#he started playing in the void puddle got told no and took that personally.

[wormboyfriendcentralstation]

tolkien is full of three dimensional villains who understand the mistakes that they've made and regret them, or who have very understandable motivations that we literally watch spiral downward. melkor, meanwhile, came into existence as the strongest prettiest best cosmic entity, immediately started trying to fight god for the aux cord, and made it everyone else's problem for the next All Of Existence

[stratiotis-nth]

Ever since Cas came back and turned human, it would seem he’s stopped giving a shit about literally everything. When Dean noticed this new aspect of Cas’ colorful personality, he had made himself paranoid that Cas would suddenly start flirting with him on the regular now that his big confession was out in the open.

So while Dean was scared shitless, he was confusingly disappointed when Cas didn’t do that at all.

No. The first thing the ex-angel did after surviving another encounter with death was start a Shotgun war with Sam.

And no, not the bang bang kinda shotgun.

“Shotgun!” Cas practically bellowed down the corridor as the three of them were getting ready to get dinner.

“That’s not fair, Cas! I’m in the bathroom!” Sam complained through the closed door. Cas ignored him completely as he strode past and ducked into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean, who had been desperately trying to stay out of this war, just gave Cas a sideways smile.

“Y’know, the rules are you can’t call shotgun until you actually see the car, Cas.” He told him, his lips tugging up in amusement and…just happiness that Cas was close.

“Until Sam demands to implement this rule, I will abuse his ignorance.” Cas replied, smiling softly. Once again, every time Cas won the passenger seat, Dean wanted to ask what was with his sudden obsession with it. It wasn’t like Cas hadn’t been stubborn enough to claim it before he became human. He wondered what changed, why Cas suddenly cared about seating arrangements. But, as he had been doing ever since they got Cas back (again), Dean bit his tongue. He didn’t want to overwhelm the newly human with the tsunami of questions he had.

Sam griped the entire way to the diner, grumbling about being squished even though Dean knew there was more than enough space. Cas sat next to Dean, watching the trees amble by with a serene, totally unaffected smile on his face. Pleased as a pickle. Dean was fighting his own internal battle between his burning questions and undying amusement at Sam’s plight.

At the diner, Cas sat next to Dean. That much was hardly anything new. The two just naturally gravitated towards each other, and after Dean caught himself drifting mindlessly towards Cas more times than he could count, he stopped giving him grief about personal space.

Cas’ thigh brushed up against his almost the entire meal. Dean pretended not to notice, but internally, he was melting into a puddle of bi panic.

In the parking lot, Sam was quick to call shotgun when Cas got distracted by their waitress catching up to him and giving him her phone number. Dean was too busy bristling and snapping at Cas to hurry up to even notice Sam was sitting next to him.

Cas sulked the entire ride home, the waitress’ number stuffed into one of his pockets. Dean tried not to think that maybe Cas was saving her number for another time.

On Saturday, it was Dean’s turn to go on a food run. Sam was busy working a ghoul case with Eileen, so when Cas wanted to come along there was no yelling match over the front. He ducked into the passenger seat and just about blinded Dean’s poor weak heart with a smile that crinkled his nose.

They fought over eggs for about twenty minutes in the diary aisle. Dean win by threatening to give Sam exclusive access to shotgun. Cas relented with a glower that could have smote demons if he still had his grace.

Eventually, Sam did implement the rule about only calling shotgun with the car in sight, and as the weeks went by and Dean’s silent journey is self realization unfolded, the war at escalated. Now, neither of them could call shotgun without all three of them being in sights of the car. It had gotten bad enough that Sam and Cas waited impatiently for Dean in the garage, staring expectantly for him to round the corner so they could have their yelling match.

Cas nearly blew Dean’s eardrums out, bellowing “SHOTGUN!” loud enough to drown out Sam. He angrily opened his mouth to argue when his phone started ringing.

“It’s Eileen.” He said, his back snapping straight and immediately answering the video call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride?” Dean could hear Eileen’s voice over the tinny speakers. “My car broke down and the nearest shop is two hours away.”

“Where are you?”

“An hour away from you? It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Dean saw Sam’s face soften, the tension of worry falling away. He butted in, sticking his face in view of the camera so Eileen could read his lips.

“Just tow it here. I can patch your ride.” He said. “Sam can take the tow truck.”

“Are you sure?” Eileen asked.

“Course. ‘Sides, those guys won’t give you a fair price anyway.” Dean flapped his hand dismissively.

“Thanks, Dean.” Eileen beamed, and oh, Dean knew that smile. Mischievous and damnit, she had planned this from the start, hadn’t she? Just to get a free repair out of him. Dean squinted suspiciously at her, and Eileen just wiggled her eyebrows.

“Cas and I can pick up the curse box and meet you two back here in a few hours.” Dean said. He saw Cas immediately brighten, having secured the passenger seat.

Cas was looking particularly triumphant as they drove, his knees rocking back and forth in a content, mindless sort of way. Finally, Dean couldn’t hold back the question anymore.

He had done his work accepting the fact that he wasn’t as straight as he thought, that it wasn’t very heterosexual to stare at Cas’ lips or pop an awkward boner seeing him all cleaned up after Purgatory, or completely shutting down every time he died or getting all prickly when waitresses give him her phone number. He was gay for Cas, and he had just gotten around to accepting this. Cas said he loved him, right? so Dean shouldn’t be afraid or rejection or anything. Yeah, no he was terrified.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He turned to him with that soft smile that Dean wanted all to himself.

“I gotta ask, man,” Dean chuckled a little awkwardly and kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Why are you so determined about sitting shotgun? You’ve never been before.”

“Ah.” Cas hummed, turning back to the road too. “I suppose now I have the freedom to pursue the things I want. Chuck is gone and my deal with the Empty is null in void. I have time to…focus my attentions on other things.”

“The things you want? What, you got a better view up here or something?”

“Well yes, the windshield does allow more viewing space.” Cas agreed. “But it’s not my main goal in doing all this.”

“Then…what is?”

“Dean.” Cas said in that ever patient, you’re-being-dumb-about-this voice. “I enjoy being up here because it allows me to be closer to you. You are the view I most admire, Dean. I’m always so helplessly drawn to you.”

Dean’s mouth had gone a little dry and his grip on the wheel was suddenly sweaty. The silence that fell was deafening. Cas didn’t even look concerned. He just sat there waiting the road as if he hadn’t just said something so…so…soft to Dean.

Helplessly drawn. Like Cas couldn’t bear being away from him. Like Dean was this perfect, magnetic thing that Cas was enchanted by, something worth having around.

With a jerk of the wheel, Dean was pulling over on the side of the empty highway in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He threw Baby into park before twisting around and staring at Cas.

He didn’t even look vaguely concerned, the fucker. He just gave Dean a patient look.

Dean opened his mouth, and closed it. Did it again, ready to tell Cas everything. Snapped his jaw shut.

Cas watched in cool amusement. Dean felt his cheeks get hot.

“Screw this.” He grumbled to himself, before lunging across the bench, grabbing Cas’ face with both hands, and kissing him square on the lips.

He felt Cas freeze for a moment, probably in total shock, before he started moving.

Dean nearly choked on a gasp as the chapped, warm lips started pushing and devouring, Cas was suddenly the one taking charge, shoving Dean back against his window as he clambered across the seats to get on top of him.

Twelve years of pent up emotions came crashing out in a sudden burst of unstoppable passion. And as soon as it started, it seemed to have stopped. They both were panting, Dean’s jeans were tight and his entire body screamed to have Cas against him again. But Cas had made to move away, putting space between him as he looked at Dean with wide eyes.

He didn’t get very far. Dean grabbed ahold of his jacket lapels and held on tight with an iron grip, keeping Cas hovering inches above him, basically sharing air.

“Wanna hear a secret?” He whispered between heavy breathes. Cas just blinked at him. “I’ve always rooted for you getting shotgun.”

Cas’ kiss swollen lips split into a dazzling smile, and he rewarded Dean with another intense make out session. When they pulled away, Dean found the words spilling out of his mouth.

“I love you too, Cas. You can have me. God, you have had me, for years you have. Can’t believe it took me so long, I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t have me, I’m sorry it took me so long—“

Cas shut him up with another kiss, and Dean’s ramble faded into a helpless whimper that too was swallowed up by Cas.

“Does this mean I get exclusive shotgun privileges?” Cas asked a few hours later than they finally took the curse box off the poor shopkeeper’s hands. They had arrived nearly an hour late, not that Dean (or his dick for that matter) particularly cared.

“Honestly? Play it up to Sam and he might let you get away with it for a while.” Dean chuckled. Without even thinking too hard about it, his free hand slithered over the bench, grabbing Cas’ and entwining their fingers. Something so small and simple, yet made Dean light up like a sun.

If Cas didn’t manage to convince Sam, Dean sure as hell would.

[gooddaykate]

You Ain’t Woman Enough

Frankie Morales x Reader

Word Count: just under 4400

Tags: Pining, Fake Dating because Frankie has an annoying coworker, cursing, my roughly unedited terrible writing, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: Okay, y’all. I wrote a thing. It literally would not have been finished without the constant support of @rzrcrst​. I’m just going to put this here and yeet myself into the void. Let me know what you think. Or not, it’s whatever. Gif credit to @pascalplease​ (let me know if you don’t want your gif used, sweetie)

The bar was crowded and loud, but you still heard Frankie’s quiet curse as he pulled his cap further down over his eyes.

“You good, Frankie?” you asked with a nudge of your shoulder.

He huffed and curled in on himself more. “You remember me telling you about that girl I work with? The one who works the gate?”

How could you not? He had complained about Kelly almost as long as you’d known him. 

When Frankie and his baby girl had moved in next door six months ago, you were fast friends. He had moved to the Rockies to be closer to his parents. He got a job at the small airport to fly the puddle jumper planes for the celebrities that came and went in Aspen. It was easy to fall into a camaraderie with him, talking shit about the people who came to play in the ski town you both worked in. It was just the two of them, and it was easy to offer help. Whenever he needed someone to look after his baby, you were the first to step up. He was quiet and kind, and always willing to lend a hand in return. He’d helped fix leaky faucets and a broken water heater. You hadn’t shoveled your own drive since you’d started watching Rosie for him.

You’d lost track of the number of times the two of you had sat in one of your living rooms just talking after Rosie was down for the night. You quickly learned that you could trust each other with the truth, so you shared everything. You talked through your quiet fears together. He knew about your relationship with your family and how you felt you needed to be close enough that they could visit, but far enough that they wouldn’t. You’d learned about his brothers, Pope and Will and Benny, and his time in Delta Force and the ptsd that it had given him. He had held your hand when you told him about the college boyfriend you’d had, the one you still had an open order of protection against. He had told you about how he used to cope with the ptsd, how he’d lost his pilot’s license, and the divorce that came with. You were angry for him, but mostly Rosie, when he told you that her mom had decided she didn’t want anything to do with her, either, and left her at his friend’s place while he was out of the country. On one particularly quiet night, Frankie told you about another brother and a trip to South America and how nothing had gone like it was supposed to.

The two of you were as close as two friends could be. You didn’t have any secrets between you, apart from one. It was easy to fall for Frankie and Rosie both, and you knew you’d keep that to yourself for as long as you knew them.

Kelly was a constant talking point and source of frustration for Frankie. You had never met her, but to hear him talk about her was enough. She  asked him out every time she saw him and constantly touched his arms and back and shoulders. One time she even took his hat off and ran her fingers through his hair. When you asked him why he’d let her do that, he mumbled something about just letting it be and changed the subject. Most often, he would end his rant about her with a ‘this isn’t fucking Wings.’ You’d usually just smile and move on. But Frankie hadn’t talked about Kelly in a couple weeks.

You raised your eyebrow at him, and he pointed. “Blonde in the red sweater.”

“Oh, holy hell. That’s Kelly? Does she live in the village?”

“No! She lives down in Aspen.”

You watched her as she scanned the bar, presumably looking for an open spot. Sitting in the darkest corner table would hopefully be your saving grace. When she passed over a couple seats at the bar and a few empty tables, something occurred to you.

“You don’t think she came up this way just to find you, do you?”

“Knowing her, I wouldn’t put it past her. Fuck.” Frankie took a large breath in and started talking. “Look, there’s something I didn’t tell you. I was hoping it’d never come up, but here we are. I got her to stop asking me out a couple weeks ago by saying I had been seeing someone for the last six months. And I may have mentioned it was you because I’ve got pictures with you and it was easy. And I know this sucks because we’re friends and all, but if you could just, I don’t know, hold my hand until she leaves? Please?”

You were stunned silent for a moment, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. Before you could respond, Kelly’s eyes found Frankie and she started making her way over.

“Shit, she’s seen you.”

You leaned in and took his hand. “I’ve got you, Frankie,” you whispered as you brushed a chaste kiss across his cheek. “Whatever you need.”

He raised his desperate eyes to yours in a quiet thanks, and you tore yours away from him to watch Kelly walk to your table. She was conventionally beautiful, with long blonde hair falling in waves down her back. Her jeans were so tight they looked uncomfortable and the red sweater she wore was cut low enough that you knew it was never intended as anything heat retaining.

You turned back to find Frankie’s eyes on you, eyebrows pulled low in concern. Without thinking, you raised your free hand to his face and smoothed the crease between his eyebrows before bringing it back down and cupping his cheek.

“It’ll be fine, Frankie. What’re friends for?”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Kelly had draped herself over him, making you jump and move your hand away from his face.

“Oh my god, Francisco! I didn’t know you’d be here! What a coinkydink!” She gave him an exaggerated wink and moved her body away from him, but kept her hands around his bicep.

His whole body was tense and his tone was clipped when he responded.“Yeah, well, I told you I was getting drinks with my girlfriend tonight, and that’s why I couldn’t go out with you. This is one of very few options, Kelly.”

“Oh, right. Well who’s got little Rosalina tonight if your neighbor is here with you?”

“We got a sitter,” Frankie all but mumbled.

Her eyes widened. “Wow, it’s the royal we, now?” she asked with an air of mocking incredulity.

She still hadn’t looked at you, or even acknowledged that you were there, apart from her emphasis on knowing that you lived next door to him. You gave his hand a squeeze and spoke up.

“Has been for the last couple of months, actually.”

She finally turned to look at you, a purse on her lips and heavy disdain in her eyes. You flashed her a smile and introduced yourself.

She held her hand out loose and palm down, like she expected you to kiss it. “Kelly.”

You gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Oh, I’m well aware. It’s good to put a face to the many stories I’ve heard.”

Kelly dropped your hand and draped herself across Frankie’s shoulder again, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Francisco! You talk about me at home? What does little Rosalina think?”

Frankie was three stages of red and trying to peel her off of himself, but she kept latching on. “Kelly, Rose isn’t even a year, she doesn’t think about you.”

She let him go and pouted, like she was the baby. “But if you talk about me-”

“I don’t talk to my daughter about you.”

You had to cover up your laugh with a startled cough. Kelly’s eyes turned to you as she sat down in the third chair at the table.

“So you’re the girlfriend, then?”

You laughed and squeezed Frankie’s hand. “Yeah, I guess you could call me that. I mean, he certainly does.”

“The prospect of seeing her makes it easy to get up in the morning.” He chuckled. “You know, besides having an infant in the house.”

Kelly hummed and rolled her eyes. “Right. So, Francisco, tell me, why is it just you and little Rosalina?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Kelly, that’s deeply personal and none of your business.”

Frankie brought you entwined hands up to kiss the back of yours. “That’s okay, cariño. I don’t mind.” He put your hands back on the table and turned to Kelly. “Her mom and I were in the process of getting divorced before Rosie was actually born. We just,” he trailed off and looked at you. You gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand for him to continue. “We just weren’t right for each other. About a month after she was born, I took a trip to South America, and when I came back a week later, I found out that she decided she’d rather not be a mom, either. She left Rosie and the completed divorce paperwork with my buddy’s wife and took off. I haven’t actually seen or heard from her, since. After that, it was a stupidly easy decision to move back up here. My parents live in the village, so they could help out with their granddaughter and I’d have a support system that was more than a pair of brothers. One of whom beats people up for a living.”

He shrugged. “It was the best decision I could’ve made.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

He smiled. “I moved back to Colorado and found her.” He squeezed your hand again. “I wasn’t looking for it, but I fell in love again. I was lucky. And I couldn’t be more thankful for that.I love her almost as much as I love my daughter.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you had to remind yourself that this was for show. Obviously Frankie didn’t actually love you, he was just telling Kelly that he did. As far as she knew, you’d been dating for six months. Of course you would have said you loved each other.

You figured that it would be easiest to just give the partial truth, so you smiled. This was the easiest part you would ever have to play. “I’m definitely the lucky one. He moved in next door and it was completely impossible not to fall in love with them. I’m still sure that I’m going to wake up and it will all have been some kind of dream.”

Frankie turned to look at you, and the amount of love you could see in his eyes made you suck in a breath. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón.”

You knew you had to swallow down the emotion that brought up, but damn, if that didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach. It was just too much, having Frankie talk about your nonexistent romance. The feeling of his hand in yours, every brush of his leg, all the lovely words he used to describe a love you didn’t share. You just needed to get away for a moment.

“You’re the sweetest. Right. Excuse me for a minute.” You leaned over to kiss his cheek, and met Frankie’s eyes with a sad smile and a silent apology.

Once you pushed your way through the mass of people hovered by the bar, you leaned on the counter and looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

“What the hell am I doing? Why did I agree to that?” You hung your head low and let out a heavy sigh.

The door opened and the loud sounds from the bar interrupted your thoughts. When you straightened up to leave, you took one last look in the mirror and noticed Kelly standing behind you with her arms folded across her chest. When you made eye contact, a slow smile spread across her face. The look in her eyes made you shiver before you turned to face her.

She took a step closer. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? I know you’re in love with Francisco.”

A startled laugh bubbled up out of your chest. It took a moment for you to respond because you weren’t sure if she was serious. “Of course I’m in love with Frankie. It would be impossible not to be completely in love with him and Rosie, both.”

Kelly raised one eyebrow and smirked before continuing. “Oh, I know that’s true. But I also know that you and Francisco aren’t actually dating. You’re just his neighbor and occasional babysitter. You can drop the act.”

You blinked in surprise, eyebrows shooting up your forehead. “Excuse me?”

“I know Francisco isn’t seeing you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following. How’d you come to that conclusion?”

Her eyes still hadn’t left yours, and it seemed like she wasn’t even blinking. “You know, when Francisco first told me that he was dating you, I was massively jealous.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a huff. “You don’t say.”

She ignored you and kept talking. “But I started watching him. I came up to Snowmass and asked around. I’ve watched the two of you together. I’ve seen you with Rosalina. I know you’re not a couple. I don’t know why Francisco thought he needed to make up some girlfriend and then pawn it off on someone who he clearly has no actual feelings for.”

You were horrified. “You’ve been watching him and Rosie?”

“Oh, I just needed to see who my Francisco was spending his time with. Now that I know that I don’t actually have to worry about him having feelings for you, he can go back to being my Francisco. I can’t believe you’re still carrying a torch for him when he clearly doesn’t care for you.” She backed away and looked down at her fingernails. “I mean, come on, you’ve clearly been in love with him for longer than I’ve been watching.”

Kelly’s face was smug, like she knew she was in your head. But you were focused on the more important part of her little speech.

You started out slow, to make sure she caught that you’d understood her. “So, just to be clear, you’re admitting to actively stalking Francisco Morales and his daughter.”

“What, that’s not-”

“That’s what you’ve just said. You said you started watching him. That you have watched his home, and his daughter, and who they’re spending time with. You’ve asked about him in the town that he lives in. You made a trip out of the way of where you live, just feign accidentally running into him and to corner me. Did you go to his house before you came here?”

“I am not stalking Francisco. That’s not what this is,” she spluttered.

“Oh? Then tell me exactly what this is, Kelly.”

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying to come up with something. After a few moments of letting her flounder, she finally stepped forward and pointed her finger in your face.

“We work together! I’m not stalking Francisco! Even if that was true, you have no proof,” she seethed through clenched teeth.

A scary sort of calm washed over you. You had experience here. You could help Frankie and Rosie both.

“Get your finger out of my face, Kelly.” It took her a couple seconds, but she did drop her hand. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead three times.

“How careful were you to stay hidden when you were spying on Frankie’s home, Kelly?”

“That’s- I don’t-”

“That’s okay, Kelly. I have security cameras around my property. And we can certainly find testimony of the people you talked to. And I’m sure the airport staff would vouch for how uncomfortable you make Frankie on a daily basis. It’s easy enough to request a restraining order. Do you suppose that’s enough proof?”

Kelly’s eyes were wide and the fear you could see brought a slow smile to your face.

“We could probably even issue a protective order, since you have actually admitted to me, one of his child’s caregivers, that you’ve been actively stalking her and her father.”

Her eyes were panicked, and before anything else could be said, she was out the door. You took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter.

“What the fuck.”

A stall opened, and you startled. A young woman stepped out holding her phone. “I recorded that whole conversation. Do you want me to send it to you?”

Your brows furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“I recorded what she was saying. Do you want me to send it to you?”

“Oh, uh,” you ran a hand down your face. “Yes, please. How much did you get?”

Her smile was sheepish when she handed you her phone. “Well, I hit record when she said she knew you were in love with him. I thought it was going to be a drunk girl confrontation that I could laugh about with my friends. Now I’m just kind of glad I’m a nosy bitch.”

You chuckled as you typed your number in. “No kidding. Thank you for having the insight to record, I guess. I don’t know what will come of it, but if he does decide to pursue something, we may need you to give some sort of statement.”

“All good. I figured. Just keep my number for if you need it.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and sent a comforting smile your way before leaving the bathroom.

You took a shaky breath and headed back to your table.

“What the hell did you say to her? She just took her bag and left, didn’t even say bye.”

You sat down and took his hand in yours. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You don’t have to do that anymore, she’s not here.”

“Frankie, what I’m about to say isn’t something nice.”

He interrupted you with a laugh. “I’d be surprised if you did have anything nice to say. She’s a lot.”

With a sigh, you looked down at your hand in his, and brought your free hand up to cover your entwined fingers. “No, Frankie. It’s really not good. Kelly…” you trailed off, unsure whether to sugar coat or just come right out and say it.

“Sweetheart, just talk. It’s me.”

Your eyes met his and you made your decision. “Frankie, Kelly has been stalking you and Rosie.”

The color drained from his face. “No. Kelly’s just a nuisance. She’d never go that far.”

“Frankie, she just cornered me in the bathroom to tell me that she knows we aren’t dating because she’s been watching you. There was another woman in a stall and she recorded it. She’s been watching me with Rosie and asking about you in the village.”

“Oh god, my baby. Would she have hurt my baby?”

His eyes were desperate again, but this time, holding his hand wouldn’t help. “I don’t know, Sweetie. I don’t know. You wait here, and I’ll pay our tab and we can go home so you can hold Rosie. You’ll be able to put your baby to bed and then we can talk about this more, if you want, okay love?”

Frankie’s eyes were glazed over with tears and he looked almost catatonic when you got back to him.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you up so we can start walking home. Just a few minutes longer and you’ll have your baby girl in your arms. It’ll be okay, Frankie. I’ll help you however you need.”

The short walk back to your houses was quiet, your arm around his. Every time you looked at Frankie’s face, you saw the fear in his eyes, and you knew that he was imagining the worst-case scenario when you got home. He was afraid that he was going to walk in and find his daughter missing. A part of you was also afraid you were going to find that.

When you walked into the door to see Taylor sitting on the sofa with Rosie on her lap, you let out a sigh of relief. You could see Frankie visibly relax, his shoulders releasing some of the tension he’d let build up on the walk home.

“Oh, you’re home early. Is everything okay?”

Rosie’s chubby hands were reaching for her father, and he moved to take her into his arms. You sent a subtle shake of your head to her, and she nodded.

“Well, Mr. Morales, she was an absolute delight, as always.”

Frankie only hummed in response, Rosie tucked into the crook of his neck, lightly playing with the curls at his ear.

You gestured over to the door and reached for your wallet. “I don’t know how much he pays you, honey, but this is all the cash I’ve got.”

Taylor looked at you with wide eyes. “I wasn’t even here for an hour, though! You don’t have to do that.”

You put both twenties in her hand and then raised yours in surrender. “Oh, no, shucks, it’s in your possession, now, you can’t give it back.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Okay, then. Thank you.” She turned to where Frankie was standing. “Bye, sweet Rose. Anytime you guys need me, let me know. I just love her to pieces. Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Morales.”

Frankie just nodded his head at her and went back to loving on his daughter.

“Thanks, hon. Have a good night. Drive safe,” you whispered as she walked out of the house. You locked the door behind her and turned back to Frankie. “You want me to hang out here for a bit?”

“Please. I’m going to put her down here in a couple minutes.”

You sat on the couch and tried to busy yourself on your phone, but your eyes kept drifting back to Frankie. He had Rosie resting on his shoulder just quietly rocking her in his arms. Her eyes were falling shut, but was fighting sleep because she’d startle awake every so often. Once she was out, Frankie looked at you. “Okay, I’m going to put her down. I’ll be right back.”

When he came back out to the living room, he sat down next to you on the sofa. “Okay. You said something about a recording?”

“Yeah, there was a girl in one of the stalls. She thought it was going to be something funny she could share with her friends so she started a voice recording.”

“Let’s hear it, I guess.”

You put your hand on his knee. “Frankie, we don’t have to listen to this right now. We can go over this in the morning, if you want. I don’t want you to lose sleep.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m already not going to sleep well. I’d rather just listen now.”

“Okay, sweetie,” you sighed. You opened the text and pressed play.

The tail end of your nervous laugh sounded and your stomach dropped. You’d forgotten that about what else Kelly had said. You just had to hope that Frankie focused on Kelly like you had.

“‘Of course I’m in love with Frankie. It would be impossible not to be completely in love with him and Rosie, both.’”

As Kelly continued talking in the recording, you just watched Frankie’s face. You usually didn’t have a hard time reading him, he was someone who rarely hid his emotions, but right then he just looked impassive.

“‘I mean, come on, you’ve clearly been in love with him for longer than I’ve been watching.’”

You could feel your face heating up.

Frankie reached over and paused the recording. “Is that true?”

You closed your eyes. “Frankie, I-”

“Dulzura, please. You have to know. How could you not?”

You looked into his eyes, but you still couldn’t make out the emotion in them. “Know what, Frankie?”

“Cariño, everything I said tonight,” he trailed off. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. “Do you even know how much you mean to me?” he whispered.

“Of course. I help out with Rosie. We’re friends.” Just saying that out loud brought a lump to your throat. There were tears in your eyes threatening to spill, so you looked up toward the ceiling.

Frankie reached out and took your face in his hands, tilting it back down to look at him. A tear fell and he brushed it away with his thumb. “Dulzura, you mean so much more to me than just friends. Everything I said tonight was true. I wasn’t looking for love when I moved back here. I wanted a quiet neighborhood where I could raise my daughter near her abuelos. But love found me anyways.”

You could feel your lip quiver. “Really?”

Frankie smiled and brought his forehead to rest on yours. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón, mi amor,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Frankie. With all of my heart.”

He brought his lips up to place a kiss on your forehead. “You sure you want to do this, cariño? You know all my baggage. You know how tough it will be.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Francisco Morales, you are the easiest man to love. You are kind and selfless. You’re stubborn. You love that baby of yours so, so much. It was so easy to fall for you. I’ve loved you since that first night we sat and talked right here.”

“Funny, that’s the night I knew, too. And the first night I bitched about Kelly.”

You groaned and looked down at your phone. “It can wait, cariño. It can wait.”

You looked back up at him and smirked. “You haven’t even kissed me, yet, Francisco.”

Frankie hummed and brushed a bit of hair away from your face and smiled. “You’re right, I haven’t. You are so beautiful, cariño.”

He leaned in close enough that your noses brushed. “May I?” he whispered.

Your answering ‘please’ was barely audible, but he closed the distance anyway.

Frankie was right. He loved you, so everything else could wait until morning.

[xenolithium]

Wet with Rain and Smoke (America/Prussia)

Gilbert watched the rain pour down from the sky above, there was just something so therapeutic about smoking during a storm. When the air was both damp and wet, his lungs were instead filled with a warmth that drifted out of his mouth into the air above. God, he needed this break only five minutes into the meeting. Why did he go to these anyway? It wasn't like he was needed anymore.

The albino male leaned against a nearby pillar, closing his eyes for a moment to take everything in. The sound of the birds off in the distant, the soft howling of the wind whenever it picked up enough to be heard. The distinct scent of his cigarette and...someone's cologne?

He knew it was coming before he even turned to look. Feeling a pair of arms circle around him and pull him close. He swore his heart skipped a beat, for a reason he would never acknowledge. "Good afternoon, Gilbo!" Was practically shouted into his ear as he balanced his cigarette on his lips in order to smack Alfred with his good hand. "Ow rude, dude."

"How am I the rude one? I'm pretty damn sure you're the one who got into my personal space and yelled directly into my eardrums." Alfred chuckled at that, though he didn't let go of Gil's midsection. "What do you want, kid?" He only ever called him kid when he was annoyed.

"You didn't come and eat lunch with the rest of us."

"So?"

"So something is clearly wrong. You only ever smoke when you're stressed out."

Gilbert took a step forward, forcefully removing himself from Alfred's grip as he turned to give him a scathing glare. One he hoped would give the other a hint that he wanted to be left alone. Though this was America they were talking about, so the silent threat bounced right off of him and into a void to be lost forever.

"What? Are you an armchair psychologist now on top of playing hero? Fuck off." Gilbert took another long drag of his cigarette.

Alfred didn't flinch at being told what to do, he merely sat down next to Gilbert instead. "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong? Or are you going to keep acting like a jerk?"

"I'm going to walk right back inside if you don't shut up."

"Right and deal with a worried Ludwig instead of me?"

Gilbert grit his teeth together, he hated how easily his past ward could read right through him like a book. It annoyed the hell out of him because every time, it worked. At least a little bit. "Who says I'm worried about that?" He felt a hand reach up and lace with his own. His heart doing that aggravating thing where it warmed his whole body with tiny pin pricks of happiness; that caused his shoulders to sag with relief, rather than stand rigid and at attention. And which also paused his constant fidgeting of his tie and cufflinks, fixing and ruining them. Only to fix them again.

"Because you're always worried about him."

Gilbert chucked his unfinished butt into a puddle just a few feet away from where the two were perched upon a much more dry set of stairs. Finally giving in and taking a seat next to Alfred. Looking anywhere but the American's face as the other male massaged his hand with the pad of his thumb. The two sitting in silence for a long while as the rain trickled down around them.

"The meeting's going to start again soon," Alfred piped up, eventually breaking the quiet spell between them.

"I realize that, just give me a moment," he replied, letting out a deep sigh and running his free hand through his hair. Pulling the white strands back, only to have them fall forwards onto his face again.

"I didn't realize we were having one of those~" Alfred teased, only to get a sharp kick to the shin from the ex-nation. Though a playful one. The younger of the two simply pulling him closer, rather than moving apart in response to what most would consider a hostile action. His arm looping around Gilbert's lower back as he presses up against his side.

"Can you ever keep your hands to yourself?"

"Not around you~" Al cooed teasingly.

"That's a fucking lie." He sighed, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. "I think I'm fine now."

"You sure?" And Gilbert turned to look at him for the first time, directly in the eyes. Where he saw blue orbs twinkling with barely contained concern.

"Yeah." He whispered almost breathlessly, like the snarky retort he planned to spit into the American's face left him in that moment. Instead, he leaned into the touch just that bit more before Al bridged the gap. Alfred's cheek resting against Gilbert's head as he began to shake with silent sobs.

The rain stopped.

[softer-ua]

Two Left Feet, And One In The Mouth

Pt. 1

Lying there catching his breath seething Katsuki became suddenly aware of the feeling of melting iceberg quickly soaking his back, every drop replacing his already spread thin patients

Katsuki knew he need to hurry up and fix things with Deku, that he should go change into the spare clothes he kept in his office, that he had a much better chance of winning Deku over if he played nice with his friends, and he knew Shoto was only turning his hoodie into a impromptu sponge to piss him off and distract him from actually accomplishing any of that.

He also knew that it was fucken working.

Jumping up he felt his hoodie’s new weight pulling on him, the bastard had soaked him all the way through and the hoodie's fluffy inside was only making it worse, gross dirty floor water was fast spreading all the way down his pants and even through to his front.

Kasuki was seeing red, the only thought in his head was a vision of the Icyhot bastards head on a pike.

And that's how 15 minutes later he found himself standing in the meeting room sporting a few new bruises and dripping a puddle onto the floor, as he argued with ‘Lightning Mcqueen in glasses’ that he shouldn’t have to take the sole blame for ‘blowing up half the lobby’ or the charring on the lower branches of the lobby’s new ‘just set up yesterday, took all day to decorate, Sato ate half a snickers cheesecake just to get it in here, Tamaki and Ochako were so excited to put the star on, blah blah blah’ Christmas tree.

Those were clearly fire singe marks, not explosive blowback, and he told Mirio as much as he turned to blatantly ignore Iida. He also told him it was absolutely bullshit they had a tree up in the first week of fucken November!

Katsuki didn’t care to admit most of this blustering was to avoid admitting the main reason ‘a little bit of water set off a top ranking pro’ was because his brand Fucken new, curently one of a fucken kind, limited edition Hero Deku tee was hidden under his hoodie.

It was supposed to be part of the nerds Christmas present. His dad had just given it to him last night for a trial wear before they made the actual order to have enough made in time to be advertised and auctioned off to raise funds for the nerds favorite holiday charities.

Katsuki had planned to show up to dance practice in it after patrol and then do some photos together to boost the word about the dance and the auction.

Now not only was Deku not talking to him, but if he showed Deku this gross wrinkled mess he’d probably never speak to him again. Today officially sucked and all because ChargeDolt and RedRot couldn’t keep their fucken mouths shut... and some other things that were definitely not his fault either.

Eventually Mirio and Iida seem to tire themselves out and let the group go with a warning to expect their already packed schedules to be slammed with several hours of community service and outreach.

And of course Mirio asked Katsuki had to hang back because the universe hated him today. And of course he was given some more bad news because why would anything ever be easy?

Deku had been switched to evening patrol for today with Tokoyami, and Amajiki had agreed to take his place for the first half of the morning and Uraraka would join him after lunch

Katsuki wanted to bitch that they couldn’t reschedule because they had stupid dance practice, but between Deku not wanting to talk to him, no ‘don’t stay mad at me’ surprise, not wanting to explain to Deku what happened to the lobby, and not even a half baked explanation or apology in mind for why he said what he did Katsuki just grunted his acknowledgement and went to change into his costume. If anything he was getting off easier like this. At least Amajiki was on of the few extras he could stand.

_______________________________________________

If Mirios plan for punishment was to guilt him to the core by saddling him with a semi sulking SunEater, then he was an evil genius. Cause it was working, Katsuki hadn’t felt this all around ashamed since.… well probably only like a year but still.

Amajiki was one of the few people who Katsuki actually respected as a hero and a person, not only did the fellow pro have a kick ass quirk that he used creatively but Katsuki had grown to (begrudgingly) admire the hero for how up front he was with his anxiety and how hard he worked through it. It kinda reminded him of Deku and his oddballness and how the nerd used it to his advantage to become the symbol of hope.

Katsuki had been expecting a half mumbled lecture and a maybe even prodding about therapy. The nervous nellies' unusually strong(for them) vendetta with the hero world was it's slacking in mental healthcare or whatever.

So after struggling through about four hours of sullen silence, (that was also infuriatingly familiar, apparently heroing wasn’t all the nerd had learn from his senpais), Katsuki snapped with a screech like an overly taunt fiddle string.

“I’m sorry about the fucken tree! If it’s not replaced by the time we get back I’ll do it my goddamn self, happy?!” Katsuki had been expecting Tamki to give a quiet nod or retreat into himself more, depending on how he took his offer. He definitely didn’t expect to be glared at

“You think I’m upset about the tree?” Amajiki tilted his head in confusion. Maybe they should talk about Katsuki seeing the team's therapist more. Monthly was the minimum everyone on the newly forged Heros Union of Honor had to attend but Katsuki was clearly needing more support right now. Maybe it was the holidays? A good portion of them were going biweekly now for that reason.

HUH was more than an agency. It was a newly emerging code of ethics board. You were expected to be worth the honor of being called a hero when partnered with HUH, and that meant getting your mental health to its peak was a priority.

That didn’t mean everyone (or really anyone) was perfectly mentally fit, just that mental health was a priority. Other agencies had taken notice of how differently they operated even within their first year, and since then a few had even sent their heroes through the HUH program to learn how to operate more like them. They were quickly taking up the void the Hero's Commission had left.

“I’m not upset about the tree, I’m upset because you hurt my friends and fellow hero partners-“ Amajiki was rudely cut off as he caught a gauntlet to the chest, thank god they’d gotten smaller over the years.

“He’s your business partner, he’s MY hero partner, has been since before we agreed to join this agency.” Katsuki thundered.

Why everyone on the board had to call each other partners was something Katsuki didn’t understand, but he refused to let them slip up and start tossing around the phrase Hero Partner. They were all business partners,something anyone could become. A Hero Partner was a major commitment, and Katsuki had the signed legal waivers to prove it.

Amajiki stopped and looked at Katsuki fully, really taking in his teammates' rattled appearance.

Katsuki had been doing well, dare say even flourishing within HUH, so today’s outbreak was nearly out of character at this point and still Katsuki didn’t appear to be calming down any. If anything he was only growing more tightly wound.

Yes, Amajiki was upset with Katsuki but he’d remained silent during their patrol more so the blonde could have some time to think, but it didn’t seem to have done him any good. Amajiki fought through the nervousness that crawled under his skin and begged him to just let the explosive guy be.

Mirio had asked him to talk with Katsuki, under some false impression that Katsuki respected him more, but before this moment he’d figured it was better to not butt in. He hadn’t been around when this morning’s incident happened but he could see another one brewing.

Amajiki shuffled side to side for a second considering his options. He could just send Katsuki home early, even put him on leave until he got cleared by the teams therapist. Or he could do what Mirio suggested and reach out to a struggling teammate.

Therapy was good, but therapy with a support network was better.

“GroundZero, let’s take lunch. I think we need to have a talk-“ Amajiki put up a slightly trembling hand to silence the blonde. Straightening his back and furthering his resolve he pushed forward. “-This isn’t really optional, we neeeed to have a talk, and about more than this morning's incident. I wanna talk about your hero partner.”

Katsuki’s argument died on his tongue.  He shoved his hands in his pockets with a grunt and jerked his head to signal to Amajiki to take the lead.

Katsuki knew he wasn’t gonna like what came next but he tried to reminded himself that he trusted and respected Amajiki, and that meant hearing him out when asked. It’s what Deku would do, so it’s what Katsuki would try to do.

[kessielrg]

Summary: An experiential VenSabi fic, based on @schizophrenichangedman‘s rendition of Ventus. In which Sabrina ‘kidnaps’ Ven for fro-yo and the two enjoy some awkward alone time. Featuring lyrics to St. Vincent’s Hang On Me because, idk, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 1,000 (and no I’m not editing it further than this because 1k is a beautifuly exact number and I’m keeping it like that, darn it.)

---

If there was one thing Sabrina managed to not brag about in some capacity, it was her sense of observation. Her adoptive father boasted about it though- joyfully proclaiming that she would have made for an excellent hunter if she had been born a few centuries earlier. But it was this very sense of observation that was driving her insane. Ventus seemed to be none the wiser to her distaste. Or maybe he was too distracted at the moment to really notice.

Without warning, Sabrina had shown up at Ven's front door, told him they were getting frozen yogurt, and dragged him to her car before anyone caught wind of it. Sabrina had called it a 'mutual kidnapping', which, if and when she took him back home, people would be angry enough that it really could have been called a kidnapping.

“More whipped cream!” Ven all but cheered to the tired looking man in charge of the fro-yo stand. “And sprinkles! Come on man, don't skimp out on me. Yeah, there you go!”

Sabrina counted the minutes on how long Ven took in bullying the fro-yo guy with toppings. Three minutes. It took him three minutes for him to turn around and give Sabrina the go ahead to pay for the small cup of fro-yo. When the duo found an empty bench to sit at, Ven's face immediately fell at the sugary treat. Truthfullly, Sabrina had known this would happen. She looked on with a blank stare as Ven took a pea sized scoop of whipped cream and gently placed the bright red spoon in his mouth. He didn't take the spoon out, instead opting to absently nibble on it in disinterest.

It was here that he noticed Sabrina was staring at him again.

“Why do you always stare at me?”

For a moment, despite not being much older than him, Sabrina looked 20 years older. It was almost terrifying. He had only asked her a simple question, so why did she look like she was too world weary to answer?

“You really don't know, do you?” she asked. Her voice sounded even more weary than she looked. Giving a resigned sigh, she told him, “Guess I'm just waiting for someone.”

“Is it the same person that bit you?” Ven then brazenly questioned, using his spoon to point at a certain spot at the base of her neck. She didn't answer at first, adjusting the fabric scarf meant to hide the obvious bite mark, before giving him a harsh glare.

“Give me that.” she decided as she snatched the spoon from him. It actually surprised him that she didn't immediately take the fro-yo too. He considered jamming his whole face into the dessert just to spite her. But he didn't.

Not that Sabrina seemed very interested in the fro-yo either. Unlike Ven, she stabbed the treat directly, pulling out nothing more than a mound of now puddling fro-yo. It was Ven's turn to watch as the other ate. Did he make the same disgusted face she was making now? Maybe he could have let up on the sprinkles a bit; should have gotten the strawberry sauce instead.

Actually, looking at her from this angle, Ven almost thought Sabrina looked rather beautiful. Her shoulder-length black hair had been pulled into a French braid, looking ready for a fancy princess crown at a moment's notice. Her expression was neutral as she ate, not appearing to be phased at all that he had gnawed the once smooth spoon into a rougher texture. Her chocolate brown eyes were hiding something though. It was a certain something that made him… mad? That didn't feel right. But some voice told him that she was hiding something- something that he needed to know. That was ridiculous though, wasn't it? They barely knew each other. They never even met before she was transferred to his school. Right? Right.

...Right?

Without warning, Ventus careened onto Sabrina's shoulder in sudden exhaustion. Sabrina let out a genuinely surprised “gah!”, doing her best not to let the fro-yo go flying, but failing to stop Ven's head from falling into her lap instead.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she demanded, setting the fro-yo aside on the bench to try to push Ventus off. “You're not drooling on my jeans like your desk at school!”

But Ven wasn't budging; he was out like a light.

Sabrina cursed under his breath. Of course. Out of all the things she planned on happening today…

She did surprise herself in finding that her fingers were intertwined in his hair. Even worse was that she enjoyed playing with the coarse blonde strands. That peaceful looking face was going to murder her one of these days, and here she was- playing with his hair like a picturesque girlfriend.

Well, might as well seal the deal. Right?

Slowly, softly, Sabrina started to sing as she continued to play with his hair; “I know you're probably sleeping; I've got this thing I keep thinking. Yeah, I admit I've been drinking. The void is back and unblinking...”

She paused for a moment. This was ridiculous. Any other day he wouldn't act like… this. Whatever this was. It had to be a ruse. A lie. At any moment he'd pick that stupid head up, look her dead in the eye, and tell her-

“Don' stop.” Ven slurred, snapping Sabrina out of her thoughts, as if he could sense her hesitation from whatever head space he happened to occupy today. “Voice's nice...”

Sabrina let out a soft snort. Well, since he asked so nicely, might as well indulge in a moment he'll deny later. Right?

Adjusting herself a little so she could bend down closer to his ear, Sabrina continued to softly croon, “Can not stop the aeroplane from crashing, as we circle down from the sky. So hang on me, hang on me, hang on me… 'Cause you and me, we're not meant for this world. You and me… We're not meant for this world...”

[kink-shame-the-birds]

What Comes After The Dust Has Settled (Maggot Husbands, Hastur/Ligur)

Summary: When everything that should have happened didn't, and when everything that shouldn't have happened did, the forces of Heaven and Hell are left reeling. But most of them had something worth going back to. The same can't be said for Hastur. His entire life's gone up in smoke. What's the point of sticking around Hell when all that's left are reminders of a demon who's never going to come home?

So, I uh... wrote a thing... Also on my AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a year since the apocalypse didn’t happen. After the failed extinction of the traitors, both Heaven and Hell had done their best to go back to how things were before the End. The world kept spinning, there was still work to be done. Nowadays, Hell was much quieter than it should have been. Tension gripped the air like an iron fist, and it kept the riotous voices of ten million demons subdued, most of them still finding the will to get back into the lives they’d planned on abandoning after the War started.

Six thousand years, wasted. All of that work had been for nothing, yet they were expected to just keep moving. A situation like that sucked every ounce of purpose from them all.

In other words, morale was at a record low.

But Hastur didn’t feel that. In comparison to losing his mate and the only demon he could’ve considered trusting, the torment of going back to work after what wasn’t the End was infinitesimal. Having Ligur there to pick up the pieces with would have made post-Armageddon palatable. All he wanted was to go curl up in their den, damp and dark enough for both of their liking, and huddle up until most of the unbidden chaos had passed. But going back now, he was only greeted by a home void of its soul matching the emptiness in his chest. Going back to his own desk was hardly better, with the eternal leak above it and with Ligur’s vacant desk to its right. Some new demon had taken Ligur’s place, who could never have hoped to fill it. That didn’t last for long. After leeching the life out of the other demon, Hastur left. Not just his office, he left Hell altogether. There was no reason to stick around for Dagon to chastise him or for yet another demon to replace the disintegrated one.

He hadn’t returned since.

It had been a year since the apocalypse didn’t happen. In that time, Hastur, Duke of Hell, had spent his days wandering the planet, going wherever his feet took him. Lurking was off the table. All that did was make the gap in his chest where a heart should have been ache. No, he instead he took part in what the humans called ‘people watching’. Technically, that also could have been considered lurking, but the different name let Hastur go about his business without being swamped with grief and guilt. Those things weren’t supposed to be felt by demons, but then again, most demons cared for nothing and no one other than themselves.

Wherever he ended up, Hastur always found a park bench or a nice perch and he would sit there until he got bored. He’d smoke and listen in on conversations, watch as humans went about their lives like everything was fine and nothing had happened. They hadn’t lost anything what with that bastard of an Anti-Christ putting everything back to the way it was.

Except Ligur.

He couldn’t remember when he’d last experienced envy. Humans milled around him, never sparing a glance at him, and he watched them embrace one another, scream at each other, and cry with each other. So what if a human they cared about died? They’d only known that person for about fifty years at most. Meanwhile, Hastur was forced to trudge through the rest of eternity without the demon who’d been by his side from the start. What was a measly handful of decades in comparison to over six thousand years?

Stewing in his own thoughts got him nowhere, and he’d made a point to move whenever he caught himself sinking too deep into his own head. London, Paris, Moscow, Seoul, Nairobi, Brasilia, Washington, and now back to England again, he never stayed anywhere for long.

On most days, he felt like he didn’t exist at all. Moving like a ghost through crowds of people. His lips chapped and mouth dried from not speaking to anyone but himself for months on end. Even on the better days, he couldn’t the motivation to make a human fall to temptation. It was like no one knew he existed. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Hell trying to contact him. He was alone, and Hastur had a feeling that he’d prefer for that to continue until everything truly came to an end.

In the absence of purpose, he was beginning to forget the sound of his own name.

It had been a year since the apocalypse didn’t happen. The anniversary of Ligur’s death was ushered in by a fierce storm. Thunder boomed through the sky, and the windows of buildings rattled in their frames. Lightning flashed in the distance, striking more than one tree and knocking out an entire town’s worth of power. But Hastur wouldn’t know that.

He remained as he had been the week before, and the week before that, slumped up against a dead tree next to a bog. Time passed easily without him noticing at all, and when the veritable tempest poured down on him, Hastur did little more than shiver as his eyes stared out into the murk. Like most rainy days, it seemed to last far longer than normal days did, as if God herself sought out to prolong his misery. All things must come to an end however, and day turned to dusk, turned to dark.

The rain didn’t stop.

But Hastur didn’t move, slouching as his eyes slipped closed to listen to the frogs croak in the swamp, the single source of solace he had on such a dreadful night.

When a lightning strike came down not four meters away, Hastur didn’t flinch. It had been one of dozens, and the only one worth mentioning was the strike that set his tree on fire. Then the tree thought better of it, not wanting to disturb the mourning demon’s brooding, and the fire died under Hastur’s will in an instant. The only problem with this latest bolt of lightning was that the smell of ozone lingered, and no clap of thunder had followed. Squelching footsteps through mud seemed to ring out above the sheets of pelting rain.

That could only mean one thing.

Hastur jerked out of his reverie, pushing himself away from his tree, and preparing himself for a fight. What the Hell was an angel doing next to a swamp, in the middle of the night, near him of all demons? Surely, he thought to himself, Hell would have contacted him somehow if the war with Heaven had begun?

A white figure made its way forward. Living in the blackness of the Pit gave demons the ability to see well in the dark, but that had its limits. He knew that whatever angel had come for him wasn’t armed, and they didn’t look like any angel he’d run into. Well, not recently at least. Their steps were slow and deliberate, coming straight for him. But he waited. Angels don’t go stomping around in the swamp in their pristine white clothes, much less in the rain, for a demon that hadn’t interacted with Hell in months. What did he have or do that made the agent of Heaven seek him out on a clichéd dark and stormy night?

               “’Ey, Wank-wings,” Hastur called, “Ain’t you got better things to do than play in the puddles?”

The figure stopped, but Hastur still couldn’t quite make out their face. Clouds above parted for a second, briefly illuminating their face, revealing dark hair and dark skin, the rest remaining a blur. He knew that the angel had heard him over the pouring rain. Why weren’t they saying anything?

               “I said,” he growled in irritation, “’Ey, Wank-wings! ‘Ain’t you got better things to do?”

Silence. Hastur wasn’t sure why, but the angel was hesitating. Waiting, maybe? Whatever, it was interesting, and he wanted to resume sulking in the mud undisturbed.

               “Look. I got places to be,” he didn’t, “An’ I got better things to do than shout at some stuck-up chicken in a robe,” again, he really didn’t, “Whaddya want?!”

Again, silence. Huffing, he’d just about had enough of whatever stupid game the other was playing. If that holier-than-thou bastard would get lost, he could get back to his moping, but no. ‘One more time,’ Hastur told himself, ‘then I’ll go for blood.’

               “Last chance, ang- “

“Hastur,” at last, the angel spoke, “Stop.”

Hastur froze, choked, and damn near swallowed his tongue. First off, of course it had to be raining when something like this happened. Second, he’d know that voice anywhere. It was the same voice that had greeted him every day, had hushed him while his panic got the better of him, and had asked him to pass the cigarette that Hastur had dangling from his lips.

Oh, this was low, even for a demon’s standards. The forces of Heaven had tracked him down to taunt him and nothing else. Well, wasn’t that nice?

               “I dunno what you’re trying to accomplish tonight, angel,” he said, “But, I do I know what you’re trying to do to me. Piss off, ‘m not that stupid.”

With a huff of annoyance that trailed off into a snarl, the angel hiked up his robed and started slopping through the mud again, faster now. The rain began to taper down, and Hastur stood his ground, frame undaunted and his eyes fixed on the frustrated angel.

               “Never said or thought you were stupid, Hastur,” the angels voice was cut over by the gross squishing noises, “An’ I ain’t doing nothin’ other than trying to see you again, arsewipe!”

At last, the angel came into full view. Frowning and covered from the calves down in muck, was his beloved back from the dead, sans the chameleon he’d always worn. Hastur’s jaw went lax, staring on in disbelief. That had to be Ligur, no angel would ever use that kind of slur. But then what was the deal with the robes? And his missing familiar? And most importantly, where had he been? What could have happened that would keep Ligur away from him for a year? He made to ask, to try and joke to brighten the irritated angel’s mood. Uh, demon? Shit, no. Lover? Too brash. Who knew if the other would remember that integral aspect of their relationship? Old friend? There we go! But before he could stop it, his thoughts collapsed in at the last second and the question he really wanted to ask slipped out instead.

               “How? You were gone,” Hastur’s lip started quivering before he had half a mind to stop it, “You melted right in front of me. You were screaming, and I was screaming, and everything started falling apart, and you were dead! Not discorporated, dead! Extinct! Annihilated! Murdered by that damned trait- “

Before he could react, Ligur stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Hastur, squeezing him tight, just on this side of painful. Hastur halted tirade with a choking sound, and the demon couldn’t hold everything back anymore. For the first time in what seemed to be ages, Hastur held his love back, and sobbed.

               “I know,” Ligur muttered, streaking his too-clean hand through Hastur’s matted, greasy mop of hair, cupping his nape, “I know, but I’m back now. It’s over. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I was gone for so long. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner.”

The angel began his own slew of words, and Hastur was half tempted to throw Ligur off of him, to get angry and throw a fit after being consumed by sorrow for a year. The other half, the part of him that had dreamt about this kind of reunion the one time he passed out on a park bench, wanted this point in time to last forever. There hadn’t been mud, rain, frogs, and his very demon husband transformed into an angel in the dream though, that would have been weird and oddly prophetic.

Hastur’s softer side, his second half, won out. The only being he gave two shits about had risen from the dead like Jesus fucking Christ himself. Who gave a damn if they’d both collapsed on their knees and sunk into the soft ground? They held onto each other for dear life, like the other was the only think keeping them from falling apart. Inky black seeped from Hastur’s eyes and into the soaked fabric on Ligur’s shoulder as his grief purged itself from his body.

All the while, Ligur had been talking as Hastur had his minor breakdown, and with the way his voice was cracking, Ligur was near ready to shatter too.

               “-And when I finally got out, they wouldn’t let me back into Hell. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway because they had no clue where you went either. I’ve been looking for months, and here you are, wasting away-”

His voice gave out then, and whatever hiccups the two gave while weeping were swept away by the dying storm.

The sun was creeping over the horizon by the time they parted, Hastur’s coat spattered with glittering silver while Ligur looked like he’d fallen into a tarpit sideways. They had to hand onto each other as they wrenched themselves out of the swamp’s ground, both of them having sunken up to their thighs. An unspoken agreement was made that they should leave and find somewhere to dry off. And talk. They needed to have a long talk. After all, a mire was hardly a place for a serious conversation, even by demon standards.

The closest town was quiet when they arrived, not a soul in sight. They found the one inn, and Hastur nicked keys to a room before they finally settled down. Once the door was closed, Hastur collapsed into the beat-up armchair, then watched in surprise when the angel flopped forwards with a groan onto the bed with mostly clean sheets. Filth from his robe stained the fabric instantly, and something in Hastur twitched even though Ligur looked content sprawled out as he was.

               “’Ain’t you uncomfortable?”

               “What,” Ligur cracked an eye open and stared at him, “With the mud?”

               “Well, that an’ the messing up the sheets, an’ me stealing keys for the room. You know since you’re a...” Hastur gestured at the angel.

               “I’ll be honest, it does…” Ligur answered slowly, “But not too much. I’m still me, you know that, right? Just because they stuck me in this awful getup and messed up the way I think doesn’t mean that I’m not me anymore.”

Ligur’s tone was defensive and Hastur slipped into another un-demon-like emotion: Regret. Whatever, he needed to focus on being a husband rather than a demon right now. He hadn’t meant to upset Ligur, especially now when they were just stitching themselves back together again. After just getting him back, Hastur couldn’t afford to lose him. Not now. Not ever again until the Almighty herself ceased to exist.

               “’m sorry. It’s just,” Hastur’s eyes flicked around the room for a moment, looking for an answer hidden in the room somewhere, anywhere but at Ligur, “I feel like this is some weird hallucination. Like I’ve fallen asleep again, and I’m gonna wake up any time now out in the mud and the rain, alone.”

He could feel Ligur’s eyes boring into him.

               “Course you’re still you. You’re the only bastard who I’d let get away with callin’ me an arsewipe,” he grinned briefly, the smile gone as quick as it came, “I thought you were gone forever, you know? Part a me felt like I died with you, and I wished I really had. ‘rest a Hell went back to work, but I…” he trailed off, his voice dying out.

               “I missed you too,” Ligur said, “For a while there, I thought that I’d never get away from those angels. Thought they’d keep me there ‘til they broke me.”

Hastur’s eyes shot open wide and he jolted up. The fear that had been nibbling at the back of his mind shot to the forefront.

               “Broke you?” Hastur screeched, “What happened? What did they do to you?”

Ligur clammed up, his teeth clenching, eyes going foggy and distant. A memory was dragged up from its watery grave, rotten, ugly, and stinking, only to be shoved back under the surface. He swallowed and shook his head.

               “A lot,” he muttered, “Don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t wanna know.”

               “Don’t wanna know? If I didn’t wanna know, I wouldn’t have asked!”

               “Hastur, please,” Ligur put his hand out, trying to placate his love, “What happened in Heaven is over. There ‘ill be time for payback, later.”

He tried to move forward to embrace Hastur again, only to gasp and keel over onto the floor. Panicking, Hastur slipped from his chair and went to place a hand on Ligur’s back, words of concern and comfort nearly leaving his mouth before he snatched his hand back. There was a faint twinkle of gold shining through the damp white of Ligur’s clothes.

               “Ligur, ’m taking the robe off.”

               “Wait, hang on- “

The filthy cloth vanished from the angel’s body revealing a mess of lacerations and burns, so many of them that they formed one large wound, so big that you couldn’t tell where one cut began, and another ended. It was all scabbed over, but pieces of the gold were flicking off to reveal green puss festering underneath.

Neither angels nor demons ever got sick, and when they did, it was serious. An infection should have been fought off easily or miracle it away.

Gently, Hastur took the angel’s hands into his, squeezing them tight as he tried to reign his emotions in.

               “You’ve been looking for me in this condition? For how long?!”

               “Hastur- “

               “Don’t you ‘Hastur’ me! You look…” he stopped, his voice turning into croaking, “Awful. And not in the nice handsome awful you normally look.”

It was true, though it pained them both to acknowledge it.

Before, when he’d been out in the rain, he didn’t really pay attention to Ligur’s appearance after realizing who he was. Hastur had been too focused on simply having his husband back in his arms alive. Now, he could see the dark bags under Ligur’s eyes looked sicklier, nothing like what they had been. While the angel’s hands were clean, they shook in Hastur’s grip, even after he ran his thumb over Ligur’s knuckles. At a second glance, he spotted more of the flaking gold of angel’s blood dug underneath his fingernails.

Under the pungent odor of earth and rain water, Ligur didn’t smell right for either an angel or a demon. It wasn’t rot or ozone, must nor whatever flowery shit that Heaven smelled like. It wasn’t the smell that Hastur knew like the back of his hand. He couldn’t put a name to it but paired with how Ligur kept his gaze to the stained carpet and how hard the angel was trying to put on a brave face, it made Hastur want to curl up and die. The person before him was beaten up and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them. It wasn’t right…

The room fell silent, and the angel slumped forward, making a point to bury his face in Hastur’s jacket.

               “I know I look like shit,” came Ligur’s muffled reply, “’Didn’t want you to see me like this, but I just got too caught up in finding you again…”

               “Ligur,” he said, “You’re hurt and ill, and you were looking for me for Satan knows how long now.”

               “Only about a month-”

               “So those fine feathered fuckers tortured you for the other eleven, eh?!”

For a moment, Hastur almost let his temper get the best of him. His veins burned and his blood boiled with want to slaughter the ones responsible for Ligur’s suffering, whatever they’d done to him. Once justice was served, they could go back home, to their nest, with the looming specter of Heaven averted from them so they could live in relative peace. Ligur gripped Hastur’s arm, and looked up, pleading with his eyes, and hastily pulled together plans of total annihilation and pain dissolved.

               “Not quite, but I told you, I don’t want to talk about it here or now,” Ligur growled through gritted teeth, “I want to clean up, rest with my husband, then go home, somehow… Hastur, I just want to go back home, but they won’t even let me back in…”

Hastur watched his husband, eyebrows pinched together as he gave a solemn nod. His main priority was Ligur right now. He was hurt, he needed to heal, and they’d have to see if they could rid Ligur of his newfound divinity. If fate would be the smallest bit kind to them, Ligur wouldn’t have to fully Fall again, it would be too much for him to take in his state. Carefully, Hastur caught the angel’s chin and moved him up, pressing their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

               “We can fix this, promise,” Hastur said, “And even if you can’t go back, I won’t either. ‘s not the same without you. ‘s not home... ‘missed you…”

               “I missed you more, you absolute git.” Ligur huffed out with fondness.

               “Not possible,” Hastur drew away from the angel, “Now then, let’s get you cleaned up some, get some of the mud and the stink of Heaven off you.”

               “’m tired of being not-dirty.”

               “Well,” Hastur stood to his full height and tucked his arms around Ligur’s waist. “We can get a fresh coating of filth on you in celebration once you’re a bit better but being caked in swamp muck isn’t doing anyone any favors.”

With that, Hastur pulled his husband up with a grunt, wincing when Ligur let out a hiss of pain. Doing his best to avoid pressing onto his back, the demon waddled them both to the small ensuite bathroom, and maneuvered Ligur into the damn near microscopic tub. He stepped back and looked around for a cloth and soap. As much as he’d rather not use it, Ligur usually smelled absolutely fantastic as he was, covered in guts and gunk, but desperate times…

               “Hastur, love,” Ligur said, “Maybe it’d be best if we get you taken care of first, you’re not doing we- “

“Shut it!” Hastur snapped, “You’ve taken care of me Satan knows how many times when I’ve fared far better than you are now. I’m not letting you brush off wounds from holy instruments to tend to my shot nerves. ‘m not that selfish. Just let me look after you for a change… please.”

Ligur couldn’t really argue with that, and he settled down quietly, watching Hastur draw his bathwater. He didn’t make a peep when he had warm water dumped over his head, and he only groaned when Hastur tried and failed to wash away the gathering puss on his back without pain. Water in the tib clouded over in minutes, and it was drained before the tub was refilled again.

Rinse and repeat until Hastur was satisfied with his work.

               “You know,” Ligur said when they were back into the bedroom, “’kinda feel like you’re treating me like a fledgling now, not even letting me dry ‘yself.”

The demon didn’t respond, too focused on dabbing away the dampness on his back.

               “We’ll get this cleaned up better later. For now, we’ll just let it air out,” Hastur tossed aside the towel and tugged the bedsheets back, “We’ll sleep, Satan knows both of us could use it.”

Ligur didn’t argue when Hastur nudged him down onto his stomach, knowing that his mate only had the best on intentions, although he was rather insufferable when he got into one of his moods like this. He couldn’t blame the demon though. If Ligur had been the one to be left to languish in his grief then had Hastur drop into his lap after being gone so long in this condition, he’d’ ve been a right state himself.

               “And don’t you think that we won’t be talking about what happened to you upstairs,” Ligur winced, “You still need to tell me what they put you through, but that can wait for now.”

After kicking off his boots, vanishing his filthy clothes, and miracling away the muck on his body, Hastur crawled under the itchy quilt and curled up close to the other. They pulled each other close and did their best to settle down.

As they drifted off, the rain outside started again, now only soft tapping against the window panes and a deep rumble of thunder in the distance. Things would be more difficult from here on out, but that would wait until tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. For now, the mated pair clung to each other and slept.

The troubles of facing what had come after the world hadn’t ended would be easier now that they weren’t alone.

[hazeltears94]

Loki convo with Reader

\Just a chapter in a fan fic I'm contemplating let me know if it intrests you/

FAST SUMMARY :

(You and loki have history since childhood , things happened and you were separated for awhile with hard feelings both ways. Youve been brought together again in attempt to work together. Loki wants to have you to himself but youve been tricked before. )

Determined to make it to my quarters before he could reach me proved to be more troublesome than I realized. I could hear his long determined strides behind me in the long narrow corridor that housed the bunk bays of the Quinjet. 

Just a little farther and I would be securely locked behind mine , safe and secure from.. 

“Oh for God’s sake I know you hear me (Y/N) !” he growled. I blew out a harsh breath and responded to the owner of the curt tone. 

“Just leave me be Loki” I pleaded still facing my bay door hoping to be in the small bed behind it in the next few minutes. This day from hell would just not end, I had been assigned to assist in the search and recovery mission of an unknown assassin the Avengers had failed to haul in. At Thor’s request for assistance I relented to travel along with his comrades which called themselves The Avengers in search of said danger.

 I had been no sooner introduced to the one whom calls himself Iron-Man when he questions Thor’s decision to bring me in on the mission. I decided to show him my worth of being here and ability to protect myself. I had pinned him down swiftly without a scratch but did not anticipate the reinforcements that came to his aid . All at once I was being thrown against the wall of the training hall. Though Iron-Man apologized for not un-syncing his robots to a distress call I could tell he was pleased I had been shown up a bit by his inventions. 

I tried to rush and push my way into my small quarters without further interruptions when a hand shot out and pulled it shut again. Ah Yes we could not end this day without a little more banter from the God of lies and Mischief;

 Loki Odinson ,Laufeyson? I wasn't sure which he was going by these days and at this moment I decided I didn't really care. Thor had left out the smallest detail that this certain person would also be on this planet, with this mission and in my hair apparently. He had been watching my spat with the Iron-Man and when I had been throttled to the other side of the training arena he was the one who had literally disarmed the sentry robot protecting its creator from harm. I still shook spots from my vision when I saw a dark figure rip the arms from the metal warrior. All the poor machine could do was whir down as it was ripped to shreds. Iron-Man was non too pleased to have one of his metal army destroyed. It was then I discovered my savior was Loki. 

“You are avoiding me (Y/N)”  he simply stated . 

Annoyed, I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling and wondered why he couldn't leave well enough alone. He eyed me warily as he had in the training arena when he asked if I was alright. I stared up at him and tried to reason with myself as to what he was doing here and why Thor had omitted this . 

“You were always the clever one “ I replied ,sarcasm dripping heavily from my words. He had shown concern for my well-being , but I had not wanted to show weakness to any new or old acquaintances; least of all him. I dared a glare at him under my brows trying to look as displeased as I felt in that moment. He seemed utterly unfazed. 

“Just tell me , Are you hurt ?” he let loose the door and turned me towards him

Too soon to show bruising but I could feel the tender places in which I would never admit to out loud. 

“You don't need to concern yourself with me, I can manage on my own”  standing as tall as I could I still only managed to reach the bottom of his pointed chin. His hair was still raven black but he wore it longer than she remembered , it now brushed his shoulders and curled slightly more. He wore his battle armour with its thick black leather with forest green leather work woven through. A gold bangle graced its way across the span of his chest and touched his shoulders as more dark leather encompassed his arms. 

"No one is allowed to hurt you" he bit out

"Except you " she whispered

He drew back from her side studying her with a varying of emotions crossing his features; then he settled on a sleek smile that he knew infuriated her. So much looked different, hardened features where there was once only laughter but when he smiled, she recognized the boy she had grown up with 

"Yes except me" he smirked

"Because if im the only one to hurt you , it means I'm the only one you care enough to let that happen"

"Hmm.." You slowly drew away from him anger coursed through you. You steeled your gaze up at him crossed your arms across your chest and raised a brow at his cocky face. It looked like you had no other choice but to hash this out now in this small hallway where anyone would be privy to listen, Gods be with her. 

"You find pleasure when I am hurt by the person I allow " narrowing your eyes 

Loki huffs a laugh " It means you love me dear" seeming pleased with his logic he steps toward you and places a hand on your waist to drag you closer

Even angry with him and his wrong assumptions you cant stop the feeling this man stirs in you; God of mischief indeed. Trying to regain your composure internally you remain stoic outwardly. " No loki. .. " and you shove him back keeping your hand there at his chest almost bracing yourself for the next truth never meeting his gaze you stare at your hand; "it means you dont love me"

Lowering your hand you will it not to shake as you lower your head, but he catches your hand and squeezes it softly. You could feel it , the electricity , the excitement all the unused pent up emotions that never got to play out still lingered there between you. 

Sensing your intake of breath and if he couldnt already feel your racing pulse you'd swear he could hear it. You still refused to meet his eyes knowing the bit of pride you had left would vanish

He pulls you close again only a breath away from your face and he whispers "You still love me, there's little use in denying it little one" you're losing your battle at remembering why you're trying so hard to stop all this. Especially when he starts an electrifying trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck. Needing to stop this dangerous encounter fast before your will or knees give way

"Arent we smug " you breathe out but there's no harshness behind it. He's got you pinned against the wall hands at your sides finrly holding you in place while he sets you on fire with his lips . He leans back only far enough to look at your face before that same damnable smirk comes back

"Stop it (Y/N) . I want to hear you say it " he demands softly. His grip on your arms has tightened only slightly and its a good thing because if not for him holding you up you arent sure you wouldn't be in a puddle on the floor. You hate how defenseless you are. "Why" you cut out . you're still angry but now its mostly at how he still had this effect on you after all this time.

He lets go of your arm and brings your face to meet his. There it was , green eyes that you used to love watch sparkle with mischief. Your childhood friend who had turned into something more ,something innocent but strong. And you still felt it after eveything he had said and done you still loved him.

"I just need to hear you say it" he has a look of almost sadness as he's begging you to bear Your soul to him all over again.

You slightly shake your head "No"

His brows crease in annoyance now "Must you be so stubborn, I've told you there is no use in denying me, do you think I am immune to your glances when you think I am otherwise distracted" shock played across your face oh no you thought you had gotten away with just a few curious looks at him. " You think you can hide your desire from me , I can feel it (Y/N) and I want it , so why persist in rejecting me" he was now glowering down on you but it wasn't fear you felt sizzling low in your abdomen.

Your last attempt to stop this madness before you just gave up and took a flying leap from your common senses .

"Because it didn't change anything last time I said it " now you were challenging him daring him to remember that day, when everything changed.

Softening his glare he broke eye contact to look down at your lips. Giving you a moment to recover from the intensity and find whatever good sense you might have left .

"That was many years ago , things are different now" quietly he spoke and still had not met your gaze. Lies.. your mind shouted.

He was still demanding all and giving nothing he would regret losing .

Such as his heart.

Yes things were different now but not him.

"No they arent" Steeling yourself against what your words would bring from him. You pulled yourself free from his grip. "You're still selfish, arrogant, and hellbent on self destruction without a care of who you hurt "

This seemed to also snap him out of his course of action. He stepped back until he was out of reach. When he looked up at you , it was the coldest feeling , emotionless he said " So you deny you love me"

His lips that had just drove you crazy with his smile and kisses were pressed into a hard thin line. Those eyes which you got easily lost in moments ago were cold voids that seemed to stare right through you now. As if you mattered nothing to him.

Two could play this game of lies you thought .

"Like you said, it was many years ago. " and with that you straightened and turned on your heel to make your retreat.

[cieloxcnco]

orgullo - part 1

Words: 2,000+

Warnings: language and angst. that’s it. going easy on you.

A/N: something I just worked on recently with the help of the lovely @writtersmindkdc (thank you as always for listening to me) that you guys deserve after I’ve been so MIA. hope you like it. this is going to be the first in a three part series.

I playfully tossed my newly won Tweety Bird stuffed animal at Chris’ head as he continued to laugh. “Shut up, Chris! It’s not funny!”

He was nearly doubled over, tears protruding at the drawn up corners of his eyes, choking on laughs between words. “And then you just skidded flat on your culito down the ramp. That was hilarious.” He had stopped walking behind me to be able to catch his breath.

I shook my head, biting my lip so I wouldn’t admit he was right. If the roles were reversed, I would have found him falling down a roller coaster exit ramp into a puddle like I did absolutely hilarious. “Good. I’m glad you found it funny. I’m jumping into a pair of your sweats then- the back of my jeans are soaked.”

“They’re in the side left side of the blue duffel on my bunk,” he called as I walked ahead of him, punching in the code to unlock the tour bus door.

There was no usual chaos in the bus, vacant save for Zabdiel sitting in the corner of the table’s booth, picking quick chords on his guitar.

“Hey, Zabdiel,” I said in passing, trying not to read into the solemn expression on his face.

“Hi,” he replied sharply, not taking his eyes off of the fingers holding the strings against the neck.

I poked my head back out from Chris’s bunk after finding the comfiest pants I wanted to steal. “¿Estas bien?”

His tone had been flat, even, void of any emotion. That wasn’t the Zabdiel I knew. But there he sat. “Si.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” I said.

He gave a very slight shrug of his shoulders and continued playing the chords to ‘Tu Luz’.

“Where is everybody?” I continued, trying to see if I could get any sort of response from him.

“Out,” he shot back.

With it not seeming like he was going to give much more of an answer, I prodded. “Where?”

He let out an aggravated sigh. “Joel, Erick, y Richard estan en el Stone Pony. Creo que hay un concierto allí.”

I hopped into Chris’s bunk with the curtain drawn and changed out of my jeans and wet underwear, jumping into his sweats commando. “They didn’t say anything about going to a concert.”

“It was kind of last minute,” he answered, hitting a wrong chord and slamming his hand against the table.

There wasn’t any skirting around it anymore. He was rarely angry, and this was bad. “Zabdiel, ¿que te pasa?”

“Estoy bien. Did you have fun with Christopher?” I’d never heard him say his friend’s name with such venom before.

“Chris had told me you had plans tonight so we just went to Six Flags...” I trailed off, knowing there had to be more to this to analyze.

It was scary in itself to see Zabdiel angry. It was the Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll- his normally bright and smiling eyes were dark and clouded. His hair matched the pallor of his usually warm face. But the most alarming part of him holding on to any kind of anger was that it wasn’t explosive. He was almost never vocal about it, but he would just shut down completely, like he was before my eyes now.

I tried to put two and two together. “You weren’t here- are you upset that we didn’t invite you to come along?”

He stopped playing completely, flashing a resigned smile of utter disbelief before he bit down on his pick, clenching his teeth. “No lo entiendes.”

His attitude was getting me agitated now, and I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. He may have been one to simmer when angry, but I was liable to be volcanic. “What did I do that you’re so pissed off?”

“Olvídalo,” he roared, shoving his guitar into his bunk and stalking over to the kitchen area, searching through the cabinet for a distraction.

I was gritting my teeth. “Zabdiel, don’t blow me off! Obviously you’re mad at me, and if you are, I deserve to know why.”

Fire sparked in his eyes when he turned to look at me. “The fact that you don’t even know is the mystery to me.”

“I can’t if you don’t talk to me!” The volume of my voice went higher without me realizing.

He shouted back, “Why would I? Everything I say, you don’t listen to anyway.” Out of anxious habit, he ran his fingertips back and forth across his scalp, reaching for his former curls to only find the short buzz beneath.

At that, Christopher had unlocked the door and was hopping up the bus stairs. “Hey, guys, did you know if-”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped back at Zabdiel.

"I said to forget it!" Zabdiel countered.

Chris quickly surveyed the scene and turned right around and out the door. “- creo que debo regresar despues.”

Our focus hadn’t left the heat of each other’s eyes. “Zabdiel, honestly, what the f-”

“It’s not worth arguing over. Forget about it,” he seethed, grabbing the closest snack bag in the closet and toying with it just to give his fingers purpose.

I tried not to let the desperation show in my voice. “How am I going to forget about it when you’re so angry at me?”

His strong stone wall finally collapsed and he growled, “What did we talk about this morning?”

I stopped. CNCO had played a show in Baltimore the night before and was scheduled for a concert in New York City the next day. To make our way up, we stopped in south Jersey to have one day to enjoy ourselves close to the beach before we kept driving. Everyone had different ideas about what to do on our one day off, but I certainly would have remembered if Zabdiel had said anything specific. I stood for a moment, trying to recall word for word so I couldn’t be tripped up. “What we wanted for breakfast?  When we had to leave so we’d be in New York in time? Who took your iPad?”

The fire in his eyes died down as they held on to mine. “You made plans with me and you just go spend all day with Chris.”

“We didn’t make plans,” I protested. “No dijiste-”

The angry shouting was gone, replaced by a slow, melancholy tone. “I said I had a surprise for you tonight and asked if you were free. I wanted to do something nice for you- and you just didn’t care.”

“Zabdiel,” I started solemnly.

He cut me off quickly. “It’s fine. I’m glad to know you’d rather spend the time with my friend. I’m glad I know now rather than...” He drifted into thought but stopped himself just as fast. “No te preocupes. Todo esta bien.”

I shook my head and sighed. I had always loved being around the band. Having been friends with Erick growing up, it was just an excuse to have me be the band’s makeup artist on tour. I had grown close to all the boys after La Banda, like I was part of the family. But Zabdiel was different. I had one of those quintessential schoolgirl crushes on the friend of the guy I considered my brother. And the way we clicked when we all hung out, it just felt right. Our personalities meshed, our interests were the same, our humor was compatible, but neither of us ever approached the dangerous line that separated ‘friends’ and ‘something more’.

In all the time I had lived basically on their tour bus, I hadn’t witnessed much fighting. They all got along as friends before La Banda and were just lucky with the draw. During the few fights that I had seen, Zabdiel was the calm mediator. He was rarely ever the offended party- he always let things roll off his back. The fact that something had gotten this deep under his skin, especially that the something was me, was a painful realization.

“Just go,” he muttered. “He’s looking for you.”

“Why are you being so stubborn?” I spat, channeling my frustration rather than my hurt.

“I don’t want to deal with this right now,” he mumbled to himself, barely at a level that I could hear, going to walk past me.

“Deal with me? My apologies, Zabdiel. I didn’t realize that was such a difficulty,” I snarled sarcastically. His eyes reignited, stopping to stand in front of me as I continued, “If you planned something, you didn’t make that clear. I’m sorry we had a misunderstanding, but you don’t have to jump down my throat!”

It took a few moments for the rage to stop pumping through me and to focus on him. But with my eyes locked on his like this, my heart kept thrumming. We were so close, and it was taking every bit of self control not to reach up and kiss him like I so desperately wanted to.

That was when the emotion in his face became palpable to me. This wasn’t anger. He wasn’t furious with what I had done. This wasn’t disappointment. He might have made plans with me but it wasn’t like we couldn’t plan something else eventually.

He was consumed by the fact that I had spent the evening alone with Chris rather than him. This was jealousy.

Our proximity had me breathless. “Zabdiel,” I gasped, feeling us drawing close to each other. His face was mere millimeters from my own, his mouth so close and almost offering invitation.

And the bus door opened again, Richard and Joel bounding up the stairs with Erick in tow. Chris tiptoed in behind, apprehensive of what he was walking into. But Zabdiel had already stormed away from me and sat in the corner of the booth, his legs stretched down a whole seat to keep anyone from being next to him.

“¿Que tal, traviesa?,” Richard said, hugging me and handing me back my stuffed Tweety Bird. “Looks like your night out was a success. Chris said he won you this.”

At that, my eyes went to find Zabdiel, but with his back to me I couldn’t see his face.

“He did. It was a lot of fun,” I answered, trying to piece my smiling facade back together. “How was the concert by the beach?”

“Amazing,” he said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “But I’m exhausted. We’ll talk about it on the drive to New York in the morning?”

I nodded, following everyone’s lead and jumping into our bunks. I turned over, putting my earbuds in and trying to fall asleep, but just hearing his voice singing in my head made my heart ache too much to find rest.

The bus got quiet quickly, everyone intent on sleep before the anticipated schedule of tomorrow. All lights slowly went out, leaving only Erick and Zabdiel sitting in the silence. Erick tapped the tips of his converse against the floor and Zabdiel rested his chin on his knuckles.

“¿Estas bien, Zabdi?” Erick asked slowly, almost hesitant.

His tone was even and low. “She was at the amusement park with Chris the whole time. We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, Chris told us outside before we came in. He heard part of it.” Erick shed his jacket and put his feet up to rest on the seat across the aisle. “Did you tell her you had gotten the tickets to the concert so you could go with her? That you gave them to us because you didn’t want to go to see her favorite band without her?”

He only shook his head. “She would rather be with Chris. I’m not going to make a fool out of myself by showing my feelings.”

Erick raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Make a fool out of yourself? Zabdiel, you love-”

Zabdiel cut his bandmate off quickly. “If she makes it that obvious that she doesn’t feel the same, she doesn’t need to know how I feel.”

Erick rolled his eyes and kicked his shoes off, shaking his head. At times like this, the only thing stronger than Zabdiel’s angry resolve was his pride.

Part 2 now here

[unimpressedperson]

Sunflowers

(Found this picture on Twitter and it’s so gorgeous)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Mentions of drugs

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x @ohmydearmoonchild , Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Counting: 3.4k

Synopsis: After celebrating their second anniversary, Taehyung decided to prove how grateful he felt for Diyaa’s help on his recover from drug addiction and profound hopelessness towards life.

A/N: Hey I’m here and the oneshot is finally finished! Thank you for inspiring me to write it down, ‘cuz it felt amazing to put into words a few feelings and I really hope you enjoy it, baby :) Wish I could play any instruments, so the “song” Taehyung wrote for Diyaa during the story would come true, but for now it’s just a short poem. Sorry :/ 

P: S The Mark mentioned during the story isn’t Mark Tuan from GOT7, it’s a made up character and you can imagine him like you want, and think would possibly attract Yoongi.

- x - x - x - x -

Diyaa felt the rays of sunlight warming her face, every detail bathing under the waves of heat, bearable and delicious, caressing her skin like kisses. Still with closed eyes, she grope the bedsheets, looking for some human contact, specifically with Taehyung. Fingers trailing the silk fabric, blindly and allowing only touch guide her senses, finding its path and reaching for his long digits.

Laying on her back, covered with a navy-blue blanket and still listening to every single words said emotionally the afternoon before. Diyaa was stuck to them, all she could think about. Passionately contemplating how long it would last. The feelings, the touches, the promises. Hopefully forever.

Slowly and lazily opening her eyes, Diyaa took her time to get used to the bright morning lights. Still sleepy and intertwining pinkies with Taehyung, she stared at him, sleeping on his stomach peacefully by her side, while Diyaa couldn't help but watch passionately his exposed back going slightly up and down, calmly inhaling and exhaling.

Everything about Kim Taehyung seemed ethereal, way too perfect to be considered human. From his soft dark brown hair, to his breathing movements while sleeping. Diyaa always pointed out how lucky she felt for having him, looking up to encounter a flustered Tae with rosy cheeks and a timid smirk.

— I'm the lucky one in this relationship, sweetcheeks. - Tae always said, caressing her face dutifully with one hand, while the other one found its way to Diyaa's, intertwining pinkies.

The connection between them was strong, deep, soulmates. Her peaceful personality mixed with how chaotic he was. Yin and Yang. Balancing each other. Diyaa never felt something so profound or good, same for Taehyung, who was used to fake relationships, friendships, partnerships, a plastic world which he was tired of, willing to give up in exchange of some truthfull love and caring. Luckily, the man found honesty without leaving behind everything he battled for.

Taehyung was desperate and lonely, surrounded by bodies, but lacking souls. Filling the void with alcohol and overwork, sometimes mixing both of them and dragging Namjoon back to his old habits: late night studio sessions, hosed by cold vodka and lime slices. Some masterpieces were resulted, but no one involved felt happy.

At some point, getting drunk got trite and Tae bought stronger drugs, such as cocaine. With a thin package of powder disguised as salt on his wallet, Taehyung was feeling the pity results of a night spent on studio with Namjoon and Yoongi (who almost caught him taking a sniff). Under the hangover effects, he questioned his life choices, thinking about what would Hyung possibly do after getting him red handed. Everyone close to Suga knew he had problems with coke, only sobering up after his boyfriend, Mark, found him in a puddle of vomit, almost overdosing. Even drinking a few shots from time to time, Yoongi hated the idea of seeing someone he cared about going down the same alley.

The brown-haired man decided to get some coffee and buy new books, tired of reading the ones he had at home. At the bookstore, Taehyung grabbed a random work from Dan Brown and got in line for paying. Still hiding behind his sunglasses, he looked up and saw possibly the prettiest girl alive, dressed in a black mid-lenght sleeved shirt and a yellow apron. He felt his heart skip a beat noticing that on Diyaa's (as written on her tag) wrist was painted a sunflower, Van Gogh style.

— Fuck. I'm going to buy books here more often. - Taehyung spoke out loud, meaning to only say it to himself. The girl in front of him blushed and smirked.

He obsessed over Diyaa for over three weeks, before actually finding courage enough to ask her out. The day he finally did it, Namjoon was there to pick up his copy of "It" and a few magazines to leave on the dorm's bathrooms, also guaranteeing Taehyung wouldn't chicken out on the last minute.

Diyaa acknowledged who he was and would recognize his godlike face from kilometers afar, but never considered the idea of meeting him in person, nevermind attracting him and being asked out. At first, the girl thought everything was just a dream and even pinched her own thigh to make sure, feeling a sting and realizing that it was actually happening and Kim Namjoon was also there, holding a bunch of random magazines (literally, one of them was about motorcycle gears and raising cows).

Their first date was on a coffee shop, Diyaa didn't mention she only drank iced-coffee and Tae paid for two expressos, and a few almond cookies he claimed to taste like heaven on a plate. In fact, the biscuits were amazing. While leaving the place, after spending three hours laughing and chatting, the girl confessed that she hated coffee and a very guilty Taehyung bought her frozen yogurt with a no number of toppings. Staring at her cheeks full of brownies and strawberries, the man felt his heart melt a little.

Two years later, plenty of fights over Taehyung's addictions and bad habits, now Diyaa was helping him remain clean and sober, sometimes loosening up so he could drink wine on Christmas special to VLive, nothing stronger than champagne was their deal.

Mark and Yoongi also helped with Tae, since they went through something similar at the beginning of their relationship. Suga felt overwhelmed when Diyaa and Taehyung told what was happening, and getting his handsome and talented friend back on track became a teamwork. After coming out with his addiction, Tae became the fulltime maknae, being watched closely by even Jungkook, who was with him after relapsing for the first time and helped out when detoxing started all over again.

Now fully awake, Diyaa rolled on the bed to place her chin against Tae’s shoulder blade, hearing a growl coming down from his throat, still asleep, the man moved slightly and speaking in a low, raspy voice asking her to lift up the face so he could turn around and lay on his back.

He was still asleep, swollen eyes and mouth, not quite ready to stand up and face another toil afternoon and late night practice, wishing to stay right where they were, enjoying Diyaa’s second day off and just making out, or watching a movie, without giving more than 500 steps during the next 24 hours. Where there's a will, there's no way, so before the couple could possibly think of pretending to be sick, Hoseok knocked on the door, crooning on a rather pitch voice.

— Wake up lovey doves. I mean, Taehyung, Didi can keep on sleeping, she is off while he has a whole day of workiiiing. - After finishing the lyrics and high-note, the song continued with a whistling that wouldn’t quit before Tae opened the door and saw a fully dressed Jung Hoseok, with his uglyass Balenciaga shoes, skinny jeans and white t-shirt.

— You’re annoying and I’m going to toss your shoes right in the middle of the nearest river. - Tae said and closed the door, going back to bed, holding Diyaa on a tight hug, leaving smooches all over her face. - I know you hate my morning bad-breathe, but I love you. Good morning sweetcheeks.

— Go brush your teeth, you pig! - Diyaa joked, while caressing his chest and allowed herself to feel his soft, swollen and moisturized lips cover her face in light kisses. Yeah, she hated his morning bad-breathe, but also adored Tae. - I love you too, honeybuns.

— Come on baby, honeybuns? Why horse names? I swear that if at some point you end up calling me Buttercup or Chestnut, I’m going call a quit to this relationship. - Tae said staring her deadly serious, but leaving a perverse grin take over his gorgeous features.

They stayed there, kissing and discussing better nicknames, when Jungkook opened the door without any warning, staring at Taehyung and saying, before looking back to his cellphone, where he got into a very critic situation on the Battle Royale match.

— Morning hyung. Morning Diyaa. Jin said that if you don’t stand up and get ready, we are leaving without you. - He looked up from his cellphone screen and continued. - He also said that if you don’t get ready in 20 minutes, he’ll be taking the breakfast with him as well.

Taehyung growled again and stood on his feet, shooshing away Jungkook and breathing heavily. Diyaa was still laying comfortably on the bed, holding his pillow and glancing at him lazily.

— Ok sugartits, duty calls. You can stay at the dorms and sleep, or go to your own place and sleep. You decide where you want to crash. You know the rules, Yoongi’s room is a forbidden area. Don’t light any black light around, unless you want to see a Pollock painting.

— I'm going home. It's been days since I saw Gale for the last time, I don't even know if she fed Nemo right. - Diyaa commented while sitting up and sliding off the bed.

Walking in the bathroom direction, Tae glanced over to his girlfriend again, feeling immensely lucky, not regretting a single word said the afternoon before when they celebrated their 2 years anniversary. He loved and worshipped her, beside all the gratitude felt for helping with every addiction, also representing to perfection her task as muse for composing and work in general. Painting, singing, writing, thinking, there was nothing unrelated to Diyaa's appearance and personality.

- x -

Late night composing. Taehyung couldn't even remember the last time it happened. Everyone always felt like reliving old situations related to "dark times" would end up in relapsing again, so Namjoon and Suga changed passwords from every studio inside the BigHit building, only allowing Tae to get access whenever another member was around.

Honestly, thanks to Jimin and his fingers full of Doritos powder, Taehyung found out the new codes two weeks after changed, but writing alone was boring so he never felt the urge to use them.

Differently from any other day, Taehyung had everything related to a new song stuck to his brain, from melody to lyrics. After convincing Suga to stay til late on the Genius Lab, he began working hard and passionately. Whenever he lacked words, only staring at Diyaa's smile on his lockscreen helped.

Yoongi was tired of practicing, but didn't had the balls to say no to a deeply inspired Kim Taehyung and called Mark, calling off their plans of having dinner, but politely inviting him over, not really meaning it, he also wanted to finish one song to his new upcoming mixtape. And let's face it, focusing on something other than his shiny eyes and plump lips was very difficult. Per se impossible.

Better than anyone else, Yoongi knew how personal a composition could get, so he just left Taehyung working without interruption, a constant flow of words and melodies emitting from his mouth and guitar.

Considering how long it would take for him to finish the primary details, Suga decided to order dinner, turkey sandwiches and orange juice. Vitamin C was important, bro. Presumably, based on how focused Tae was, he also texted Diyaa guaranteeing everything was alright and if her boyfriend didn't answer any messages it wasn't on purpose.

Nothing else existed around, only the notebook where he was sketching lyrics and the guitar. Distractions showed up now and then, but Taehyung wouldn't even notice, every word and feeling flew from his mind to the paper easily and smoothly.

"Skin smooth like whipped cream

Breathe appealing and reminding me of cold blue breeze

Oh, I feel your silk voice at afternoon

At night, get comfy on your touch soft as wool

I melt in your pastel pink lips

And sand yellowish sweater covering down your hips."

Said the first verse. When Taehyung decided to write a song completely about Diyaa, nothing sounded appealing or good enough. He wanted it to pat ears with a sweet melody, sounding as beautifully as her voice. Randomly, during a conversation with Namjoon, the hyung mentioned a condition called 'synesthesia' where some of the senses just mingled, making the person listen to colours or taste smells. After searching a little better, Tae found a way of describing his love and worship for Diyaa.

While putting together some ideas, Tae remembered how he couldn't tell apart her fruity smell perfume from the mint fresh breath, whenever they were kissing it felt like a froot salad on his taste buds. Or how soft her skin was, so whenever Diyaa used clothes made of light fabrics, everything seemed so unearthly, as if she could fly and astound humanity to a point everyone would worship her as a goddess. In contrast, wool made Diyaa looks so soft and cuddly.

He wished to highlight how everything improved after meeting her. No longer than 3 months together and Diyaa became his sun, warming and keeping him healthy. Now she represented life, heat and a meaning to keep on living. Diyaa was his daily dose of strength,

"You're my reason to live, breathe and never surrender to any adversity

You are my sun and I'm a sunflower

Your warm hugs created a bond based on tender

Even at night, eyes can't see but heart always feel

I'll chase you, round and round I'll follow you for real

You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed

I would cross the world to see you dusk and dawn. "

At some point, writing became so personal and emotional that Taehyung unconsciously felt tears roll down his face. Luckily, Yoongi was entertained producing a track with headphones on and didn't pay attention to whatever happened around.

The previous afternoon, celebrating their second anniversary with a picnic on the rooftop, Tae began talking nonstop flooding Diyaa's ears and mind with sweet and sincere words, possibly the deepest ones she ever heard from him in so long.

Everything started while looking for shape on clouds, laying peacefully at the rooftop.

— It's just vapor and air, but still manages to keep up in there, looking fluff. Physics is a badass bitch. - Taehyung said laying on his back, while staring at the skies, legs crossed and one hand pointing to the impressively big and dense cloud which amazed him, while the other one was being used as a pillow for his head.

— Yeah. It's so crazy to think that atmosphere is holding a bunch of condensed water right above our heads, and us down here. If something happened and the air got slightly different, we would probably float like clouds or get killed by the gravity, making us suffocate or get smashed by how heavy we would get. - Diyaa said also staring at the skies, but with a grin on her face.

Taehyung turned his head to face the girl, with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He loved how Diyaa saw things, always finding a wire to connect subjects and turn the assumption into a whole another topic. The brown-haired man would never get tired of their long conversations, pillow talks or just random talks, there was never space to be bored.

— How did you just came up with that, though? We were looking for shapes on clouds and suddenly you are suffocating us in your mind. Girl, your brain is so fascinating. - Tae said smiling, still looking at Diyaa's soft expression and round cheeks, sparkling a light on her dorky grin.

— And that's a compliment I've never heard before. Not even coming from you. - She said turning to stare at his dark eyes, finding a Taehyung smirking passionately, glaring at her. - You always point out how soft my hair feels, or how my taste for movies is possibly the most random, just because we went from watching Saw and began a rom-com marathon with The Kissing Booth.

Tae's hand slid from his lap and found its way to intertwine with Diyaa, caressing the back of her hand with the thumb.

— I love finding new details to compliment about you. Luckily, you are so interesting, it would be impossible to run out of traits and sweet words. - He said and got back into staring at the skies.

They could stay silent for long periods of time without feeling uncomfortable. After so many ups and downs, fights and make ups, the lack of words would never bother them. Only sensing and acknowledging each other’s presence, with light touches or cuddles, was always enough. 

Taehyung glanced over to Diyaa again, watching her skin being caressed by the daylight, he felt a knot tight on his throat and an incompatible need to speak, expressing how much he loved her.

— Sweetcheeks, I love you. - Diyaa looked at him about to say something, but his pointer finger laid on her lips and a waterfall of words flew from his mouth, untying the knot on his throat and making salty tears roll down. - I love you way more than I love anything else in this goddamn world. You met me in a complicate moment, back in then I was a dirtybag full of shit and instead of leaving me and prayed for the best, you stuck around and helped to rise up again. I was so afraid of you getting tired of my hectic life and watch you leaving me for someone more similar. This idea still frights me up. I’m so grateful and I don’t think it’s possible to reward you. You deserve the world and now I remember listening to Yoongi praising Mark for all the assistance on his addictions, and how he claimed that love saved him. Back in then, constantly high and drunk, I mocked him, but look at me now. Full cheeks, sober for over a year, attending to the reunions, in a healthy relationship, living my best life so far. You even made me ditch fake friends and value the ones I have here.

“I don’t think there are words pretty enough to describe you, that’s why nothing I compose is totally about you and I want to change it. Put in a song why I love you and spread around like seeds. You are my sun and I’m a sunflower full of pollen and it’s possibly the worst metaphor ever. Sorry sweetcheeks.” - Tae continued, finger still on Diyaa’s lips, but now she didn’t knew what to say, only feeling the urge to kiss him, while sobbing on his chest, never truly understanding how deep was their love. - “I want to describe you in melodical words. Tell the world how your voice makes fireworks pop inside my brain, leaving a trail of colours around. Everything. You deserve the greatest masterpiece and I’m afraid I won’t be able to accomplish it.”

A whole new cascade of words were said and attached to them a promise: as long as they were alive, they would always keep their fire burning and love growing. Cultivating a life together like flowers, specifically sunflowers, just like the ones Diyaa had tattooed on her wrist and Taehyung intended to paint on his own skin at some point.

 - x -

Yoongi finished editing his track and left the headphones slide down to his neck while saving the archive on a file named “Mixtape 2″. He turned around on his chair and saw a sobbing Taehyung, trying his best to not smudge the lyrics written down. At first the hyung didn’t react, trying to remember what to do in such situations and a few seconds later getting in ‘parent mode’, walking carefully to check on the crying kid.

— What happened Tae? Is everything alright? - Yoongi didn’t touch Taehyung, but made sure he noticed the body getting closer.

— Of course, I’m just so happy hyung! I think I did it! I wrote something worth of being related to Diyaa! - Heavy, but happy, tears went down his face, trembling hands raising the notebook and handing it to Yoongi.

Holding the notebook and sitting down again, Yoongi read the lyrics carefully, paying attention to how personal every verse was. If love could possibly be materialized and described, the words completing that song would make its part. A feeling of tenderness took over Min Yoongi’s heart and the urge to cry got unbearable. He was proud and sentimental.

“I used to be blue and dancing between shades of grey

Your yellow love took over me turning me green

I was growing again, adulting up again

You gave me hope, when all I wanted was to quit

You held me up, now I’m alive and everyday a little more keen

After so many days together, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been

I’m so thankful, sweetcheeks.”

- x -

Inspired by: @ohmydearmoonchild thank you for being a ray of light and honesty among so many toxic people. I purple you.

[joshuazev]

On carpal tunnel:

Was is it about Saturdays that force me to start my post over again and again and again?  I’m not really sure why I’m particularly hard on myself on nights like these, but for some reason everything that comes out of my fingers, warps through the computer, and lands on my “notepad” app seems incredibly adequate, heavy handed, and just plain boring.  I had thought about writing about cynicism and how uncomfortable it is to feel like you’re becoming a more cynical person, but I quickly discarded that idea.  I’m not ready to deal with that possible reality, yet.  Then I thought about the ice cream truck song and how it belongs in horror films.  The fact that it is a clip that lasts ten seconds and plays over and over again is quite disturbing to me.  The way it reels in kids and sounds so sweet; it belongs in a scary movie about clowns, like “It” or something.

So you can see why I started over.  There wasn’t exactly a whole lot there and that’s how Saturdays feel sometimes.  Void of energy.  Lackadaisical.  Vegetable.  Effortless.  The bad kind.

…

Looks like I’m gonna try and get through this writers block with all of you.  It takes a village to raise a child, right?  Well, hopefully that can apply to a blog post.  I had been reading the Garden State script today to try and refamiliarize myself with the layout and format of screenwriting and I was reminded of how much I enjoyed the script.  It seemed like a script I felt I could write.  Then while researching more information about the movie I stumbled on an article that said how much the movie sucked.  The author spoke of how much he liked it, but that after revisiting it a year later he realized that it was really bad.  HIs reasoning:  the movie seemed good because it was a reflection of how people felt at the time (post second Bush election).  The young population felt helpless, numb, mopey and defeated, and thus, they could relate to Zach Braff’s character, as well as other characters in the movie who were also going through a state of flux.  I find myself to be very affected by the opinions of others, even easily swayed, at times.  After reading this complete bashing of the movie I was almost convinced.  “Damn, maybe this movie did fucking suck.”  But then after thinking about it a little longer I held my ground and remembered why I liked the movie so much.  Yes, it’s talky.  Yes, it meanders a little.  Yes, the characters try talking about deep things.  But you know what, that’s me right now.  I’m a mid-20’s guy who feels like I have nothing but my thoughts.  Those are the like the only things that I know are mine 100 percent.  The movie affects me.  It focuses on a character who is numb.  I feel numb sometimes.  

Whatever.

…

A couple years ago I got an app that showed me how often I would use my phone.  At the time I thought it was a realistic option to cut back on my phone use.  For the first hour or so I was doing pretty good.  This app told me everything.  It told me when I picked it up, opened the lock screen, and how long I was on the phone before turning it off.  The sad thing was realizing after several hours that I hadn’t changed my habits at all.  And really, you’re not going to eliminate something so ingrained that quickly, so I accepted that for what it was, but at the end of the day the app was only good for telling me exactly how much time I was wasting.  It was like the “Remembrall” from Harry Potter, which tells you when you’ve forgotten something.  The only trouble is—as Neville Longbottom later discovered in the book—was how do you remember what you’ve forgotten?!

…

I’m hopefully going to be moving to a new spot soon after my lease ends in August.  I suppose the hardest thing to get rid of will be the bed and all the hardware around it.  I never put anything up on the walls except my Paris Metro Map.  I don’t know what that means, really.  I wonder why I didn’t put more things up.  Because I knew it was going to be temporary?  Maybe I didn’t take my place seriously enough.  I’ll probably just get rid of the desk and the drawers.  Maybe it’s a good thing it won’t be hard to transport everything.  I guess not getting too invested wasn’t such a bad thing.  I don’t know where I wanna go, don’t know where I wanna live.  Harlem, maybe?  Astoria?  Bushwick?  Bed-Stuy?  Prospect Park?  If you got a budget the options find a way to limit themselves and if you have a small budget the options become a handful.

…

I’m grateful for my AC.  I remember when I had to go to the Midtown on the east side to pick it up.  I didn’t want to take an Uber because I had already spent so much money buying the AC in the first place.  The only problem was the thing weighed like 65 pounds.  Lugging that heavy thing everywhere was going to be a major you-know-what.  But I didn’t care.  So I took the E train first.  The stairs and then the turnstile and more stairs and having to get to the right spot was a bear, not to mention the fact that the trains were crowded.  The sweat droplets formed immediately.  I guess one of the good things about the AC unit was I didn’t need a place to sit on the train because I could just sit on it.  I attracted a lot of awkward eyes and such, but by the end it almost felt like there were people on my side.  The E train became the A train and the A train became the 1 train.  My joints felt like they were going to break carrying that heavy thing all through the stations and up the stairs.  Walking the two block with it to my apartment was a mountain to climb in its own right.  Luckily I had an elevator because if I didn’t I would have passed out for sure.  I arrived at the door feeling like my body had turned to liquid.  My face was drenched in water, my shirt was soaked an my jeans and shoes felt like they had all been left in a puddle for hours.  The relief came as soon as my roommates boyfriend helped me get it set up in the window.  That first rush of air felt like a brush with heaven.  A welcomed and harsh cold hit my body like the first step outside of an airport Siberia (do they have airports in Siberia?).  I remember the first week spent in that room, in the middle of August, without AC.  I thought I had slept in Hell, except with 100 percent humidity included.  Being naked wasn’t enough.  I felt like I had to turn inside out in order to survive those nights.  And now that I’m looking at my good friend, Ms. AC, I’m reminded of how thankful I am that he has helped me these past eleven months.  I’m hoping to take him with me to my next place or at least put him in storage, so we can meet somewhere down the road.

…

Stop tape.

[worldsabound]

It's a Date

It was raining the day I died. The rain came down in that peaceful way where it only gently taps at your windows. You had cancelled our plans, again, saying the grey sky had soured your mood. Your response soured mine. Being in a bad mood, I made the bad decision to go without you. I probably should have checked the temperature before I left. It was cold, but I thought a thick hoodie would be enough.

It wasn’t.

The inside of my car felt like it was freezing, and the coldness of the steering wheel stung my hands as I gripped it tight. Looking back, I could have easily just turned around and gone back inside, tucked myself into bed and slept it off. But I couldn’t. My hand twitched as I fumbled inserting the key into the ignition. My mouth felt dry, my lips chapped. I knew it was wrong. I turned the key, and the car meekly sputtered to life, almost begging me not to go through with it. I stepped on the gas, pulling away from the curb, and heard a horrific grinding noise. I swore, and disengaged the parking brake. Nothing was going to stop me.

I’m guessing you had forgotten that night, so many years ago. We were in college, walking with friends who had been drinking to celebrate the dawn of a new weekend. Cam proposed a midnight walk through the city, and sent out an invite through text. Having nothing better to do, I showed up. I already had a habit of walking around late at night, and you wanted to clear your head after writing a research paper. As usual, Cam picked some good destinations for our gaggle of misfits. The Dead End felt particularly alive that night, and you felt it. It pushed you away, a warning sign from its inhabitants. On the other hand, it welcomed me in. Comfort rolled over me like steam from a badly needed hot shower. I drank in the atmosphere like liquid lightning and after that I was so, so awake and so very, very aware. I felt wisps streak across my skin and a ghost play with my hair. Or maybe that was just the wind. Cam traced the ley lines beneath the asphalt with his steps and quizzed the others to see if they could find them. Some could. Most couldn’t. You did. After staring into the gaping maw leading into the void, the “End” of The Dead End, Cam took us somewhere new. His eyes were laughing when he said it was someplace special, that he had only found it two nights ago. Do you remember Cam? Probably. He was the sort of guy that always left an impression on people. He was also the sort of guy that could pull off wearing a cowboy hat and not look like an idiot, even though were were in Vermont. You could never guess what was going to come out of his mouth next. One second the topic could be politics, then philosophy, then dirty jokes, then spirituality, then Dungons & Dragons. I miss Cam. I saw the thing that followed him that night. He called it the Watcher. He told me he’d always felt it, ever since he was little. Once upon a time, it frightened him to know it was there, but it eventually got to the point where he just couldn’t care about it any more. I never told him what it looked like. I don’t think I really could have. It had too many eyes and teeth like hands and this grin like it knew I could see it and it could eat me if it wanted to.

It took me a few minutes and one close call with a taxi to realize I didn’t have my windshield wipers turned on. I didn’t need to see to know where I was going. My route was already planned out in my head. If a cop had stopped me maybe I could have snapped out of it. But I felt it pulling me, calling out to something deep in the core of my being and pushing fire through my veins. My hands danced and tapped on the steering wheel and I rocked violently back and forth just to get rid of the energy building up inside me. I wanted to stop, to get out of the car and just run as fast as I could. No, that would have been too slow. I wanted to jump out of the car as it kept moving, out, get out, get out the car run and get out the car. Some tiny rational part of my mind kept me in my seat, but even this was in service to the calling. It would only take me a few more minutes if I just drove. Much faster than running.

The park was an inconspicuous thing, made sinister by the shadows of night. Cam guided us to the swings and play structure, and started telling a story. I don’t remember it. All I remember is the thing I could not see, just beyond the trees, shaded in an arch of branches. It touched something in my heart, like winning the lottery while having the best sex ever as something exploded in the background, putting sunglasses on because damn, you’re just that cool. I asked if anyone else felt something. They asked where. I pointed. Cam’s eyes followed my finger, and he went pale. “You don’t want to go over there.” “Why not?” “Trust me.” I did trust Cam, but fuck if I didn’t feel amazing just then. I knew that was just a taste of what could be, like an actress showing a bit of leg in an old noir film. My anxiety was what probably saved me that night. Despite the pull, I feared what everyone would think if I suddenly ran off screaming like a crazy person. The being kept watching me though, and I could feel its gaze even with my back turned. Cam finished his story, but I could tell he was keeping an eye on me, and it. We moved on.

I almost missed the turn into the cemetery, and my car slid as I jerked the wheel around wildly. I had to slow down as I pulled through the gate, and pavement gave way to dirt roads now turned to mud. I pulled over, put the car in park, turned the car off, and got out. As the door closed behind me, I was faintly aware that I had left the keys in the ignition. Didn’t matter. I felt it whispering to me. Although the rain was light, it had been going on all day at that point. My sneakers became soaked as I trudged straight through puddles without a second thought. The cemetery was attached to a small forest park, and there were light hiking trails that ran through both. Briefly, I considered just walking in a straight line to my destination, but there were plants with thorns and ones that made you itch off the beaten path. I made my best guess as to which path to take, and soldiered on. At that point, I was shivering and wet down to my bones. But as I walked further and further into the woods, that old fire awakened and kept me going.

You rightfully became concerned when I started flailing my arms about as we walked to our next destination. As soon as we had left the park, the being tried to lure me back. All my glands began pumping adrenaline, and my mind was consumed, overpowered by a single thought: go back to the park. Well, almost all of it. Cam looked me in the eye as we left, and told me he would tackle me and hold me down if he had to. I knew he was faster than me. Still, I entertained the thought of breaking from the group just to get another taste of that feeling. I could hardly keep still, nor did I want to outpace everyone, so I channeled all of that excess energy into my arms. I was conducting a mad symphony, a song with no beginning and no end, just raw and bloody noise. It took an hour before the spell finally wore off, and I was myself again. Mostly.

I knew it was going to be a bad idea. That was why I wanted you with me. To stop me. Like having someone tell you not to waste your money on that 3D printer, when are you ever going to use it anyways? It had been so long, though. So long since I had gone for a walk. Not just a walk around campus, or even around the neighborhood, but a Walk. One where I went to find the spirits and things of the night, so talk to the stars and listen to their sage advice. One taken while the rest of the world slept. I needed it. It didn’t help when it arrived in town.

We had thought my ordeal over, after that night. We walked to The Dead End again, but avoided the park. I had no issues. You still worried for me. Months passed. Then Halloween rolled around, and we were watching scary movies together, alone in my dorm room. I felt it, weakly, like the cry of a newborn baby. I told you, and you hugged me tight. You said you weren’t going to let me go. No fucking way. I didn’t mind. It helped distract me from how terrifying the movies were.

I resisted for a few days, putting my mind towards things like homework or hanging out with friends. The call got louder, and louder, until it felt like my head was going to burst. Everyone could tell, but I blamed it on caffeine or allergies. I asked you to join me on a day when you didn’t have work. I knew I could hold out until then, but only just. I want you to know I don’t blame you. We’ve both talked about each other’s issues, and I knew you had been blue for a few days. It’s probably my fault for not getting someone else to join me. ….Hm? What’s that? Fine. I’ll move on. I found it in a small clearing full of stones. They had all been arranged to make out a strange symbol within a circle. It might have creeped me out, but I recognized it as a transmutation circle from Fullmetal Alchemist. Must have been left by some geeks hanging out in the park. The being hovered amongst the trees, intangible, yet they all seemed to bend and groan in its presence. Its singular eye was white like the sun, but cold and empty. Dozens of spindly legs hung below its bulbous mass, barely scraping the ground. Dead, skeletal wings were folded against its body, which was covered in spikes and horns and scales. There was no mouth from which it could speak, but it told me what I had to do. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and let it inside me. It felt like I was choking as it twisted and contorted its mass to fit down my tiny esophagus, going down head first. I felt it slowly coil in the pit of my stomach, then start to eat me from the inside-out. And it felt euphoric. As it bit and tore I felt lighter and lighter as it took away my weight and my insides were hollow I was being made hollow and I didn’t care. It stopped just short of my skin, and just behind my eyes. It’s looking at you now, through them. Through me. A heart beats in my chest but it is not my own. I speak as it allows me to speak and do as it allows me to do. Why? It has not forgotten that night, when we intruded upon its domain. It has not forgotten the seething hate at our trespassing, nor has it forgotten the thing which melted away its anger and blew it away like petals on the breeze. You. Your smile, while small, could lift mountains and breathe life into stones. Your eyes are always observant, keen to catch a joke or a lie. You have a wonderful sense of humor and a tenderness that shames angels. You- What? These aren’t my words. I told you all you had to say was that she’s cute. Yeah, yeah. Look, while I’m at it, the flowers are cheesy as Hell too. See these? Freshly pulled from your neighbor’s garden. They still have mud on them. I swear, all it knows about romance comes from movies and sappy TV shows. Look, all it wants to know is if you’d be free for dinner and a movie, say, next Monday? Cool. It’s a date.

[lassieposting]

#hit the ground HATING #gets consequences learns Nothing #he started playing in the void puddle got told no and took that personally.

op how could you leave void puddle in the tags

tolkien is full of three dimensional villains who understand the mistakes that they've made and regret them, or who have very understandable motivations that we literally watch spiral downward. melkor, meanwhile, came into existence as the strongest prettiest best cosmic entity, immediately started trying to fight god for the aux cord, and made it everyone else's problem for the next All Of Existence