#high-heels-and-fortune-cookies

[yorshie]

For the angst prompt, can you do 23 & 24 a very angsty confession with Raph with an eventual happy ending?

Bayverse Raph x GN reader, SFW

"Will it kill you to tell me the truth for once?" You shouted at his retreating shell, dodging the hanging chains that swayed quickly back in place as he sought to put some distance between the two of you, the usual makeshift door not slowing you down like it would normally.

The argument was old, but you were full of hot anger, and the festering itch couldn't be shoved down any longer.

"I tried! I tried to tell you, but you didn't listen to me." He sounded so tired, so done, and it created a tight swell of panic high in your chest. "Just like you aren't listening to me right now. It's gotta be this way, sweet-"

"Don't you dare 'sweetheart' me in the middle of breaking up with me, Raphael." You hissed, rounding on him. "You did not tell me, you just have me some fortune cookie nonsense and then disappeared!"

You stopped in front of him, glaring up at the sad look on his face. "Stop looking at me like that and tell me what's going on, or so help me I'll... I'll ask Leo."

Raph barked a laugh at that, turning his face upwards and scrubbing a large hand over his beak. "Wow." Embarrassment stained your cheeks at the amount of patronization in that one word. "You still aren't listening, are you?"

You looked down sharply, breathing hard, trying not to sniffle as he continued.

"Leo's gone to throw his own girl off our scent, he's no help to you or me right now. Might've worked a few hours ago, but now I've seen what these assholes are prepared to do. You gotta bug out, babe."

He tried to reach out, to touch your face, but you dodged his hand, anger still bubbling up. "You can't ditch me, Raph. I'll just... I'll follow you."

"No, you won't." He explained, rough voice dipping down low. "Wr'e going dark, and I need you too as well. I can't even give you a burner, I'm dead serious-"

You turned on your heel before he could finish, hurt, angry, ten seconds from screaming at him, needing to get as far away as possible before you expounded the problem.

"Hey, wait!" Raph called, making an aborted move for your swinging arm. "I wanna at least say good-"

"No!" You yelled over your shoulder. "Don't you dare say that fucking word to me! You can tell me hello though, when you finally pull your head out of your shell!"

Silence radiated from behind you, but you didn't dare turn to look. Your vision was already blurry, you'd break if he was watching you leave with that same sad look pulling at his face.

A month later, sitting in your friend’s living room, listlessly poking at yet another plate of cold leftovers, your purse started buzzing.

Confused, you pulled the item towards you, rooting around until your fingers touched something cold and bulky. Pulling it out, you turned over an old flip phone.

It started buzzing again, and without thinking you flipped it open, heart starting to kick up in your throat at the low voice on the other side.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry it took so long”

[fallout-boiiiiii]

Wave four prehiatus

This wave isn’t set in stone, the phantom fifth wave will be when I actually hand create each shoe and that will be its final design. As I make them they’ll get their own post chronicling the design process.

A Split EP (2002)

This design is a new addition! Based on the first recorded work Fall Out Boy ever put out, a split EP with Project Rocket. The art itself is almost entirely white with a line each of lime green and gray. So the shoes are almost entirely white with minor gray and lime green accents to reflect that. I chose checkerboard for the quarters to keep the design simple and the Vans feature white drip as a highlight detail. The lace charm pictured is a clock gear, which matches the gear design to be painted onto the toe of the opposite shoe. These are inspired by the EP art of what looks like stage schematics. I’m unsure as of posting (11/29/22) if I want to keep the PR/FOB on the toe of the opposite shoe or if I’d rather write it somewhere else, like the heel or the sidewall.

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend (2003)

This is the same wave one base we saw before. For this one, I’ve added a fortune cookie lace charm to one shoe and a fortune patch that says “you’ll have a better life if you just stay home” to the other. These both play on the numerous fortunes and other scraps of paper seen on the album cover. The patch itself has the same sort of cynical, wry message the album gives off about being young, infatuated, and in the scene. The patch will go on the heel and on the opposite heel I’ll paint the lyric “this is the last song that I waste on you” from Parker Lewis Can’t Lose. On the seam of the toes I’ll paint the same sun ray like pattern seen on the album.

Take This to Your Grave (2003)

Simple lace charms on this one. A blue crystalline one to bring in the blue accent we were missing before, and a silver middle finger for the opposite shoe. Feels self explanatory. First names of the band members on the side stripe I may or may not keep, but it’s meant to reflect the line of text displaying their names on the album. On the heels I’ll paint “I read about the afterlife but// I never really lived more than an hour” from Saturday.

My Heart Will Always be the B-side to My Tongue (2004)

The detail additions of this one make it feel a lot more like the album it represents to me. One shoe will have a lace charm of a functioning anatomically correct gold heart locket pendant. The other has a red heart lace lock that I may or may not keep. On both toes, I’ll sew on a crochet heart patch like the one pictured. I’ll replace the laces to make them a light orange to match the text on the album art. On the heels of each shoe I’ll paint the lyric “wouldn’t know a good thing// if it came up and slit your throat” from My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon.

From Under the Cork Tree (2005)

The customization detail on this one that actually excited me most was replacing the Vans laces for ones that were the same shade of brighter yellow (as opposed to gold) but velvet. Need I say more. On one shoe there will be a key lace charm and on the other “misery loved me” from Dance, Dance painted on the side stripe. The shoe with the key will have “loaded god complex” from Sugar, We’re Going Down painted on the heel, and the shoe with the Dance, Dance lyric will have a broken heart patch sewn on the heel as well as a banner that says Fall Out Boy. On the tread, I’ll paint in white “take aim at myself//take back what you said” also from Sugar. Some of these details may be omitted when I physically make the shoes if I find the design to be too busy.

Infinity on High (2007)

This design has a lace charm for each shoe, a blue Saturn-like planet (to tie into the starry, planetary theme) and a silver lamb. Before anyone says anything, I know Franklin is not a lamb. All the sheep charms I could find were either ridiculously expensive or ugly. So lamb it is. I’m sure there’s symbolism in it anyway. On the back of one heel I’ll have the IOH moon and some stars (it says embroidered but that’s not a requirement). “Infinity on High” in the IOH cursive font will be painted on the side stripe of the opposite shoe.

Welcome to the New Administration Mixtape (2008)

Another new entry! The WTTNA mixtape was made by “CitizensFOB” (Citizens For Our Betterment) and hosted and mixed by Clinton Sparks for promotion of their upcoming album Folie a Deux. (It was one of many fun promo tactics for Folie- Fresh Only Bakery, anybody?) The art and promotion of the mixtape had a very political campaign vibe and imagery, which I tried to capture. The pointing fingers are not only pictured on the actual art, but are representative of the guys raising their hands in the air as pictured. The candy striping red of the quarters is meant to invoke a specific time period of politics while being a simple background. The eyestay features the same pattern as seen on the SRAR shoes, just to add texture. The shoe is red, white, and blue despite the brown tones of the art to capture the election feel. One shoe will have a VOTE charm. On the toes of both shoes will be a Stars and Stripes banner as pictured. On the heel of one will be the design of the CitizensFOB campaign button and on the other the Fall Out Boy banner as pictured on the cover.

Folie a Deux (2008)

You know how I mentioned earlier that this base stays mostly the same except for one change in wave four? That change is sewing a dark brown teddy material over the tongue of each shoe. The shoes will also have three lace charms, a gold Rx pill bottle on one shoe and a small bear and golden anchor on the other. The gold tones are to match the warm color scheme of the shoe. The pill bottle is a reference to the album name but also the America’s Suitehearts music video and 20 Dollar Nosebleed lyric references to Benzedrine. The bear is obvious, and the anchor is in reference to What a Catch, Donnie. On the heels of both shoes, in yellow, I’ll paint “detox just to retox” from Disloyal Order.

Believers Never Die: Volume One (2009)

More lace charms! These ones aren’t terribly deep. One is a coffin charm that can open to reveal a skeleton, and the other is a skull. I may switch the skull out to something else, that’s tbd. On the heels I’ll paint “tell rock and roll I’m alone again//I wanna put the Midwest home again” from Alpha Dog.

[mystic-writings]

little things | sirius black

PAIRING – sirius black x fem!potter!reader

SUMMARY – you’ve been in love with sirius black for years, but not for the reasons people assume. when your older brother gets married, sirius proposes that you run away with him

WARNINGS – non-voldemort AU, believed unrequited love, fluff

WORD COUNT – 2,563

NOTES – yet another rewrite from my old account!! read the original here

masterlist | taglist form

Being a Potter would always have its advantages. Fancy parties with other ‘high-up’ magical families, fortunes left behind from the work of your ancestors, being able to train and work on your abilities and magic from a young age. However, with advantages there were always disadvantages. Too many people knew who you were, or knew your name at least. The dress clothes your parents forced you into for parties were always garish and uncomfortable. No one was willing to suck it up and date you.

The last one wasn’t because of the strings attached to your family name, perse. It was, however, because of the infamous reputation your brother and his band of buffoons built up around Hogwarts over the years. They were a pain in your ass more often than not, but somewhere along the line, between helping you out with classes they’ve taken before and getting revenge on those who wronged you in any way, they became a sort of family to you. So much so that by the time you reached the age where boys became attractive instead of repulsive, they took it upon themselves to threaten anyone who so much as even looked at you like they were interested in asking you out.

At first it was annoying, but after a late night conversation with your roommates one night you realized that it didn’t really matter, because the only person you could ever be interested in that attended the school was absolutely off limits, no matter what you said or did or how much you tried to convince James. Because you had a massive, head over heels crush on Sirius Black.

You honestly felt like a cliche character in every average romance book and movie. Of course, you had to develop feelings for your older brother’s so-called rebellious, bad boy best friend.

But you just couldn’t help it. Because that was what he tried to be in front of everyone but you and his best friends. You were sure that if he’d shown the sides of him to everyone else that he showed to you, everyone at Hogwarts would be begging to date him. But all they saw was his shiny hair, his suave attitude and his charming smile. You, though, you saw all of it and more. You got the pleasure of seeing what he hid underneath his facade. Of seeing all of the little things that made him into who he was.

That genuine, hearty laugh that he only ever used in the presence of his friends and your parents, the care and worry he often displayed when a prank backfired or someone got upset, even if he had nothing to do with it. How he usually tended to cling to you like a koala bear after one too many drinks at a Gryffindor party. The impressively extensive and poetic knowledge he possessed about the stars and the myths attached to each constellation; knowledge that he loved so much but hated where he got it from, but was proud to share it with you. The fact that he took his tea with very little milk and two sugars, and that he preferred his tea cookies with strawberry jam over anything else. So much so that he would refuse to eat them if there was none present.

Even though you were a year younger than all of them, James’ friends liked to consider you an honorary Marauder. That particular title had only ever been given to two people – yourself and Lily. She’d been a very good friend of yours long before she even tolerated James, even despite the small age gap between you two. She was the only person on the planet, aside from your roomates (though you think they’ve long forgotten that conversation in third year) who knew how you felt about Sirius; about how it had extended far beyond a simple crush ages ago.

Still, no matter how many times she’d insisted that Sirius loved you, too, you’d never believe what Lily had to say. She claimed, swore up and down, even, that she could see it all clear as day, just by the way he softened whenever he was around you, and how willing he was to do things for you that he did for no one else. But he thought of you as a sister, and had even said so on multiple occasions, so Lily had to have been wrong. She’d also told you, though, that it was impossible to not see it, that you should’ve noticed something by now considering staring as Sirius was something you had a bad habit of doing when he was around, but you didn’t.

Because he was your brother’s best friend, you weren’t meant to fall in love.

He was your brother’s best friend, and in turn, your best friend as well.

All of that pining you suffered with should’ve been left behind two years ago, when he and James and the rest of the group graduated from Hogwarts. But he sent you letters every week while you were still in school. And he didn’t move out of your parents house until after Christmas break. And he, James and Lily visited you during Easter holidays, so you were still stuck with those infuriating feelings for longer than you planned and expected to.

After you had graduated yourself, you decided to move into a tiny apartment above a cute little shop in a muggle neighborhood, spending your weekends in the house that James and Lily bought right before you left school, hanging around with her and the bots to soak up as much time as you possibly could with them.

Now, just over a year after you graduated, you stood in the bridal suite of a church, pinning locks of Lily’s blazing red hair back with bobby pins. It was going to be a relatively small wedding overall, but you knew it would be beautiful. And you couldn’t be more proud of Lily and James for choosing each other after so long.

“You know,” the bride started, catching your gaze in the mirror, “I can’t wait until you and Sirius finally get over yourselves and get together. I’ve already got a board drawn up for your wedding.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, well thank Merlin you’ve already got it all planned. That surely takes all the weight from my shoulders for when it doesn’t happen.”

“It’ll happen, I’m sure of it.” Lily said. “I’ve got a feeling something’ll happen soon. I don’t know when, but it’ll surely be soon. Before the end of the year, at least.”

You shook your head at the girl. “You’ve got to let it go, Lil. I’m okay with not being with him, you know? It’s been so long that I’ve just sort of accepted that nothing will happen. Especially considering James and the fact that he’s… well, he’s James. I’ll move on eventually.”

“But when excactly will that be? I mean, wouldn’t you rather suck it up and tell him? Wouldn’t it be better than just living with it silently?”

“No!” You told her. “No, it wouldn’t, Lily. I could ruin our relationship with that kind of confession, and I’d rather not be the one to break up our friend group, thank you very much.”

Lily only scoffed as you finished up her hair, packing up all the extra hair and makeup supplies that were left over or just didn’t get used.

Taking her hand, you pulled her from the chair she sat in, straightened out her dress skirt, and handed her the bouquet. “Come on, love. You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Exchanging smiles, you headed out the door to line up with the bridesmaids. That familiar flutter in your chest acted up again when you spotted Sirius in his suit, possibly looking the best you’ve ever seen him. It intensified when you linked arms with him for the wedding march, but all it took was a single, reassuring smile from him to calm you down.

Just as you’d planned and predicted, the ceremony was absolutely beautiful. Everyone was in attendance and James and Lily had written their own vows, both of which brought you to tears. Your older brother, the boy who scared off the monsters in your closet despite being scared of his own, was officially a husband; and you officially had a sister.

The reception, which was being held in a tent in a meadow near your childhood home, had been going on for hours, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. It was long after sunset and the music was still blaring, with people drinking, talking, singing and dancing everywhere you looked.

You stood barefoot in the meadow with your shoes hooked on your fingers, deciding to take a break from the festivities behind you. The breeze was chilling your arms, sending goosebumps up your spine, but you didn’t care. The view of the night sky was nice enough for you to excuse the drop in temperature. Your eyes kept to the sky above, the half moon illuminating the wildflowers that swallowed your calves.

“Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party?” A voice called out from behind, startling you. Your heart rate calmed when you turned and realized it was only Sirius. “After all, you did help plan the whole thing.”

Turning back around, you shrugged and brought your arms to your chest. “Yeah. ‘M just taking a breather. It was getting a bit too stuffy in there.”

Sirius came to a stop at your right. “And in order for you to do that you… took off your shoes?”

“Of course I did, Sirius.” You said. “They were getting uncomfortable.” Another gust of wind blew past, and you fought your body’s urge to shiver. Taking a breath, you spared Sirius a glance. “You know, I always had a feeling they’d end up together. At some point, at least.”

“How?” Sirius asked, face scrunching up as he looked at you. “Lily didn’t even like him until 6th year. She could barely tolerate him until 4th year. Now James, I understand. He’s your brother, plus he makes practically everything about himself obvious. But Lily? No way.”

“Actually, Mr. Black, there was a way.” You laughed. “It’s called being observant. I could see it from miles away. Plus I was her best friend, you know. I heard more than enough rants about James to tell.” You explained. “Plus, the little things can tell you everything. Like once in 4th year, I caught Lily staring at James from across the Great Hall, and not with the rage she used to stare at him with. There was love in her eyes, and that told me all I needed to know. When James stopped making a big show of asking her out in 5th year, started to actually get to know her? That was another one. And do you know why we stopped pranking the Slytherins all the time in your 6th year?”

“Why? And what does that have to do with anything?”

You chuckled and turned your gaze back to the meadow. “It matters, Sirius, because Lily asked him to. When they were on the train at the beginning of the year.”

Seemingly baffled, Sirius’ posture straightened and confusion twisted his features. “How the hell could you know something like that?”

“I overheard them on the way to the bathrooms.” You shrugged your shoulders and smiled. “I may be observant, Padfoot, but I can’t read minds.”

Sirius breathed a laugh, his features relaxing as he turned his gaze back to the field before you. The silence settled over the two of you like a comfortable blanket as both of your eyes scattered across the wildflowers and tall grass.

“Little things,” Sirius muttered to himself, head tilted back to allow him the full view of the night sky. “Like how I used to make sure your favorite cereal was always on the grocery list at home? Or how when we spend the day together I absolutely have to make you laugh because it’s my favorite sound in the world? What about how I always have and always will go to you when I’m upset or I’m having a problem because somehow you know exactly what to say to help me or make me feel better?”

You could feel your entire body warming at Sirius’ words. Turning to him, you found that somewhere in his spiel that he turned to face you entirely, and you tried to avoid his gaze as best as you could. “Sirius, I…” you started. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you.” Sirius said, a soft determination filling his words. “I’m in love with you, Y/n. I have been ever since I laid eyes on you, shy and hiding behind your brother on that train so long ago. You’re… you’re everything to me.”

Tears lined your eyes and a sort of sad smile graced your features. “Sirius, I shouldn’t be in love with you.” You started, watching his face fall. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. I’ve been in love with you since before my 3rd year, even if I didn’t realize it. But you’re James’ best friend. Hell, he sees you as his brother. He’d kill us both if he found out we started dating.”

Sirius seemed to consider your words for a while, as the silence stretched over you again. Then, taking a breath, he spoke. “So let’s run away together.”

Your eyes widened and you blanched at his proposition. “Sirius Black are you out of your mind? Do you really think that we could just run away together to a cottage in the hills and live happily ever after or something?”

“Yeah, I do.” Sirius said. When he noticed your expression didn’t change, he continued. “I’m not joking, Y/n. We could be happy together. We already know everything about one another. We’re both well enough off to buy a house and live simply for a while, we don’t need jobs just yet. And just for the record, I don’t really care what anyone thinks or has to say, especially James. Because I only know one thing that really matters, and it’s that I am madly in love with you and I’ll just about die if I don’t get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The tears that you blinked away in your initial surprise returned, your heart warmed immensely at Sirius’ words. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your voice before replying. “I think I’d just about die if I don’t get to spend the rest of my life with you, too, Sirius.”

Sirius’ lips stretched into a large, beaming smile. “So you’ll go with me, then?”

Your smile matched his, and you nodded. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Somehow, his smile widened. Sirius pulled you into him, your bodies just inches from touching. He leaned down, tilting his head as you tilted yours, lips touching under the moonlight, just meters away from where your brother was celebrating his new marriage. You could feel the love Sirius was pouring into the kiss, and your heart swelled in your chest as you thought of the future – your future with Sirius. The life you would build with him, of your own accord.

forever taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

sirius black taglist: @neev-moony @hehehehannahthings @unic0rntaking0ver17645 @simpforfictionalmen-uk @wecallhimbrowneyess @fr-ogii @fairydxll @badbatch-simp24 @xhenix @letosart13 @erospecies @alexxavicry @imabee-oralizard @ella33 @ellablossom @1-800-isabellapotter @ajordan2020 @thethreeeyed-raven @lunepoesie

taglist is open!

[gccdwitch]

“There isn’t,” she confirms with a nod. “I hate to sound like a corny quote from the Internet or a fortune cookie but there’s bravery in being soft.” Duygu laughs freely as he asks her to tell him more, shaking her head. “Oh, man, you’re going to looove the story about how I single-handedly fought an alligator once. And won. Of course.” Snorting at the image of their client with a ladder, she raises her eyebrows at him. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure she does. Probably right next to the hammer, she keeps around for special occasions.” Her eyes scan the area around them, too, just in case a ladder decides that now is the perfect time to reveal itself and surprise them. Of course, that’s not the case. She spots nothing that could potentially help her climb. “I—well,” she glances down at herself. With her pristine beige pants and her high heels, she probably didn’t look like a good candidate for tree climbing. “I’ll take my shoes off,” Duygu points out the obvious like it might help her case, sliding off the hair tie that she always keeps around her wrist for emergencies to quickly tie her hair. “We can’t just leave it there, Toph. What if it falls? It’s so tiny.” / @frxntlines

" me? pfft, " blowing out a soft raspberry followed by a chuckle. " i'm not soft, not like there's something wrong with that! " he protested, keeping up with the light and playful banter." you've done crazier things? you need to tell me some of those stories\, like yesterday. " his eyes followed her elevating gaze until he caught view of the furry kitten. " uh, that's pretty far up, duygu. are you sure? maybe we should get a ladder or something, i'm sure the pop star has one hiding around here somewhere. " referring to their shared client, topher rubbed the bottom of his chin. " i'm not letting you up there. " / @gccdwitch

[heaven-asunder]

Seeing you active really made my day :) I really hope you're doing well!!! I missed you so much!

i missed you too!! sorry this is so late!

Rune Factory Ficlet

Vishnal/Dolce/Frey: Established Relationship

SFW

Dolce stood at the front of Selphia castle, head held high as Volkanon inspected her craft. The Handicraft Festival had only just begun, and the cool wind of fall did nothing to quiet the energy of her two lovers.

“You’ve got this Dolce!” Frey shouted from the crowd.

“We believe in you!” Vishnal concurred. Volkanon shot them a look and put a finger to his lips.

“Right, sorry,” Vishnal said, looking at the ground. Volkanon continued to roll the accessory over in his hands, staring at it intently.

“Very fine work,” he said to Dolce.

“You’re damn right she is! It is! The accessory I mean,” Frey stuttered. A chuckle waved though the crowd, and Frey turned bright pink. 

“Princess, do I need to remind you to keep your voice down during the judging?” 

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. Volkanon nodded. He placed the trinket down, and moved on to the next candidate. Frey and Vishnal caught Dolce’s eye and threw her a thumbs up. Dolce rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but not quite hiding the smile that played on her lips. 

“Alright!” Volkanon boomed. “It’s time to announce the winner!” Frey crossed her fingers, grabbing Vishnal’s hand as he did the same. 

“The winner of this year’s Handicraft Festival is...Dolce!” 

Frey and Vishnal whooped, running from the crowd to tackle Dolce into a congratulatory hug.

“You two are ridiculous,” Dolce scolded, but was barely heard over her lovers’ cheers of excitement. She wrapped her arms around them, hiding her pleased blush.

“I hope you both realized that this means you’re buying me dinner,” she said. Vishnal laughed.

“And desert?”

“And desert.”

[campcamp-nerris]

high-heels-and-fortune-cookies replied to your post “if a mime attended camp campbell, would they still wear the yellow...”

Maybe wear the striped shirt but tie the yellow shirt around their neck like a scarf (like David?)

oh!! yeah okay i could give her the david scarfshirt treatment! she doesn’t really like it but it’s a necessity so she’s kind of in awe fiyero gets away with it and his homestuck shirt

he personally does have the shirt, but wears it ONLY when absolutely required because nobody can boss him around except his parents. and occasionally his siblings.

[glittercake]

bucky/sarah | rated G | no warnings apply | 1k

It’s a decently warm Sunday in Louisiana and the very first thing Bucky does after settling into his new place in Delacroix, is head over to see the Wilsons.

Well. A very specific Wilson.

There’s no one at the docks though, a few lone fishermen and a couple of kids playing by the shallow shore. Sarah’s nowhere to be found so Bucky sneaks his way up to the house, pays two teenagers to say they never saw him in case Sam asks and even covers his tracks in the dirt.

He spots Sarah on the porch tending to the pots of growing peppers lined up in the windowsill. The sun’s on her back, baking her bare neck, and he imagines for a second what it’ll feel like sliding up behind her and kissing her warm skin with his arms around her middle, squeezing a little.

But hhm... that’s. Yeah, that’ll have to wait. He’s gotta get in the game first before he starts swinging with stuff like that.

He pops his head around the corner, into her line of sight, "Where's Sam?"

Sarah, depositing a freshly picked batch of bell peppers into a bag, jumps, "Oh my lord! Sir, what are you sneaking around like that for?" But she licks her lips, smiles.

"Didn't want Sam catching me," Bucky tells her and shrugs, gives her a grin as he comes over and presents her with a brown paper bag.

"Well, he ain’t around. Over at the Jones’ with Carlos."

"Good.” Bucky grimaces, thinking of Sam’s last warning, "He's still a little, well, apprehensive about this."

Sarah smiles, peeling off her garden gloves, "And what exactly is 'this'?"

"Me wooing you."

Read the rest under the cut or here on Ao3

"Oh, okay, is that what you're doing?" She reaches out to take the paper bag from him and opens it with careful skepticism.

"Hope you like Chinese," he says and settles himself down on the porch steps. Sarah comes to sit beside him and hands one of the containers over.

"I like it just fine." She knocks her shoulder into his, gives him a quick up and down that makes blood rush to his cheeks.

She smells real nice, flowery and sweet and it kind of makes Bucky's head buzz. He's not cool at all, he's a huge fumbling mess and has no actual idea how to act around a woman he's so attracted to. But he tries to keep his composure and do what he came here to do, which is to charm the hell out of Sarah Wilson because damn, he hasn't seen a smile like hers in a hot minute.

In all honesty, he knew he was done for the first time she appeared on the docks and said his name. It's just… he had a lot more fitness before all the brainwashing and torture. Hydra could have done him a solid and left that part intact.

But they didn't, so it's just him and his stupid Chinese take out and the most beautiful girl in the world on this sunny Louisiana afternoon.

"So, wooing, huh?" She grins, slurps up a noodle, and it leaves a shiny sauce trail on her chin.

Bucky's thoughts screech to a halt, "Yes ma'am," and without thinking he reaches up with his right hand, very daringly and way too bold for his own good, touches his thumb to her chin to wipe it up. "Wooing," he confirms as if that move just made his point very clearly.

A delighted laugh bubbles from her chest, "That was smooth; I'll give you that, Bucky Barnes."

"I try," he says, grinning at himself because he didn't think she'd remember his name, much less know his last. To hide his excitement about that, he gets into his own box of noodles instead.

It's kind of quiet then. They eat in silence, she checks her phone, Bucky watches her with a stupid fluttering feeling in his gut. Her braids are down today, draped over her shoulder, her nails are painted a dark red, and she's got a plain white t-shirt on. She's stunning.

He's wondering how the hell he's going to pull this off, thinking he's probably batting way out of his league here, when she clears her throat.

"Don't tell me you got Chinese with no fortune cookies. I don't know what kind of wooing this is but—"

"Nope!" he fumbles in his jacket pocket and pulls out a smaller brown paper bag. He tips it over and empties the content on the porch between them, "Go ahead."

She does. Picks one up and tears it open, then cracks it between her fingers. The crumbs scatter all over as she pulls the little paper out, unfolds it, and then cackles.

"What?" Bucky smiles knowingly, "What's it say?" he takes another bite of chow mein.

Her eyes narrow with laughter when she looks at him and repeats the words on her fortune, "Go on a date with the metal arm man."

"Oh wow." He innocently twirls a noodle around his fork, "Would you look at that?"

"Boy," she chuckles, then cracks open another one, snorts as she reads it, "He's a little weird, but he thinks you're gorgeous."

"These cookies, huh? Jeez." He packs up his empty container, picks up a cookie and pulls the paper out, then shows her, "Oh my god, look at this—"

"Say yes to the date," Sarah reads, giggling.

"Outrageous," he says, smiles, and looks away because his heart is pounding in his chest like a drum.

And she's about to answer when Sam comes jogging around the corner, waving a hand in the air, "No! No, no, no!"

"Oh shit!" Bucky yelps and shoots up and starts running because Sam's about to deck him.

Sam chases after him, "What did I say about flirting with my sister! What did I say?"

"Who told you I was here?" Bucky screams back at him, racing his way around the house with Sam short on his heels.

"Jesus himself told me! Come here!"

When he gains some ground on Sam and reaches the porch again, Sarah's happily amused, beautifully glowing in the high afternoon sun, a golden pearly sheen on her skin.

"So?" he says, stopping in front of her to rest, "Yes or no?"

She sees Sam coming, "Run!" and laughs as Bucky jerks back into a sprint.

He turns, runs backward, "Well?!" he calls out to her with his arms up in question.

Sarah laughs again, like a choir of joy, "Yeah, okay! Saturday!"

Bucky air pumps, "Yes!" just before Sam tackles him to the ground, and then he's heaving under the weight of Captain Fucking America.

But he's not phased. She said yes.

[jasonspetertodds]

It's That Time of Year

warnings: swearing, christmas

a/n: a holiday special for you all :)

Jason stood slight to the right of the aisle, his hand gently holding a loose leaf bag of citrus tea. While the Wayne family were technically Jewish they acknowledged Christmas. Jason knew it was both in part due to Dick's arrival at the manor, and in part because it was the only holiday they were all guaranteed to have off. Which he was certain why Bruce did it, the sneaky bastard. Jason hummed at the thought, tossing the tea into his basket before reaching up and grabbing some Chamomile tea. It wasn’t that big of a deal, they still had a menorah at the manor, Alfred still made the traditional Jewish foods only made on high holidays and they still played dreidel, but saved the gift giving for Christmas. They would all always run a short patrol in their respective territories on Christmas Eve, full of a feast of Alfred’s Christmas dinner. Then, they would converge back at the manor in the morning for their hot drinks of choice and gift opening. Jason normally slept at his apartment after Christmas Eve patrol, preferring to host and entertain Roy and Kori for the evening and exchanging gifts with them. He continued deeper into the little store, searching for butter for his short bread cookies. His mind switched over to the gifts he still needed to wrap. He had already gotten Alfred his favorite high quality blend of tea. It had cost a small fortune, but that didn't matter to Jason. He would kill for Alfred, a couple grand was nothing. It was hard to wrap, but Alfred would appreciate the sentiment more than any wrapping paper Jason could adorn it with.

He had a few last minute things to pick up, but he was cautiously optimistic about it. It was always hard, especially Bruce. What could he possibly get someone who already had everything? Who could buy himself anything he wanted? He felt a twinge of irritation bury itself like a tick in his chest at that, fucking rich families. But, regardless, Jason felt like he had done a pretty damn good job at gift giving this year. Maybe it would make his time at the manor less miserable.

He tilted his head to the side, studying the unsalted butter, looking for his specific brand. He could use another bag of granulated sugar, Gods knew he was doing a lot of baking. He sighed, shaking thoughts of wrapping out of his head and wondering if he should make pain au chocolats, too. Maybe I should text Alfred, he mused going for his butter. Jason dropped the copious amounts of butter in his little basket and kept moving. He hustled over to the granulated sugar, trying to stave off the inevitable agitation that came with the holidays.

He wound up dropping a bag of confectioner's sugar in his basket along with his granulated sugar. Knowing that Roy and Kori would not end the night without a Belgium waffle covered in powdered sugar and getting all over Jason's couch. He threw in a bag of brown sugar too, what the hell. He might as well. He had about twelve people who all would eat their weight in cookies.

Shit. Did he need eggs?

He turned on his heel and marched back to the refrigerated section, looking for some nice organic cage free brown eggs. He dropped two dozen in and swiftly made his way up to the tiny front counter to checkout. He gave a polite, if a little gruff greeting to the cashier, still distracted by his thoughts.

He opened his wallet a bit to harshly, tugging out one of his credit cards and paying for his meager groceries. He gave a smile and a polite head nod at the cashier before hauling his reusable cloth bag onto his shoulder and making his way back to his apartment before patrol.

He breezed into his chicken, pulling out all the stuff he needed for chimichangas for Roy and Kori. He glanced at his clock on his stove top, humming to himself. He still had a while to get his wrapping done, hopefully before patrol and plenty of time to make all the sweets he wanted to. Jason smiled, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders subside.

Halfway through frying his chimmichangas, he heard the chime on his phone. He tugged it out of his pocket, smiling at the text.

Roytoy: Kori and I are parking rn. Be up in two seconds :)

He typed out a quick response before going to retrieve their presents from his closet, setting them under his tree before going back to fish out the first of the changas from the oil. He could feel his giddiness bubble up in his chest as he waited in anticipation. God, he had missed his friends.

He really couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips when he heard Roy's footsteps down the hall, turning the stove down, his chest tight with excitement. There was a light knock and Jason tried to maintain a normal pace to the door. He couldn't help it, this was probably going to be the one bright spot he had for the next week. He was allowed to be excited.

He threw open threw open the door, revealing Kori draped around Roy's shoulder's, her heeled feet dangling a couple inches above the carpet. Jason snickered. Roy was absolutely beaming, matching how Jason felt. Kori immediately untangled herself from the redhead, going to wrap Jason in fierce yet gentle hug. Jason relaxed into her hold, vaguely registering that he was floating. Kori twirled, lowering them to the ground so Roy could join the hug.

They hadn't even said anything to each other yet and Jason already felt cocooned in a loving warmth. Roy fit his arms around his shoulders, Kori draped across both of them as Jason snaked his hands around their waists. His nose buried somewhere in the mix of both Kori and Roy's hair. It was so good to see them.

He knew he had the stupidest smile when he pulled away and they finally greeted each other.

"Food's done," He said, nodding his head to the counter in his little kitchenette.

"It smells amazing," Roy exclaimed, swiftly sidestepping Jason and over to pile as many as he could onto his plate, grabbing a few cut vegetables along the way as Kori went to grab the presents under the tree. Jason just smiled, going to grab his own plate.

"It's so good to see you," Roy said through a mouthful of food, dribbling sour cream down his chin. "And this is the fucking best thing I've had to eat in a while." Kori nodded appreciatively, once again going to hug Jason, "I'm glad you are well, Jason."

He smirked, "Thanks."

Roy reached across the table to punch him in the bicep, "Shut up," He said playfully, "You missed us."

Jay's smile broadened before he admitted, "Yeah, sure."

God, was it good to see them. They had been in his apartment for all of ten minutes and his face already hurt from smiling so much. At some point Kori had worked her way over to Jason's side of the table, her hand full of an odd assortment of horned melon (that Jason got especially for her) and vegetables. Her other hand had entangled itself in his hair. He relaxed the tiniest bit at her touch, snickering when she had to bend down considerably in order to manage the action. Kori would never miss an opportunity to tower over a man, her heels just added insult to injury.

"We watching Die Hard tonight?"

Jason scoffed, automatically responding, "Oh, abso-fucking-lutely."

Roy laughed, but Jason sheepishly amended his statement when he saw the disdain in Kori's eyes, "We can do a double feature, we can watch Kori's favorite, too."

Roy groaned, rolling his eyes so hard Jason was concerned the readhead sprained his ocular muscles. Whining, "Jaybird you can not be serious."

Jason shrugged while Kori smiled smugly from above him.

"It's only fair," Kori declared, getting up to get more food, "I have to suffer through your stupid human man movie for your holiday custom, you can watch my favorite."

Jason snickered, knowing Kori's thoughts on Earth action movies. Roy groaned again, grabbing his fifth changa of the night, before grumbling, "It's not fair because Jason likes your holiday soap operas."

Kori threw the redhead a completely unamused look while deadpanning, "Because Jason has taste."

Jason choked around his cucumber slice, his entire boy shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter. Roy had a sheepish smile on his face as he shook his head in disbelief, apparently accepting his fate.

"Ouch."

And with that the entire mood lightened, they all fell into a pile of boisterous laughter. They talked a while longer, laughing over eggnog and the sweets Jason had baked earlier in the afternoon. Kori had about two handfuls of orange zest cookies, paired with his Russian tea cookies. Roy had gone more traditional with chocolate chip walnut cookies. Jason had gone for some of Alfred's cinnamon bread the butler had given him the last time he'd seen him.

"Presents?" Kori said hopefully, perking up considerably from her perch on the couch. Roy nodded in agreement.

Jason dropped their plates in his sink, nodding along. He had about an hour before he was due to go out on patrol. He knew when he came back they would curl up on the couch to watch their movies with warm hot chocolate. He would prefer to wait to open his gifts, but he couldn't quite tamp down his curiosity.

"Yay!" Kori exclaimed, gliding over to give them each their presents. Jason was sure his endearment shined through in his eyes as he saw the Red Hood printed wrapping paper on his gifts. Kori's featured a repeating pattern of his red bat symbol and his red eyed domino mask in horizontal lines. Roy's featured his helmet, white eyes and all, with differing expressions and some of them featuring a red Santa had slouching to the side. He snorted.

He handed them his, Kori smiling while Roy rolled his eyes at the Teen Titan paper Jason had managed to scrounge up in a thrift store. The second he saw it, there wasn't any way in hell he wasn't buying it. Kori's obviously feature her, while Roy's was Speedy. Roy's smile was fond, though.

Kori was absolutely vibrating in excitement next to Jason, nodding for him to go first. He sighed, still fond as he tore open his present from her. He pulled out a soft purple fabric, his eyebrows drawing together as he thumbed the fabric. Kori had a small smile on her face, "It's modified Tamaranean armor-- You could form your own armor if you would like or line your existing uniform. I also sought giving you the most information I could gather on the subject, so you are adequately knowledgeable for its capabilities."

Jason nodded appreciatively, saying in earnest, "Thank you."

It never ceased to amaze him how thoughtful Kori was. He knew, of course, that the she wanted him to be as safe as he could and this was her way of ensuring it. He was touched. She nudged Roy next to her, beaming up at him, "Now you!"

Roy nodded along, complying as he tore open his gift. He had the smuggest smile on his face as he revealed what Jason could only describe as a metric fuckton of Tamaranean arrows. His smile was the widest Jason had ever seen it, "Kori, you shouldn't have."

He winced, thinking about all the destruction that Roy could incur with a single one of those things. He supposed he was doubly grateful that he had the armor. Kori seemed to pick up on his distress, gently placing a hand on his forearm, "Do not worry, Jason. I modified them. I am no fool."

Jason laughed while Roy whined indistinctly aside him, his broad smile dashed and while he pouted. Kori did know better and he shouldn't have doubted that.

"Your turn, Kor."

The princess absolutely lit up, wasting no time as she ripped her wrapping paper to shreds. Her eyes lit up the second she managed to slide the box up. Inside rested a gorgeous necklace, dripping with white diamonds with the biggest teardrop emerald money could buy as the centerpiece. It was flanked by two matching earrings.

She immediately threw the packaging to the side, clutching her jewelry as close to her as she could before wrapping Jason in a hug.

"It is gorgeous. I love it. Thank you!"

"Of course," He replied easily. Kori was a warrior princess after all, with an affinity for green and silver accents. When Jason saw it there was no doubt who it was for. She immediately put it on, touching it tenderly as she picked out the framed pictures Jason had given her. One was an updated picture of their generation of Titans, a picture Jason had pilfered off of Dick's phone and the other one was a picture of the Outlaws. Kori had the softest expression on her face as she glanced down at the pictures, then up at Jason, clearly touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

Jason allowed a shy smile to creep onto his face, quickly clearing his throat to dispel the uncomfortably charged atmosphere in the room. Kori gracefully ignored her friend's discomfort and moved right along to Roy's gift. Smirking when she produced a metallic gauntlet, a lavender diamond (that Jason was sure Roy somehow managed to make himself) sat in the center ring, with tendrils of delicate diamonds espousing from it and connecting to a bracelet. Jason felt a deep amusement settle in him at them both getting Kori a small fortune in jewelry. Roy also produced a small, feline Build-a-Bear dressed head to toe in Kori's superhero outfit, M-shaped tiara and all.

Kori hug it to her chest, seeming very much pleased with what her friends had gotten her. Jason felt pride warm his chest. Kori hugged both of them, before asking, "Now you?"

Jay shook his head, "Roy's got one more to open."

Roy heft up his present from Jason, utterly confused as to how heavy it was. Jason had a knowing smirk on his features., watching as his friend read the note attached.

"No fucking way," He exclaimed, looking Jason full in the face in shock before a mischievous smile overtook his features, "You did not get me processed uranium."

"Jason!" Kori admonished, scandalized. It was more from him encouraging Roy and then anything else, he knew. But Kori didn't have a lot of room to talk, especially after giving him arrows from a warlike race. Jason just shrugged her off, watching Roy's entire demeanor change seeing his copy of the photos Jason had given Kori.

He had thrown in a candid of Roy and Lian one afternoon at the park that he had sneakily taken. Lian was perched on her Dad's lap, laughing at something he said, cone of ice cream dangerously close to falling over while Roy wore the picture of pride looking at his daughter. It was one of the sweetest pictures Jason had ever seen. He had also gotten a copy small enough to fit in a wallet, if needed. And oh god he could not stand the look on Roy's face.

The poor bastard was so close to tears and Jason really could not deal.

He gave Roy a second to try and get himself under control before ripping open his last present from Roy. He had also gotten a Build-a-Bear, a black bear equipped with push guns and dressed in his suit.

"The helmet's removable," Roy said proudly and Jason was suddenly struck with a realization that almost made him tear up. The bears had to be from Lian. Christ. He was soft. Soft and gooey. She had to have made one for her Dad and Jason couldn't wait to see the little Arsenal plush she had come up with. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the gift Roy had gotten him.

There was a whole cache of bullets rolling around in the box, with a whole host of blueprints at the bottom. Some where to upgrade his bike and fuel efficiency with hydrogen while the others were for biodegradable bullets? In the center of all that though was a giant flamethrower. Jason cackled maniacally at the sight of it, sure it was the same one (granted with a couple of upgrades) that Roy had used on him so long ago.

They exchanged thanks, hugs and merriment once more before they all suited up to head out on patrol. Jason allowed it, mostly because he knew it would piss Bruce off to no end to have a meta and Oliver Queen's sidekick patrol Gotham with him. They decided that when they got back they would, indeed, be having hot chocolate, their movie night and helping Jason decide on a name for his newly acquired kitten.

[fwakes31]

A gift from me to you.

@the-obiwan-for-me So here it is, a little delayed but we got there.  

When I first started reading She Said The Word back in June 2020, I never expected in my wildest dreams to makes friends with the author of one of my favourite works.  Now with the continuation of More Than Blood this wonderful Kryze-Kenobi family have had me laughing and crying along with you.  I feel so fortunate that through your story I was invited into a wonderful comunity of like minded people where we can share our love of Obitine and our bestest boy Korkie.  You know HOW much I love your Korkie in your AU, and it’s been an unexpected pleasure to talk thought other plot points or MTB, something I never thought I would ever be asked to do.

I have so much love for you and your work, so please accept this recipe and origins story of our dear Duchess favourite treat as my gift of thanks from me to you 💖😘🥰

~*~

Orikih Tracyn Ruun - (Tiny fire rocks) 

The origins of Shun'ika'tracyn, the Fireroot cookie.

These small sweet but fiery treats can be found in records as far back as 4000 BBY.  Originally a savoury staple, the Fireroot Cookie has become over the centuries a favourite sweet fiery treat.  From its humble beginnings to it’s now more elaborate conatiations bestowed upon it by the traditions of the New Mandalorians, this biscuit has stuck firmly within the Mando’ade culture as firmly as the six tenets of their creed.

One of the oldest used spices, Fireroot has long been favoured within the Mando’ade.  It’s medicinal properties have been well known for centuries, used to soothe a cold or flu, ease digestion and most notably aid in relieving nausea.  However it is the root's spicy warm bite that makes it perfect for these sweet treats.

Originally baked in clay earth ovens by the nomadic ancestors of the Mandalorians the recipes of these biscuits have long been passed from generation to generation.  Each making their tweaks and adjustments as to what ingredients were available.  Earliest dated sources of these ‘Fire Rocks’ were first mentioned to be spiced with peppers and chillies.  Only in later years did they become a sweet treat when new sugars and syrups were discovered.

The specific spice mixture used is unique to each clan and house and is often a closely guarded secret.  What now are seen as beautiful and sometimes elaborately designed biscuits were once just rough looking ‘rocks’.  As everything was with the old Mando’ade nothing was left to waste.  Each biscuit would be hand rolled and shaped against the heel of the maker's palm.  Now they are crafted into beautiful shapes, decorated and iced with a mixture of fine powdered sugar and Fireroot syrup.   

Unlike the rich and sticky treat Uj'alayi (or Uj cake as it is more commonly known) these were dry robust biscuits that became a staple part of their everyday diet.  The mixture could be made sweet or savoury and spiced fit for either a newly teething tot or an aged warlord.   Sometimes topped with spiced pickles or rich cheeses, these simple but versatile biscuits have long been a go to for the Mandalorians as a simple but high energy snack.

One of the first tastes of heat a child gets, unlike most Mandalorian cuisine these little treats are all well tolerated by even the most mild of pallets.  But like all home cooked delights these can be altered to suit their faction.  Most remember them as a fond reminder of childhood.  A treat that many older warlords would have denied liking, it has however not been unheard of for elder warlords of the clan to demand their bakers to craft more when they had seen the biscuits barrels running low.

Made once as an early store food (what would now be seen in the modern-age as rations), the modest biscuit has in recent years become a signature of marking the celebration of those swearing the Resol’nare.  Made into the shape of the Kar'ta Beskar (the Iron Heart) these simple but significant treats are a nod back to simpler times and the celebration of another entering the fold of the clan as an equal.

As new traditions were crafted over the centuries, it is one of the more recent reimaginings of the Fireroot cookie that has seen the humble ration become a symbol of demonstrating both the remembrance and change that Mando’ade have come through.  The beautiful glass like centre of the ‘Fire Rock’ Iron Hearts is a tradition that the New Mandalorians brought into being almost a thousand years ago.  The destruction of the coloured candies and sweets that are used to make the beautiful glass-like centres represent that, from ruin, beauty and light can still survive.  That at the heart of every Mandalorian unity can be achieved.

A known favourite of the Kryze-Kenobi household.  The delightful smell of these homely Fireroot Cookies can always be smelt wafting around the kitchens and lower quarters of the Sundari Palace.  Shared below, from the renowned kitchen of the Sundari Palace, Head Chef, Orin Rouss, has shared with us his staple recipes and a simple spice Mix that all could put together.

~*~

Both the recipes below have been made vegan and gluten free for my own diary requirements but they can easily be swapped for other products that suit you.  Enjoy!

~*~

Orikih Tracyn Ruun - (makes 30 cookies)

100g non-dairy butter (hard block not soft) 

110g brown sugar

40g golden syrup

250g rolled oats

100g gluten-free self raising flour

½ tsp bicarb

2tsp ground ginger (Fireroot)

4 to 5 pieces of stem ginger chopped finely

Preheat the oven to 190C/170C fan/gas 5 and line 2 baking trays with parchment paper.

In a bowl cream together the butter and sugar until pale in colour and fluffy. Add the golden syrup and mix.

Add the flour, bicarb and oats into the butter and sugar mix.  

Once combined add in the chopped stem ginger. Mix well with a wooden spoon until it forms a dough. It may seem a little dry at first but it will come together, you may need to use your hands to bring it together at the end. 

Wrap the dough in cling film and place in the fridge to rest for about 30 minutes.

Divide the dough into 30 equal pieces.  Roll each piece into a small ball before pressing it against the palm of your hand to form a rough disk shape.  

Place 6 on one of your lined baking trays and bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden in colour.  

Leave to cool on the tray to firm slightly before moving them to a cooling rack. 

Note from Orin Rouss: I like to bake them in smaller batches so that you can have a rotation going between your two baking trays.   

~*~

Shun'ika'tracyn Kar'ta Beskar - (Makes 12)

100g dairy free butter (Hard block)  

60g golden syrup

100g dark muscovado sugar

½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

1½ tbsp ground ginger (Fire root)

1 tsp ground cinnamon

225g gluten-free self raising flour

12 different coloured boiled sweets, crushed

In a small pan melt together the butter syrup and sugar.  While this cools in a  large bowl mix together the flour, bicarb, ginger and cinnamon.  Add the melted butter and sugar mixture and combine well.  (it may look very wet and running.  Do not add extra flour.  Pop in the fridge in the mixing bowl for 30 minutes before tipping out and wrapping in cling film and putting back in the fridge for another 30 minutes to firm up.   

Preheat the oven to 190C/170C fan/gas 5 and line 2 baking trays with parchment paper.

Take the dough out of the fridge.  Roll out the dough between two pieces of greaseproof or parchment paper to a thickness of about 5mm (¼ inch).  Using a knife (or premade cookie cutter if you have one) cut out the desired shape and place on your baking trays, 6 on each.

Using a sharp knife cut out a rectangle in the centre of each biscuit.  Using a teaspoon and small pieces of the crushed sweets into the hole.  Pop the trays into the fridge for 15 to 20 minutes to allow the biscuits shapes to firm up again before putting in the oven.

Bake each tray individually for 11 to 13 minutes.  If you are wanting to hang them, make a little hole in the top of each one before they come out of the oven before they cool.  Leave on the tray to cool for at least 10 minutes.  Slide the baking paper off the try with the biscuits still on them onto a cooling rack.  Do not lift the biscuits off the paper until they are completely cold. 

All my love Cara xxx

~*~

[jasmehraj]

This is for Flashpoint week 2020, day 1, hosted by @maribatgetin

"*Sigh* this is the third time in this week." The man whose body was half machine rubbed his human temple when the guard informed him of the arrival of-

His train of thought was cut by the sound of heels indicating the arrival of his guest.

"Mrs. Allen." He greeted her.

She shot him a smile. "Victor."

"It's Cyborg for you mam." She ignored what he said and continued to pull out a box.

"Here are some cookies and macaroons for you and I gave some to the receptionist to distribute so that you don't have to share." Cyborg smiled and took the box. This was the favourite part of her visit. Her treats were heavenly. He scolded himself to get distracted and wore a tough expression.

"So what did we do for the goddess of fluff and happiness to come here and meet us." There was a moment that something flashed in her Bluebell eyes but it was gone before he could decipher it.

"We both know what it is." She stated, the smile on her face never flattering.

Oh boy, this is going to be a long day. He sighed.

Even after 15 minutes, nobody had come out of the office. The conversation was either casual or not there at all since they couldn't hear anything from the outside.

"What do you think Joe? What's taking them so long?" Michael, the guard at the door looked at his partner.

"I don't know, she is a very calm and collected lady. They say she delivers rainbows wherever she goes, some unicorn in disguise." Joe just joked, shrugging, which caused Michael to raise an unimpressed eyebrow.

"I don't think so, she must be some witch in disguise who made her way to the top seducing other rich people. I mean she's got looks and a perfect body, anybody will pay a fortune to kiss those lips." Michael licked his lips subconsciously.

"I gotta say that too. That Allen guy is very lucky. But I don't think she is some whore. She cares deeply about everyone around her. I say she will even apologize to a pole to bump into her." Joe didn't like the lust in his partner's brown eyes or the way he was insulting everyone's favourite person who treats them with so much respect.

"Hmm. I say she is some Amazonean who will seduce the soldiers and then after having some fun, kill them like the witch she is." The brunette on his side frowned.

"Okay, enough of that s*** Michael-" the raging guard was cut off by a loud sound of something colliding with the table from inside. Everyone went near to be able to hear the heated conversation.

"MRS. ALLEN, we can't just take random people in!" Cyborg tried.

"So random people are crazy enough to be wanting to fight alongside 'the supposed to be heroes' in a world ending war." Her blue eyes sparkled with joy as she raised the glass of water to her lips.

"No Mrs. Allen. I- the president won't approve of us endangering civilians?" Cyborg tried again but it sounded like a question.

What happened next surprised everyone. The sunshine incarnate woman's ever lasting smile fell and she narrowed her eyes at tin man.

"Try again." A nervous look took over Cyborg's face.

"Tell me why you are trying to keep me away this bad?" She spoke every word clearly as if she was talking to a kid.

"You don't have any superpowers." A gasp escaped her naturally pink lips.

"So this is what this all is about? I'm not a meta, so I'm not good enough." She made hand gestures as she talked.

Cyborg looked troubled. Everybody knew not to start an argument with Marinette Allen because it would be over before it even got started.

"It sounds bad if you put it like that-"

"Soldiers are made from strong will, determination, their dedication to the cause." She slammed her hand on the table. "You can't expect everyone to become like you."

Cyborg hit his thigh in annoyance, "Mam, we are just trying to protect you!"

Marientte opened her mouth to say something but Michael bursted in having enough of their conversation.

"Why can't you just shut the f*** up and leave? You are just a billionaire wanting to take credit of the work we do while we will be stuck protecting your a** instead of fighting the real enemies. This isn't some video game! This is real life. You want to seduce the soldiers into turning away from their real goal but that ain't happening. Go f*** your daddy dear in that little castle of yours. Your money ain't going to get you past us. If you want to I can-" The Glass of water in her hand was now laying on the ground in pieces.

Before anyone knew, Michael was on the floor struggling to get up as the ravenette put her heel on the man's chest who was desperately trying to get up.

"How. Dare. You?" Her tone sent chills down everyone's backs. Michael felt sweat run down his forehead.

"A piece of advice. Do a background check before you assume things about a person. I was born to two middle class bakers in Paris, who I saw burn in front of my eyes at the age of 10. I survived on the streets. Made money by fixing clothes. Paid my school fees myself. Got sold at the age of 15, nobody came to help me. I helped myself. I raised to the top with my sole hard work. The only trustworthy person I have in my life is my husband. And you don't wanna know how much I'm trained, this was just what I learnt while living on the streets. What you are doing is your duty. Don't think of yourself as high and mighty for doing your duty which looks like you need practice in."

She glared at the speechless guard once more. She made her way to the door and everyone parted to give her some space having seen her wrath. She stopped at the door and without looking back said,

"You are saying that you are not taking me in because I don't have superpowers and going out without powers on my own is a crime-"

"I didn't-" She raised her hand to stop him.

"-which makes me a villain-" She looked at her side but not at the paralyzed cyborg.

"-Then I guess I am a villain." With that she made her way towards her car, not even sparing a glance at the star-stuck expression of the people around her.

She relaxed in her driving seat. She knew one thing. She is not going back in there. She sighed and traced the steering wheel with her fingers. Yes, she is a billionaire but she doesn't want a driver, at least not after the last three times she hired a driver due to her busy days who just gave her off to some random mob-boss for money.

She opened the pocket watch Barry gave her and smiled fondly at the picture of her husband. When she met him, she kicked him in the shin and how the tables have turned. She chuckled.

The alarm brought her out of her daze. "It's time to pick Barry up."

She smirked when the engine roared to life and slammed her heel into the accelerator. The world is coming to an end anyways, why not have some fun?

Taglist: @nathleigh @jalaluvsu @togetherwekill @stackofrandomstuff @qualitypeacepainter @greatcatblaze @shewhorises-tjyj @myazael

[440mxs-wife]

Lost and Found

"You want me to work this case with who?" Arthur Ketch asked.

"Relax, Ketch, she's had field experience before, she just hasn't been in the field much lately. Trust me, she'll be perfect for this," Dean assured him.

"This is not a training op, a learn-as-you-go thing, this is a serious case, Dean. I need an experienced hunter to carry off the cover story and perform her duty. I don't think she fits the part, and she's not my type anyway," Ketch complained.

As if on cue, you walked through the War Room on your way to the main living area. You had a book in one hand, which you were reading as you walked. A cup of cocoa occupied your other hand. You reached the living room and settled into a corner of the couch with your favorite quilt.

Dean cleared his throat behind you. Without looking up from your book, you asked, "What do you need, Dean?"

"So, we have a case right now that requires your unique....talents," he started.

You closed your book in annoyance and narrowly gazed at Dean. "To what 'unique talents' are you referring? What exactly do you want me to do?" you asked.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, something he tended to do when he was nervous or about to do something he didn't want to do. "This is Arthur Ketch, former British Man of Letters. There's a case involving a vampire, named Simon Foster. He's hosting a formal party by invitation only. Your cover would involve you posing as a couple with Ketch," he explained.

You knew this wasn't the whole story, so you waited for Dean to finish. "And....you have to dress up, like evening-gown type dressing up," he added.

You took a few moments to assess your potential hunting partner's attributes. You knew that in the past, he had been a ruthless killer for the British Men of Letters. However, you also remembered how he rescued Gabriel from Asmodeus, at great risk to his own safety. He was working with the Winchesters from time to time as a free-lance operative.

Aside from the professional evaluation, you had to admire his broad chest and tall, confident stature. He had sparkling blue-green eyes that you knew had to hold a certain amount of mischief every now and then. He had just enough of a beard to be considered ruggedly handsome and sexy. And that accent made you a little weak in the knees, if you were being truly honest with yourself.

Ketch interpreted your silence to mean that you were refusing to work with him on the case. "As I told you, Dean, she's not right for this mission," he retorted.

"Mr. Ketch, you don't know me very well. And I only know of you what I've heard in the tales of your exploits from Sam and Dean. Maybe it's time we got our assumptions about each other out of the way, and work this case? Hmm?" you replied as you rose from the couch.

Ketch walked over to where you were standing and said, "Well, my dear, since you have dropped the gauntlet, I accept your challenge. Oh, by the way, I do hope you have something appropriate to wear. Flannel and jeans won't fly in this instance, darling," he smirked.

You took one step towards Ketch, close enough so that you could detect the scent of his aftershave. With more calm in your voice than you currently felt, you looked deep into his eyes. "There's more to me than flannel and jeans. Buckle up, Mr. Ketch. It's going to be a fun ride," you replied, making a show of adjusting his tie before walking out of the room.

Ketch looked over at Dean, who was alternating between shock at your actions and outright laughter at Ketch's expense. He turned on his heel and went to his room, which was fortunately in the opposite direction of yours.

You spent the next week and a half preparing for the upcoming hunt with Ketch. Most of the time was occupied doing research, looking through books and poking around on the internet. Otherwise, you could easily be found at the firing range. You felt you were a little rusty, and the extra range time would help increase your accuracy. You also didn't want to give Ketch one single reason to regret partnering with you.

"Research days" were long ones. You made sure to take plenty of breaks to stretch your legs. If you made yourself a snack, you brought one back for Ketch also. Where you had hot cocoa or coffee, you made tea for Ketch. He never asked you for anything, but for you, it was almost automatic to share in your hospitality. It was in these little ways that you were trying to show Mr. Ketch that his assumptions about you may not be accurate.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ketch stared at the glass of milk you brought to him, along with three chocolate chip cookies you had baked the day before. Today, it was muffins at breakfast, cookies in the afternoon and pie with dinner. The woman certainly has her talents, he thought. Maybe she can pull this off after all.

As you nibbled on your cookie, Ketch took a moment to study you. You had greenish-hazel eyes, one of which had a small dark mark in the iris. Your medium length chestnut locks couldn't keep themselves from falling in your face. On more than one occasion, Ketch found himself wanting to reach over and tuck the wayward curls behind your ear. As you searched through the reference books, he could see the look of deep concentration on your face. He had to admit, you may just have the determination to get the job done.

He had followed you one day to the shooting range to see how you handled a firearm. He watched as you carefully loaded the rounds into the clip for your .380 pistol, and inserted the clip. When the weapon was ready, you raised it into position, took aim and systematically emptied the clip. You left the target hanging on the range, so as soon as you left, Ketch went over to check your results. He was amazed to find that all rounds except one hit center mass, just like they were supposed to do. The only one that didn't hit center mass was a head shot.

From what he'd seen, you were more than capable of performing your part in this case. You had already demonstrated to him that you could handle a firearm. This skill likely translated to other weapons as well, so Ketch wasn't worried about that.

You'd also shown him your sensitive side. It was in the way you took care of everyone in the bunker, including him, despite his initial dismissive attitude towards you. It occurred to him that it was partially because of you that the Winchesters' hunting operation was so successful. You made sure everyone was fed well, had clean clothes and injuries were patched. Not just the physical injuries either, but the emotional ones as well that can take their toll on a hunter.

One night, he had a nightmare that left him calling out in his sleep. In his nightmare, he was put on trial by the British Men of Letters. All of the people he had killed were brought in as witnesses against him, and of course, he was found guilty. His punishment was that each victim got a chance to kill him, causing him to experience his own death several times over.

He jerked awake to find you had crept into his room and were sitting on the edge of his bed. You gently laid a hand on his arm to assure him that he was safe and that it was only a nightmare, not real. He tried to be the tough guy, rather than let you see how upset the nightmare had made him. He didn't want you to think he was soft or didn't have the guts to carry out the mission.

You never asked what his nightmare was about, probably figuring that he wouldn't want to tell you. You simply stated that all hunters had nightmares from what they've seen and done, so he was no different, that even you had them. In fact, you'd had one that night as well, and were having trouble getting back to sleep from it.

Ketch couldn't believe that someone so kind and compassionate as you would have anything to fear or regret about what you'd done in the course of hunting. You told him that some of your nightmares were about loved ones being tortured or killed while you were forced to watch. Most of them, though, were about the people you couldn't save, in addition to all of the guilt and helplessness you felt about the outcomes.

When it appeared to you that Ketch was uninterested in the comfort you came to offer, you awkwardly stood up from the bed. You mumbled that if he needed anything, you were down at the end of the hall, then you made your way to the door. As your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave, he asked you to stay so that he could comfort you. He assured you he meant no funny business, that he was only offering a way for you both to get back to sleep. You looked at him, a little skeptical at first, then relented with a shy smile.

Ketch held up the blanket for you to slip into bed beside him. You started out at the far edge of the bed, your back to him as you laid your head on the pillow. He reached over to drape an arm around your midsection and pulled you closer to him. He accidentally nuzzled your neck with his stubbly chin and breathed in the scent of strawberries from your shampoo. When he exhaled, his breath was warm against your skin, but you seemed to shiver a bit in response. In a shaky voice, you whispered, "Goodnight, Arthur," took his hand in yours and closed your eyes. He whispered "goodnight" and also closed his eyes, a smile etched on his face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ketch was putting the last minute touches on his tux while he waited for you to get ready. He made sure he had the invitation listing both of your names. He also made sure he had his sharpest machete ready, along with some dead man's blood. He was about ready to call out to you to see how much longer you'd be, when he heard the unmistakable sound of high-heeled shoes on the tile floor.

You were dressed in a midnight blue, floor-length gown, with a slit halfway up your left thigh. The A-line gown had a criss-cross bodice that hugged your curves, and featured wide straps that crossed in the back. Embedded in the fabric were tiny crystals that sparkled as they hit the light, reminding Ketch of the stars in the night sky. You wore your silver sparkly pumps to finish your wardrobe.

You chose to sweep your hair up in a French twist. You kept your makeup simple, mostly earth tones, with pink lipstick. You chose white crystal stud earrings and a velvet cameo choker to complete your jewelry selection.

When he saw you, his mouth ran dry, and for a moment, he had lost the ability to form a coherent thought. You noticed that his bow tie needed a little work, so you set your small handbag on the table and proceeded to fix his tie. "There," you said. "Now it's perfect. You look very dashing this evening, Mr. Ketch," you remarked.

"I must say, you look absolutely stunning, my dear," Ketch finally said. "This dress certainly suits you and definitely brings out your eyes," he murmured, so softly that only you could hear him.

"Thank you," you said quietly, a blush rising on your cheeks. At that moment, Dean walked in on the two of you and whistled. "Whoa! Lookin' good, you two!" he declared. "'Specially you in the dress," he said as he winked at you. You looked at Ketch, rolled your eyes and jerked your head in Dean's direction. He chuckled softly at your dismissal of Dean's compliment.

You looked at the delicate watch on your wrist and noticed the time. "We should get to the party, so that we don't miss our chance to take out the host," you remarked.

"Agreed. Shall we, my dear?" Ketch asked as he held out his arm to you. You slipped your hand through his arm, and he tucked it close to his side as you ascended the spiral staircase together. As you left, Dean sent up a silent plea for a successful hunt, with everything going according to plan.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You and Ketch walked into the party, hand in hand. Ketch let go of your hand long enough to retrieve your invitation and hand it to the bouncer at the door. You felt Ketch's hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the room. When you reached the dance floor, Ketch skillfully turned you around so that you were in his arms, ready to dance.

"We don't have time for this," you hissed.

"We have to blend in, Love. If we don't, we'll be in some deep trouble before we've had a chance to ID our objective," Ketch firmly but softly stated. "Now, let's dance," he commanded.

You settled into the waltz, allowing Ketch to lead you all around the dance floor. He was an amazing dancer, probably part of his training with the British Men of Letters. Fortunately for him, you had also taken dancing lessons, so you weren't completely clumsy. As you moved across the floor, you kept trying to find your host, the vampire.

"Relax, darling, I've already spotted him," Ketch assured you. "When this song is over, you are going to slap me as if we've just had an argument. After that, go to the bar for a drink. Don't worry, our host the vampire will seek you out. He'll see a beautiful but heartbroken woman. Let him convince you to go somewhere private where he can 'console' you. I'll keep my eye on you both and wait for the opportunity to take him out."

"You want me to slap you, then walk away as if we've had a fight about something? Okay," you shrugged, doing as you were ordered. "JERK!!" you spat out as you turned on your heel and went towards the bar. Ketch stood there, staring after you and holding his cheek. He was left wondering if maybe you enjoyed your part a little too much.

You perched yourself on a barstool and ordered a drink. As you sipped it, you felt a powerful presence approach you on your left side. It's him, you thought. Where the hell is Ketch? you wondered as a slight panic set in. You didn't dare turn around, though, as that may blow your cover story.

"A little trouble in love, hmm?" a deep voice rumbled.

You turned towards the source. "Pardon me?" you asked.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Simon Foster, and I'm the host of this soirée. But I'm sure you already knew that, didn't you?" he purred, his hand lightly brushing your arm.

You fought the instinct to pull your arm away in disgust. "Of course I know you. Simon Foster: CEO of Foster Industries, head of the second largest shipping company in the world. Desperately clawing his way to being the first largest shipping company in the world. Offices spread out all over the globe, such as in New York, Liverpool, Rio de Janeiro, Sydney, Marseille," you finished.

"Well, I'm impressed. You've certainly done your homework, my dear. But enough business talk. Let's get a little more personal," he suggested.

"I really should be getting back to---" Simon put a finger to your lips. "Let him suffer a bit first. Besides, my sister Cynthia seems to be occupying him," he snickered.

You turned your attention towards where you'd left Ketch. You were shocked to see him with his arms around a gorgeous, leggy blonde woman in a red sequined dress. Simon turned your face back to him, so that you were looking into his eyes. "Come, my darling, let's go somewhere a little more private, and get to know each other better," he coaxed.

You gave him a quick smile and slid down from the barstool. You had only had the one drink and sipped it at that. However, you felt a bit unsteady on your feet, as if you'd had more like four drinks. Simon offered you his arm to support you as he led you away from the bar area to one of the private rooms. Ketch, you silently pleaded. Don't leave me, please.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

No sooner had you left to go to the bar, that a blonde-haired woman in a red sequined dress came up to Ketch and asked him to dance. Ever the gentleman, he obliged, but did not lose sight of you. The blonde woman introduced herself as Cynthia Foster, sister of your host, Simon Foster. He engaged Cynthia in conversation, maintaining his cover, while trying to learn anything he could about her brother. The next time he turned his attention towards the bar, you were gone and so was Simon.

You and Simon stumbled into his private study area, where he closed the door and locked it behind him. In one swift move, he backed you up against his desk and started kissing you. As you stuck out your hand behind you to keep from falling over, you cut your finger on a letter opener.

When you examined the cut and the blood dripping from it, you could see the pupils in Simon's eyes grow wide. He took your finger in his mouth and tasted the blood. "Oh, darling. You taste so sweet, just like I knew you would," he growled as his fangs came into view. He pushed your head to the side and sank his fangs into your neck.

You knew you had to do something before you fell unconscious from losing too much blood. You carefully slid your hand down your thigh under your dress to release one of the syringes of dead man's blood you had hidden. Unfortunately, Simon caught on to what you were doing and wrenched it from your hand. "YOU!! You're a hunter!!" he screeched, throwing you to the floor and causing you to hit your head on a table in the process.

From the blood loss and possible concussion, you were finding it hard to remain conscious, let alone fight back. Fortunately, Ketch had burst through the door, wielding his machete. He took two long strides towards the vampire and skillfully sliced off Simon's head. With the mission objective met, Ketch turned his attention towards you. He noticed the bite marks on your neck and placed his handkerchief over it. He told you to hold it there to try and stop the blood loss.

"Ketch....Ketch....Arthur...." you whispered. He turned to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry. I should've....should....should've paid better attention," you remarked softly.

"Shh, try not to talk now, Love. Let's get you back to the bunker and patched up, good as new. I just hope to bloody hell Dean doesn't kill me for this," Ketch muttered. He placed you in the front seat of the car, buckled you in and then he ran around to the driver's side. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Ketch threw the car into gear and sped off into the night, headed back to the bunker.

"I'm so tired, Arthur," you replied as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Hold on, Love, hold on. We'll be there soon, just stay with me. Keep holding that kerchief up to your neck, darling," he soothed. When he didn't hear you respond, he looked over to see that you had fallen unconscious. He mashed down the accelerator in response, and soon the bunker was in his sights.

Once in the garage, he parked the car and ran around to the passenger side to get you. He scooped you up into his arms and pounded on the bunker door. Sam answered and quickly ushered you both in, then called out for Dean to help.

"What the hell happened, Ketch?!? You were supposed to look out for her. Is that what this looks like??" Dean thundered.

Ketch didn't say anything as he carried you to the infirmary to care for your wounds. You had bite marks on your neck from Simon, and a gash on your forehead where you'd hit the table. He placed you gently on the bed and went to the cabinet for what he would need to clean you up. Dean snatched the suture kit out of Ketch's hands and pushed him aside.

"Now see here, mate--" Ketch started angrily. "No, you see here. I'll take care of her. Been patching her up long before you came along, and I'll be doing it long after you leave," Dean retorted.

"Dean," you mumbled, opening your eyes. "Knock it off. It wasn't his fault," you muttered, sitting up a little. "He took out the vamp and his sister, mission accomplished," you said as you fell back onto the bed. "Arthur?" you called softly.

"Right here, Love," he said as he sat beside the bed and took your hand in his.

"Can you please stitch this up?" you asked, pointing at your neck and forehead.

Dean reluctantly handed him the suture kit and then stepped aside. "As you wish, darling," said Ketch. "Can someone please bring me a basin of warm water and a washcloth? I'll need to clean up some of this blood to see where I need to stitch," he explained. Sam left to go get the basin and washcloth.

Ketch looked at you with guilt in his eyes. You could tell that he felt responsible for what happened to you after having lost sight of you at the party. "Arthur, stop it. This wasn't your fault. I know how to take care of myself. It's just that this damn dress is so confining, which is why I'm a jeans-and-flannel kind of girl," you joked. He chuckled and you could see the relief in his eyes to know you would be all right.

"Well then, once we clean you up, we'll let you slip into something, shall we say, less confining and more comfortable?" he teased. By this time, Sam had returned with the basin and washcloth, as requested.

Ketch gently cleaned and dried your wounds. Turns out, the one on your forehead just needed those sterile tape strips to hold it closed, no stitches needed. Your neck was another story, though. Ketch took great care in making the stitches small to minimize the scar you were inevitably going to have. Dean brought back your pajamas so you would have something comfortable to change into. The guys then left the infirmary to give you some privacy as you changed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Weeks went by with no new cases or missions, which gave you time for your wounds to heal. You also felt yourself getting a little closer to Ketch, but you weren't sure if he felt the same way. He would always call you "Love" or "Darling". While not necessarily meant in a romantic way, it made you feel special each time he said it.

One afternoon, you were reading your book when you heard an argument in the hallway between Dean and Ketch. You heard sharp tones in the voices of both men, so you went to investigate.

"So you're just going to leave? Without even saying 'goodbye' to anyone, especially her?" Dean snapped. "After everything that's happened?"

"Dean, you know as well as I do, relationships and hunting don't pair well together. As far as any relationship I may have with her, it would be foolish to entertain such an idea. So you see--" he stopped.

"What's going on here? Arthur, what are you talking about?" you asked.

"He says he's found a case and after he's finished, he won't be coming back to live here," Dean retorted.

You felt the blood drain from your face. "Arthur, is this true? I thought....never mind what I thought," you muttered.

"Oh, let me guess. You thought that there were 'special feelings' between us? Darling, trust me, you don't want to get mixed up with someone like me. Not after the things that I've done," he finished.

"You still don't get it, do you?" you snapped in a rare flash of anger. "I don't care what you've done in the past! That isn't the man you are today, and he's the man that I....I love. There, I've said it. I love you, Arthur Ketch. And if you can't see that love is a gift and that it's worth fighting for....then maybe you should go," you choked out.

Ketch picked up his bag. "Well, I guess that's it then. Nothing more to say, I suppose, except goodbye," he said.

Tears in your eyes, you watched him walk up the spiral staircase and out to the garage. You jumped when the bunker door slammed shut, then you ran to your room and closed the door.

"Damn you, Ketch," Dean muttered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soon after Ketch left, Sam and Dean started finding some new cases to work. You mostly stayed behind to do much-needed research for them. You were still heartbroken that Ketch decided to leave even after you declared your love for him. However, you tried to keep up a brave face for Sam and Dean. You smiled even when you didn't feel like it, just to keep them from asking if you were okay.

One night after a particularly dicey werewolf hunt, you were relieved when the boys finally came through the bunker door. Only this time, they weren't alone, they had someone with them. The man was injured and seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. You told them to bring him to the infirmary while you went to get the water basin and a washcloth.

"Okay, fellas, tell me what happened," you said. As you started to assess your patient, you gasped to see that it was none other than Arthur Ketch. The man to whom you had given your heart, but who didn't seem to want it.

"We found him locked in battle with that werewolf. He was holding his own until the werewolf slashed him across his stomach with its claws," Sam explained.

"A-all right. Let's get him cleaned up then I can see where he needs stitches. Dean, hand me a few suture kits, Sam help me get his jacket and shirt off," you ordered.

"Are you going to be okay with this? I mean, after what happened the last time he was here?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I'll be fine. Strictly professional, just the way he likes things. The sooner he gets well, the sooner he'll be free to leave me again," you said, your vision a little blurry from unshed tears. Dean squeezed your shoulder in support, and you gave him a small smile. Then you dipped the washcloth in warm water and started to clean Ketch's wounds.

After you had stitched him up, you dressed him in a clean T-shirt you had found in his bag. You left briefly to get your book so that you had something to do while you kept an eye on him.

Little did you know, Ketch was aware of what was going on the entire time. He heard the pain in your voice when you mentioned how he'd be free to leave you again once he was healed. Right then, he made up his mind that he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He just had to figure out how to show you that.

As you kept watch over your patient, you noticed that he had started mumbling in his sleep again. You drew your chair next to his bed and took his hand in yours. "I must be out of my damn mind, going down this path again," you muttered to yourself.

All of a sudden, you heard him say your name, and how he was sorry he'd hurt you. Then he said the words you longed to hear, "I love you, and I'm not leaving you again". He's asleep, he doesn't know what he's saying, you told yourself. You looked down and saw that he had opened his blue-green eyes and was searching your face for some sign of your feelings for him.

"Arthur? How are you feeling?" you asked gently.

He reached up with his free hand and cupped your cheek. "I've been better. The werewolf tore up my stomach, but I'm also hurting in my heart. You see, there was this wonderful woman I got to work with a while back.

“She's kind, considerate of others and is the most beautiful creature I've ever met. She sort of wiggled her way into my heart, and well, she never really left. But I left. Like a coward, I left her, which I never should've done," he confessed.

"What are you saying, Arthur?" you whispered.

"I'm saying that I was a fool to ever have left you, my love. I'm hoping that someday you can forgive me. You've helped me to see that love is a gift and it's definitely worth fighting for. I love you," he replied, pulling your face down to mesh his lips with yours. They were as soft as you'd imagined they would be, but firm, as he took charge of the kiss like he did with everything else in his life.

"I'm so glad you came back. I love you, Arthur Ketch," you said softly.

[worlldburn]

closed: andy & noelle / * @exposurc​

location: the club

“Your performance must have been a spiritual experience,” Andy begun as she unloaded the items from her duffle into her locker. It was typical for her to be rather tardy, time being merely a concept to her. She preferred the later performance slots but a part of her was flooded with disappointment that she’d missed Noelle dance more so than any of their other colleagues. “I heard Rob in the front row threw you a ten, a ten. He usually only ever gives a dollar and unloads whatever he has in his pockets on stage and creates a tripping hazard.” Hands busy folding her night’s attire, the little clothing finding their place on the counter alongside her enchantingly high heels. A laugh bubbles from her lips as she grins at Noelle and lifts her oversized sweatshirt over her mane of curls shamelessly. “You know I don’t mind when he doesn’t tip a lot. Usually he always has a fortune cookie swimming in his Mary Poppin purse pockets and I’d rather the universe’s guidance than a dollar but I have to know what you’re doing to get him to up ante.” The answer to her question was obvious as Noelle stood in front of her. The girl was striking, absolutely breath taking. What sane person could see her on stage not unload their wallets?

[marvelslut16]

Can’t live without you

Pairing: Stanley Uris x reader (adults)

Synopsis: (Y/N) finds out that her best friend didn’t arrive back in Derry with the rest of the losers club, and finds out that he tried to kill himself. Glimpses of her past with Stan are seen as she visits him in the hospital. Will the best friends that have been pining over each other since they were kids finally get their happy ending, or will Patricia and the very different lives the lead get in the way?

Word count: 5,314 this is a lot more than I originally planned, guess I got carried away.

Warnings: Attempted suicide. Talk of self harm. Blood/gore/violence, typical for the IT fandom. Brief implication of domestic violence from a father and a wife. A little angsty at times, but fluffy. Swearing. Tooth rotting fluff near the end.

A/N: Stan may be OOC, but I tried my hardest for my first IT story. Stan the man Uris is fantastic and deserved so much better. AU where the characters I love don’t die. The reader in this story isn’t Jewish, if you are Jewish, I apologize. There is a cute little story-line that relies heavily on the reader not having the same faith as him.

It had been just over twenty years since you were last in your home town of Derry Maine, and you hadn’t thought if it once. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to remember, you just couldn't. There were days when the name Stan would randomly pop in your head, and from a place buried very deep in the back of your brain, you were sure he was an important person in your adolescent life. 

When Mike Hanlon called to tell you that Pennywise was back, your heart started pounding so hard you were convinced it would leap from its place inside your chest. You didn’t exactly remember Pennywise, but you remembered the fear. You also remembered a mop of curly light brown hair that you immediately associated with Stan. 

Upon arriving at the Chinese restaurant in Derry flashes of your childhood came back, they were so unfamiliar it was like watching somebody else's life. Stan was the center of almost all of them, your old best friend and boy you had been in love with since you were six. It was great catching up with your old friends, but it didn’t feel right without Stan. 

The other six members of the losers club opened their fortune cookies, spelling out; ‘I,’ ‘cut,’  ‘not,’ ‘it,’ ‘guess,’ and ‘could.’ Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach as you open your own and see the thick black letters spelling out Stanley. 

“No,” you gasp out a plea to no one in particular. You lean forward and numbly move the papers around to say, ‘I guess Stanley could not cut it.’ The rest of the losers club had remembered enough over dinner to remember just how much Stan meant to you, causing them to stare at you as you try to blink back tears. 

The group running from creatures breaking out of fortune cookies happens in a blur, your head isn’t clear until the cool night air hits it. Mike gives you Stan’s number as soon as he comes to his senses. You walk away from the group, wanting privacy for whatever you get on the other end of the call. 

“Who is this?” a female voice answers the phone. Your furrow your eyebrows in fear and glance over at Mike who is watching you closely. 

“Uh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you state nervously, picking at your already chipped nail polish. “I’m sorry, I thought this was Stan Uris’s number.”

“It is,” the voice says slowly. “How do you know him?”

“We grew up together, we were best friends,” you smile as you remember gripping onto his hand as the wind whipped around you two the first time you jumped into the quarry. “Our friend group was having a mini reunion back home, and we got worried that he didn’t show up.”

“He’s in the hospital,” she says with no real emotion in her voice. 

“What?” you ask in disbelief. Not your Stan. 

“He’s in the hospital,” she snaps. “Do I need to say it slower for you? He slit his wrists and lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh my God,” you murmur, knees going weak at the thought. “Which hospital? I’d like to visit him before I go back home.”

She tells you the name of the hospital and hangs up before you can say anything else. Your knees buckle as soon as the line clicks dead, causing you to fall and scrape up your knees on the dirty pavement. Tears stream down your face and silent sobs shake your body. Ben and Bev immediately rush to your side, Bev kneeling beside you as she rubs soothing circles into your back. 

“(Y/N)?” she asks nervously. 

“He’s in the hospital,” you sob out weakly. “He tried to kill himself.” Bev helps you stand and sets you in Richie’s car so you can head to the hotel.

The rest of your time in Derry is a blur, it’s over so quick, but feels painfully slow. You instantly knew that your token was the menorah necklace that you’ve worn everyday since you had gotten it in sixth grade. Stan had bought it for you for Christmas as a joke, his father had made a not-so-pleasant comment about you not being Jewish the week prior. You knew you loved him the moment you tore the ribbon off of the box; he knew you better than anyone else, he let his guard down when he was with you, and he was the kindest, sweetest boy you had ever met especially when he stood up to his father about your religion.

Before you know it you’re assaulted by the smell of bleach and shiny white floors as you walk into the hospital Stan is in. After finding out the room number from the receptionist you slowly head to his room, wondering if you should really be there. 

Through the small window of Stan’s hospital room you see a blonde woman sitting on a couch on the far side of the room, typing away on her laptop. When you enter the room she slams her laptop shut and walks over to you, making sure to stand between you and Stan’s bed. 

“I’m Patricia Uris,” she makes no move to stick her hand out for you to shake, but makes the diamond on her left hand noticeable. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you give her a small smile that drops as you look behind her, seeing Stan’s body lay there unmoving. “We briefly spoke on the phone the other night.”

“Right,” her eyes squint as she looks you up and down. “What happened to your face?” She’s referring to the healing cut that reaches from your hairline diagonally to your eyebrow, you should really look into getting side bangs or something. Pennywise was always great at mentally and physically scarring everyone. 

“I was taking a shortcut through the forest in Derry when I slipped and cut it on a sharp piece of bark,” you lie effortlessly. She rolls her eyes but seems to believe your terrible excuse. “Is Stan getting any better?”

“The doctors say he should wake up any day now,” she doesn’t sound as excited about that as a wife should. “They say he should be awake, he just doesn’t want to. It’s all psychological apparently. It’s just like Stan to not want to do anything, always wanting to bird watch instead of going shopping with me.”

“Stan always loved to bird watch,” you smile at Patricia, pushing away the anger you feel at her ignorance and disdain she seems to hold for her husband. “He used to always drag me to the park in Derry to show me the different types, I was the only one in the group to enjoy it with him.”

“Yeah, well, it gets old fast,” she rolls her eyes, turning around to pack her laptop in her bag and grab her purse. “I’m gonna go home and shower, sit with him as long as you want to.”

Her heels click loudly on the linoleum flooring as she walks past you without a second glance towards Stan. You frown at her back as she walks down the hall to the elevator. You pull up a chair next to Stan’s bed and lightly grab his limp hand, running your thumb over the back of his hand.”

“You can’t leave me alone in this shit world, not after I finally remember,” tears spill down your cheeks. “I need you Stan the man. I’ll even go bird watching with you. Richie said, and I quote, so you can’t get mad at me for saying this when you wake up and remember me saying this, that you need to wake your ass up Urine, there are still a shit ton of birds to go look at. It’s all over Stan, we killed IT. And we all made it out, so you definitely need to wake back up. I’ve lived twenty years without you Stanley, I can’t go twenty more without you. I can’t even go one more without you.

Richie and Eddie finally got together, it was really cute. Eddie thought he was dying, he got stabbed by IT, so he confessed his love to Richie. But Richie was determined to get him out of there alive, and he did. So now they’re finally together, even though he married a woman that’s essentially his mother. Ben and Bev finally got together, we used to always say that they were made for each other. Ben is super fit now, but he’s still the biggest sweetheart I have ever met. And Bev is still so strong willed and fierce. 

Bill is a horror writer now, which to me is pretty ironic. They’re making his stories into movies, where they always change the ending because they want something happy. He married some actress, who he’s divorcing as we speak. She isn’t great, insulting his work and not really caring that she’s hurting his feelings. Mike has been living in Derry this entire time, he took over his family's business. He was waiting these past twenty-seven years for IT to come back. Trying his hardest to protect the next generation from the horror that we faced. 

I guess that just leaves me, I moved to Colorado, far far away from Derry. I worked my ass off to become a lawyer, the dream you always pushed me to go after. Even when I couldn’t remember you, your encouragement was in the back of my head, keeping me going when it got difficult. There were days that I would get foggy images of us getting ice cream, or splashing each other in the quarry, all of those times when you would let your guard down and have fun with me. Even after the losers club drifted apart as we went into high school, you stayed at my side. You defended me to your father when he hated that we were so close, even though I wasn’t Jewish. We were always there to pick each other up when Bowers or Greta and their friends would tease or beat us up. Stanley Uris, please wake up. I need you, we all miss you, and I definitely miss you the most.”

--

After spending hours with him, you head to the nearest hotel for the night. The next morning you stop by the hospital with the intent to say goodbye to Stan before heading home. When you walk up to the room Patricia and the doctor are talking. 

“There was more brain activity yesterday,” the doctor’s voice drifts out through the open door and into the hall where you’re standing. “Whatever you did, do it again, because it was the first time we saw evidence that he could wake up.”

“Great,” she has a fake grin on her face, and she’s using a fake tone. Why doesn’t she want Stan, the most amazing man you have ever met and her husband, to wake up? “What are you doing here again?” she snaps as she notices you in the doorway. 

“I have to head back home, so I wanted to say goodbye to him,” you nervously fiddle with the hem of your sweater. 

“Didn’t you have enough time with him yesterday?” she glares at you. Why is she so defensive about you seeing Stan again?

“You were here yesterday?” the doctor's eyes widen as he looks at you for the first time. 

“Yeah,” you answer shyly, flattening the side bangs you cut last night. Making sure they cover your stitched up forehead. His eyes light up in excitement and goes to talk to you once more, Patricia cuts him off. 

“Well, as Stanley’s wife, I’m not sure I feel comfortable having you spend more time with him,” as she goes to continue with a string of complaints, a hushed and broken sound comes from the hospital bed. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. Your knees go weak, almost collapsing with relief as Stan repeats the sounds he had just made. 

“I’m right here Stan,” Patricia forces her excitement once more, limply grabbing his hand. 

“(Y/N),” his voice is clear this time, and your heart flutters as your old best friend says your name again. You rush over to his other side, gently grabbing his hand since that's where his IV is.

“Stan?” your voice breaks as you try to keep a relieved sob from escaping. Stan slowly and carefully flips his hand over, threading his fingers with yours. “It’s over. IT is gone, we got rid of IT this time.” His eyes open at your words, head turning to look you in the eyes. Tears finally escape the moment you can finally look into his deep brown eyes again. 

“Did you call me urine?” his voice is rough and scratchy from not being able to use it for a week. More tears spill down your face as you laugh, because that was the first question he decides to ask you. 

“I said I was quoting Richie,” your whole body shakes as you laugh, far too relieved to care if Patricia thinks you’re being over the top. 

“I can remember,” his voice is softer, just like his eyes. “I remember everything. What ever happened to your necklace?” his other hand reaches across his body, but stops and hovers a few inches away from where the necklace once hung. You instinctively reach up to touch your chest where the pendent once fell. 

“We needed tokens of our past, the most important thing from our childhood, that was mine,” he grips your hand tighter, the other one falling to his lap and away from Patricia. “I wore it everyday these past twenty seven years.”

“What necklace?” Patricia’s strained voice brings you back to Earth. You carefully let go of Stan’s hand and pull it back to your side. You had forgotten about Patricia, forgot that you aren’t allowed to love him anymore. 

“I got her a menorah necklace,” Stan laughs at the memory, not noticing that you got awkward and pulled away. “She’s not Jewish, and my dad always hated that we were so close and she wasn’t. I used to joke that I would convert her one day, so I thought it would be funny to get her it for Christmas.” The doctor grins at you and Stan with a knowing look before backing out of the room quietly. 

“Cute,” Patricia rolls her eyes and glares at you. You frown in response, wondering what on Earth you ever did to her. Ignoring Patricia, you hand Stan the unopened water bottle from your bag, sure that he’d need some water. He smiles gratefully at you before taking a large sip.

“What are you even doing here?” his stern gaze landing on Patricia. You furrow your brows, the Stan you knew would never treat his wife this way. 

“I’m your wife!” her voice is shrill, hurting your ears and making you cringe. Stan on the other hand doesn’t seem amused with the outburst. 

“We aren’t married anymore Patricia,” Stan’s voice is harder than you have ever heard before. “I divorced you three years ago, the only reason you're here is because I haven’t changed my emergency contact.” 

You run your hands through your hair as you process the new information, Stan was available. You could love him without being guilty. You could finally tell him that you love him, that you always have. 

“Well have fun with your deformed klutz over there,” she gestures towards you with a mocking grin. You had pushed your bangs back a moment prior without realizing it, Stan’s gaze on you quickly goes from confused to anger as he pieces together what happened to you. 

“Leave Patricia,” the anger in his voice is kinda hot. “I never want to see you again.”

“Don’t come crawling back to me when you get bored with her,” and with that she leaves, slamming the door loudly behind her. 

“What happened?” Stan brings his hand up and gently glides his fingers over the stitches Eddie put in. 

“You aren’t married?” your heart is beating so fast you swear it would break out of your chest and fly away. 

 “No, I divorced her a while ago, I realized she was treating me terribly,” you start crying at his words. “Why are you crying?”

“I thought you were dead, and then I thought you were married and slowly dying,” you sob. “But now you’re suddenly single and very much alive. It’s a lot to process. 

He lifts his hand back up to your face, wiping away your tears even if they’re being replaced as soon as he moves his thumb away from your skin. His hands are a little rough, but soft enough to know that he works behind a desk. His hand starts to caress your cheek, you have to fight the heat from rising to your cheeks and push away the excitement you feel from the tender touch. You’re just an old friend he hasn’t seen in twenty years, nothing more. 

“What happened to your forehead?” his voice is soft again, and his fingers brush along the angry red cut once more.  

“I was facing my fear,” images of a young Stan abandoning you in order to save himself, saying that you mean nothing to him, after you had fallen and your abusive father was closing in on you, race through your mind. “And Pennywise, as my father, cornered me after a young you pushed me down and ran away. As my father was hovering over me with a knife, he morphed into IT and he used his long sharp nail to cut my face, and try to gouge my eye out. I got lucky because there happened to be a large rock next to me, which I hit IT with so I could run away.”

“I would never leave you,” Stan says sadly, a hurt look in his eyes as he stares at you but can’t look into your eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see him again, even if he was just IT’s illusion.”

“It’s fine,” you reach up to play with your necklace, forgetting it’s not there anymore. Playing with the necklace had become a coping mechanism for your anxiety. The nervous tick had developed almost immediately after you received the present. “Really, everything is in the past now. I’m fine.”

Stan gives you a disbelieving look, you look around the room to avoid his gaze. Your eyes lock onto the clock, causing them to widen as you take in the time. How had that much time passed already? It felt like you had entered the room five minutes ago, it certainly didn’t feel like two hours had come and gone. 

“What is it?” Stan grabs your hand, keeping you from standing from the uncomfortable hospital chair. 

“I have a plane to catch, in an hour,” you pull your hand from his grasp, standing and backing away from the bed as well. “I need to go now if I have any chance of making it through TSA and to my plane in time.”

“Don’t go,” his voice is soft, broken even. “I lost you once, I can’t lose you again.”

“You’ll be fine Stan,” you flash him a watery smile. “You have healing to do, and then you can go bird watch all you want. We’ll remember each other this time, we can keep in touch.” You walk over to the side of his bed, pushing the curls off his forehead so you can give him a soft kiss. A tear slips down your cheek and lands on his curls as the fall back into place. “Goodbye Stan.”

--

It had been weeks since you had left Atlanta, and you’ve thought of Stan every hour of every day since. It’s like your mind is punishing you with thoughts of him since you had forgotten him for so long. You and Stan texted a couple times, you still had his number from when Mike gave it to you. And just like Mike gave you Stan’s number, he gave Stan your address. Because two and a half weeks after you arrived home, a small package from Stan arrived in the mail. 

You stare at the package in shock for a few minutes, before finally opening it. You gasp as you see a menorah necklace inside, almost identical to the one you had gotten so many years ago. Your heart thumps against your rib cage at the thoughtful, heartfelt gesture. 

You immediately send Stan a text, thanking him for the necklace, while lightly chastising him for spending money on you, and asking him to give you a call as soon as he could. It has been almost twenty four hours since your text, and you've gotten no reply. You start to fear the worst, that this could have been his last act before trying, and succeeding, to kill himself. As you contemplate finding a way to get a wellness check on him, there's a knock on your apartment door. Probably just the guy from down the hall that doesn’t understand that rejection isn’t playing hard to get. 

When you open the door Stan is standing in front of you; his dark brown curls are styled instead of the chaotic mess they were at the hospital, his face clean shaven, his striped button up and pressed khakis are reminiscent of the outfits he would wear as a child. This is how you always imagined Stanley Uris would look like as an adult, well without the small almost unnoticeable scars on the side of his head. 

“Come in,” you finally snap out of your trance and step to the side, leaving more than enough room for him to walk into your modest two bedroom apartment. He takes in the living room and kitchen, but his eyes light up when they land at the necklace hanging delicately from your throat. “Wh-what are you doing here?” you glance down at the small carry on he’s holding.

“I thought I should tell you why I did it,” his voice is strained. “And I didn’t want to do it over the phone, since I know you were getting ready to make some smart ass remark about telephones.” Stan really was your best friend, because he’s spot on with his prediction about what you were just about to say. “I don’t know if it’s because I saw the deadlights for so long or something, but as we kept getting closer to twenty seven years I started to remember. It started with you and the rest of the losers a few years ago, but as soon as Mike told me IT was back I remembered all the pain we went through. I knew that we all needed to go back to Derry, but I knew I couldn’t do it. I knew that if I went my fear would be putting you in danger. I thought suicide would be the only way to keep you safe and where I didn’t have to face IT again.”

“Bev saw visions of everyone's death, how we would all die if we ignored IT. She saw you in your bathtub, and ironically she saw me bashing my own head in with a law textbook,” you laugh awkwardly, changing the subject from his reasoning and proof that he isn’t alone in this. “IT found a way to get to us, no matter how strong we are or how far away from Derry we were. Do I think you and Bev had it worse because you two saw the deadlights? Yeah, I do. I’m sure you got memories back as IT was waking up, you saw the deadlights the longest. You never should have made it out of those sewers alive that summer, but I’m glad you did. That probably made you more susceptible to that rush of fear you got again. And I just want you to know that you aren’t alone Stan.”

“I’ve missed you,” his voice frail as he pulls nervously at the bottom of his button up. 

“It’s been two weeks Stan,” you try to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling growing in your stomach. “You couldn’t have missed me that much. Plus, you could have called to talk.” Stan takes a deep shaky breath, and you frown in concern at his actions.  

“I’ve loved you my entire life (Y/N), it’s been two and a half weeks and I can’t stand to be away from you,” Stan says earnestly, his words warm your broken soul. “Not for two weeks and three days, I don’t think I can even go a day without you near. I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I love you too, Stanley Uris,” a grin spreads across your face, the joy mirrored in your eyes. “I knew I loved you the moment I got my first menorah necklace from you. It showed me just how special I was to you, you stood up to your father for me and you got me something that would forever remind the two of us of that moment.” 

Stan doesn’t say anything, he just leans forward and captures your lips with his. The kiss is electric, you swear there are fireworks, just like those cheesy movies. With your left hand you caress the scars on his head from all those years ago, and your right tangles into his styled curls. Stan’s hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll float away if he lets go. When you pull apart your lips are tingling, both you and Stan panting heavily. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Stan breaks the mood smiling shyly, causing you to laugh. “I kinda just threw stuff in a bag and got on the first flight out of Georgia, didn’t really plan ahead.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Stanley?” you laugh lightly, his ears turning red at your teasing. “He would never leave the house without having a well thought out plan first.”

“What can I say?” his smile grows, and so does yours as you watch the dimple on his right cheek deepen. “Your spontaneity and want for adventure always rubbed off on me.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” you lean in, gripping his shirt and pulling him into you. This kiss isn’t soft this time, it’s rough and needy. Twenty seven plus years of wanting this and it’s finally yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, you sure as hell weren’t going to complain about the amount of passion in it. The kiss was finally a way in which the two of you could express every deep and long buried feeling. 

--

It was four months to the day since Stan showed up at your doorstep, and the two of you had only been apart for a week the entire time. You couldn’t get away from work again so soon and Stan had to go back to Georgia to pack up his belongings. The apartment that you had resided in soon turned into a home, all thanks to Stan. You two invited the rest of the losers over to visit, figuring that you had settled into your new relationship so easily you didn’t want to hide it from your friends. This time there would be no IT, no life threatening tasks to complete, and it’s the first time in twenty seven years that you would all be together. What you don’t know is that Stan is planning a big surprise, with the help of the most important people in your lives. 

You run out to grab salsa from the store you swear you picked some in preparation for today earlier in the week, but Stan said there was none in the fridge. You drive as fast as you can, the losers club should be over within an hour, and you didn’t want them to beat you home. 

The apartment is strangely quiet as you swing the door open; Stan isn’t muttering to himself as he goes over a client’s finances, and he isn’t sitting at the table working on a puzzle. Where is your Stanley?

Before you can get too worried, your brain immediately racing to the possibility that he is in your bathtub, that seeing everyone after all this time was too much for him, Eddie appears from the kitchen. You go to guilty greet him, feeling bad for being a bad hostess and not being there when he and Richie arrived, bet the hypochondriac cuts you off. 

“Your smile that can light up a room,” he grins cheekily at you, like he knows something you don’t. 

“Your smokin’ bod,” Richie joins the two of you, his laugh ending when Eddie smacks his gut. “Fine, fine, your eyes that sparkle when you’re truly happy.”

“How incredibly smart you are, especially when you find holes in the other lawyers arguments,” Bev winks at you, you look around desperately for Stan. Where is he? And what's going on?

“Your perseverance, you always make the hard days look easy,” Ben walks out and wraps his arm around Bev’s shoulders.

“How caring and understanding you are,” Bill stands beside Richie, the grocery bag with the salsa in it, on the floor and long forgotten.

“And that your voice can calm me with just one word,” you furrow your brows at Mike. 

“Those are all things I love about you,” Stan’s gentle voice comes from behind you. You whip around to see his grinning face, no trace of fear or sadness from his past anywhere to be seen, only excitement for the promising future. “I could write a whole book of things that I love about you, but that still wouldn’t cover it all.”

“Stan?” your heart leaps at the glint in his eyes and the softness of his voice, things you want to experience for the rest of your life. 

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N), with my entire being. I always have. When we were kids I knew I would marry you one day, I knew, even then, that there was no way I could live without you. So (Y/N)-” Stan pulls out a little black box from his pocket as he gets on one knee. 

“Yes!” you exclaim a little too loudly as soon as he flips the lid open. The diamond is sparkling up at you, your eyes fill with tears. 

“I didn’t even get to finish,” Stan pouts, humor and happiness twinkling in his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he laughs, sliding the one carat ring on your finger. It’s a perfect fit, meaning good luck through some old superstition. “Just kiss me.”

Stan shoots up from the ground, grabbing your cheek in one hand and caressing it softly, the other slipping into your hair. You pull greedily at the front of his freshly ironed button up as he deepens the kiss. A moan escapes one of you, and from the sounds of how deep it is, you’re sure it was Stan.  

“Get a room,” Richie wolf whistles, you and Stan pull away embarrassed. 

“I can't wait until I can finally call you Mrs. Uris,” he breathes, ignoring Richie, as he rests his forehead on yours. 

“Neither can I,” you close the distance and kiss him again, not caring about the audience, or the quiet sound of disgust from Eddie. Just because he makes out with Richie often, it doesn’t stop the thought of thousands of germs being passed back and forth when he sees someone else kiss.  

You finally get your happy ending with Stan, after all of those shitty years without him, you two will never be apart again. And there is no better way to start the rest of forever together than with the help of the losers, your chosen family.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[thran-duils]

Watch Me Burn (P.6)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Six) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 2,111 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness Author’s Note: Italics are the past!

Chap 5 || Chap 7 || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

You managed to drive yourself, claiming you had to make a few stops on the way back to the office after lunch. Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Tara had carpooled together and were already seated when you arrived. The only chair open was fortunately by Charlie but unfortunately across from Sam. The double decker sandwich looked good and you could take it home for dinner. But having Sam staring at you across the table… you ordered a salad. You did not miss the quick uptick on his lips, satisfied by your choice. You felt shame clawing away at you inside for succumbing to his shadow. Focusing on the conversation happening around the table and pretending to be okay was proving hard.

“Today’s a good day. I am so excited you’re here,” Dean said slapping Sam on the back. He looked beside himself.

“Likewise, man,” Sam said in turn.

“And Dean did get himself out of a ticket this morning apparently. He’s having a great day,” Tara jested.

Sam laughed asking Dean what she meant. And Dean explained he had talked his way out of a speeding ticket; that was no surprise, he was suave.

“And I got an extra cookie at the coffee shop by accident!” Charlie piped up, looking pleased with herself. She took a long drink of her milkshake before offering you the straw. You laughed, waving her off, gesturing at your water. “Party pooper.”

Dean pointed at you and you sat up straighter, “And Y/N is having a good day too. Getting flowers.”

“Aw, did Cas send you flowers?” Charlie exclaimed teasingly. She was only poking fun and normally that would be okay, but Sam’s gaze was burning into you. Charlie did not know better, how could she? You had not told her the specifics of your time at Austin, specifically who you had had the relationships with.

Tara cocked her head in curiosity. “Cas?”

“Her man,” Charlie informed her, and you wanted to melt into the ground.

“You move fast,” Dean chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. He was giving you a knowing look before shooting a quick one at Sam. He brought his glass to his lips, taking a drink, looking amused.

Him and Sam must be closer than you initially thought. There was no mistaking he knew about you and Sam with the way he was acting.

Stumbling, you opened your mouth to say something, but you were having trouble gathering yourself. For better or worse, Charlie was having no problem.

“Oh, he’s not new, don’t worry. Y/N isn’t foolish,” Charlie told Dean, coming to your defense.

“No, no. We’ve known each other for years, actually,” you said, finally finding a steady voice.

Sam’s nose twitched as he cleared his throat. The food came interrupting the conversation for a few moments, giving you time to breath. But not for long.

“He’s got a bar,” Charlie intoned, digging into her fries. “Real good bar food too.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked, looking at you pointedly. You nodded, faking a small smile.

“It’s a dive bar,” you explained and then wondered why you felt you needed to downplay Castiel’s place. Who cares if it was a dive or a high-end bar? It was his and it was special to you.

Scoffing loudly, Charlie said, “It’s a hell of a lot of fun is what it is. Heyyy!” She clapped her hands and you already saw the words forming. Your stomach tightened, wanting to slap your hand over her mouth. “Since we are supposed to be going out next week, maybe instead of that other place, we could go to Cas’ place! That would be cool. The drinks aren’t badly priced and I am honestly sick of sushi restaurants. Evelyn can eat it – sorry, Tara – because she’s gotten to choose the last couple places!”

There were murmurs of agreements around the table, as well as chuckles shared at Charlie’s expense of her lack of a filter.

“Yeah, maybe. It’d be nice to see where you set your roots down, Y/N. You’re missed in Austin,” Sam commented, taking a sip of his water.

You were sure you were.

Shrugging, smiling around the table, you said, “I am sure Cas won’t complain about the business.”

“Of course not, I’ll be there,” Charlie chirped, drawing another chorus of laughs.

<> <> <>

It had taken everything in you for the rest of the day to keep yourself together knowing Sam was so close. You tensed every time someone knocked on your door, let alone walked by. He had not popped in after lunch, much to your relief. But still, you had spent all afternoon waiting for him to appear in front of your desk, peering down at you, making you feel small.

That first time when he had ignored the rules should have been the moment you walked away. But you had not; you had let him make it up to you. And he did.

Until it happened again. And he told you he would make it up to once more.

He had managed to begin wedging himself into your life outside the bedroom. He talked you up at parties, told people you were planning on going for more education – something you had flippantly mentioned and he latched onto it, insisting that that was the right path for you. Whispers fell on you as he passed about your outfit, encouraging you to wear more dresses because that was more suitable, and it was pleasing to him to see you walk by. Whispers about how many calories were in the tenders and fries you had ordered along with a few others from a local restaurant for lunch.

Sam talked about you coming back after school and taking a leadership position. He talked about your future, like he was in charge of shaping it himself. There was no mistake he was plotting to get you firmly in his clutches, mold you into the perfect little wife for himself.

Educated, pretty, and good in the bedroom.

As soon as you had heard about the opening back home, you had jumped on the opportunity. You had asked Jerry to keep it under wraps that you had applied, praying he had no idea about the relationship between you and Sam. When he agreed, you assumed he had not, and you had been relieved. Seeing the look on Sam’s face when you were clearing out your office was worth it. He had cornered you and you told him with more bravery than you thought you possessed that the other office had a better position, and you were leaving that night. You had planned it out to be able to escape from the city, so he did not have an opportunity to try to persuade you to stay by showing up at your place.

He could not cause a scene in the office and you were able to slip out the door and away.

If only he had just stayed in Austin.

<> <> <>

You slapped a twenty on the counter in front of Castiel, plopping into the bar stool. “Double. Please.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Castiel leaned forward, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

Shrugging, you said, “Nothing. I just need a stiff one. Quickly.”

He studied you for a few moments before taking the twenty and moving back hesitantly. He fetched you the drink and you exchanged a hello with a regular that passed by. You had gone home, thrown your bag on the couch and come downstairs immediately to the bar still in your work attire. There was no wonder why Castiel seemed confused and concerned about your demeanor.

When he placed it in front of you, you gave a quick, ‘Cheers’ before downing half the drink. When you came up for air, you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes, feeling the drink move down.

Opening your eyes again, you saw Castiel down the bar topping off the other patron’s drinks before whispering something to the cook, Raphael, who had come out. Raphael nodded at him and Castiel came back towards you.

“Come on for a minute,” Castiel said, beckoning you with two fingers. You opened your mouth to protest, but he said, “Bring your drink if you need to. To the back.”

Reluctantly, you followed him, drink in hand.

He led you to the back room and closed the door behind the pair of you. He turned on his heel and asked, “Alright. Cut the shit. What’s wrong?” You again opened your mouth, but he held up his hand. “And don’t feed me bullshit, Y/N. Be honest.”

Castiel was not going to let it go until you told him. Maybe it was just better to get it off your chest now rather than hold it in. You did promise yourself you were going to do better by the two of you this time around and keeping something like this from him was not going to serve you well in the long run.

You wet your lips. “Do… do you remember that guy I told you about?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment. “Which…?”

“The one who… who didn’t, you know, listen to me? With the safe words?”

It was hard to get it out.

Realization dawned on Castiel’s face. He straightened up, staring you down. “Yes. Why?”

“He’s here!” you blurted, your hands shaking, holding tightly to your glass. Castiel cocked his head, his forehead creasing. “He moved here. To the office, I mean.”

“Wait, what?” Castiel asked, stepping closer.

“He’s working on a project here.”

“He was an ex coworker?”

“Yes. One of the junior partners. One of my superiors.”

Castiel looked in disbelief for a moment before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Christ, Y/N. Really?”

Defending yourself, you snapped, “I didn’t ask him to come here!”

“No—That’s not it,” Castiel sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You don’t get involved with coworkers. Especially your bosses!”

“You are really going to chastise me right now?”

“Fuck. No. I’m sorry. Just…” Castiel trailed off, hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

You took the silence as an opportunity to take another long gulp off your drink.

“How long is he gonna be there?” Castiel asked after a few moments.

“I’m not sure,” you told him honestly. “Projects vary. This one is a big one. He is thankfully working more so with Dean and not just me directly.” You took another drink. “But they wanna come here. To the bar.” Castiel looked at you expectantly and you explained, “Well, Charlie – and she didn’t mean to because she has no idea what happened, believe me – suggested everyone come here sometime after work. And Tara agreed. And of course Sam did because he knows about you now and he is gonna wanna–”

“Sam?”

“That’s his name.”

“You hadn’t said it yet. And what is exactly gonna wanna do?”

Throwing your hand out at him, you said, “To see you. Size you up.” Castiel cocked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “You know how people are when they wanna see their competition.”

Castiel closed the space between the two of you and he asked seriously, “Am I competition?”

Realizing how that must have sounded, you quickly said, “Of course not! I left Austin for a reason.” Castiel did not look convinced and you grasped his hand tightly. “Seriously. I almost threw up when I saw him. And not in a good way! No excitement there. Just… dread, I guess.”

He was quiet for a few moments before saying firmly, “You should tell your boss.” You started to shake your head and he cut in roughly, “Why? Why would you not if you are not feeling safe?”

The absolute last thing you wanted to do was rehash anything that happened with Sam with anyone else other than Castiel. Not right now or maybe ever. Who would believe you in that company anyway? Sam was a golden boy, loved by everyone and a superstar at his work. Trying to talk to someone, especially your boss, about what had happened could cost you your job.

“I don’t want to,” you said thickly, tears forming. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone else about it. I just… wanna forget it.”

“You can’t.”

“I know. But I want to try to. He’ll be gone soon enough and…” you exhaled shakily, squeezing Castiel’s hand once more and he returned the gesture. “I can get back to normal after that.”

Nodding knowingly, Castiel enveloped you to him, holding you close.

“I’ll kick his ass if he tries anything,” He told you quietly.

You laughed, letting out some tension. “I know. I know you would, Cas.”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[kashimos-hajime]

sing for the lion and lamb

Summary: “This was what she had signed up for - a good man and minimal pleasure.”

WARNINGS: spoilers as we get through it, swearing, backstory, struggles, this is one of the happiest chapters Pairing: Dectetive Loki x Reader Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i’m a mess over prisoners and i wrote this super mess series called 1996. this is the first chapter. this is finished so i’ll be posting the other parts later but its movie+extra scenes bc theres so much stuff to get through and also reader and loki need to get through shit

... | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

To say you love Loki would be a stretch. Two humans, born and raised in Pennsylvania who just happened to have known each other since the care system should have a natural tendency to gravitate towards each other. The two of you found each other again, so you are bound to have some sort of connection. But whilst you have a certain fondness for the man, a certain bond you are quite sure was deeper than blood, you wouldn’t name it love.

No, love is for those who didn’t know better. 

Love is not for the shadows of your eyes or the darkness in his soul. Love is not for men and women like you. 

“Detective.” 

Your eyes raise from the police report of the missing girls before you, blinking away the black boxes and messy scribbles as the man tilts his head at you. “You need something?”

The corner of his mouth twitch into something almost like a smile but your eyes only soak in the pale half-moons under his eyes. He’s sleeping again. Good. He needs all he could get before the case on the missing kids gets some steam. Rolling out your neck, you slide the report into a manila folder and stand.

“Wanted to know if you wanted to head home for a minute or two.” There comes his wide smile, one that completely morphs his face. It tugs at his cheeks, wrinkles his eyes, makes him look younger than he is. Whenever he smiles as he does now, it makes you forget about the paleness in his cheeks, the taste of coffee on his tongue, the rough stubble along his jaw. It makes him look young and handsome and like the street kid you’d known.

He knows you like that smile. Like looking at him. In bed, flushed and moaning, or otherwise. He knows it will convince you and you roll your eyes because this is not going to be a rare occasion where it’ll fail.

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me?” You stretch your arms high above your head, ignoring the way his smile drops off his face as you turn off the burning lamp on your desk. Only the pale lights of the office remains, washing the both of you in ugly pale light. 

“If you have room for dinner, maybe I will.” 

You grab your long coat, popping the collar around your cheeks and he pushes off the wall of your cubicle, walking around and stuffing his hands in his pockets. You sling your bag onto your shoulder and pull hair from underneath your collar.

“No plans for Thanksgiving?” you ask, knowing the answer. It’s only polite to ask. Detective Loki always has a pleasant way of surprising you outside the bedroom.

“None without you, I s’pose.” 

“And we’ve spent the day at work.” You don’t sound particularly surprised and the detective merely shrugs. “Come on, I know a place.”

He cocks his head to the door. It isn’t only the two of you in the station at this time of night but your caffeine-lacking brain rationalizes that they wouldn’t care and you lean up to kiss his jaw. He turns at the last moment and presses a hard kiss against your mouth, teeth snagging on your lips and you sigh into his mouth, tasting coffee and gum and the faint scent of his aftershave. Hands finding his jaw, your fingers scratch at his cheek, trail down his neck and take fistfuls of his jacket.

Your heart thrums in your throat, beats at your stomach like a drum and all you want to do is peel off the clothes burning your body, feeding the fire in your core as he noses your chin, granting himself access to your neck.

“Hey,” you whisper, hands carding through his hair. You aren’t quite sure if you want to push him away or pull him closer as he raises his head from where he’d been sucking a wet mark along the cord of your throat. “I’m hungry.”

“I know.” He ducks again to gently nip at the mark and you smack him lightly, pushing him away.

“You know I’m actually fucking hungry,” you mutter and he growls against your lips, kissing your mouth bruisingly and too, too quickly before he rips himself away. You hadn’t even realized he’d been sucking the life out of you while his hands had casually been in his pockets but he shrugs, the jacket shifting along his shoulders.

Cocky bastard. 

“Come on. Sooner we get dinner, sooner I get you,” he whispers against your ear and you chuckle into his mouth as he snags another kiss.

.

“Do you know what your, uh, Chinese zodiac sign is?”

You wipe at your mouth with a napkin, frowning when your lipstick smears over white. The detective looks up from where he was reading the meaning of each on the paper place mat, offering a smile. This restaurant is one of your favourites, having been the restaurant you went to after your… well, you wouldn’t call it a first date. You went here for a meal once, alone, ‘cause you were hungry after a night with the man sitting across from you. 

After-fucking meal. That’s the phrase. Apt, and conventional, and...

Point is, you like it here and you want him to like it.

He sips on his white mug, taking in the tea as you push around your fried rice. He’s working on some noodles as you drag a finger over the drawings of the Chinese zodiac on the paper.

“No. Do you?”

“Rat.” You watch as he turned to read, finger trailing until he finds the animal at the top of the list. 

“Intelligent, charming, quick-witted. Hm.” He arches an eyebrow and you roll your eyes as the waitress came with the check. It’s only the two of you in this small establishment and you look around, nothing the absence of fortune cookies in the red metallic bowl near the register.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks.” He raises his hand to gesture in a vague shape and you squint as the waitress poured your mug full of tea. “Hey, you have any of those, um, fortune cookie things?”

“My boss told me cops don’t like fortune cookies.”

“Well, it’s Thanksgiving,” you murmur and the waitress laughs under her breath. “What’s your Zodiac sign?”

“Monkey.”

You toss a glance expectantly at the man sitting across from you and he drops the bill he was reading, looking down at the paper.

“Very intelligent. You have an ability to influence people.” You hum thoughtfully at his answer as he continues, “Maybe you could influence your boss to lower the check a little bit?”

You snort quietly, hiding your laugh as you pull out your wallet. Picking up the slip of paper, you read the the total and begin to lay out bills to pay as the waitress shakes her head.

“Mr. Li is a rooster, Detective,” you comment, extending the check back to the waitress. 

“Thank you.”

“Keep the change.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t miss the edge of his tone as he takes another sip of his tea. Jealousy. You opt not to answer and his gaze drops to the paper. 

“What does the rooster mean?” Leaning on your hand, you watch as he reads out the description. 

“He’s selfish and eccentric.” His eyes raise to meet yours and his gaze carries a hint of mischief. “That’s—”

In unison, both your phones vibrate. David’s clatters against the table and you shove a hand into your bag, feeling for yours. Digging out the phone, you stand and gather your coat and bag as David grabs his own raincoat. The heels on your boots click hard against the tile in your haste to get from the restaurant to the car with as little rain contact as possible as David answers the phone, right at your heels.

Shielding yourself from the rain, you walk to the car and duck into the old thing, slamming the door shut. He slides in beside you, twisting the keys in the ignition and he hands you the radio on instinct. As the two of you pull out of the parking lot, you can’t help the warmth in your gut extinguishing. 

It is so easy to pretend, sometimes. To act as if you’re people you wish you could be. A bitter taste floods your mouth as you think about moments like the ones in the restaurant, ones where you felt so perfectly normal that it’s crazy to even think about the broken parts between you and the man beside you.

But then you’re dragged back into the real world. The real world of long nights, and bullet rain, and the fact that you and David are merely co-workers who live together because that is the only way you can survive having him in your life.  Any more than what he is now, the occasional hook-up, your partner in every case, it might as well break you.

It’s clockwork, working with him. Without rust or a knot in the system, you never feel like there is a task you cannot handle, a case you cannot crack. That ease, that bond, doesn’t come from something messy like what could’ve been. It comes from someone who knows your mind better than you. 

The thought terrifies you at night because you sure as hell think about what could’ve been more than you’d like to admit.

Shaking yourself of the person you were in the restaurant into the person you are, you roll down the window and let rain-slick wind slice into your cheeks. There is a plastic container of gummies on the dash and you reach for it, nerves biting at your fingers. Your other hand reaches for the radio as you respond.

“This is 13-40 and 13-41. We’re five minutes out. We’ll meet the responding units there.”

.

Your whole body drenched in sleet-cold rain, you feel your jaw twitch as David interrogates the man into the corner of the room. You can’t help the pity welling up inside you as you gently tease your hair through a proffered towel, and you can’t help the fire burning in your stomach, warming you from the inside out.

His tactic, getting up close and personal with the potential suspect, always has a way of messing with you.

Shaking it off, you ignore the thoughts that dog at you persistently — the images of him grabbing at Alex Jones and wrenching him to his feet — as you turn away. You squeeze your hair between the towel as you walk through the halls of the station, your heels echoing in the mostly-empty building. Linoleum reflects the artificial light as you reach the locker room, pushing open the door and throwing the damp towel into the dirty wash basket.

Shedding your long rain coat, you sigh and begin to unbutton your blouse. It sticks to your skin like wet paper as the air conditioning puffs goosebumps onto your chest and arms. You unzip your boots, tugging them off before peeling away your pants and examining the status of your socks. Your badge clatters against the wooden bench as you sit down in nothing but your bra and underwear. Your nose twitching, you stare down at your toes and inhale sharply. Rain is clogging up your sinuses, but your socks are dry.

Not soaked through, so boots held up. Good. 

The shower pelts against your skin, hot bullets that slam into your skull deliciously and chase whatever chill rain left on your skin as you hear the door open. Closing your eyes, you let the shower run over your face, focusing on the hissing stream over the clatter of boots you can hear.

It’s nearing 12 AM and you are sure everyone who doesn’t want to be here and don’t need to be here are gone. No one is here more than you and David. No one showers in here if they had a choice. So much for Thanksgiving. Should I be giving thanks that we might’ve caught the sick fucker already? Perhaps.

In your heart, somehow, you know it isn’t him.

Through the shuffling of fabric, you rake shampoo through your hair and begin to lather your body with soap, merely waiting until he shows up as steam begins to soak into your skin. A pair of pants drop to the tile, the clink of a belt against ceramic. Then, soft footsteps that brush against the shower tile and a shadow that blocks out the faint light. Taking a deep breath, you run your hand over your face and pull open the shower curtain. 

“Come here,” you murmur over the steam rolling out of your little shower stall. David steps in through the shaft of light that pours through to your little world before thrashing the curtain back into place. The stall dims remarkably as he leans down to kiss your forehead. You step back so he can stand under your stream of burning hot water and he blinks against the current.

Your forehead rests against his collarbone. His arms rise to run hands through his hair and he cards fingers through the dark strands as your hands encircle his waist. It’s darkly intimate, and all too familiar but you can’t help the addicting heat that he provides. Water runs down his chest and over your arms as you count the tattoos on his chest. One, two, three...

“Any leads?” Your voice is barely audible over the hiss of the shower.

“Aunt’s house.” He has a tattoo of a robin mid flight along his ribcage, and you trace the arc of its wing, palm flat against his heaving ribs. It’s one you know every stroke of, one you watched being carved into his chest. Your eyes close as a finger curls underneath your chin, lifting you to him. “Open your eyes.”

You do to see strands of hair falling into his eyes, his skin red against the blistering heat of the shower. Cupping his face with one hand, you use your fingers to delicately pull away the dark slick hair. His eyes bleeding midnight, his breath ghosts against your lips as his finger trails down your neck. His hand is warm against your throat and he makes sure that your eyes do not stray. As if an astronomer can look away from the phenomenon in the universe, a clash of asteroids, a dying star. He reaches into your mind, pulls you apart like a well-worn book, and reads your thoughts like a diary entry before he pulls out and his eyes fill with shards of glass.

“This isn’t like that,” he promises, insists, convinces you, and you nod because it’s the only thing you can do. Your heart splits in your chest, thrumming in your mouth and crushing your stomach all at once as his gentle grip on your neck firms. Your hands trail his waist, fingers dancing along tattoos that used to have meaning as you count the seconds you can stay standing. “We’re gonna find these girls.”

“Yeah. I know that.”

He sighs, eyes searching your face and you kiss him fully, softly. His lips taste of wind and rainwater.

The shower turns off and the two of you step out, drying each other’s legs and arms, face and hair as is routine when you shower together, and then you get dressed. He clips your badge to your belt, you slide the ring onto his pinky finger. He zips up your boots, you clip the necklace around his neck.

Clockwork.

You toss your hair up into a tight knot and hang your raincoat over your arm. Your gut twisted, you turn to your… something. He gives you a short nod, raking his hair back with rough fingers. You shed your old self, leave it in the shower to slip into the drain.

“Let’s go.”

.

Whilst David went for the Birches, you stop outside the Dovers, walking up the steps. The two of you had gotten no sleep last night after the visit to the aunt’s and forensics for the RV came back negative. Caffeine rules your system as you climb the steps and ring the doorbell.

A kid no older than sixteen or seventeen answers, all pale and terrified-looking. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink either and you press your lips together. Although you empathize with the family, you can’t afford to become attached. You nudge your coat to flash your badge and the kid steps aside. Your fingers unclench from its tight fist as you enter the home.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Ralph. Uh, my dad… I… I saw the RV first. Did my dad tell you guys that?” 

You pause, turning around to spot the kid closing the door. He looks like he’s seen death, and his eyes are wide-eyed and shine under the light through the windows. Poor kid.

“Yeah, I read the statement.”

“Okay, Dad wanted me to, uh, make sure,” the boy says and you follow him to where a blonde sits on the couch, tissues littered around her. “Mom?” The woman looks up as you stick out a hand for her to shake.

“Detective Y/L/N. My partner and I are heading the case for your missing daughter.”

“Yes, of course. Sit. Do you need anything to drink?” She begins to unfurl on the couch but you simply hold out a hand. The woman’s face is sallow and thin, and she looks almost as if she is phasing from another time to your present. You sit down on the couch. Her voice scratches and you wonder when the last time she ate was, the last time she showered or drank or slept.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m just here to…” Your voice fades as your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out, turning on the screen to see an email notification from David. Opening it up, you frown at the few attachments strung along.

Better photos of the other kid. Heading over to you now. -D

“So, did we pass?” As you watch the bar across the screen signify the speed of your download, you also begin to forward the photos to the Captain.

“Hm?” You are only half-listening. Your phone vibrates again and you open up the downloaded photos, letting out a soft sigh as round, dark brown eyes stare back at you on your tiny screen. What a fucking shame.

“The poly thing. The lie detector we took this morning.” Turning off your phone, you let it fall into your tight fist as you look at the mother. She stares at you as if you hold all the answers and you swallow a tight knot. “Did we pass?”

“Yeah. You’re fine. I don’t think anyone really suspected the two of you anyway,” you say, glancing at your phone again. “Thank you for your cooperation, though. You understand — the formalities we have to take. Precautions.” You tuck a slip of hair behind your ears and her eyes flicker to the movement, gaze following your fingers. You know what she is trying to do and you interlace your fingers, hiding the permanent ink needled into your skin along your knuckles.

“Yes, of course. It’s just… it’s embarrassing. I don’t know. All this fuss — people are just going to think we’re crazy when they show up here, perfectly fine or… I don’t know.” The woman’s arms crossed tight against her chest, she doesn’t even look at you anymore. Your eyes dart to her knuckles to find them stark white, her fingers digging into the flesh of her bicep.

“Do you have any reason to believe they might’ve run away?” The words come out tough as rubber in your mouth. The woman’s eyes close and you sigh, already regretting your words. You know in your gut that that isn’t the case.

“No,” she breathes, “no. They’re happy. They… the must have run away.” A silly child’s game. The woman nods along to her own words as she tries to convince herself. Your heart crumbles to ash in your chest as you force on a smile. “I think they must have run away, right?”

“Of course, Mrs. Dover. But we’ll find them,” you assure, setting a hand gently on her knee. She seems to quiver under your palm as she swallows and looks at you with bleak, earthwet eyes.

“Your police captain told me about the two of you. Um, he said that you and your partner—” You suck in a quiet breath, already knowing what her next words are going to be. You don’t like it, the pressure, the want to keep a record pristine, but your reputation has always preceded you in cases like these. Cases where you just wanted to find the grave and be done with it when your very thought should be finding a warm body, not a cold one— “he told me that the two of you have solved every case you’ve ever been assigned. Is that right?”

Your nails dig into the flesh of your palms as you look away. You don’t want to give this woman hope, even if she needs it. It’s stupid, you realize, to stare at the reflection of yourself when you have already smashed every mirror.

Your nose twitches.

The doorbell rings. The kid, Ralph, goes to get it again as you look up at the woman. She’s beginning to break down, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles out apologies.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” she whispers through her tears as the door opens. You can see the shadow of him on the walls before he comes in and you shake your head minutely as soon as your gazes meet. Nothing here. “Do you… do you have children, detective?” 

You bite your lip until you taste blood.

“We’re gonna find your daughter.” Mrs. Dover looks up jerkily, flinching at the man’s voice. Closing your eyes, you hang your head as your partner walks deeper into the room. Everything feels like it’s been scooped out of you, replaced with nothing but sick and acid.

You can’t listen to promises you aren’t quite sure you can keep anymore.

[luvknow]

not so bad | lee minho

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | friends-to-lovers ; roommates ; college au ; swearing ; alcohol consumption

summary: falling for your best friend isn’t the most ideal situation, but it’s not as bad as you think

wc: 13.7k

For most people, living with your best friend sounded like the most ideal situation - the absolute best and only option. Most people couldn’t even begin to think about living with anyone else. Think about it; endless nights staying up watching some shitty Netflix live-action adaptation of an anime, eating Chinese take-out on lazy Sunday evenings, going grocery shopping together? The list of things to do together was infinite! Who else would anyone want to do all the boring domestic stuff with other than their best friend?

But you, on the other hand, would rather be homeless.

“Wo~ow,” Minho scoffed when you rejected his generous offer.

The two of you sat in his newly-furnished, but still a bit empty, living room to take a break from unpacking and arranging all of his junk. About a month before the new semester started, Minho’s rich-ass uncle so graciously offered him one of his several houses just a couple bus stops away from campus. As long as Minho kept the place clean and maybe got a roommate or two to help pay the mortgage, then he was free to stay until he graduated. Of course, you were the first person he asked because the above statements spent with you sounded like so much fun.

Too bad you’re cold and heartless and wanted him to die alone.

“Why don’t you want to move in?” his asked, cheeks filled with lo mein. “Didn’t you just say you hated living at your place?”

“I didn’t say I hate it… I just hate that she brings a different guy over every other day.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. It sounds like normal roommate shit. It’s better than her being a slob, isn’t it?”

“I guess, but when it’s 2:00 am and I can hear EVERYTHING through the walls, I want to jump off the balcony.”

“Not everything.”

“I mean it, Minho. Everything.”

“Damn, invite me over next time.” You chuck a piece of your half-eaten fortune cookie and it hit him right on his bare forehead leaving a tiny scratch mark. “Ow! What was that for!?”

“Stop being weird!”

“If you hate hearing all that gross stuff all of the time, isn’t that all the more reason for you to come live with me?”

“No, because you’ll literally do the same thing!”

“Ok, you have way too much faith in me to think I’m going to bring someone home that often.”

“Hm, I do, don’t I…”

“C’mon, cheap rent, cool aesthetics, good company - what’s actually holding you back? Are you afraid you’ll fall in love with me?”

Minho held a single chopstick between his big bunny teeth and did that weird little smirk and wiggly brow combo that somehow caught the hearts too many girls back in your high school days. To this day, you were one of the lucky few who didn’t fall under his spell. The sriracha sauce stains on his cheek made him look EXTRA sexy.

“Why in the world would living with you mean I’d fall in love with you?” you asked, shoving a napkin to his cheek.

“Don’t girls like that corny domestic lifestyle shit? Coexisting in the same space, mutual seemingly-platonic hugs and cuddles, cooking together, and all that jazz?”

“You’re not even into all that jazzy stuff!”

“I like to cook!”

“And then what, I’m left with the dishes? I’ll be falling head over heels for you in no time.”

“That’s how mutualism works, silly! We each benefit from each other’s skills! Symbiosis, or whatever.”

A giggle left your lips from his expanded vocabulary. Who knew he knew so many words with more than two syllables?

“Those are some complicated words. I take it you like Biology 101?” you asked.

“I do! It’s super cool! Did you know in most species, the male is known to be the more colorful and prettier one and not the females? And the males compete with each other and the females are the ones choosing the prettiest, strongest male?”

“I did not know that.”

“Well, it’s true. It’s called sexual selection - it’s like peacocking.”

“Sounds like some shit you do with all your name brands and stuff.”

“Please, like other guys could even compare to my train of feathers.”

In the end, after days flowed into weeks of begging you to come live with him in what he called his playboy penthouse, he reluctantly accepted your rejection and was off to beg one of his other friends because there was no way in hell could he afford this place alone. Though ideally Minho wanted to be roommates, having you visit often was close enough. It’s just… asking you to move in with him was not about helping him with rent in the least. He truly, genuinely wanted to do dumb domestic chores, bicker all day, and have those deep, late-night talks with you whenever he could. Wouldn’t it be so fun if he annoyed you and followed you around every waking minute of the day?

Doing all of those things to half the extent would be just enough for now. His favorite activities with you were anything involving food. Even grocery shopping, normally one of his least favorite and most stressful chores by himself, was tolerable with you around because you knew just the right cuts of meat and what ingredients were needed for the perfect meal.

“Why did you pick so many vegetables? I’m not a rabbit…” the seemingly twelve year old next to you pouted. Like an angsty teenager, he used the cart as a means of support and followed closely behind with a pout on his lips as you dumped vegetable after vegetable into the cart.

“You kind of look like one, though.”

“Are you callin’ me cute?”

“I’m calling you a nuisance.”

“A cute nuisance, right?”

“Oh, my God, you’re so annoying.”

But soon the semester would start and your day would no longer be spent with him, it’d be spent at the library either studying or tutoring the dumb freshmen. Before you ask, yes, he was jealous of all the other people who took up your time and yes, he’s very clingy. You could see where Soonie, Doongie, and Dori all got their bad habits from. Normally, with any other guy including some long-term boyfriend, you’d be tired and annoyed if they were anything like Minho. But only the real Minho could get away with texting you so often and wondering why you weren’t baking brownies with him at ten at night.

Things weren’t easy on your end, either. You barely had time for yourself and it was only the first round of midterms for the semester! All you ever did these days was wake up, eat, school, eat some more if and ONLY IF you had time, and finally sleep… sometimes. This routine included the weekends, too. You offered for Minho to join you in the library for a study sesh nearly every day, but he’d rather die than sit in germ-infested chairs that are never sanitized, so yeah, you don’t get to see him face-to-face very often anymore. Facetime and Skype would have to do for now.

But then all that lost time started to catch up with you. You’d often come home late, especially if you knew your roommate had someone over to do their thang, and before you could flop on your couch to take a breather, it was completely missing from the living room because your roommate packed up all of her shit and left! Without even telling you! How rude, right!? Until you found a note on the coffee table that said, ‘I moved out today! Sorry if this is such short notice… You haven’t been home the past couple of weeks for me to tell you in person and I didn’t want to break it to you in text…’

Ok, so you wouldn’t say you were totally not at fault for this considering she was considerate enough to want to tell you about moving out in person, but didn’t she think to at least text you like… a couple of days before she did it!? Your lease was supposed to renew tomorrow, but now there wasn’t enough time to find a last-minute roomie on the college forum-version of craigslist and you didn’t make enough money to pay for the rent solo, so now you were almost homeless.

So that’s how you ended up in front of Minho’s place at half-past midnight on the dot with your big stuffed bear in your arms and a cheeky, adoring smile on your guilty-written face. You must have woken him up because his fluffy hair was sticking up in all directions, his eyes were barely open, and… he was shirtless…

“I’m not interested in your Girl Scout Cookies,” he mumbled tiredly.

“I wish I was selling those, then maybe I wouldn’t be here…”

“What do you mean?”

“Guess who wants to be your roommate ~!” you sang cheerfully.

“No.”

“Wha-? Why not!?”

“I already have one.”

“Who!?”

“Changbin,” he said, shooting his thumb to the small lazy boy lounging on the couch. Wasn’t he rich as fuck also? What does he need to live here for?

“‘Sup,” Changbin greeted, unable to look away from the television.

“Don’t you have one more room in this place? I’ll even sleep in a closet if I have to,” you pouted tiredly. You were ready to ring in the water works if you had to because if Minho rejected you one more time, your tears were ready to flow.

“Whoa, you’re that desperate, huh? What happened?”

“Roommate moved out, I couldn’t find another one, cried and contemplated life for a little bit, and now I’m here.”

“Damn, that is pretty bad…”

“Yeah, so as you can see, I really need you right now.”

Minho knew you were never one to rely on people, no matter how close you two were. For as long as he could remember, you always did everything on your own. So for you to say that you needed him, you must have really meant it. Your words were soft and quiet, your gaze set on the porch you stood on, and of all things he hated, seeing you so upset and stressed like this was among his top five on the list. How could he turn you away when this was a time you needed him the most? He knew if he were in your position, you’d welcome him in without hesitation.

You sighed tiredly, pushing your pride aside to ask a friend a favor. “So could you spare another roommate? Just until I can get back on my feet again?”

“Hm…” Minho fake-contemplated, rubbing his scruffy chin. “You know, normally I would never do this, but since you’re my friend, I GUESS I could let you stay here until you’re set.”

“If it’s too much trouble, or if you don’t want me here, I can go -”

“No! You’ll stay here with me for as long as you’d like.” A half-naked but jolly Minho smothered you in a bone-crushing hug. Even though touching so much surface area of his skin made you cringe, his hug made you feel more at home than your apartment could ever make you feel.

“Don’t ever assume I don’t want you here, dumbass. I’ll always welcome you with my open, naked, buff arms.”

“Ugh, this is so gross.” Regardless, you returned his hug with equal force. You never felt safer. “Thank you. I seriously owe you one.”

“Anything for my girl. Where’s all your stuff?”

“Yeah, that sounded more like a tomorrow problem, but I came here tonight because I was lonely.”

“Ha ha, you miss me ~”

“Just a little.”

“Since you’re already here, just stay the night. We can order food and start our big, happy, poly-domestic partnership right now.”

“For the love of God, please do not say that aloud in public…”

“No promises.”

Minho dragged you into the only other bedroom that wasn’t occupied and you’re pretty sure it was just as big as your living room. It was pretty much furnished with all of the basics, so you’re lucky that you won’t have to bring too many heavy things in the morning. As you were admiring the room, a finally fully-clothed Minho chucked his pajamas at you.

“You can wear these for tonight,” he said.

“Ew! Why did you give me your boxers!?”

“I thought my pants would be too long on you?”

“I’m not wearing wearing these.”

“So ungrateful… My sweatpants are in my room in the drawer. Go nuts.”

Minho left you alone to go order food for his two favorite pals while you were left to your own devices in the room where the magic happened, as he called it. For a dude, you knew he was on the cleaner side, but his bedroom was a lot tidier than you expected. There weren’t any clothes on the floor, all of his accessories were placed neatly by the mirror, and the only thing out of place was his blanket that was jumbled up in the corner of his bed. You suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over you for disturbing his beauty sleep, but like you said at the door, you owed him one. Well, maybe more than one… like, a dozen ones…

While looking through the drawers for pants, you rolled your eyes at the site of all the name brands embroidered near the pockets. The logos were strictly swooshes and SUPREME. An opportunity to wear matching sweatpants and hoodie that were worth more than your textbooks didn’t come very often, so you chose the heather gray pair. Just as you slipped your head through the top, Minho came in to check on you.

“I ordered chicken, I hope that’s cool - whoa!” Minho burst into a fit of giggles at the site of his his already-oversized sweats looking extra oversized on you. You’ve worn his hoodies before and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the way you look in them. You’re just so cute.

“You look like a jumbo toasty marshmallow.”

“I wouldn’t say jumbo… and marshmallows aren’t gray.”

“Same difference. Are you ready yet? Changbin’s gonna drink your beer if you don’t come out sooner.”

“That little -! He’s such a roach!!”

You sprinted out of the bedroom and hopped over the empty side of the couch, scaring the boy dressed in all black who was just trying to eat his chips and watch How to Get Away With Murder in peace. You didn’t know him as well as you knew Minho, but you two hung out within the same circle enough to be comfortable around each other so living with him shouldn’t be TOO terrible. Luckily, your drink looked like it hadn’t been touched.

“So are you like, living here living here?” Changbin asked with fake disgust in his tone.

“Yeah, so get used to it.”

“Just when I thought I’d get Minho all to myself…”

“What are you doing here, anyways? Aren’t you also like, super dumb rich? You could probably buy this whole building.”

“No, my parents are super dumb rich. I, on the other hand, barely have a dime to my name until I graduate law school.”

“Oh yeah, you changed your major right?”

“Yeah, and let’s just say my parents weren’t too happy about that… Thankfully, my favorite hyung here has so graciously let me into his home ~”

“Yeah yeah…” Minho mumbled, squeezing himself in the middle. “Anything’s better than being alone in this place, even if it means housing you two rats.”

“Hey, you said you’d always welcome me here, so that’s your fault for agreeing,” you argued.

“Love you, babe ~” Changbin sang.

Once the chicken arrived, your night of being welcomed to the penthouse had only begun. The rest of the evening was spent talking about literally anything your tipsy and dumb brains could conjure up. From crying about school, to praying to the stars, and telling Changbin stories about yours and Minho’s prepubescent days, you could already predict your days living here would make your heart full.

“I bet you’re single, huh, _____?” Changbin said suddenly after popping open his third beer.

A conversation about each other’s love lives was probably the last thing you wanted to talk about, especially when alcohol was involved, but your mouth started talking before your brain could process.

With a pout on your lips, you retorted, “Why do you say it like that?”

“Because what person would be ok with having their girlfriend living at another dude’s apartment and with me as the other roommate?”

“If you already knew the answer, why bother asking?”

“I just wanted to confirm in case you and I accidentally fall in love.”

“I’ll evict both of you before I let that happen under my roof.” Minho slurred.

“What is with you and Minho and the whole roommates falling in love trope? Is that a common thing? Have you two been watching dramas since you started living together?”

“So what if we have!?” Changbin yelled.

“They’re not realistic, you know.”

“It’s called a drama for a reason.”

“I feel sorry for the next person you end up dating.”

“Yeah, me too.” Changbin took a huge, final chug of his beer before crushing it in his hands. So macho… “All right, I guess it’s time I pass out. See you guys in the morning. Don’t get too crazy while I’m asleep.”

“Nighty night.”

You and Minho were left in the quiet living room snuggled up in your own blankets. You thought the silence was comfortable, as you’ve spent enough time with him that not a word said in between for long periods of time was just fine, but by the look on his face you could tell something was up. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he was just tired, but his eyes never left the random spot on the coffee table for a solid five minutes.

You threw a potato chip at his cheek.

“Hm?” he hummed, surprisingly unphased. His tired eyes turned to look at you questioningly.

“What’s on your mind, my Prince?” The origin of the beloved nickname was from the time you dared him to try out for the high school play as the leading role and to your excitement and his dismay, he was passed the audition. He’d never admit it to your face, but he kind of enjoyed the spotlight and popularity for a while, and he never lets you forget how much he loved that nickname.

You managed to crack a smile from him and your worries began to fade away. “I was just thinking about something.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What Changbin said - what if you end up really liking someone and they’re not ok with you living with two hot and sexy guys?”

“Well, he can either get over it or I’ll dump him.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not? Remember that pact we made our first year of high school? The one where we pinky promised each other that no matter what, we wouldn’t let anyone come in between us?”

“Of course I do, but we were like what, fourteen? That was so long ago!”

“So?”

“So what I mean is…”

The ruggedly handsome boy beside you sighed deeply like he was ready to tell you something important. He laid his heavy hands on your shoulder and pulled you close so that you had all of your attention on him and not the fact that there was only two inches between your faces and that he smelled like alcohol. Was his skin always this clear? What the hell was his skincare routine? The blush on your cheeks continued to glow brighter as his eyes bore deep into your own, like he was searching for an answer to a question that only you held the answer to. He must admit that your shy side made you look so cute. Each second that passed was more intimate than the last and you so wished that he’d tell you what the hell was up with him already because your inadvertent breath-holding from the close proximity was making you light-headed. This felt like one of those scenes in those corny dramas that Minho watches - was he about to… dare you say… kiss you…?

Then you figured Minho learned a thing or two in drama class because his serious persona flew out the window when he shook you roughly by the shoulders, but at least you could breathe freely again.

“You shouldn’t have to choose between me and someone you like ~!” he whined childishly. “If he doesn’t like you living here, and you really like him, I don’t want you to be stuck in the middle!”

“Minho, you idiot, you’re the sole reason I’m not homeless and dying on the street, so what the hell do you want me to do IF that ever happens!? Move out!?”

“Ah, I didn’t think about it that way…”

“Lee Minho,” you emphasized to the pouty boy. “If - if - I meet someone I like, and they don’t like that I’m living with two guys, then fine, I can understand that and feelings like that can easily change over time. But if he can’t understand that you’re my best friend, that I cherish our friendship more than anything, and thinks there’s something else going on, then that’s when I’ll dump him. So there’s no need for you to worry that I have to choose between those two, ok?”

Minho sighed once more, breathing out all his worries about you being alone forever and stuck being a hermit in his apartment. “Ok, I believe you.”

“God, you’re so weird! Since when did my love life matter to you?”

“We’re nearing graduation, _____. We’re not getting any younger! And look, we’re both STILL single as a pringle…”

“When you and I are twenty-five and alone, unemployed and rotting away in this very room, then that’s when we’ll cry about it. But for now, we gotta worry about graduating.”

“I know. I just want you to be happy ~” With crocodile tears in his big, curious eyes, he pulled you in for a bone-crushing hug. It reminded you of all the times you told him not to touch you because he was being too sappy or he was sweaty and proceeded to hug you tighter anyways. Those were the best hugs.

“Shut up, I am happy.”

“Good.”

“What about you, hm? What if a girl you like sees that I live here?”

“Easy - I’ll just say you’re the housekeeper.”

“… You’re going to make one dumb girl very happy one day.”

“You think so?” he asked sincerely. “You really think I could make someone happy one day?”

There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to tell Minho how much happiness and sunlight he brought into your life. From the minor inconveniences to the darkest days, Minho was always your only source of light. You were way too tired to even attempt to be cheesy with him and closed your eyes instead, relaxing into his tight hug and hoping sleep would find you sooner rather than later.

“I know so, Lee Know.”

You stayed in Minho’s arms while the hum of the television and rhythm of his heart lulled you to sleep. Your favorite boy was content with where he was - holding you in his arms and stroking your hair until you were asleep and you didn’t have to worry about school, moving out, and whether this was mutually platonic or anything but. He thinks that there’s no way that ordinary best friends could lay like this and not cause any sort of tension in between. Then again, you two were extraordinary at best, so maybe the standard rules didn’t apply. To an unknowing passerby, this scene might look like two people in love who couldn’t get enough of each other. If Changbin came to see this, he’d probably think the same thing.

In the end, Minho wouldn’t care what anyone thought if they saw. It didn’t matter because this just felt so… right.

He’ll question his tugging heartstrings some other time.

Minho ended up carrying your sleeping form to your room. After tucking you in and resisting the urge to crawl onto the open space beside you, he thinks to himself that he could get used to this.

There was no way you could get used to this.

For such a huge place, only one of the two bathrooms had a shower. Which seemed fine, right? Considering there were only three of you living there. But you totally forgot that you lived with two of the most high-maintenance men you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Minho wasn’t as bad as Changbin because he didn’t spend an hour moisturizing his entire body and fixing his hair - he only took half an hour. But you know that weird thing guys do when they take a dump they take an extra half hour just to play phone games or scroll through social media? So think about it, two boys who are mildly-to-severely high maintenance took a total of almost three hours using the damn bathroom.

That wasn’t even the worst of it! Other than the night you told Minho you were moving in, you guys haven’t had any fast food since. The two of them were watching their weight and muscle progress together so their diet strictly cut out carbs and the good stuff which meant the fridge was filled with veggies and brown grains you couldn’t even pronounce.

And even then, that wasn’t the worst. The absolute worst was when Minho would text you or call you at nine on the dot every single night that you weren’t home at that time. First, he’d call, and half of the time you would answer, but when you didn’t, he’d spam your messages until you replied with a pin drop of your location.

Tonight was the last straw.

“Stop calling,” you scolded while walking home from the library.

“So Changbin and I are in the mood for pizza and we figured you wanted some. You must be tired of all the quinoa,” he explained, ignoring your scolding. “Where are you?”

What’s the best way to spook Minho but not to the point where he’d call the police and demand an amber alert?

“I can’t right now. I’m with a guy.”

There’s a slight pause on the other end and something that sounded like he dropped something on the floor. You can hear Changbin’s faint ‘bro, what the hell!’ in the background and Minho heard you stifle a giggle.

“What? A guy? Who?”

“No one you know. I’ll see you when I get home ~!”

“Wait -”

You hung up before Minho could get another word in and you instantly regretted it. Once Minho found out you were kidding, he was probably going to relieve you of your pizza privileges and force you to eat more quinoa as punishment. You would hate it initially, but if there was even a slight chance that this made your message to him to stop worrying and calling you all the time crystal clear, then you’d eat bowls upon bowls of it and get all the grains stuck between your teeth because that’s how worth it it’d be.

What the hell had gotten into him, anyways? He was never like this in high school. If anything, HE was the boy you’d sneak out with, doing dumb hooligan things with, and being too close for comfort with - he was the boy he was trying to protect you from. Not even your parents were this protective, but you had to give him credit for being so diligent.

You weren’t too far from home, so you left Minho’s texts all on read until you stepped through the door. Changbin wasn’t surprised in the least that you were joking, and Minho knew you couldn’t have possibly be truthful about that, either, but he stepped out the door and scanned the hallways just to make sure you weren’t actually with some creep. You took this moment to sneak a slice or three before Minho could hoard the whole pie.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” you teased, cheeks filled with cheese.

“I can’t believe you would joke about that.”

“I can,” Changbin muttered.

“What made you guys buy pizza?”

“A man can only eat salads and white chicken for so long. We deserve this.”

“We all deserve this. I wasn’t even on a diet in the first place, I was forced into it.”

“Yeah, but you look great at least, so you’re welcome.”

“Whatever.”

Sure, there were a lot of inconveniences when it came to living with two dudes who annoyingly functioned the same, but you would take on this form of entertainment over television any day. So yeah, Minho was annoying like ninety percent of the time… but he was just being a good friend and worrying about you.

It was nice to be cared for once in a while. Minho was the only one who would go out of his way just for you. Whether it was picking you up in the middle of the night from some party to walk you home or scolding you harshly about how you should wear scarves more so you wouldn’t get sick while making you a hot bowl of soup made with love, he never made you feel like you were an inconvenience. This curfew thing was a little over the top, though.

Changbin went to his room after whining about being a law student and how hard it was that he had to wear a suit everyday to his internship, leaving you and Minho alone at the kitchen table. The kitchen was were you spent most of your time together, whether it was using the table to eat, play dumb board games, or as one big desk to study on. Tons of late-night studying, gossiping, and snacking were spent at this table with Minho sitting across from you every time.

“It’s been about a month since you moved in, right?” he asked, plucking a pepperoni off of your slice. “How do you like it so far?”

There’s a short silence in the air before you answered. It was a little worrying, so he kicked you under the table to make you answer faster. How dare you not immediately answer with anything other than ‘I fucking love it’? “Besides only having five minutes to shower every morning, forced to go vegetarian, and having a 9:00 PM curfew? It’s better than being homeless, that’s for sure.”

“Good.” Another short pause, followed by Minho shyly avoiding eye contact. “It’s a lot of fun having you around.”

“Really? I don’t scare any poor souls you try to bring home?”

“To be honest, I haven’t been trying.”

“Whoa, Minho the slut taking a hiatus!?” you teased, earning you a crumpled napkin to the face.

“Shut up.”

“Why the sudden disinterest?”

His shoulders did a tiny shrug as if letting you know that even he was unsure of why. He hoped you’d help him find the answer. “No one catches my eye these days, I guess.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“It’s true!”

“Yeah, ok…”

“Well, what about you, huh? Has your boy-crazy self found someone interesting?”

You take a big, defeated bite into the leftover crust, allowing you to exploit your anger through vigorous chewing. Your efforts have obviously gone to a waste. “You and Changbin always like to remind me that I’m single.”

“I simply asked if you found anyone hot.”

“You know what’s sad? I haven’t…”

“Ah, I see - Changbin and I made your standards too high now, huh?”

“Both of you are probably stashing the hot guys in the gym somewhere because you know I won’t find them.”

“Damn, you caught us.”

“You know what else is sad, though?” Minho had to suffer and watch you sip your cola with your sad, pouty lips. It wasn’t that he felt bad, or anything, you just looked so… self-pitying. He’s seen this look way too often during your first year of college when some other chick would swoop in a steal the guy you had your eyes on. “Even if I did like someone, I don’t think I would act on it.”

“Why the hell would you cockblock yourself like that?”

“I’ve never been on a legitimate date before!”

“You’re such a damsel. You’ve totally been on a date before.”

“Senior prom with Hyunjin doesn’t count.”

“You guys had dinner and some dancing, doesn’t that count?”

You ignored your idiot friend’s justification and would much rather feel sorry for yourself than to consider prom as a legitimate date. You’re what, nearly into your twenties now and have gone this long without a guy properly asking you out on a date, maybe a movie and eating dinner at a nice restaurant with a small bouquet of flowers next to you, and ending the night with a kiss? The thought of your inadvertent abstinence made you want to chug a bottle of something strong.

“Do we still have that bottle of wine lying around?” you muttered, searching every corner of the kitchen. “Aha! Found it.”

“Mm, pizza and old wine. How are you single again? You’re so classy.”

“Do you want a glass or not?”

“… Hand it over.”

So another night was spent drinking and drowning your sorrows away while Minho watched - what else was new? Before, he didn’t think much of these nights, considering they were spent with Changbin also who drank just as much as you did, but Minho hadn’t even finished his first glass yet when you were already pouring your third. You must have been really going through it.

“Ok, I think that’s enough,” Minho scolded, taking the glass away. Clumsily and lazily, you reached out to take it back, but your state of mind was too loopy for you to fight back further. God, your tolerance had gone down significantly as time passed. Was this indication that you were getting old?

“Is this how you’re going to act on your first date at dinner while having several glasses of wine?” the mean boy across teased. “Good luck with that.”

“That’s ok, I’m never going on a first date, anyways.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because who would want to date me?”

“Hey.”

Your eyes are droopy and you feel like you could pass out from the drowsiness of the wine at any second, but Minho’s hand on top of yours snaps you awake. There were plenty of ways you and Minho shared skinship, like hugging, wrestling, high-fiving, and punching each other, but hand-holding was not one of them. It was… weird. You know when cats sometimes put their tiny paws on top of human hands? This was what it reminded you of and you had to hold in your laughter.

“Don’t say that stuff about yourself, only I can do that.”

“Well, there has to be a reason why I haven’t been on a date yet. It’s because I’m unlovable, right? Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do if I was on a real date. Like what do we talk about? The weather? That’s what adults talk about, right?”

“Yeah, if you work a nine-to-five at an accounting firm. You really are kind of hopeless, aren’t you? That’s ok, you and I can practice.”

“Practice?”

“Yeah, practice on me. Pretend you and I are on a date.” Minho left his seat across from you to steal Changbin’s seat that was to your right. The proximity of your bodies was so close that your knees knocked together, but your tipsy best friend was too distracted by your challenge to care. “A~and boom, we’re on a date.”

“Right now?”

“Right now. Look, we got our glasses of wine on hand, some dinner, we could even watch a movie if you want. But first thing’s first, we gotta test out your communication skills. What kind of things would you ask or talk about on your date?”

“I guess… What do you major in -?”

“Pause, red flag number one: never talk about school. Next question.”

“U-Uh, what kind of music do you like…?”

“Better. Let’s pretend that I’m some snobby older rich dude and I say, ‘oh, today’s music doesn’t interest me. I prefer classical music such as Bach and Beethoven, you know?’”

“I would never go on a date with someone so pompous and old.”

“Ok, but let’s say you’re dating this guy for money.”

“Minho!”

“At the rate this fake date is going, this is what your future dates are going to look like, _____! I’m just helping you prepare!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but… you’re so right. I’m gonna end up as a sugar baby and I’ll be too hyped up about the influx in my bank account that I’ll drop out of college and make this my career!”

“Whoa, I didn’t say that -”

“I can’t believe this is what all my hours in the library have amounted to! Screw good grades, if I can’t find love, then what’s the point! This is it - this is how my life is really going to be like -!”

What Minho said goes in one ear and out the other as both of your hands are tangled in the mess of your hair and your blood pressure is suddenly through the roof. You were making a huge deal out of this fake date but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t make a huge deal out of nothing! If this was how you were on a fake date, Minho doesn’t want to know how you’d be on a real date.

The first thing you hear is his boyish laugh as he removed your hands from your head before you could tear out your hair. You look like you have a bird nest on both sides of your pouty face and even though Minho thought you were being ridiculous, you still looked cute regardless. His tiny but warm hands smoothen your messy strands before holding your face. It’s hard to look him in the eyes after your mini breakdown and he didn’t make it easier by the way his thumbs caressed your cheeks. Was he doing this on purpose because he liked to see you squirm? You didn’t think so when you finally looked up.

Minho didn’t have his signature sly smile where the corners of his lips curled like a cheshire cat. There was no teasing twinkle in his eyes that normally accompanied it, either. Both were softer, like he couldn’t understand why someone as charming, intelligent, and hilarious as you could constantly worry about finding someone who would love you back. How could someone not, when you had the stars in your eyes after spotting a dog across the street, when you could sing an entire concert setlist in the shower, or when you had the cute sad look on your face after you burned your third pancake? Even now, in your tipsy and sad state, your eyes still sparkled and begged to be loved - exactly like all the cute puppies you spotted on your walks with Minho. The thought of someone NOT falling head over heels for you sounded completely ridiculous.

Before his heart could drop to the pit of his stomach, Minho broke the intimacy by squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips puckered like a fish.

“Stop being so sad,” he said sternly.

“Just like that, the sadness is gone,” you sputtered sarcastically, careful not to spit in Minho’s eye.

“I mean it. You’ll find someone who loves you just as much as you love them. No, you’ll find someone who loves you more.”

“How do you know…?”

“Because I’m Lee Know, remember?”

His cocky smirk returned and the corners of his lips curled adoringly. It was a smile you were more accustomed to and you’d never admit it aloud, but you liked this one much better. Soft Minho was kind of gross.

“You’re intelligent, selfless, sometimes funny, and life would be so exciting to be in love with you. I promise you’ll find someone.”

“… Tell me I’m pretty.”

“Wow, I put so much heart into my speech and that’s all you got out of it!? That I didn’t call you pretty!?”

“All of that doesn’t matter if I’m not cute.”

Minho squeezed your cheeks a bit harder. “Nevermind, you’re hopeless.”

“Ow ok, I’m kidding! Can you let go of my face now!? You know I bruise easily!”

He released his hold on your face and you tried to circulate the blood that pooled up. Minho usually wasn’t good with these types of talks, but something must have changed after high school. What kind of classes was he taking that he was being so poetic to the point that your heart felt like it was fluttering? Must be the bit of wine left in your bloodstream.

Even so, you were thankful. What would you do without your handsome Prince?

“I guess I’ll try to sleep the hopelessness away,” you sighed. Before heading off to your room, you wrapped your arms tightly around your best friend’s neck from behind and pressed your rosy cheek to his own. Normally, he’d let out a grossed-out groan, but tonight he returned the gesture with his hands on top of yours. “I love you, you know that, right?”

His chest ached. “Mhm. Love you, too, pretty girl. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, my Prince. Don’t stay up too late.”

The sound of your door closing triggered an empty silence in the entire apartment. Not a single sound is heard other than Minho’s beating heart that felt like it was blasting in his ears. Now he’s alone sitting at the dining table, downing the last of his wine and all he could think about was your lack of presence and how it lingered casually all around him. He could still feel your cheeks in his hands, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and the way the warmth of your cheek heated up his own. That wasn’t enough - he wanted more of you, but that was for a later time even he couldn’t predict. After cleaning up the table and trying to leave those moments in the dining room, they ended up following him to his bed until he was too tired to stay awake thinking about them.

That night, you ended up dreaming about Prince Minho and what it was like to be by his side forever.

It didn’t seem so bad.

There’s this crazy phenomenon that happened to you too many times to count, but this time had to take the cake. There were times when you’d have dreams about not necessarily random people, but people you didn’t normally associate yourself with. Like an old coworker, or a past partner for that one single assignment, or even that one time the guy next to you asked you to borrow a pencil for an exam. They would appear in your dreams at random with no purpose other than to play as your boyfriend, but the morning you wake up, you had this sudden weird… attraction towards them.

Maybe attraction wasn’t exactly the right word, but the moment they stepped into the room, you could feel your face heat up and your palms sweat and it really made you question your type in men because why was your body reacting so sensitively to seeing someone who literally just asked you for a pencil? Maybe this was why you’ve been single for so long…

Now let it be reminded that you’re having these weird, little crushes on guys you practically considered strangers. But now, for the first time in your entire life - in all your years knowing that stupid, handsome idiot, you had your very first dream about Minho. If you acted like a fool in front of strangers, how did you act around your best friend? Let’s just say you didn’t know how to act… or rather, you did what you do best - make things like ten times more awkward than they should be.

What did you do when Minho woke up in the morning with his stupidly cute bedhead and flopped on the couch next to you muttering a soft and gentle ‘good morning ~’? You got up and ran to your room after returning the greeting with a squeaky voice. What did you do when he would wrap his arm around your shoulder in that sly, boyish way that literally meant nothing? You’d run to the bathroom, whether you were at home or out in public.

And what did you do when he would walk out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist? You literally ran. You went to your room, put on your workout gear, and you ran - ran as far as your legs could take you with your ears blasting music to drown out any thoughts about your best FRIEND.

With his heart sinking, Minho didn’t know what to do.

“Hey, have you seen _____ these past few days?” he asked Changbin sometime around dinner. He knew your schedule like the back of his hand and he made sure he gave himself enough time to ask Changbin for his opinion before you came home.

“Yeah…? I see her like everyday. She lives here, too, you know.”

“I know, but she seems a little distant lately, right?”

“Mm, not with me,” the buff boy shrugged casually. His once unquestioning expression quickly turned into something sly when he realized what kind of situation Minho was in. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“That’s not what it looks like to me.”

“The last thing we did together for more than five minutes was eat pizza and drink wine and that was last week.”

“Did anything happen after drinking wine? We all know how you get when you drink…”

“Mm… she was moping about how she’s never going to go on a date, or something, and then I told her she doesn’t have to worry.”

“Why doesn’t she have to worry?”

It was then that Minho figured maybe this was the reason why you were avoiding him. Shyly, the older boy avoided the teasing gaze from his close friend. “N-No reason.”

“Is it because you told her how wonderful she is? Or how funny, and smart, and how all men were idiots for not falling head over heels for her ~?”

“Shut up.”

“I bet you called her pretty, too.”

“Ok, she made me say that!”

“God, no wonder she’s avoiding you! You probably made her fall head over heels for you, or something!”

“… You really think so?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too hopeful at the idea.

Thankfully, Changbin didn’t seem to catch it. “If I heard that kind of corny stuff coming from you, I’d react the same way, to be honest.”

The sound of the door unlocking made both boys jump and quickly drop the subject, but not without Changbin shooting Minho a ‘we’ll discuss this later’ glance that reminded him of his dad whenever he got in trouble. For the first time that week, you didn’t sprint to your room right away. Rather, with a cheeky grin on your lips, you joined the two boys who eyed you suspiciously at the dining table.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“Nice to finally see you for more than five minutes,” Minho pouted childishly.

“Aw, you miss me ~?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Why are you so smiley, missy?” the smaller, more suspicious boy squinted.

“I can’t be happy on this fine Thursday?”

“No.”

“Fine, you downer. I’m super stoked because guess who has a date tomorrow ~?”

A short silence fell at the table. The first ten seconds of silence was so the two idiots could process what you just said. The following ten seconds was just a series of different ugly facial expressions from thinking about the question too hard.

“Did Seungmin finally ask that one person out? He’s been talking about it for months, he won’t shut up,” Changbin asked.

“No, not him…”

“Woojin? He’s not really the dating type, though.”

“No, idiot, me! I have a date tomorrow!”

“With who?” Minho finally asked. Of course he knew you were the one with the date, but he didn’t want to believe it until you said it. The rest of the conversation didn’t matter after you told him who it was.

“This guy named Wooyoung in one of my classes. We worked on a project together sometime last year and I just found him in lecture the other day. Small campus, huh? We caught up this past week and he asked me out just now after walking me home. Ah, I can’t believe it!”

Your smile was bright and so big that Minho could hardly see your eyes. He couldn’t recall a time when you were this excited for something since you and him both got accepted to this school. He was happy to see you like this, despite the circumstances. With your eyes all sparkly and cheeks blushed pink, the bit of aching was worth it.

“Oh, I know Wooyoung!” Changbin had a goofy smile when he saw how disappointed you looked. “His dad and my dad are close friends and we got close by coincidence.”

“Aw man, you know him!? I wanted to date someone not within this weird circle of friends!”

“He’s not! He’s like a little bubble outside of the circle.”

“Whatever… he’s nice and rich, at least.”

“Now I know where your priorities lie. Minho, what do you think?”

“Hm?” You raised a curious brow at your spacey friend. Minho had been in his own little world after blocking out the details of how you ended up with a date tomorrow night. He put on a fake smile so you wouldn’t have to worry. “I don’t know Wooyoung, but I’m happy for you.”

“I’m kind of scared… what if I blow it like our fake date?”

“Good thing it was fake, right?” The handsome boy across from you ruffled your hair into a bird’s nest style - much like how it was last week. You were a mess, but you were his pretty little mess. “Don’t sweat it. You’ll do just fine.”

“Yeah, Wooyoung may be rich, but his standards aren’t that high - ow! What the hell, dude!” he whined, rubbing his bruising shin.

“You two are so mediocre when it comes to these pep talks… but thank you. I’m so excited that my cheeks hurt because I can’t stop smiling!”

Minho watched you hide your heated face in your hands. He hoped you’d smile like this for a long time, even if he wasn’t the reason behind it.

If the boys were allowed a collective three hours in the bathroom nearly every damn morning, you were allowed three hours to yourself once this evening. You practically put on a spa for yourself in preparation for this. Every centimeter of your body was exfoliated and moisturized, every strand of hair fixed in its place, and every eyelash was coated with mascara. Not to mention that your outfit didn’t have a single wrinkle to be seen.

“Not gonna lie, you look pretty decent,” Changbin admitted while leaning on the doorframe. “Expecting some dessert tonight, if you know what I mean?”

“You think I’ll let it go that far on my very first date? Who do you think I am!”

“A touch-starved damsel.”

“… Shut up.” At 7:00 pm on the dot, you received a text from Wooyoung that he’s here. “Ah, gotta go!”

Like you would on a Monday morning already late for class, you shoved all of your essentials in a bag and scurried for the door, but not before Minho came out of his room and caught you. After putting on your nice shoes, you finally looked up to stare back at your wide-eyed, jaw-dropped friend. The only other time he ever looked at you like that was prom night, and even though you were glammed up times ten that night, his face tonight was more intense. The sudden waves of confusion and erratic heartbeat skips reminded you of why you accepted to go on the date so quickly in the first place: to get rid of these weird feelings for your best friend that you couldn’t understand.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whined. “Too much? Or too little?”

Perfect. “No, no. You look fine.”

“Really?”

“I promise. You got everything you need?”

“Uh, wallet, keys, phone…”

“Condom?”

“Minho!!”

“Just kidding! Be sure to practice abstinence because I’m not letting some guy come into our apartment just so you can do THAT.”

“Don’t worry, he has his own place.” He knew you were joking… kind of… you were joking, right…? “I’m kidding.”

“You better be… Don’t forget, curfew’s at 9:00 pm.”

“Ok, I’ll see you at 2:00 am ~!”

You did a final wave goodbye before heading out the door to forget all about Minho while he was stuck being a boring homebody. He heard his other, more irritating roommate tisk annoyingly from across the room.

“Shoulda said something ~” Changbin sang.

“What is there to say?”

“Baby, don’t leave! Why go out with a boy when you can go out with a MAN like me?”

“Oh, my God, I don’t really sound like that, do I?”

“Only sometimes.”

So while you were off on your date, smiling at him like no one else in the world could matter more, Minho would glue his ass to the couch and wait for you to come home.

Your first date was both exactly and the complete opposite of how you expected it to be - quite awkward, but it gradually melted into something you would best describe as comfortable. It didn’t feel very date-like. It felt more like you were eating dinner with a very handsome friend. You could easily see why all of your friends were jealous that you were on this date. Wooyoung was so easy to talk to and just his stare alone, he could get anyone to fall in love with him just like that.

A moment like this, when he’s laughing at your corny joke or fixing a loose strand of hair, was when you truly wished cupid would shoot a thousand arrows into your heart at one time with Wooyoung’s name on the heart-shaped head. That itself would solve about 75 percent of your problems. But it was too late, for your heart already had a hundred thousand arrows lodged in with no way of taking them out, and every single one had Minho’s stupid name on them.

Your date ended earlier than expected which was a little after midnight when his friend San called him in some party-related emergency. Of course you understood, as you’ve experienced being that friend one too many times, and he bid you a farewell with a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” he suggested.

“I’d love that!” Though it probably wasn’t going to happen.

During the walk home, you took the time to reflect on everything that went wrong tonight. Fifteen minutes in, and you couldn’t figure out why your heart didn’t beat for Wooyoung. Passers-by gave you a strange look as you passed because of how your face twisted in confusion, but they went unnoticed because now you actually had to deal with your feelings for Minho straight on.

When did this all start exactly? Like when did the first arrow lodge itself in your right ventricle? Was it in middle school when he stopped those bullies? Was it during your last year in high school when he hugged you so tight, crying tears of joy when the team won the championship basketball game? Maybe it was during your first college party when he held your hair up while you puked into the toilet, but you knew there was no way this all happened because of one silly dream… Maybe your feelings were there all along.

The saying goes when it rains, it pours, right? Tonight, that phrase is both hypothetical and literal.

In a matter of seconds, the skies cried heavily with no thunder or lightning to be heard or seen. On this warm night alone, you were getting soaked to the bone with little-to-no-coverage. You didn’t pack an umbrella and for some reason, even the store awnings couldn’t give you shelter very well, so your only option was to take off your pretty much-ruined nice shoes and sprint home barefoot and that’s exactly what you did.

Minho liked the rain. It was calming, but only added to the lonely ambiance on this fine Friday evening. From inside, he watched the city glow different colors as the light reflected off of the rain droplets and this was when he thought the city looked the most beautiful. He could fall asleep at any moment just to the sound of the rain.

Minho’s apartment is so high up that it’s difficult to see the details in in peoples’ faces and clothes as they walked the streets, but it was easy to spot the little speck running towards his building a couple of blocks away. No one else for blocks on end could be seen other than the tiny speck running. He didn’t have to see your face to know that it was you running home because you didn’t have an umbrella. Not that he’s not happy to see you home, but why were you here so early? And alone, for that matter? Did that Wooyoung guy ditch you?

“Idiot,” Minho mumbled grumpily before grabbing his umbrella and making his way to you.

By the time he reached the lobby, he thought he’d see you inside by now, but that wasn’t the case and he was starting to get a little worried. He didn’t waste time running out the building and immediately he spotted you taking a breather under the big coffee shop awning. You’re completely soaked as if you took a dip in the ocean, strands of hair clinging to your rosy cheeks, and your shoes in your hand…? You’re barefoot, feet all cut up and a little bruised. Without looking at your face, a stranger could say that you were having a bad night, but even Minho knew that wasn’t exactly the case. You didn’t look disappointed or anything near that.

You must have enjoyed the date.

A huge shadow blocked the streetlight from your body and a pair of Minho’s beat up dance shoes are in your eyesight. Tiredly, but happily, you look up to a stern-faced crush who held an umbrella over his head.

“‘Sup,” you greeted casually.

“Let’s go, you’re gonna get sick,” he muttered.

Neither of you said a word until you reached your shared home, and Minho didn’t bother to give you a second glance until then, too. After carelessly tossing his umbrella near the pile of shoes, he found his spot on the couch again.

“You should shower.”

“Right…”

Still, he didn’t give you the time of day, and it hurts. From your cut-up feet to your pounding headache, everything just hurts, and your entire body was ready to crawl under your sheets and call it a night. But you obeyed, taking a long, hot shower to wash away all the wrongs that happened tonight.

When you were done, Minho had a first-aid kit ready in his hands. He didn’t seem as angry as earlier - now he just looked worried.

“Sit,” he commanded nicely.

Of course you obeyed like a misbehaved puppy walking to its cage. Nervously, you sat on the couch while Minho sat on the floor. Before you could ask what he was doing, he had already grabbed one foot to inspect for major cuts.

“You don’t need to do that - ah, hey!” The concerned boy wasn’t listening when he dabbed a cotton swab soaked in disinfectant over a single super small cut on your foot… that was bleeding… a lot. “That stings, bro!”

“Good, that means it’s working. Now sit still.” He put a tiny bandaid over the clean cut and when he thought he was all finished, he held both of your ankles in his hand. “Why is one bigger than the other? Is it swollen?”

“I may have tripped once… or twice…”

An aggravated sigh left Minho’s pink lips before he grabs the bandage to wrap around your swollen ankle. After neatly wrapping around once, the rest of the wrapping was done by yanking the bandage until you felt the blood flow cut off at that point.

“Ow ow!! Chill, Minho, you’re hurting more than helping!”

After realizing what he’d been doing, Minho halted, muttering a soft ‘sorry’ before re-wrapping your ankle with more love and care.

“Why were you alone tonight?” he asked out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why wasn’t your date walking you home like he should? Doesn’t he know it’s common courtesy to do so?”

“Ah, well he had an emergency to attend to.”

“Still… He just left you to run home in the rain, and look what happened. Also, why the hell were your shoes off!?”

“I didn’t want to ruin them…”

The inside of his cheek was starting to numb from all the inherent chewing. At this point, Minho was tired, and you probably were, too. What was the point in arguing?

“Don’t date that guy,” he demanded.

“Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be dating someone who leaves you in the middle of a date. Was it even a real emergency?”

“It was at the end of a date. But no, not a REAL real emergency…”

“Still, he left you, and look how you ended up.” Another sigh left his lips. “I don’t like him, _____.”

“I know.” When Minho finally looked up, he saw that you were smiling at him. You’re not angry or upset by the way he was acting, and he’s really surprised. What was going through your mind? “You don’t have to worry. I don’t think there’s going to be another date.”

Good. “How come?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t have that ‘I can’t wait to see you again’ type of feeling like I thought I would. I guess I wasn’t that into him.”

The shy boy below you cleared his throat hoping you wouldn’t see how relieved he was. “Oh, that’s good.”

“What happened to you wanting me to be happy with some guy?” you teased, lightly kicking his arm.

“I still do. Just not with him.”

“Mm. Maybe the next one will work out better.”

“Yeah… the next one.”

Minho finished wrapping up your ankle and went to stash the first aid kit in his room. You happily followed your confidant slash magical healer and he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he hid his growing smile so you wouldn’t see.

“I had a weird dream last night,” you said after flopping on his king-sized mattress.

“Tell me about it.”

“You were in it as a Prince.”

“Hm, doesn’t sound so weird to me.”

“I was right beside you the whole time.”

“Ooh, tell me more.” Minho hopped on right beside you and the two of you laid side-by-side as you told your fairytale. “Were you my Princess? My sidepiece mistress? The cook’s daughter I fell in love with? Oh, or were we betrothed to unite two kingdoms together?”

“Dude, I don’t know…”

“God is in the details, baby. What else happened?”

“That’s all I could remember. You were a Prince who smiled everyday and I was right there the whole time.”

“I probably smiled all the time ‘cuz you were next to me.”

To play it off as playful, the boy only a couple centimeters beside you nudged you several times. It was hard for him to keep up the facade when you said,

“I was probably next to you the whole time because of your smile.”

Now what was he to do? Subconsciously, Minho turned on his side to face you. With your cheeks and the tip of your nose a baby pink, you refused to look at him. Maybe you were getting sick.

“What, you like my smile, or something?”

“Have I ever told you it makes me feel safe?”

“Safe? Why?”

“It lets me know I have nothing to worry about - that I’m going to be just fine.”

The ceiling must have been very interesting. You have yet to look at him and though he wanted you to, he hopes you don’t, otherwise the magnetic pull between your lips might be too strong for him to resist. He wondered what you tasted like.

“I’m glad I make you feel that way.”

The world felt at peace again when he returned to his position on his back. As if the roof did not exist above, the two of you laid on his bed and pretended to count the stars. Minho’s hand blindly found its way to yours and the tiny bumps and touches of his fingertips made goosebumps travel up your arms. The handsome, confusing boy traced tiny stars in the back of your hand.

“Did you like your dream?” he finally asked.

“You mean did I like being stuck with you for eternity?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His shy giggle filled the empty spaces of his room, and yours soon followed.

“Neither would I.”

An eternity together wouldn’t be so bad.

The spot beside you on Minho’s bed felt empty. You must have knocked out the night before, too tired to crawl back to your cave of a room, and ended up sleeping next to him the whole night. Either last night’s date was exhausting or you didn’t want to leave Minho or his bed because you slept in so late that he had already got up for the day.

Changbin was eating cereal in front of the television when you finally left the room.

“Whoa, what the hell,” he smirked, not knowing that’s where you slept last night. “Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

“No, idiot. We were talking and we fell asleep. Where is he, anyways?”

“Either at the gym or running errands or both.”

“Ah, ok…” If you knew Minho like you thought you did, then maybe he’s at the gym, but running errands? The hell kind of errands did he have? You were the one who ran all the house-related errands.

“You goin’ out tonight?”

“Can’t. Huge paper I have to work on.”

“C'mon, it’s Jeongin’s birthday! And Minho’s going ~”

Your cheeks burned from his teasing. “So? I’ll literally fail if I don’t get a good grade on this assignment.”

“Fine, you bookworm…”

So that’s what you did - you became a homebody for the day and hermitted in your room to work on that cursed paper. It was hard to focus when all you could think about was going out tonight with Minho. If you went, would you stick by his side the whole time? Would he drag you to the dance floor and hold you close? Would the alcohol take over and close the gap between your lips?

Let’s pretend the answer was yes to all of the above.

You didn’t see him for the entire day. Not for lunch, or dinner, or when he finally came home and hopped in the shower, or when he got ready in ten minutes, or even when he and Changbin left for the party. No texts or calls, either.

He was avoiding you at all costs.

Ugh, dammit, _____! Why did you sleep in his bed last night!? Ok, to be completely fair, he was sending you mixed signals that everything was fine, you know? He smiled after you told him how it made you feel safe, those little touches and whispers, literally agreeing to how life beside each other 'til you both grew old and wrinkly would be ideal… Why would you want to leave his side on the bed after all of that?

Boys were confusing, you knew that. Maybe you just misread the signs.

Minho felt like his heart was collapsing. Waking up beside you made this morning the best he’s ever had. You were so sleepy and so cute… All he wanted to do was press little kisses all on your forehead.

But no, he couldn’t do that. You just happened to fall asleep here with no real purpose. It’s not like he was going to wake you up and tell you to move? But did that make him selfish for wanting you to stay when you didn’t intend to? Maybe, so that’s why he had to slip out of the apartment before you woke up.

In the morning, he ran for a couple of hours. Then he went to lift weights. Then he ate and wasted time around town until it was time to get ready for Jeongin’s birthday. Nothing he did made it easier for him to forget about you and the night before. He’ll just use this opportunity of free booze to help him with that.

After successfully slipping in to get ready and out for a night of festivities, he thought that avoiding you for the whole day only made him miss you more.

“You’re not gonna do anything stupid tonight, are you?” Changbin asked.

“No promises.”

Well, no promises was right, because as soon as the two stepped into Chan’s place, Minho weaved his way through the crowd of strangers and went straight for the alcohol table. There, Chan was serving the jungle juice.

“Hey, you made it!” he greeted them, but his grin dropped when he saw the distressed look on Minho’s face. “Yikes, rough night?”

“You have no idea,” Changbin answered for him while he chugged the sweet drink.

He held the solo cup out to his concerned friend. “More.”

“Uh-oh…” Chan didn’t disobey.

For a while, Minho was fine on his own while Changbin was off doing God knows what to some poor soul. He socialized here and there, greeted the totally incoherent birthday boy, and even flirted his way around for the sake of distraction. When something new didn’t seem to work, he’d down another shot, and by the time it was 2:00 am, Minho could barely stand on his own.

“Oh, son of a - are you kidding me!?” Changbin groaned after seeing his poor roommate passed out on Chan’s couch.

“Should I call an Uber…?” Jisung asked.

“Nah, I have a cheaper solution.”

At 2:03 am, while you were munching on some chips and crying to some Miyazaki movie, Changbin’s name lit up your phone.

“Yo.”

“How much do you love your roommates?”

“On a scale of one to ten? Four and a half.”

“Can you cash in that four and a half and pick us up from Chan’s place ~?” the whiny boy begged. “Minho is being insufferable! He keeps drinking everything in site!”

That did not sound good… Minho got very, uh, unbearable when he wasn’t himself. You felt your headache come back and your blood pressure fly through the roof.

“But I don’t have a car.”

“The keys to the Audi are hanging by the door.”

“What the - he has a car!?”

“No, his uncle has a car. Just don’t tell him we’re using it. Hurry, before he gets outta hand - NO, DON’T LET HIM DRINK THAT -!!”

The line cut out and the dial tone rang in your ears for a solid five seconds before you could process what Changbin was asking of you. So you were supposed to grab the keys to an expensive Audi, drive to Chan’s house, pick up your incompetent roommates, and somehow end up back home alive? Well, all right…

The key to the car wasn’t actually a key… It was just a remote. The car was hidden in the corner of the underground garage and if you weren’t being careful, someone could honestly kidnap you at any moment and no trace of the kidnapping would be seen. The Audi was very beautiful, all white and shiny like it was brand new. The interior was pitch black with red stitching, tons of fancy buttons normal cars didn’t really have, and a button for the ignition. You prayed to whatever Lord was listening that it was Automatic because you had zero idea how to handle Manual.

The drive wasn’t that far, but it was far for a walk, so no wonder Changbin called you for assistance. After texting him that his personal, beautiful Uber driver had arrived, you were left with your erratic thoughts about how you were going to handle seeing Minho for the first time since last night. Would it be awkward? Maybe on your end because you were sober enough to remember everything, but maybe his drunken state would ease up the atmosphere.

Your love life sucked. Your crushes never worked out in the end, your first date ended up mediocre, and now you fell for your best friend. You were in denial for the most part, thinking that maybe this was just a coping mechanism for all your failures and that Minho was the only real man to ever care about you, so of course you fell for someone like him. But that wasn’t it, was it? Minho wasn’t made to be your security blanket when all else failed. Maybe all else failed because he was the one all along. Fate always had a weird way of playing with you.

A loud thump in the back seat shook you from your thoughts.

“Sorry, he’s very heavy and I got tired,” Changbin said as he sat in the front seat.

Looking back, you saw a passed out Minho curled up on the seats.

“Jeez, that kind of night, huh?” Did you do that to him…? Was this because of last night…?

“Yeah… you wouldn’t believe the shit he was saying -”

“_____, is that you?” he asked cutely.

“Hey there,” you giggled. “How are you feeling?”

“I miss you ~”

“Huh?”

“Bro, he would not shut up the entire night! _____ this, _____ that, I was honestly so happy that he passed out on the couch because for those ten minutes, I could hear my own thoughts again. Can you two figure out whatever sexual tension you guys are having -”

“Changbin!”

“What!? I’m tired of living with you two!”

“Move out then!”

“No way, I was there first!!”

“Stop yelling,” the poor, drunk boy whined, moving up so his face was in between yours and a pouty Changbin. Minho turned to you all giggly and smiley like a kid in a candy shop and poked your cheek. “I miss you ~”

Of course you did, too. “I miss you, too, dork.”

“I have something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you when we get home, I’m sleepy.” And he was out like a light once more.

“What the hell…”

“Chan’s jungle juice, man. It’s magical,” Changbin tisked.

It took two small adults to carry one Minho all the way from the parking lot, to the lobby, to the elevator, and then finally to the door. You’d think with all the working out Changbin did that he could handle the unconscious boy all on his own, but Minho was very muscley… A lot more than you remembered. From supporting his back and abs and having his arm around your shoulder, you could feel every crevice of his taut muscles that you should definitely not be thinking about at a time like this. He was fine to support himself by the time the door opened, and Changbin happily let go of him to go to the bathroom, something about ‘needing to piss really bad.’

Before you could fathom that you were left alone with a loosey goosey Minho, he had already grabbed onto your hand and pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you so you couldn’t escape, but it wasn’t like you were going to, anyways. With his cheek resting on your forehead, you felt safe.

“I miss you ~” he repeated in his sing-songy voice.

“What are you doing?” you muffled into his chest.

“Showing and telling you how much I love you.”

“Wait, what -”

“In fact, let me show and tell the whole world!”

How Minho was able to run to the balcony and not trip and fall flat on his face was a mystery to you. The weird boy literally swung open the door and breathed in the fresh air before screaming into the night,

“I LOVE _____!”

Still inside, feet glued to where Minho first told you he sincerely loves you, you were shocked as the man you loved screamed at the top of his lungs to the city below.

“I LOVE YOU ~!” he screamed once more.

“Oh, my God.”

You sighed tiredly, though your growing smile wasn’t fooling anyone. Reluctantly, you made your way to the balcony to bring in the boy you loved before he lost his voice. After screaming a couple more times, he tuckered himself out and leaned over the edge of the railing.

“You’re going to fall!” you lectured, pulling him back up. That was a bit of a mistake on your end though, because now he used you as his means of support and coddled you tightly like you were his own personal teddy bear.

“I love you, _____,” he said perfectly like there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in his system.

“Minho, you’re drunk.”

He held you tighter. “Do you wanna hear a story? It’s called ‘The Day I Fell for You’.”

“Ok. Tell me all about it.”

“You were in art class and it was the pottery unit. You absolutely hated the mug you made, but I loved it. I told you to submit it for the art exhibit anyways. The following week at exhibition night, you won second place for the best pottery piece. When you went up to get your ribbon in front of all our other classmates and their parents, you only looked at me. You had the brightest smile on your face, and when I gave you a thumbs up, you glowed even brighter. I didn’t think that was even possible. Then when the awards were over, you ran up to me and hugged me so tight. Just like this. And my heart was beating so fast! Just like now, too. I never wanted to let you go, you know? And then when you let me keep your mug, it was all over from there.”

Ah, you remember that story perfectly, even if it was so long ago. Minho made you feel like you could fly without wings.

He hummed happily, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. “It’s my favorite mug. I drink coffee out of it every morning.”

“I know, I’m the one who washes it…”

“_____, what do I do ~?” He broke the hug and the heart-wrenching moment to hold your face and squish your cheeks so hard your lips would pout. “What do I do ~? I love you and I want to kiss you so badly!”

“Eh!?”

“Just one kiss,” he begged, puckering his lips playfully.

“Ah, no, you weirdo!” you giggled, but you weren’t even fighting back.

“Just one, I promise.”

Before you could fake-object, his lips barely touched yours for a split second. They were soft, sent goosebumps all over your skin, and made sparks fly.

He giggled softly before leaning in again. “Ok, one more.”

“You said just one!”

“I got a taste and now I want more. This is your fault.”

“You sound like an addict.”

“Only for you, baby.”

So he kissed you once more. And again. And again. And then again for the tenth time. The eleventh time he made the kiss last a little longer. The fifteenth time was a kiss on your nose. The sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth were for your cheeks twice. The twentieth and the last was on your forehead, making your heart flutter like a little hummingbird.

"You taste like punch and tequila,” you gagged.

“Do you like it ~?”

“No!”

“Do you like me ~?”

“Only sometimes. But I guess I love you all other times. Luckily, you probably won’t remember this in the morning.”

There’s a short silence afterwards, only the sounds of the wind blowing could be heard as Minho continued to hold you. “Loving me means you can’t get mad at me, right?”

“It means I’ll probably get mad at you more frequently. Why, what did you do…?”

“Nothing, I swear! I’m just… not as drunk as you think I am anymore…”

“Ah, so you’ll remember this in the morning…”

“Absolutely. If you rejected my screaming confession though, I would have still pretended to be drunk. Isn’t my plan so smart? I’m a genius, bro.”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say genius,” you teased.

“Whatever, you admitted you love me, that’s all that matters.”

“I only said it 'cuz you said it first. If you didn’t, I would have kept it to myself.”

“But why ~?”

“You left me this morning. I thought telling you my dream was a huge mistake and I scared you away.”

Your loving boy pressed a twenty-first kiss to your forehead. “I was scared, but not because of that. I was scared you would leave everything at that and wouldn’t think of me as anything but a friend.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m an emotional man, ok.”

“I know ~” you sighed happily. The night air was crisp and cool, but Minho kept you warm, as he always did. He was always there whenever you need him. “I love you, you know that?”

Minho took a long and dramatic breath in, pressing his expanding chest to yours and you kind of regret tell him you love him because from the top of his lungs, he screamed,

“I LOVE YOU!!”

“Minho, shut up!!!”

“I LOVE YOU, _____!!”

The rest of the night until the following morning was spent with Minho’s arms wrapped tightly around you. The only time he ever let you go was when you burned the pancakes and needed his help making more.

Minho, the dorky, annoying, loving, sweet, dumbass of a friend was now YOUR dorky, annoying, loving, sweet dumbass.

He wasn’t so bad.