported bowl-cut hair and t-shirts with sayings on them. When she glared up at him, hands planted on hips, her cloak parted wide enough for him to make out today’s offering. In the same cute-cartoon style as Ms. Lopez’s, it depicted a Grim Reaper, coffee in hand and wearing the exhausted expression Lucifer had so often seen on human faces after too little sleep or too much alcohol, next to the words ‘I FEEL LIKE DEATH.’

Lucifer sipped his whiskey to give his hands and his mouth something to do besides reply.

“Not just for Ells. Literally every one of your friends is there.”

He sighed, stepping aside as a tipsy angel with crooked wings tried to press up against his side. The cloying scent of her cheap Victoria’s Secret perfume wasn’t as easy to avoid. Neither was her pout.

“But you’re the Devil,” she whined in a voice he wished he heard much less clearly. “And I’m an angel. It’s sexy.”

“More like incestuous,” Azrael murmured, catching Lucifer so off-guard he choked on his drink. The smug grin she shot him was entirely the Rae-Rae of old. She nudged him with her cloaked elbow. “Still got it.”

He inclined his head at the disappointed angel, sidestepped a werewolf and vampire with tongues so deeply down each other’s throats that witnesses would convert to #TeamWhoNeedsBellaWhenYouHaveEdwardAndJacob at the sight of it, and swiped a bottle of whiskey he refused to see poured for anyone with such undiscerning tastes as the Borat who’d just ordered it. Evidently the bouncers had forgotten the longstanding no-neon-green-mankinis rule.  

Azrael followed on his heels, and though he bloody well knew no one else could see her, somehow the seething crowds parted more easily for her than they had even for him.

“Why are you here instead of there?”

“I—you see how busy—”

“Uh, I see how you haven’t talked to anyone for longer than two minutes, your piano’s nowhere to be seen, and you’re basically oozing sulking-Devil-do-not-approach vibes.”

“You try my patience, Azrael.”

She shrugged. A trio of sexy nurses—or perhaps maids; it was hard to tell given the lack of fabric—contorted themselves into shapes he should have found pleasing to avoid being too near to her. One attempted to fall toward him, but he slid to the side so she ended up grappling with one of the evening’s nineteen (at last count) Captains America.

“Yeah? Well, you’re bugging me too,” she said, evidently oblivious to the effect her presence was having. “You didn’t even read the card, did you?”

“The … excuse me?”

Azrael’s prodigious eye roll involved every muscle in her face. “From Ella?”

A twinge of something like regret turned the whiskey on his tongue to ashes. He’d dropped disco-ghost into an evidence bag before it could do any more damage and left it at the precinct without sparing it a second thought.

Azrael thrust that same evidence bag into his chest hard enough to send him staggering back half a step. Another angel got partway through a curse Lucifer had a hard time imagining any of his siblings speaking before she realized the Devil to whom that curse was directed. He sensed a new rule for the bouncers brewing.

Of course, the most persistent of the angels presently irritating him didn’t obligingly flit off into the crowd at his glower. He’d no idea how someone so vertically challenged could make him feel small, and yet. The evidence bag and its spectral occupant had fluttered to the ground between them, where it lay like a murder victim bathed in blood glittering red from the overhead lighting. Sheet happens.

He bent from the waist, snatching up the invitation and stalking toward the elevator. The sea of demons and various sexy professionals and animals and … bloody hell, Sexy Donald Trump was infinitely worse than the worst mankinied Borat. Some things couldn’t be unseen.

And then he was in the elevator, and it didn’t matter that Azrael wasn’t with him because she’d be waiting for him with her ridiculous fringe and, beneath it, eyes that always reflected the brother he could have been, perhaps, if he didn’t fail so spectacularly so often.

He scanned the room when the elevator door opened but saw nothing out of place, and when he called out, no one answered. Azrael could creep and hide and lurk as effectively as the angelic purpose over which she held dominion, but rarely from him.

He opened the evidence bag and dumped its contents on the bar, releasing the spirit and its miasma of sparkles. The bloody thing looked so bloody cheerful—and not at all like any of the spirits he’d had occasion to meet over the millennia.

Then again, give the thing a spectral ponytail and a cute t-shirt and maybe—

He silenced the thought by reaching for a bottle. He didn’t, at least for the first burning pull, even bother with a glass.

He poured the second drink. By the third, he was ready to open the damned—ha bloody ha—thing. In the ebullient handwriting so familiar from paperwork and post-it notes, Miss Lopez had written, “My brothers made Halloween more about tricks than treats, usually at my expense. It would be ‘boo’tiful if you could come to my party. COSTUMES MANDATORY.” Instead of her name, she’d drawn a pair of ghosts. One was grinning. It had a ponytail. The other was taller; it held a microphone. It also had devil horns and a tail.

It was grinning, too.

Lucifer closed the invitation and pushed it away with trembling fingertips.

“Why aren’t you there, Lou?”

He gripped the edge of the bar until the moment before the marble would have crumbled. “Surely you know better than anyone, sister.”

The sound she made, caught somewhere between a gasp and a cry, was enough to turn his head. “I’m not—Lucifer, you know I’m not—”

“But you will,” he said. “Because they’re human. Because you’re you. And because you will do as you must. So forgive me for choosing to spend this night of specters and shadows amidst those whose deaths, when they come, will not weigh near so heavily.”

Moments stretched into minutes. Azrael’s jaw worked, and her expression said the words she chewed were bitter ones. Finally, narrowing her eyes, she said, “That’s bullshit.”

Unexpected.

A flush rose in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled not with admiration or sisterly love, but with anger. “You’re sad their time is finite, so you’re wasting what time you do have sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Listen to yourself, Lou. No, seriously. Like, stop for one minute and actually hear the crap coming out of your mouth.” She glanced down at her hands like she was trying to figure out just how much damage they were capable of inflicting. “You’re so … dumb. Like. Just … dumb.”

And though he wanted to protest, wanted to explain in painful, specific detail just why death and eternity and banishment from Heaven made his situation so much bloody worse … he didn’t.

Because Miss Lopez had drawn them as grinning ghosts. To her, this night was treats and costumes and friends and, as in so many traditions throughout all of bloody human history, defying the coming dark by facing it head-on. Perhaps the current tradition didn’t involve bonfires or sacrifices, but he’d be bloody damned—more damned—if gorging on candy and gathering in friendship and depicting the things humans knew went bump in the night without truly knowing how to name them as cartoons and bad puns wasn’t the very same flavor of ritual.

He released his grip on the bar. His hands glittered.

“Costumes are mandatory,” Rae-Rae reminded him.

When he glanced over his shoulder again, she was gone.

#

He stood outside, listening to the laughter within, for fifteen minutes. He raised his hand to knock eighteen times. He turned to leave at least seven.

“I’m gonna do it if you don’t, Lou.”

Bloody sisters.

He knocked. Moments stretched into eternities.

The door, decorated with glimmering ghosts and glittering pumpkins, opened, revealing Miss Lopez in all her pool-noodle-turned-double-helix-DNA glory.

For a moment, Miss Lopez’s wide eyes were so like Rae-Rae’s—the same belief in him; the same, dare he say it, love—that Lucifer couldn’t find breath for whatever foolish, nonchalant nonsense he’d usually have opened with. And when those eyes filled with glistening tears to accompany a grin no drawing could possibly capture, he was the first to look away.

“You came! In costume!” Leaning forward, she squinted at him, then reached out and plucked at his costume. “Oh my God, Lucifer, tell me you didn’t cut eyeholes in a freaking silk sheet that probably cost like, a month of paychecks.”

“I do not lie, Miss Lopez, so I can say no such thing.” Though she couldn’t see it, he grinned at the way horror and delight mingled on her features. He brushed close, close enough to give the phantom equivalent of the hugs she handed out so enthusiastically, and pretended not to feel a little teary-eyed himself at how tightly she returned the gesture. “Who am I to defy your command?”

She laughed and punched him on the arm. “Have you met you?”

“Ahh,” he replied gently. “But have you met you?”

This time, the laughter he heard belonged not to Miss Lopez but to his sister. And though she, too, was bound to her commands, as he stepped into the warmth and light and laughter of Miss Lopez’s home, Azrael’s dominion was the very last thing on his mind.

[bldreamer]

Can’t Fight This Feeling | FORTHBEAM

2moons2 : ForthBeam

Summary: Forth stumbles into Beam’s cafe at four in the morning and it’s love at first sight despite his swollen black eyes. OR, the MMA Fighter meets Barista meet cute no one asked for. Genre: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Stupid banter. Coffee Shop AU / MMA Fighter AU.  Warnings: Tiny bit of swearing. Mentions of injuries. Author has NO idea what MMA fighting entails. 

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for months. I fully intended on making this a multi chapter fic but then I remembered I can’t write long stories to save my life so here we are instead. I sincerely apologise for the title. 

It’s 4:47 in the morning and Forth is walking aimlessly through the empty streets of Bangkok, expertly avoiding his own reflection in any store window he passes.

His adrenalin will soon bottom out, the fog of numbness will fade and he’ll feel every inch of his bruised and abused body. The cracked ribs, his busted lips and his battered eye socket that has doubled in size will all throb like a mother fucker come morning.

Until then, Forth is happy to entertain his ignorance. Anything to keep himself from having to face the reality nipping at his heels.

He’s been walking for over an hour, vaguely wandering in the direction of his apartment building with no real desire to actually go home. It’s not like there’s anything waiting for him besides musty bed sheets and his neighbours screaming cat out on the balcony.

With a sigh, Forth shoves his hands into his pockets when a flash of neon pink catches the corner of his eye from the opposite side of the street. He cranes his neck, squinting to make out the artsy sign in fluorescent fuchsia hanging above a brightly lit cafe. He imagines the warm scent of coffee under his nose if it wasn’t blocked with his own dried blood. His stomach grumbles in response regardless, reminding him he hasn’t eaten since lunch.

Curiously, Forth crosses the road and peers inside the hipster coffee shop. It takes a moment for his swollen eyes to adjust to the light.

The only person he can see through the glass front is a male barrister sat down behind the counter. Young, tanned skin, broad shoulders. He has a thick fringe of dark hair and he’s wearing a white sweater with a bright pink apron over the top that’s only marginally less offensive than the sign outside.

Caffeine is probably the worst idea Forth could have right now but he’s never been one to make smart choices so pushes open the door and heads inside towards the register. He looks up through his own messy fringe at the boy behind the counter, slowly looking up from his textbook.

“Hey, what can I get fo-”

The boy jumps to his feet with a gasp, eyes blown wide like a startled cartoon.

“Shit,” he murmurs without blinking.

“Did you forget to turn the stove off or am I just that good looking?” Forth chirps, voice gruff from disuse over the last hour or so.

“A-are you okay?”  

Forth nods, clearing his throat. “Can I get an Americano?”

“Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?” the boy responds.

He’s about the same height as Forth. Thick eyebrows, dark eyes, golden skin. His cheeks are round and soft, there’s a faint hint of stubble on his chin and his lips are plump and rosey pink. The shade much kinder on the eye than his clashing neon apron.

“Just the coffee, thanks.”

The boy swallows. “Were you mugged? Should I call the police or something?”

Forth pulls out his wallet and waves it. “Nope. Wasn't mugged. How much for the drink?”

“200฿,” the barista replies robotically. Eyes darting over the bruises and lingering when Forth runs his other hand over his lip that’s bleeding again. “Are you...sure you’re okay?”

“Just another day at the office.”

That doesn’t help to ease the boys' nerves. He seems more than a little flustered, his cheeks are starting to match the rose of his lips. It’s cute.

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional,” Forth assures.

“You’re a professional punching bag?”

Cute, check. Funny, also check. 

“Some days, it depends how much my boss pays me.”

The boy looks stricken and Forth chuckles.

“I’m kidding,” he says. “I’d never throw a fight, it’s illegal and I’d lose my license.”

“You’re a fighter?”

“MMA,” Forth replies proudly. “Are you a fan?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. I know I’d remember seeing you in the crowd.” Typically Forth would throw in a wink for good measure but something tells him its a terrible eye given the state of his face. Maybe next time.

“Staying in or taking out?” the barista asks with a frown.

“Sorry?”

“Your coffee, in or out?”

Forth shrugs. “In, I guess. If it's not too much trouble.”

“It’ll be a few minutes until the coffee machine starts up.”

It’s not clear whether the barista is being informative or he’s just trying to put Forth off to make him leave instead.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he says in any case and hands over the appropriate money.

“You should take a seat,” the boy offers, and Forth takes the opportunity to read his wonky name tag. Beam, it reads. It suits him.

“Thanks.”

Forth turns over his shoulder, looking around the bakery and taking in the decor. The mint green walls, the white marble tables, gold chairs and accents of bright pink. It’s all so jarring it’s only adding to his headache. He truges over to the closest table, sitting down gingerly with a hand over his sore ribs.

“Any cakes or pastries?”

Forth puts his feet up on the chair opposite. “What do you reccomend?” He isn’t much of a sweet tooth but why not while he’s here. He picks up one of the pink napkins and dabs his lip, wincing.

The cute barista tuts, flicking and clicking some things on the coffee machine.

“An ice pack and a check for concussion?” he answers with not a hint of irony.

“I’d prefer something with cinnamon.”

Forth closes his hand around the used napkin and sinks back in the chair. His left over adrenalin is starting to go stale and exhaustion is tugging at his weary bones. It won’t be long before the real pain rears its ugly head. He closes his eyes against the offensive decor of the bakery and lets out a slow breath.

The clink and clunk of the cute boy moving about behind the counter is almost enough background noise to block out the buzzing starting up in his left ear. He really should get that looked at one of these days before he goes deaf completely.  

“Don’t they have medics where you work?” the barista asks behind his station.

“Sure,” Forth grunts. “But they’re sadists.” The three inch scar from the shoddy stitches he received on his forehead after one of his very first fights is proof enough.  

He doesn’t know how much time passes but he must have drifted off for a few minutes because the next thing he knows is startling at the clink of something dropping on the table. He blinks away the fog and sits up to see the barista putting his steaming mug of coffee down next to a bowl of-

“I don’t remember ordering an ice bath,” Forth quips at the boy staring down at him.

“It’s a new deal we’re offering to customers who look like they lost a round with a wrecking ball.”

“Now you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” He takes his feet down from the chair. “Seriously, you should see the other guy.”

The barista frowns. “You’re telling me you’re the winner?”

The surprise in his tone does genuinely hurt Forth’s pride. He does his best to pretend otherwise.

“I’m the undefeated champion,” he boasts with a wink.

The barista doesn’t respond. Just blinks, eyes darting to Forth’s hand which is as cracked and bruised as his face.

“I’ll get you a cloth for the ice,” he mutters eventually, disappearing back behind the counter.

Forth wraps his sore fingers around his steaming mug and blows over the top, sipping gingerly so as not to burn his tongue.

The cute guy -Beam, Forth reminds himself- comes back and picks up a handful of ice from the bowl onto the cloth he brought over.

“Ah, shit,” Forth hisses, not expecting it to be pressed onto his battered face without warning and he almost spills his coffee. “That hurts.”

Beam rolls his eyes. “Now you’re complaining it hurts?” he asks without sympathy.

“Warn a guy,” Forth whines into his mug. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Relax, I’m a medical student.”

“You work at an all night cafe,” Forth comments after another sip, poking the inside of his mouth with his tongue as the string of bitter coffee hits his cut.

“Need to pay the tuition fees somehow.”

“Aren't you full of surprises?” Forth hums. “Cute, funny, makes decent coffee, and a doctor. I think I hit the jackpot.”

“Medical student,” the barista says slowly. “Not a doctor.”

Despite his blunt words, the ice presses more gently onto Forth’s throbbing cheek and he breaths out carefully, eye twitching from the cold seeping into his tender bruises.

His mind wanders as he sits silent and docile with his drink. He thinks about the weight inside his jacket, the thick rolls of cash hidden discreetly in his chest pocket. Tonight wasn’t the best he’s ever performed, and his wage is a reflection of that. But it's not a bad days pay for the meager hours he puts in. It’s not exactly the most honest way of earning a living but it's what he’s good at. He’s not built to be a doctor or lawyer or even a coffee boy.

He doesn’t know how long the cute barista stands over him, holding the ice to his face while he drinks from his cup. It’s odd and neither of them says anything, the only sounds coming from the grinding coffee machine.

The barista is the first to break the silence.

“How old are you?” Beam mutters.

“Twenty one. You?”

“Twenty.”

Forth suppresses a grin. “That means you’re my Nong,” he says cheerfully.

“I’m not calling you Phi.”

“Suit yourself, Nong Doc.” Forth’s breath hitches when the ice is pressed a little too firm into his cheek. “I’m Forth, by the way,” he mentions, voice a little tight.

“Beam,” comes the curt response.

“Because of your charming smile?”

The boy could cut glass with the look he gives Forth and a split second, he’s more intimidated than he was in the ring.

“I can kick you out,” the barista warns.

“Don’t they make doctors sign an oath to protect and serve all?”

“Protect and serve is the police,” Beam chirps. “Doctors swear to do no harm. And I’m not a doctor yet, like I keep saying.”

“Even so, I trust you.” It’s the most honest thing to come out of Forth’s mouth all night and it takes them both by surprise.

Their eyes meet and for a moment, Forth feels stuck, like the world hits pause. Not in a bad way. But so he can take in every golden fleck in the barista’s chocolate eyes staring back at him and count every freckle dotted over his nose. The boy isn’t just cute, he’s beautiful.

“So,” Forth clears his throat when things flood back to the present. “What’s your diagnosis, doc?” He hadn’t noticed he’d been white knuckling his coffee cup or that’s empty.

Beam purses his lips and pulls the ice away, narrowing his brow. “You’re probably lucky not to have a zygomatic fracture.”

“Cool.”

The barista looks doubtful he knows what that means. Forth doesn’t mention the fact that he gets hit in the face for a living, of course he knows what it means. And yes he knows he’s lucky to not need x-rays.

“Should I come see you in a week if the swelling doesn’t improve?”

“You’re embarrassing yourself, now.”

Forth licks his lips, the taste of copper on his tongue. His cut has opened again. 

“Is Forth your actual name or your fighter name?”

“I can’t tell you my fighter name. I’m afraid you’ll want to come and watch me. And then how would I concentrate if I had such a pretty boy standing in the crowd cheering for me?”

“Who says I'll be cheering for you?”

Forth chuckles. It’s small and chesty but it's genuine and it feels right. “Ow,” he whines. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

“Something tells me it serves you right.”

“Probably. I have a history of making bad decisions,” Forth admits. “Karma and all.”

Beam shrugs. “I don’t believe in karma.”

“So you’re a make your own luck kind of guy?”

“Isn’t luck just karma backwards?”

If Forth’s head didn’t already ache. “Are you a philosophy student too?”

“Like I have the time.”

“That’s a shame. I was going to ask you out on a date.”

Beam shakes his head and mutters something inaudible under his breath. No matter, Forth is nothing if not persistent.

“Do you want a refill? I never got you that cinnamon roll.”

Forth looks inside the cup, he’s not sure why exactly. What he expects to find there. Maybe it's like when you look inside the can after you take a dump. Everyone does it, but no one knows why.

“I better not. I’ll never sleep as it is.”

Beam shrugs and drops the melting ice into the bowl. “I gave you decaf,” he mentions as he stands and leaves the table.  

“Damn. I fucking trusted you, doc.” Forth feels a little violated.

He watches Beam slip back behind the counter. Forth had never taken into account how hot the whole hipster barista thing was before now.

“You’ll thank me later.”

Forth grins.

“Can I thank you over dinner?” See, persistent.

Beam lets a long exasperated sigh.

“Between classes, exams, and working to cover my ever increasing student debt, I’ll be free for dinner seventy years next Saturday.”

Forth shrugs, suppressing another wince. “I can wait,” he says. “I’m a pretty patient guy.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Can I at least get your number?”

Beam looks suspicious.

“You know, in case I need any follow up medical advice,” Forth explains.  

“Ice your face in intervals. Always read the recommended dose on painkillers. Seek medical attention if you throw up or you have a persistent headache.”

“I should also mention I’m forgetful, doc.”

“I’ll write it down.”

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to write down your cell?”

“Do you also not know how to take no for an answer?”

Forth smirks. “Except you haven’t said no.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“Saying what?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

Beam glares. “You’re insufferable.”

“Or adorable?”

Forth chews on the inside of his torn cheek, waiting with bated breath as the cogs of consideration tick behind the baristas eyes.

“If I give you my number, will you leave so I can actually start work?” Beam says.

Forth grins.

“Fighters honor, doc.”

Another cup of decaf later -to go this time- Forth pockets the napkin, dotted with his own blood and scribbled with black ink he hopes is Beam’s real number.

“I’ll call you.”

“Can’t wait,” Beam grumbles.

~Fin.

[k-she-rambles]

so there's this entertainment. Not popular in Radch space, because censorship, but it's got a huge following in the border areas, and places where Radchaii who have left the Radch (the scandal!) have emigrated.

It's about this truly ancient, mysteriously mute salvaged Notai ship, dubbed Exhalation of Peace in the (falsified) identity docs its ragtag smuggling crew provides.

The name’s odd: an obvious translation from old Notai into old Radchaai, just off from the ubiquitous military prayer. Nobody names a civilian ship that. You’d think the crew either didn’t know their own ship’s name, or they were hiding something. No one knows why Ship is mute. Well. Riivarden might.

It's captained by Mal (no house name), A former lieutenant who abandoned her post and led her decade to aid rebels in one of the last annexations. Escaped with her life and only mild reeducation, but no one decent will hire her for anything above a citizen's guaranteed assignment, so she turned to smuggling. (this is, of course, extremely unrealistic to Radchaai audiences --Mal would have been executed for desertion on the spot, probably by one of her own soldiers --but other audiences eat it up). Disillusioned and struggling to find a place in the world now that she can’t fit neatly into the Radch’s hierarchy.

Most of the rest of the crew is in similar straits, trying to make a living on the fringes of the galaxy's cultures:

Zoell Anye, formerly Mal's One Inu One, who followed her commander into criminal desertion (instead of shooting her)

Zoell's husband, Wash. Born and bred on a free station, Wash "pilots" the Exhalation of Peace (when it’s necessary to maintain the fiction that there is no AI), and keeps Ship company. He is essential in figuring out what the silent Ship is trying to say, and is the first to realize that Ship actually speaks to newcomer Riivarden Tam. Wash does not understand (and low-key resents) the Lieutenant-and-soldier relationship between Zoell and Mal

Jayne, the big Tetran mercenary. Crude and very unpleasant, superstitiously religious and overtly greedy, it’s a wonder he’s still with the crew. But he has a soft spot for the ill and sends a good portion of his earnings home to his mother to aid in taking care of his sick sibling. Refuses to wear gloves, even in temples. Takes the piss out of newcomer Seiaatr Tam’s name constantly. Knows immediately what is “wrong” with Riivarden Tam, before even her sister or Keili, and is mad as all get out that no one believes him. After Jayne and the Tams reach an understanding (after the Tams show they can and will demolish him), is an unexpected ally for Riivarden standing up to her sister about her medical treatment.

Keili Frye, Ship’s engineer and sometime tech medic, and the person the crew sends to recruit passengers. Self-conscious about her colony accent, especially around Seiaatr’s Core-Outradch one. Ship takes an interest in Keili’s love life, which is only cute to Radchaai audiences. Has a crush on Seiaatr, and aids in keeping Ship’s true name out of docking records.

Inara Serra, Companion. (Something between a priestess and a courtesan, often an official mediator and bureaucratic problem-solver (especially if the problem can be solved through networking.)) Not technically part of the smuggling crew, but her long term residency aboard Exhalation of Peace lends them credibility and a bump up in reputation. Who is going to tell Companion Inara Serra that her transport is full of criminals while she’s looking politely confused over her tea bowl? Something is going on between Inara and Mal, truly entertainment-worthy levels of belligerent will-they-or-won’t-they

Derrial Book, Valsaayan priest. Technically a passenger. Knows a lot of things he shouldn’t, like how to shoot a person in the kneecap from a distance, how to disguise ancillary implants, and avoid inspections...

Newcomer Seiaatr Tam, a young, Core-Outradch trauma surgeon who kick-starts the plot by choosing the Exhalation of Peace to try and smuggle her little sister away from Outradch space. She doesn’t know what happened to her sister, but she knows for sure that the “Palace school” Anaander Miaanai promised their parents was anything but. Seiaatr is being remarkably game about finding herself out of money and completely cut off from all family connections and patronage, but it is obvious that she feels adrift. Self-conscious about her accent around a group of people (excepting Inara) who simply don’t speak like her. Primary concern in life is the health and safety of Riivarden, but is so obsessed with this that she sometimes steamrolls over Riivarden’s ways of expressing her needs. She just wants her baby sister back.

Riivarden Tam is dead, but Riivarden can’t seem to make Seiaatr understand this. Serenity understands, though, and lets Riivarden listen to the starshine on Serenity’s hull when she can’t sleep for knowing Anaander Miaanai is coming for her failed experiment. Riivarden Tam is dead, but neither is Riivarden Anaander Miaanai. The Lord of the Radch failed, and Riivarden was left with corrupted implants, no emotional middle gear, and no way to control what she’d been able to hear from other people even before Anaander had scrambled her brains. And, most damning, the secrets of the Radch, the real Radch, the Dyson Sphere at the heart of the Empire. They need to shoot her before Anaander finds her, and Anaander will find her. Not today, Serenity whispers. Today you are safe. Today we have the whole sky. Riivarden sleeps.

[tgai-spock]

A sharp intake

Chapter 5

McCoy took his breakfast to eat with Spock, that morning despite not knowing whether or not Spock really understood what he said, he had explained to Spock that he was suffering and injury. McCoy sat on the end of his bed eating his own breakfast, Spock sat on the floor picking at his last vegetable.

“I’ll tell you what though, this whole silent thing, is freaking me out. Is it because you got shrunk or are you just stubborn? Can you physically not? Are you shy?” McCoy says, carrying on one of his many rambles. Spock tilts his head.

“That is exactly what I’m talking about” McCoy said picking up his plate, and Spock’s empty bowl “anyway. I’ll see you for lunch I’ll send nurse Chapel in soon.”

McCoy took the bowls over to the door only to become horribly aware that he was being followed. It wasn’t the noise he made, and he didn’t stand too close. It was just, an awareness.

He turned to the boy who stayed silent “and where do you think you’re going?” Spock touched the door with a hand. McCoy sighed he lent down on one knee.

“It’s too dangerous out there for you, the atmosphere, and gravity could hurt you. It’s not that I want to keep you in here. Do you understand?” He asked.

Spock nodded.

“Good” McCoy said, as Spock took a step to the side. McCoy opened the door to let himself out, and Spock ran.

“Spock!”

It wasn’t purely that his vulcan speed would force the adults to run, but the timing of his escape had gone perfectly with the closing of the elevator doors out in the hall. By the time McCoy had put down the bowl and plate, he could see no sign of where Spock had gone. Had he gone in the elevator, or had he run down the hall? For Spock on the other hand it was a different story, he had got himself stuck in an elevator with a very surprised young man. A man with curly hair, and a yellow jumper.

“Hello Mister Spock” Chekov said. Spock looked up at the man, but stayed mostly still.

“Where are you going?” Chekov asked curiously.

Spock did not reply.

“Do you remember me?”

Spock shook his head.

“My name is Chekov. I am going to Sulu’s lab, it has lots of plants like a green house. Would you like to come with me?”

Spock thought for a moment still eyeing Chekov wearily. But he nodded his head, as the lift came to a stop.

“Come on then Mizster Spock.” Chekov said leading him down the hallway.

Sulu’s lab, known to everyone else as the gardening room, or even the plant specimen lab, was a long room, warm and humid, sections were built up high to grow plants. Bush’s and plants full of berries decorated the path as they walked through.

“Sulu? Are you in here?” Chekov called as they got deeper into the room. The view completely blocked by the greenery for tiny Spock.

“Yes? I just had to water my-” Sulu stopped watering a greenish plant with a pink flower. Instead of petals it had five differently sized phalanges and they followed Sulu as he moved, even giving him a friendly nip. 

“Hello Spock” Sulu said putting the watering can down, Spock greeted him with the vulcan salute, which Sulu mimicked back.

“Chekov” Sulu said with wide eyes, and then gestured up with his hands “why is Mister Spock with you?”

“I found him.”

“McCoy’s going to be angry” Sulu said pursing his lips to hide a grin.

“Then the Doctor should have kept a better eye on him.”

Sulu shrugged “well this is a you problem, so I’m going to leave that one to you.”

“In Russia we share each others problems.”

“Get in trouble by yourself, thank you.” Sulu said watching as Spock slowly approached staring at deeply at the pink flower.

“I found him in the elevator” Chekov said “if anything I am hero.”

“Thats one way of phrasing it, kidnapper, could be another.” Sulu said as Spock pointed questionably to the flower.

“Who this? This is Mr Benjamin.” Sulu introduced Spock. Spock reached out his hand, but looked to Sulu before moving to close.

“Yes! Yes you can touch him, he’s very nice.” Sulu said excitedly and stroked the head of the flower. Spock stroked the flower. The flower moved and played with Spock, just as it had been doing with Sulu.

“He is very cute” Chekov said.

“I know, you know I’ve him since he was just a sapling.”

“…I meant Spock. Nothing like when I was a child.” Chekov said.

“Oh.” Sulu said and looked to Chekov “I don’t think I believe that, I’m sure you were just as adorable as you are now.”

“You do not understand” Chekov said “father vould straighten hair and give bowl cut for school photography. I look awful.”

Sulu snorted “no. No. I’m not believing that. A bowl cut?”

“Father vould say bowl cut good, bowl cut inwented in Russia.”

“What do you think Spock? Bowl cut invented in Russia?” Sulu asked.

Spock shook his head, his attention still on the flower.

“Maybe bowl cut was invented on vulcan, right?” Sulu laughed.

“You not know true horrors of bowl cut” Chekov said pointing to Spock “that is short hair and tiny fringe bowl cut leave true trauma.”

At this Sulu had doubled up with laughter, Spock stopped stroking the flower as he paid careful attention to the two humans.

“This not funny Sulu, very scarring for me, I not able to show cute childhood photos and win peoples hearts.”

“What on earth going on here” Nurse Chapel her shoes loudly hitting the floor as she marched in, she didn’t shout but her sudden appearance had been enough to make the three of them jump.

“And why haven’t you returned Spock to the medical bay?” She asked walking past Chekov and over to Spock.

“I not know he lost” Chekov said.

“He’s not supposed to be in here it’s too humid. Come on Spock” Nurse Chapel said holding out a hand for him. Spock tugged at Sulu’s trousers hiding behind him.

“Aw I’m sorry Spock, maybe you should go with her.” Sulu said, in return Spock gave him a death glare.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, you got to.”

Slowly Spock walked out from his hiding place and stood next to Nurse Chapel, her hand still held out.

“You’re holding my hand. You’ve already run away once, and I know it is perfectly acceptable to hold a vulcan child’s hand so come on.”

Slowly he took her hand and walked out of the room, hearing a small call behind them of

“Goodbye commander!”

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]        [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]        [Chapter 5]

[Chapter 6]     [Chapter 7]       [Chapter 8]   [chapter 9]   [Chapter 10]

[Chapter 12]