#i was just looking out of curiosity for some placemats

[jaspertheshark]

Tell me you don't own cats without telling me you don't own cats

[violetsandfluff]

Late Night Baby Talk

other concepts (courtesy of @erggggggggg): family day with harry, his wife and baby. harry's wife watching him take care of their 1.5 year old all day and her cuddling in bed with him about to fall asleep she asks him to have another baby. maybe he tells her that after seeing her with their child all day he was thinking the same thing but didn't know if now was the right time to bring it up.

harry and his gf about to fall asleep after a long day, he's spooning you with a hand on your lower stomach. he thinks your asleep and starts to whisper how much he loves you, and all details about how he's envisioning your future. you don't tell him you heard any of it but go to sleep very very happy.

—————————-

“Some oatmeal for my roly poly Ruby,” Harry announced as he set a bowl filled partway with his morning’s work in front of his eighteen-month-old daughter before turning to his wife and planting a kiss firmly on her forehead. “I’ll get you yours right away.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched her husband disappear into the kitchen once again. He had set out to make breakfast, and he was dead serious about it, to a nearly comical extent. Still clothed in his pajamas, he had thrown a towel over his shoulder and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, ready to work. Furthermore, he insisted on making oatmeal, Ruby’s favorite food, from scratch, and Y/N had to admit that it looked delicious. He had even topped her bowl with peaches, her favorite fruit.

She poked her chubby fingers into the bowl, extracting the peaches and giving her legs a contented kick as she tasted them. “Yummy, daddy!” she cried.

“Here’s yours, mama,” Harry said as he set a bowl on your placemat as well as his.

You grabbed his jaw, bringing it closer to yours and giving him a playful kiss. “Thank you, chef Styles.”

Harry’s eyes locked with yours for a second as he shook his head playfully, his attention quickly diverting to his daughter, who was now occupying herself by smearing her oatmeal onto her face and tray.

“Now now, Ruby,” he said patiently as he picked the spoon up from her tray and placed it deliberately in her gooey hand. “You remember how to use a spoon, right?”

You and Harry took turns helping Ruby to feed herself until she finished the bowl and leaned back against her high chair happily.

Harry carded a hand through her mop of tangled curls as he helped her from her high chair. “Who’s ready for a bath, messy girl?”

“Bubbles?” she asked hopefully, straining for Harry to set her down.

“Of course,” he chuckled softly, leading her to the bathroom. “Once mama washes your hair, I’ll give you bubbles.”

————————

After a full day of playing with Ruby, feeding her, and entertaining her, you and Harry settled into bed contentedly. Wordlessly, Harry opened his arms to you, and who were you to decline? Soon your breaths evened out and your eyes fluttered shut and Harry took his chance.

“I love you so much, baby girl, and I love our baby girl so much, too. So much that I want another one. Not now, but someday.”

You smiled against his chest, basking in his seemingly infinite body heat and took in his words as he spoke about you, Ruby, and whatever else was on his mind.

The next morning, you planned to remain silent, but curiosity got the better of you.

“You really want another baby?”

Harry looked at you with raised eyebrows before blushing and turning away. “Someday,” he replied vaguely.

“Be honest,” you insisted. “Do you want another baby now?”

“It seems like a good time to start trying,” he answered hesitantly, his eyes falling to his feet. “It’s all up to you, of course, but I’m ready when you are.”

“I’m ready.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with excitement and a nearly-conscious stream of words began flowing out of him. “We can use Ruby’s bassinet for it when it’s born, and we can make a sign for its bedroom just like we did for Ruby. We can use the old carpet from your office because it’s nice and fluffy, and we can upgrade Ruby’s toy shelf and put her old one in the baby’s room. We can paint the walls to cover up the old wallpaper, and…” he trailed off, breaking into a soft smile.

“Take this one step at a time, Haz,” you grinned.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

306 of 2023

 When someone sneezes, do you say “Bless you,” or “God Bless you?”

I, say “gezondheid“, like everyone here.

Do you ever look at someone cute, and automatically make a move?

No. In my case, aesthetic attraction is very common, but never followed by sexual attraction. I don’t hit on unfamiliar people.

How many times have you been to Wal-Mart/K-Mart in the past week?

These shops don’t even exist in my country.

What are two things you are excited to do in the near future?

Coming back to work and visiting my family again.

Have you ever seen the movie A Walk to Remember? Cliche’ or worth watching?

I haven’t and I’m not interested.

Do you ever put condoms in old people’s buggies at the store?

No, but now I feel like doing it.

Name one reason you go to a pharmacy regularly for?

Picking up my meds I’m doomed to for the rest of my life lol.

What radio station could you not resist turning it to in the vehicle?

We don’t listen to the radio in our car. Spotify exists for something.

Do you live in a house, apartment, or another type of arrangement?

A terraced house. We share the walls with our neighbours.

Do you wear sweaters in the Winter or hoodies, more often?

I don’t wear sweters, ever. I’m a hoodie guy all over.

Are you kind of a loner? Do you like being alone?

Yes, but I feel better having companion of trusted people.

Are you one of those people who like to spell out numbers?

I don’t understand this question.

Is there an animal in the room with you right now? What kind?

Yeah, both cats.

Did you or do you still have a Furby? Was/is it annoying?

Never had it in my life. I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

What’s one event your town has that you don’t like to participate in?

Can’t think of any. I go everywhere just out of curiosity.

Are any of your siblings married? What are their spouse’s names?

No, she’s not.

Do you hate nosy people who ask too many personal questions?

Yeah, IRL.

Name one lyric from the song you’re listening to/the last one you listened?

It’s an instrumental track.

Do you have a fax machine? Do you ever use it anyways?

I don’t, but these are cool and I wish I had one.

Does your kitchen table have placemats? If so, what colors are on them?

We own some, but we don’t use them.

Do you know how to sew? What’s your favorite thing to sew?

I know how to repair clothes, and that’s about it.

Have you ever owned a turtle? Did it ever bite you when you owned it?

Never had a turtle.

Does your father have any creepy or scary friends you don’t like?

No, his friends are okay.

Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to?

My husband lol.

Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it?

No, but I have GIMP and I much prefer it over Photoshop. I use it almost every day.

What color are the walls in the room you’re in right now?

Light beige.

Has your school ever had a lockdown? If so, for what reason exactly?

Can’t remember, but my work had twice, for gas leak.

Do you enjoy it when your school has drills? (ex/fire or tornado drill?)

I’m not in school.

Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of?

I’m 33, ffs. I can legally watch porn.

Do you have any siblings who still believe in Santa, and are over age ten?

Santa lives in Finland, fuck off.

What color were the last pair of headphones/earphones you bought?

White.

Do people call you a big mouth sometimes? Or more than sometimes?

Yeah, they do. I always have something to say.

Has anyone ever stolen your survey questions before, if you make surveys?

I don’t make surveys.

Leggings with denim shorts; yes or no?:

I don’t care, wear the f you want. I wouldn’t anyway.

Do you like to burn candles?: 

Yeah, there’s something so oddly satisfying about it.

Are Yankee Candles really all that?:

I’ve never heard of it.

Do you think any bands/artists are trashy?: 

I don’t care, really.

What makes you tick when taking surveys?

Original questions.

Have you ever started typing something and then someone spoke and you ended up typing what they said?

Lol no. I stop typing once someone speaks.

What type of white-out do you use: bottled liquid, tape or pen?

Tape because it doesn’t stink.

What would you put on your perfect sub?

My what?

Do you have anything that’s limited edition?

Yeah, some music albums.

[wiinestories]

Angelo meticulously set up the table, placing each placemat with careful precision, followed by neatly arranged napkins and cutlery. This ritual had become a comforting routine for him, a way to distract himself after cooking and to help Lawrence back home. Despite Lawrence's advancing years and the physical limitations that came with them, Angelo made sure to involve him in household duties, understanding the importance of keeping his friend's mind engaged and his spirits high, but also ensured he wouldn't be forced to go beyond such limitations, which was the reason why Angelo had asked him to hire maids instead of him doing all the work. The mansion was big, but suited for Angelo's needs.

Alessio couldn't help but feel enchanted by Eden's sweetness and attentiveness as she brought the food to the table. Her genuine care and concern left a lasting impression on him, warming his heart in ways he hadn't expected. As Eden set the dishes down, Angelo discreetly pulled out his phone to read a message from Lawrence. His eyes quickly scanned the screen, taking in the latest update.

Lawrence: [Attached a photo] Sir, during my morning walk around the mansion, I noticed that some marigolds have blossomed in the garden. I thought they might make a splendid gift for Miss Eden when she returns.

"Everything alright?" Alessio asked, noticing Angelo's brief distraction as he stepped into their dining room. "Yeah, just Lawrence updating me on a few things," Angelo replied, his tone casual as he began tapping his fingers against the phone screen to reply to Lawrence with a smile on his face. He was nothing short of attentive, and Angelo noticed his fondness for Eden in even the smallest details.

Angelo: Set up a bouquet with them. Use the card for anything you want to add.

Angelo sent his reply to Lawrence, his attention momentarily absorbed by the messages. When he looked up, he saw his mother entering the dining room. Her serious expression and silence as she took her seat at the table cast a slight shadow over the otherwise warm atmosphere. His phone beeped with another notification. Angelo's eyes flicked back to the screen, his curiosity piqued by the incoming message.

Lawrence: Certainly. And sir, please bring me a Venetian mask while you are there.

Angelo slid the phone into the pocket of his jeans and sat down beside Eden, grinning at the sight of the meal they'd prepared. "Bolognese spaghetti?" His head turned towards her, a glint in his blue hues. "My favourite." Alessio smiled at Angelo's reaction as he took a seat beside his wife. "Let's enjoy this meal Eden has prepared." And for some minutes, it did seem everything would turn out splendid, but Francesca was unable to hold herself back with her anger.

"Hai davvero un bel coraggio a portare in casa mia una donna che potrebbe essere tua figlia. [You've got a lot of nerve bringing a woman into my house that could be your daughter.]" Francesca snapped at Angelo, her voice cutting through the air like a knife as she dropped her fork onto the table with a clatter. The tension thickened as Alessio processed her harsh words. Angelo paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he reached for a napkin. He wiped the sauce from his mouth with deliberate calmness, though anyone who knew him well could see the storm brewing behind his composed exterior. His jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. "Mother," he began, his voice low and controlled, "Eden is here because she is important to me. She deserves respect, just like anyone else at this table. Speak. English." Those last words came out through gritted teeth, visibly exposing his anger.

"Francesca, please. This is neither the time nor the place for such discussions and to say something like that. Let's enjoy the meal," Alessio interjected, his voice steady but pleading. He wanted to create a moment of peace between his wife and his son, though it seemed increasingly unreachable. Francesca's eyes blazed with anger, and her voice rose sharply. "Non puoi darmi ordini in casa mia, cazzo, se sei un puttana! [You don't fucking get to command me in my house, when you're a manwhore!]" Angelo's face contorted with fury. He grabbed the nearest glass and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into shards. The explosive sound punctuated the tension. He abruptly rose from his seat, slamming his fist against the table. "Basta! [Enough!]" he shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "Non starò qui a lasciarti insultare me o Eden. Me ne vado. Non ti preoccupare, non ho intenzione di ritornare. [I won't stand here and let you insult me ​​or Eden. I'm leaving. Don't worry, I don't plan on returning.]" He hissed, his hand reaching to grab Eden's and lead her away from the villa with him, towards the vehicle he'd rented.

"Figlio, per favore, [Son, please]" Alessio rose from his seat and followed them, pained with the way things had turned and how Angelo and Eden were leaving his home, his heart heavy with emotions. "Perdonami padre. Ci vedremo presto. Lo prometto. [Forgive me father. I'll see you soon. I promise.]" Angelo had managed ot ease some of his anger to address his father while he made his way to the car, holding Eden's hand tightly but ensuring he wasn't hurting her.

Somehow Eden managed to keep a straight face when Angelo slid behind her, his hands briefly on her cheeks, she did blush a tiny bit but that could be blamed on many things, especially since his Father did flatter her with such sweet words and he was genuinely kind to her. She'd said it many times before, how she was never sure how to handle families, she'd fretted about how to interact with his parents... and yet it seemed to be going quite naturally for her to get along with Alessio. They had an interest they could bond over, sharing a love of creating something lovely from a few ingredients.

After a little time and those two happily conversing in the kitchen Eden came through with drinks, and then back in with a side salad, some bread, bits for the table. She was to keen to help but Alessio told her to go, sit, she didn't need to carry everything. It was just that Eden wanted to look useful to his Mother, like she could be whatever it was that she thought was.. right for her son. God, she wanted to be what was right for him.

Alessio soon followed, she'd sat down next to Angelo, the seat beside her empty hopefully for his Mother to sit near Eden and make.. a little more effort in getting along. It also placed her opposite Alessio which was a comfort, at least she had somewhere to look if it all went sour. "Don't look at me, this was all your dad, I was but a simple student in his shadow." she laughed softly. Admittedly when his Mother came back into the room, Eden couldn't help but shy away. She didn't want to seem overwhelmingly loud, she wanted to give the woman chance to speak herself, say her own things without feeling like there was an intruder in her home.

One hand held a fork, ready for them to all start eating, the other... well the other was underneath the table, hanging down to fidget anxiously with the material of her dress or even the tablecloth. Anything, just to keep her fingers from tapping on the surface. "Mr Santino this smells amazing, you were a real expert in that kitchen." whilst her laugh was awkward, Eden was trying to get conversation going, she didn't stutter just then and she was pretty proud of that.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Three

Chapter Three

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 2.8k

from the beginning <3

Y/N set him up with a pair of her father's old pyjamas, giving him a spare room to sleep in for the night instead of the couch, she figured he'd need privacy in the morning and not a 7-year-old attacking him at the crack of dawn. He was so grateful for their day together, hugging her goodnight and slipping away into the room to think about everything.

He took a moment to just sit on the bed, looking around at how she decorated. It was pretty plain, just a bed and some light green walls. Books gaining dust in the corner, clothes and blankets folded on top of the dresser against the wall, the only personality was the photo on the night table and the quilt on the bed.

There was a reason it wasn’t used anymore. The photo on the table was of her grandparent's wedding, it was black and white and older than him. They looked happy and in love, her grandmother was a spitting image of her, no wonder they were so close.

It made him feel a little emotional to know he was in this room. The memories it had with her, the connection to her grandma that she clearly wanted to keep. Otherwise, this room would be used for something other than housing the man they met at the park for a single night.

She was trusting him in this space, leaving him alone for the night to deal with his brain on hyperdrive, giving him the opportunity to stare at the ceiling as he remembered the day in glorious detail.

Drifting off into a peaceful slumber quicker than he figured he would.

—

He awoke to the feeling of someone holding his face, the soft touch of flesh on his cheeks. He fluttered his eyes open into the early morning sunshine, “good morning cutie,” Y/N whispered.

“Am I dead?”

She smiles as she laughs, leaning down to press her forehead against his shoulder, he wraps his arms around her on instinct, holding her as close as the night before.

“You looked like an angel,” he whispers an explanation.

She pulled back then, returning her hand to his face as she looked at him, “you’re beautiful in the mornings too.”

“What time is it?”

“7:30,” she confirmed with a small smile. “Amoreena is feeding the baby goats with her poppy, she’ll be in for breakfast in a few minutes if you want some cereal. My grandpa’s stuff is in the closet if you wanted something cozy, it’s a foggy one out there.”

He was so in love with her at that moment, nothing but happiness and wonderful words left her mouth. She was more euphoric to him than any drug, rushing more serotonin to his brain than any one-night stand managed to do, and he hasn’t even kissed her yet.

He noticed then she was in her pyjamas, a cute nightgown like his own mother would wear when he was a kid. Cows jumping over the moon displayed on the chest, it was adorable. She was everything to him.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” She says as she stands, removing her hand from his face as her fingers lingers on his skin, he didn’t want her to leave.

“Yeah,” he smiled, watching her leave as he sat up.

He put his slacks back on making sure he had his lactose pills in the pocket, a red sweater from the closet and a brown ranch hat. Wanting to fit the part of Farmhand while he was with them, and to see if it would make Amoreena laugh at him.

He kept a travel toothbrush in his satchel for times when he was sleeping in places he didn’t belong. Using the bathroom and making himself look as presentable as possible, he really, really wanted them to like him enough to keep him around.

Y/N was packing Amoreena’s lunch in the kitchen when he finally wandered in, taking a moment to look at what he was wearing. She smiled at him, placing her hand on her heart, “My grandpa loved that hat, you look great.”

“Thank you,” he says softly as he takes a seat at the counter, watching her carefully cut the crust off a sandwich.

She has a special sandwich cutter, pressing it into the bread and revealing the two dinosaur-shaped halves. Putting them in a little baggie and adding them to her pile of healthy snacks in Amoreena's lunch box.

“You’re the best mother,” the compliment rolling off his tongue without his permission.

She blushed lightly, “thank you, I try.”

Like a herd of elephants, Amoreena was running up the porch steps and swinging the door open, causing the chimes to bang off the wood before it eventually smacked the house.

“Gentle!” Y/N called down the hallway, “don’t get mud on the floor.”

Amoreena took her boots off neatly, hanging up her coat and cowboy hat before joining Spencer at the counter. “Good morning, Spencer!”

“How’s the kingdom this morning?” He asks out of pure curiosity, greeted with the purest response from her.

Amoreena’s eyes lit up like she didn’t expect him to believe in her fantasy world. What she didn't know was how easy it was for him to call this the kingdom, a far off land of true freedom and happiness. It was a little perfect world that didn’t feel real to him yet.

“It’s great, you’re so nice,” she sighed, laying her head on the counter. “Can I have some lucky charms?”

Y/N smiled, “sure, you know where all the bowls are big kid.”

Amoreena stormed around the kitchen, pulling out two bowls and spoons, not asking if Spencer wanted any but placing a bowl in front of him any way. “You need breakfast, it’s important.”

“Of course, Lady Amoreena,” he said softly, digging the pill from his pocket and placing it on the placemat. “Can I have something to drink?”

“Orange or apple?” Y/N smiled, opening the fridge door and waiting for his choice.

“Orange, please.”

“See,” Y/N looked at Amoreena, “even adults use manners.”

It made him laugh as she rolled her eyes at her mother with a fake sigh. It was nice to see that they had a mutual respect that was strong enough to play around like that, It was admirable to see them be friends, not just family.

“I’m going to get changed for the day,” Y/N announced then as Amoreena got situated back at the counter. “Be good, shout for me if you need me.”

Then it was just him and Amoreena eating cereal in silence.

She picked out all the marshmallows first, eating them before the cereal, and then finally drinking all the milk from the bowl, he has never seen a kid eat that fast.

“Was it good?” He laughed to himself, watching her wipe her mouth on her pyjama sleeve.

“The best,” she smiled back at him. “Are you going to be here a lot?”

“I don’t know yet,” he was honest. “But I’d like to be.”

“It would be nice, I've never had a dad,” she said it like it was nothing. Like the weight of the words weren’t supposed to knock the wind out of him.

“You know,” he speaks before he even thinks it over. “I never had a dad either, my mom raised me all by herself. She's my best friend in the whole world, she is the reason I love books and why I love the world, you’re lucky to have someone who has a heart big enough to love you for both parents.”

“You’re lucky too then,” she smiled back. “But you’d still make a good dad regardless.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, smiling softly as she put her bowl away and ran up the stairs.

—

Amoreena gave him a big hug at the bus stop, waving to him from the window as he stood with Y/N at the end of the driveway, his phone non-stop vibrating in his back pocket trying to take him away from the most perfect moment in his whole existence.

He finally looked at it when the bus pulled away, 8 texts from Penelope and 4 calls from Derek. It looks like they all knew he quit, and they want to see if he was okay. He sighs, putting his phone back in his pocket, taking Y/N’s hand instead, walking back to her house.

“I called to take the day off when I was changing, told them Amoreena got me sick,” she says lightly as she bumps her shoulder into his.

She was now wearing a light green sundress, it flows in the breeze as she walks, stepping in front of him to skip lightly, twirling around as they walk, she makes him smile uncontrollably. Then she’s letting go of his hand and running off into the field, Spencer chasing after her cautiously. Rubber soles of his shoes slipping on the dewy grass as he follows.

There’s an open field behind the barn, cows wandering around the far edges as the fog starts to settle its war with the sunshine. She stops then, catching her breath and waiting for Spencer with an arm out for him to walk into her embrace.

Holding him in the sunshine in the middle of her kingdom.

“Whatever the light touches is yours,” she whispered the words from the lion king, “If you’d like to be mine?”

He wanted to answer, but his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing against her hip. She reaches into his pocket and takes the phone out, answering it without breaking eye contact.

“Ex fed, Spencer Reid’s phone,” she smiled.

“who is this?” A males voice asked.

“Spencer’s girlfriend,” she answered, “he’s fine. If you’d like to see for yourself and join us for tea in the garden?”

“Um, sure, you’re at some farm right?”

She looked at Spencer confused, “yes?”

“We’re pulling up now.”

“What?” Y/N turned around as she noticed the line went dead, a car rolling down the driveway and following the path all the way towards the barn.

“FBI remember,” he laughed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she leaned in and kissed him softly, he held her there for a moment, knowing his friends would be staring at the display of affection they were putting on.

He almost wished he could have seen it from their point of view. How she pulled him in, dipping under his hat, holding his cheeks in her hands as she pressed her lips to his softly. The view behind them was impeccable, the fields of wheat blowing in the early sunlight as he held her hips.

When she pulled away he could swear he saw a halo around her head, smiling at him with love in her eyes, matching his own. He pushed his hat up as he rested his forehead on hers, “I’ll be yours.”

“I figured,” she smiled, taking his hand and walking with him towards his friends.

“Hi,” he waved at them.

“What has happened in the last week since we’ve spoken?” Derek didn’t skip a beat, holding his arms out as he shook his head.

Penelope rushed around the car towards him, “why did you quit?”

“I’ll go put on some tea, meet me out back?” Y/N said softly, tapping his shoulder as she slipped out of his grasp and passed them all.

“I can’t do it anymore and you know why,” Spencer whispers. “I’m done, Derek, I need a life, a family, something to make me actually want to get up in the morning before I whiter away to nothing.”

“Okay,” he nods, reaching out to pull him into a hug, “you deserve that.”

Penelope hugged him too, the both of them wrapping their arms around him in the middle of Y/N’s land, he knew they’d understand. He just wish they all didn’t have to feel like this, like he was letting them down.

“Come on, you’re going to love Y/N,” he changed the subject, fixing his hat again as Derek laughed at him.

“Since when did you want to be a farmer?” Penelope teased him.

“Cowboys are like FBI agents right?” He smiles, leading them towards Y/N’s backyard. “Um, seriously though, I met her at the park on Saturday.”

“It’s Monday…” Derek added in a concerned tone.

“I know, it’s insane but we’re both tired of waiting for the right time, so we’re making it the right time, she has a kid and a life and she works at a library, she’s calm and beautiful and everything I need,” Spencer explains, stopping abruptly so that Y/N wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Fuck it, y’know?”

Derek’s face lit up, Penelope shook his arm as she giggled, “yes! I support this, fuck it and be happy.”

“Way to go pretty boy,” Derek patted his back, “I always knew you’d do it.”

It was nice to introduce them, Y/N sat close to Spencer as she learned all about the last 15 years of his life. Funny stories like the time they scared him in the dark at a crime scene, how nervous he used to be, even showing Y/N photos of him from over the years with the weirdest haircuts, she couldn't believe how cute he used to be. Gushing to his friends about how perfect their weekend together had been so far.

He got to know her more than too, learning with Penelope and Derek as she shared parts of her life. She was only 35, she actually has 7 siblings who have so far produced 4 nephews and 11 nieces for her, Amoreena being the oldest of the bunch. She’s lived here since she was a baby, born in the room she sleeps in actually.

Her whole life existed in this kingdom full of love and life. She had a huge family and enough love to keep it growing forever, it was her perfect world and now it’s his too.

It was the best morning of his life, watching his best friends and the women he knew was going to become the love of his life, mingle so gleefully. They were all free now, living in the real world where things were good and happy.

He wanted to stay there forever, but they decided to head out around 9:30, leaving Spencer and Y/N alone in the backyard finally. He turned his phone off then, tossing it onto the table and pulling her into his lap.

“I think we need to talk about this,” he said softly.

“About what?”

“How it’ll work, the rules for me being around Amoreena, I don’t want to jump right into stepdad mode and piss you off or be too distant and make you think I don’t want to be here,” he worried out loud. Giving her a glimpse into his mind and how it worked.

“I don’t mind you falling into the role of her father, you are a lot like Steven,” she looked at him softly as she spoke, her fingers trailing along his jaw lightly.

“Her father?”

“I tell people that yeah, but I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, not a care in the world about who he really was.

“You’re a literal ray of sunshine,” the words fell from his tongue.

“I don’t like being unhappy, so I choose not to be,” she admits, biting the inside of her cheek as she smiled at him. “And I think I’d be the happiest with you.”

“I'm glad you feel it too,” he whispers, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers again, softly as the first time.

“I’m also scared,” her words touch his lips ever so softly, “I’ve already lost too many people, please don’t leave me.”

“My girlfriend died in front of me,” the words are harsher than he expected them to be. but she had to know that he understood. Loving someone, planning a life with them, and watching them get ripped out of existence is the hardest thing someone could recover from, but they were doing it.

She pauses, “so you know what it’s like?”

He can only nod, “I understand wanting to keep something special and safe and failing.”

“Seconds are just as good as firsts," she whispers, leaning in close enough to kiss him. Resting her forehead against his, "if not better because you value what it can become.”

“I’m falling in love with you,” he announces without a second thought.

“Good,” she finally kisses him, resting her lips against his lightly before speaking again, "because I think I fell in love with you a few days ago."

He can't help but kiss her again and again, holding her in his lap as he spread kisses over her face. Her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, the tip of her nose, both eyelids and finally her perfect lips. It's soft and gentle like the first one, holding him softly as their lips brushed together.

Kissing in the sunshine for as long as they wanted without a single distraction or care in the world. She was exceptional, her life was perfect, he was so unbelievably happy to be sharing it with her. To be granted access to the happiest place on earth, his own little slice of Heaven with the two angels that kept it running.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria

[selfetishizing]

In which Eiji grossly overestimates the amount of mandarins he and Ash can eat. / 🍊 / ao3

Eiji comes home with a carton of mandarins and drops them at the entrance step with a dull thump.

“It was a good deal,” he tells Ash between breaths. “Ten kilograms for six thousand yen.” And then something about Mikan mandarins being nothing like those Floridian jokes for citrus and how the season for them is coming to a close. Ash never asked in the first place. It was as though he was defending himself from something before Ash could even open his mouth.

“Okay.” Ash kisses him on the cheek and helps him out of his coat, always in that order. Eiji stands on his toes, balancing himself with the cords of Ash’s sweater to aim another on his mouth. Ash leans down to help him, unconsciously souring his expression as he pulls back. “Have one on your way home?” He kisses him again for surety and, well, sure enough, his lips taste like they had been doused with Tang.

“A couple. Two couples.”

Ash whistles. “Dang. These oranges must be somethin’.”

"Mandarins, Ash. Mandarins. Not that I’d know the difference,” he sighs. “Oranges, mandarins... They're all kind of the same aren't they? Maybe it's about the size, the firmness, the peel. Maybe it's about the taste. All I know is that mandarins are like candy, and whatever this is,” Eiji pushes his chest out and wildly gesticulates to the accursed box before them, “is not it. These must be clementines from— oh, I don't know!— Pensa-fucking-cola!” He erupts all at once, shooting up like a thermometer on a dog day June afternoon and fizzling out like cola foam.

Eiji leans back against the door and Ash on the bannister. They stare at it, Eiji with utter disdain and Ash with morbid curiosity. Like a pack of Tic Tacs magnified by one hundred, he muses.

Ash crouches down to pick one of the mandarins up. Eiji moves in accordance, hand reaching out as if to stop him— that the fruit would poison him if he so much as hovered over it. Despite this silent warning, Ash grabs three and plays court jester for His Highness.

He juggles.

He juggles and he absolutely sucks at it while Eiji watches in complete horror; seeing the mandarins not as mandarins, but clipped grenades ready to blow the very hands that handled it. The color had gone from his face. He is but a pale sheet reflecting the warm hue of the ball pit that tormented him from below.

Eiji flashes him a mortified look. What the hell do you think you're doing?

Ash concentrates. Trying not to mess up.

Eiji frowns. This isn’t funny.

Ash almost cries. Yeah it is.

And he messes up.

The mandarins drop to the floor, sad little balls with not a lot of roll in them. Their eyes trace them as they huddle next to the box, like they had desperately wanted to go home and out of the reach of these two men that were belittling them.

Defeated, Eiji's back slides down the door. He holds his head in his hands.

“I miscalculated,” he says exasperatedly. “What are we going to do with all of these oranges?”

“Mandarins.”

“Mandarins.”

Ash sits level with him on the first step, eyes gleaming with warrior morale. He grabs the enemy and thrusts his fingers unto him, peeling them from their leathery armor. Ash— the fearless brute!— sections his enemy into eighths and tears into their head, innards spilling down his chin. In savage fashion, he wipes their juices with the back of his hand, going as far as offering their remains to Eiji. He grins. “We’re gonna eat ‘em.”

──────────⊹⊱🍊⊰⊹──────────

The sun slowly filters through bleary eyes and he sees a blob of Eiji watching him, head propped on both elbows. Ash hums as Eiji runs his hands through his hair, neither awake or asleep.

“An angel,” he murmurs, grasping his wrist and pulling him in. He presses his lips on the inside of his arm.

“Not quite.” Eiji climbs over him, heartbeats tethered. He smooches his jaw, laces their hands loosely. “Your worst nightmare, actually. A real devil with horns and a pitchfork.”

“Oh no.” Ash wraps an arm around Eiji’s waist, keeping them fixed together. He aims— bullseye!— for his lips, scrunching his nose when he tastes him on his tongue. “Oh no.” Mandarines today. Tangerines yesterday. Clementines the day before.

The wisps of Eiji’s hair tickle his skin as he laughs into his chest. “Told you so.”

“Sugar, you’re sour!”

“You really won’t like what’s for breakfast then.” Eiji rests his cheek against his shoulder, looking up from behind his lashes. Ash stares at him, the world in his eyes. It's enough to mask his disappointment.

“Again?”

“Yes, again. It was your idea."

“Can’t I have you for breakfast?”

“No, silly. That would be cannibalism.”

“But you’d be so delicious." Ash brings their held hands to his mouth, playfully biting one of Eiji’s fingers. Oranges. Of course it tastes like oranges. “Actually, on second thought....”

“Poor thing,” patronizes Eiji, patting his head like he’s the star player of a losing team. “You poor, poor thing.”

“You’re evil,” Ash whispers.

“I know, and you’re absolutely mad about me for it.” Eiji winks and untangles himself from Ash’s cling. He swipes his bangs up and pecks him on the forehead. “It’s waiting for you downstairs.”

“‘It?’ What is ‘it?'”

Eiji is already out the door, down the hall before he can answer.

Ash rolls himself up with linen wraps and lays lax in their unmade bed, ruler of this citrus peel mausoleum. He curses to himself, at the sun, at his sweet-turned-sourheart. He wishes it was the weekend. Then, he'd have an excuse to stay in bed all day and never leave their room. He'd be able to snack on all the Eiji he wants without burning the roof of his mouth with acid fruit.

──────────⊹⊱🍊⊰⊹──────────

The low table is dressed with white lace placemats and their finest floral china— courtesy of Missus Mom Okumura. A carafe is the centerpiece, replacing the vase of lilies Ash had bought Eiji when he went into town. Ash looks through the glass, Eiji’s head bobbing in the saffron pool.

“Come sit,” beckons Eiji, motioning to the cushion adjacent to him. His smile is distorted by pulp. Cautiously, Ash enters. He keeps it cool, keeps it blasé as he shuffles his feet inside with his knuckles tucked into the waistband of his brief, elbows pointed outward. There, his place is set with wooden chopsticks and their granite stopper. And lo and behold, the main course’s presentation is that of a rose, blooming from its peel. He should’ve known.

“You’re joking.”

Ash would've laughed had the situation not been so ridiculous.

“I wish I was.”

“How is it that we have an infinite arsenal of mandarins?”

“Not infinite. The box is almost empty.”

“It took us four days of constant snacking to get to this point.”

“And it will take us one more to finish it.”

Ash points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna stuff myself with another one of those. My shit is literally orange.”

“Put me in a sanatorium then.” Eiji slides the plate in his direction. “Breakfast is served.”

──────────⊹⊱🍊⊰⊹──────────

Ash always liked train rides in Japan, liked how silent it was, and the comforting voice of the announcer telling them they’d arrived at their destination. Living in the countryside meant sprawling fields for hours until they reached the city, a scene Ash never seemed to tire of. A cow would greet him for a second before they were replaced by some grandpa with muddied ankles, before he was replaced by a young girl on a Tiffany blue bell bike, before she was replaced with…

As he stares out the window, he can see Eiji, sitting across from him cross-legged, peeling another offending mandarin. Ash sighs, trying to immerse himself back into his one-man game of I Spy. Eiji wins his attention again— he always does— and so Ash settles on watching Eiji’s reflection behind him.

Eiji always starts at the middle and digs his thumbs into the peel, pulling its skin off as if he were undressing it. Erotic, Ash thinks fleetingly. He strips it sensually, letting it unfurl into a sproutling. Juice drips down his hand when he carelessly breaks into its flesh. Eiji licks up from his wrist, the heel of his palm and sucks on a finger. Naughty, naughty. Ash smiles into his sleeve, letting the thought float up in his head and burst into a million soap bubbles.

Finally, for once this week, his mouth waters, parched. Ash supposes this is what it means to be in love. Even the most mundane of tasks can look enticing if your other half is doing it. He’s sure he’ll be over the moon about this snapshot scene for the rest of the month. He’ll count the replays of Eiji in the train instead of sheep just before slumber, ensuring him tender dreams.

“It’s a lucky sweet one.” Telepathic. Eiji seems to know exactly what he wants.

Ash nods.

Eiji breaks it into fourths, a fourth into a half. Instead of giving him a section, Eiji rises from his seat to sit beside Ash; crosses his legs, leans in, opens his mouth to say “aaaah” as he feeds him. Ash devours, nips his nail.

“There’s people in this car,” Eiji whispers sharply, eyes darting left and right. A man is reading the paper— a huge parrotfish is its cover story. There’s a teenage boy in the back fiddling with his phone, neon lights of his game reflecting softly on his face. A woman Ash presumes worked the night shift is sound asleep.

“No one’s looking.” Ash wraps an arm around him and scooches closer. “Quickly.”

Eiji, Mister Goody-Two-Shoes, puffs his cheek and scans the area one more time, switching his gaze from Ash’s mischievous stare to his near-empty surroundings. He surrenders and angles his head up, eyes closed, waiting, aching. Ash captures him.

“You taste like Sunday morning,” Ash coos, supping the remnants of his juice-glossed lips.

“Ever the poet.” Eiji, blushing, concentrates on turning more quarters into halves. “We still have four of these left. Hopefully they taste just as sweet.”

Ash is sure they will be.

He wouldn’t mind eating mandarins for the rest of his life so long as Eiji is peeling them for him.

[politics-notmything]

We fell in love in November

YEah, we back at it with another one shot... I don’t normally write these but after my recent post and the Parrlyn discord, now could I not 👀 Anyway, this took wayyyyyy longer than i thought it would - Part 15 of She Used to be mine is out tomorrow :)  

Tw- implied nudity (nothing over PG-13), bad language, coming out. 

The euphoria Cathy Parr felt around Anne Boleyn was extravagant. Even now when they lie in bed together trying to come down from their high, Cathy still felt energised. The writer rolled over to face her girlfriend, with the bedsheets pulled up to her neck and subtly smiled. Cathy ran her left hand through the Boleyn girl’s hair and cupped her cheek with the other.

“You look so beautiful,” Anne opened her eyes and grinned when she met with Cathy’s.

“As are you.” she simply replied as she moved forward to tenderly kiss her girlfriend. No one could’ve expected that Catherine Parr and Anne Boleyn would become a thing in their second life. Heck, they didn’t even know they had the possibility of a second life! Anne paused their kiss and Cathy looked unexpectedly at her gremlin, “You should tell Aragon.” 

The moment was ruined. 

Cathy tensed as she sat up, pulling the duvet with her and laughing when she pulled too hard, so Anne was left bare, “What?” 

“I said-” Anne smirked as she deliberately rolled onto Cathy’s chest, making her blush, “You should tell Aragon.”

“What if I don’t want to tell Aragon…” Cathy whispered, not looking away from Anne’s eyes.

“You can look at my tits, Cath, I don't mind.” 

“ANNE!” Cathy profusely blushed and shoved the Boleyn girl to the side, 

Anne snickered and pulled the writer into a cuddle, “It isn’t like you haven’t seen them before.” 

“But seriously,” Cathy hummed when she went back to being serious, “I don’t want to tell my godmother, she might not like it.” 

“But she came to pride last year and threw confetti at that proposing gay couple?” 

“That’s different. Not only am I her goddaughter, but I’m also dating the woman who stole her crown.” 

“Yeah, I feel a little guilty for that,” Anne confessed.

“You shouldn’t. ‘Lina isn’t mad about it now because we know you were forced to do it,” Cathy snuffled closer, “but it still doesn’t change history.” 

“She’s family Cath. I told Kat, now you should tell Aragon.” Anne gently kissed Cathy’s curls before removing her grip around the writer’s waist, allowing her to go downstairs. 

“I might.” Cathay smiled as she grabbed her underwear and a towel from Anne’s floor, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Cath.” 

Both queens had been dating for a significant amount of time, and their story started when they ‘accidentally’ made out in Cathy’s dressing room after Anne trapped them for an hour. After that, there had been a series of confessions, secret glances and planning from both parties, so they didn’t come across as suspicious. Then, once they felt ready, Anne told Katherine who has been a useful distraction when the lovers want some alone time. 

One of the first things Catherine proposed was developing small ‘habits’ that the others would believe. For example, Anne was known to sleep in, so they both took advantage of that when Cathy would sneak out of her room and cuddle Anne in the early morning before heading downstairs for breakfast. Another trick was when Cathy ran out of coffee and needed to take a last-minute trip to Tescos. Anne would always hide the coffee and midnight then plan a Tescos trip the next day when Cathy would happen to tag along. 

And it worked surprisingly well. 

“Morning Mija.” Catalin de Aragon was at the head of the kitchen table, reading a novel and drinking tea, alone. 

Cathy walked over to her coffee machine, “Morning ma, where is everyone?” 

“They decided to go on a walk. Katherine said something about trees helping you live longer,” 

Cathy suppressed a laugh, Anne...

“Yeah, I read that too.” 

“Of course, in our second lives, no one wants to take any chances!” Aragon continued, oblivious, “Knowing Kat, she probably just wanted to look at the dogs.” 

Catherine picked her fingernails, and her stomach churned over, “Can I confess something?”

“Of course…” Her godmother removed her reading glasses and gestured for Cathy to take a seat. 

“I’ve been seeing someone,” A beat, “romantically.” 

The confession slipped out and jumping the first hurdle was surprisingly easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t as straightforward as that. 

The godmother corrected her posture and licked her lips, “Oh? For how long?” 

“About 4 months.” 

“And you never told me?” 

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Cathy replied, sheepishly. 

While Catherine may not be her mother, it didn’t change how she acted like one. One of Cathy’s strongest memories was when Aragon comforted her every night after she was reincarnated.

“What’s his name?” 

Another hurdle appeared that Cathy had to somehow jump over - the gay hurdle. 

“He’s a she.” Catherine wouldn’t say she was scared of her godmother, but she certainly valued her approval and beliefs. 

The Spaniard paused to think this over before leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes, and smiling. The smile grew, and a flower of hope blossomed in the Survivor’s chest. Aragon then opened her arms for Cathy to hug her, and the writer reacted all too quickly. 

“I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me.” 

“Does this mean you’re okay with this?” Cathy mumbled into her shoulder, 

“Of course Mija! Now, who is she?” 

“Okay, okay” Cathy could burst with excitement! Even though her godmother didn’t know it was Anne, Cathy could still describe her lover in perfect detail. “She has dark brown hair, which has a subtle wave at the end. She is pretty pale, so her freckles stand out but her cheeks are always red because she is somehow always blushing!” Cathy continued to gush, “Her eyes are grey, but they change with the light, and her favourite colour is green-”

“You told Aragon yet?” Anne Boleyn leaned in the doorway with a giant smirk on her face, “or are you just going to keep describing my facial features?” 

Silence. 

Anne stopped as she realised what she’d said. 

Cathy looked between Anne and her godmother. She loved the gremlin, but she really needs to learn to read a situation.

Aragon stood and looked between Anne and Cathy. Her brain slowly puts the puzzle together in an organised fashion. The hair, the skin, the freckles, the blush, the eyes and finally, the favourite colour. 

The history hurdle. 

The grinding of Cathy’s chair against the kitchen floor wasn’t enough to pierce the tension between the 1st and 2nd queen. The writer took Anne’s hand, and cautiously walked her over to her godmother. 

“Anne, this is my Godmother. Ma, this is-” 

“I know who Anne is.” Catherine’s voice was a deadly monotone. 

The awkwardness had obviously got to the Boleyn girl who proceeded to bite her lip as she glanced around the room, eyeing the wall tiles with great curiosity. 

“Boleyn.” Anne’s head snapped back to the situation as the Spanish queen addressed her. “Are you dating my goddaughter?” 

“Well-” Anne didn’t know what to say, and thankfully, Catherine didn’t want to hear it. 

“Catherine Mary Parr.” Cathy flinched at the use of her full name. 

“Your middle name is mary?” Anne tentatively asked before Aragon shut her off. 

“Are you dating the woman who stole my husband?” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Cathy trailed off as her godmother rubbed her temple. 

“After all these years?” Aragon tried so hard to keep her composure, she really did. But some situations are just too much. “No puedo creerlos a los dos!” 

“I can’t fucking believe you both.” Cathy translated. 

“Después de todo lo que hago por ti,” The Spaniard flung her arms around, “así es como me pagas?!”

“After everything, I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” 

“Mierda, mierda, mierda, odio a los malditos franceses!” She turned to Cathy “Te estas follando ella?” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate the fucking french, and I verbally can’t repeat the final phrase.” 

“Are you?” ‘Lina demanded to know the answer.

“sí señorita.” Cathy’s reply was quick and timid.

Catherine turned to Anne, “First, you stole my husband, then you stole my crown, and now you steal my goddaughter?!” 

“Oh, I stole more than that from her,” Anne winked at Cathy who couldn’t hold her laugh as she remembered the recent events. She buried her head in the Boleyn girl’s shoulder to try and stifle it. Forgetting all about the angry Spaniard, Anne kissed the top of Cathy’s curls and smiled fondly down at her. 

That wasn’t normal. Catherine of Aragon knew how Anne Boleyn worked when it came to a relationship. She would look at her target with a seductive smirk and a classic wink, she would follow them around before leading them out the room in the dark and alone. Anne Boleyn would destroy families and ruin a country. Manipulate the king and destroy the church, but she would never look at someone with such value. 

In all the years Catherine had been alive she has never seen Anne Boleyn blush as much as she did now or look at someone with so much compassion and… love? 

“No me importa que seas gay” Aragon finally sighed. 

Cathy swiftly removed her head from Anne’s shoulder to translate, “I don’t care that you are gay.” 

“And I shouldn't care who you date either.” Catalina looked at the interlocked fingers. “Forgive me for being so crude, it was a shock.” 

“It was a shock to me too!” Anne quipped but received a slap from Cathy. 

“I apologise for my use of language too, it was-”

“Descriptive?” Cathy finished. 

“Extremely.” It was still a little awkward between the trio, but ‘Lina was determined to settle things, “I just want you to know that I accept you both as family and as lovers.” 

“Thank you, ma.” 

“I really appreciate it.” 

“Now, I know the others will be getting back soon so we should really get started on breakfast.” 

“Let me reheat your coffee, babe.” Anne carefully took the mug from Cathy, who whispered a ‘thank you.’ 

“I have to admit,” Aragon cleared her space on the table and handed her goddaughter the placemats, “You make a pretty good couple.” 

“Right?!” Anne beamed with delight,

“Does anyone else know?” Catherine continued, 

“Only Katherine and you. We both wanted to keep it on the down-low, but Anne said I should tell you because you’re family.” Cathy explained.

“Well, I’m glad you told me, even if it took some convincing. And know that I’m here for the both of you if anyone tries anything!” 

“We’re back!” The younger cousin’s voice echoed off the walls, and she bounced into the kitchen to see Cathy kissing Anne’s cheek as she was handed her mug and ‘Lina placing the apple juice on the table. 

“Did the air work?” Cathy asked Kitty as she took her seat next to Anne around the table,

“I feel younger already!” 

“I’m definitely going to be immortal by the end of the century.” Anna threw her hoodie over the back of her chair and poured herself some apple juice as Jane finally walked in. 

Once everyone was sat, Anne nodded at Kat from across the table and tried to suppress and smile as Cathy subtly linked their arms together. A small gesture of affection which had humungous meaning.

[amlovelies]

Savor

Here at long last is my @loveinwayhaven gift for @brightningstar I hope you enjoy it!

             It no longer struck Elizabeth as strange. At first, there was a certain discomfort to evenings like this. It had felt like a lapse in manners, her plate piled high while his placemat remained empty, only a glass of wine and her companionship to sustain him.

               It had been a long day, the promise of this dinner the only thing getting her through the last few hours of her shift. When the mayor had darkened her doorstep with only a half hour left, she had wanted to scream. Every minute in his company felt like hours, but that didn’t matter now.

               Her apartment looks different in the candlelight. Softer, dreamy, as if they are in a world removed. In a way they are, these evening that they have carved out for themselves. A few hours in which the troubles of Wayhaven and the Agency can’t touch them.

               The flickering light dances over the angular planes of Adam’s face, down the bridge of his nose, and she finds herself entranced by the stain the wine has left on his lips.

               “Is something wrong, detective? You seem a bit distracted?” He asks humor evident in his voice.

               “Not at all, commanding agent.” She says with a smile. She is happy to pay him back for calling her detective. There was time when it would have driven her crazy, back when every moment between them was followed by his pulling away, but not anymore. 

               “I was just wondering about the wine,” she reaches out to gently grasp the delicate stem of her glass. The liquid inside looks almost black, but as she lifts it the candlelight transforms it into a jeweled red, garnet perhaps.

               “Developed a sudden interest in oenology?” he asks with an arched brow clearly not falling for her attempt to cover her staring.

               “Maybe, thought it seems like an expensive hobby. How much did this one set you back?” she asks as she gestures to bottle.

               “This particular bottle?” he asks picking up the bottle to examine the label, “I cannot recall, but probably around $70.”

               “Why would you waste that much money? It tastes the same as a $5 bottle?” she takes a sip to test. It isn’t exactly the same as the cheap bottles she usually buys a little smoother perhaps, but not different enough to warrant the $65 extra.

               “It does not.”

               “We don’t all have super senses like you Adam,” she softly chides.

               “Even a human—” his lip raises slightly in a sneer, but it’s softer than it would have been a few months ago “—can develop their palette. I can give you some instructions if you’d like.”

               She nods, and is rewarded with a wide smile. One that is wide enough for the dimples to appear in his cheeks.

               It’s the type of smile she saves in a safe corner of her heart. It’s a tally she keeps of moments of happiness. Moments she never wants to lose.

               “Once you know what to look for, a wine can tell you many things. It can tell you where it is from and how it was made,” he says as he rises from his chair and makes his way into her kitchen.

               “Not unlike people I guess,” she says as she watches his movements with curiosity. “It’s not a perfect science, but you’ll be surprised what people will tell you without telling you.”

               He finds what he’s looking for and rejoins her at the table.

               “Do you have a sudden need for caffeine?” she asks as she gestures to the coffee can that looks dwarfed in his large hands.

               “It’s to cleanse your palette,” he replies as he opens it and offers it to her. “Most of what you think is taste is actually smell. It can be a powerful tool.”

               The familiar scent is overwhelming and feels out of place in the moment. It conjures up thoughts of morning routines and long shifts at the police station.

               “Now what?”

               “Now close your eyes.”

               She obeys feeling strangely vulnerable as she hears him round the table and come to stand behind her.

               She can feel his breath ghosting over her neck as he leans down to almost whisper into her ear, “now I want you to take a deep breath, inhale, and see if you can differentiate any particular scents.”

               It feels a little silly, but she trusts him.

               At first it just smells like wine, like alcohol and the memory or grapes, but then she inhales deeper.

               Raspberry, a hint like the memory of summer time indulgence. Tobacco, warm and earthy.

               A small sound of surprise and delight escapes her.

               “Now, drink.” His words cause a shiver to run down her spine as she feels the cool edge of the glass against her bottom lip.

               The raspberry is even more intense now; how had she not noticed it before?

               Adam removes the glass and she hears a gentle clink as it is replaced on the table. Then his hand is on her chin, brushing along the bottom edge of her lip, “open your eyes, Elizabeth.”

               Green eyes meet her hazel, and she feels lost in them. When he kisses her, she can taste the wine still on his lips. Raspberries will never taste the same again.

[365days365movies]

March 7, 2021: Onward (2020) (Part One)

Finding Nemo.

That’s my favorite Pixar film. Real talk, no arguments, and today’s movie? NOT dethroning it. This movie is so hard-wired into my brain, that the second I typed the words of the title, the theme song ran through my head, where it lives rent-free. It will be a cold day when I don’t find an excuse to shout “NEMOOOO!!!! I HAVE TO FIND MY SON!!” at any opportune moment. I will never stop swimming. Whenever I catch a Chinchou or Lanturn in a Pokémon game, I name it “Goodfeeling’sgone”.

SHARK BAIT OOH HA HA

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE DEPTHS OF MY LOVE FOR THIS MOVIE.

...Ahem. So, yeah, I love FInding Nemo. For the record, the sequel ain’t bad. And also for the record, there’s only one Pixar movie that I consider to be bad, and it’s the one you’d think. You know, the one about ageism. The one where somebody dies by torture? The bad spy movie?

...the second one about cars?

Which means, YES. I DON’T THINK The Good Dinosaur IS THAT BAD! Not exactly good, but its gorgeous, and just kinda boring, not outright terrible. That Styracosaurus, though...that dude is great.

Anyway, off of Pixar for a sec, huh? What about fantasy? I’m a big tabletop RPG nerd, and I’m currently the GM for a Pathfinder campaign, a Pokémon RPG, and a Mutants and Masterminds game, while also playing in a Pathfinder game as well. Yeah, I’m a busy dewd. But what I’m saying is, this movie should be preaching to the choir for me. I’m a Pixar lover who plays RPGs. I’m ready for this. I’m ready for CGI Bright. Which is another way of saying, I’m ready for a version of Bright that doesn’t suck.

So, why haven’t I seen it until now? I mean...COVID-19. This film got FUCKED. But, no matter! It’s on Disney Plus, I’ve got Disney Plus, so let’s get this baby STARTED! Let’s get updated on some Pixar! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

OK, immediately digging the soundtrack over the Disney logo as we jump in here! Very ethereal, very fantasy, very LotR, I LIKE it, I LIKE it! And then...long ago, the world was full of wonder!

We get a view of the world of olde, with magic and many mystical, mythical creatures living together and adventuring. However, as magic wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to use, it eventually gave way to technology, fading away in a world now very similar to ours.

Basically, it’s about the same as our world, except for a few different races, and the fact that dragons are basically dogs, and unicorns are basically raccoons, which is fuckin’ fantastic.

We enter the home of teenage elf Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) and introverted now-16-year-old who lives with his mother, Laurel (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and his older brother Barley (Chris Pratt). Barley’s a tabletop RPG nerd who’s also a fan of the magical past. Said obsessions cause a strain on his relationship with Ian, and with that of his mother’s boyfriend, centaur policeman Colt Bronco (Mel Rodriguez).

After a discussion about Barley’s recent attempt to protect an old magical monument from destruction, he accidentally damages the sweatshirt that Ian is wearing, which was owned by their late father, Wilder. Ian rushes out, flustered, despite Barley’s attempts to bond with him. Well, looks like we have a sense of the plot for this one.

On his way to school, Barley stops to get some food when he meets Gaxton (Wilmer Valderrama), an old college friend of his father’s. From Gaxton, he learns things about his father that he never knew, like that he was bold and standout. From there, Barely pledges to try and be more self-confident, like his father.

Whiiiiiiich, doesn’t exactly work once he gets to school. He fails to stand-up to a jerky guy at school, he fails in his driving class, and he fails to ask other high school kids to his birthday party. But to be fair, Barley helps a bit with that last one when he shows up with Guinevere, his busted-ass van with a unicorn painted on the side. Which is supposed to be uncool...but I kinda dig it, not gonna lie.

After that, Ian completely flubs the invitation bit, confusing the people he was talking to, and disappointing himself in the process. He gets a ride home with Barley, and goes home to talk to a tape recording of his dad. Which is...beautifully sad, and somehow very easy to identify with. So, yeah, it’s gonna be that kind of Pixar movie.

Ian talks to his mom about his father at his age, asking if he was ever unsure. She says yes, but couples this with a surprise: a gift from his late father, who died of a terminal illness shortly after Ian’s birth. The gift is for both Ian and Barley, and was meant to be opened when they were both over 16.

She gets it from the attic, and they unwrap it, where it’s revealed to be a wizard’s staff. Which is weird, because Wilder was an accountant. In a pocket of the wrapping cloth, there’s a letter written by Wilder with the narration from the beginning of the film (that “Long ago” bit).

Also included is a spell, written by Wilder so that he could see who his sons grew up to be. This “Visitation Spell” would appear to be a way to bring Wilder back for 24 hours. Barley, being the magic-lover that he is, tries multiple times to cast the spell with the staff, but fails to do so, much to his and Ian’s great disappointment.

However, when Ian tries to read the spell out of curiosity later, the staff begins to react, and the spell begins to work. Barley comes in as this is happening, and the spell works...halfway. It starts to fail, and Barley offers to help, but Ian pulls the staff away, and the spell stops as the Phoenix crystal inside it shatters.

Looks like another bust, but it’s not a complete failure. And if you’ve seen literally any trailer for this movie, you know what happens.

Although it’s just his legs and feet, it’s still Wilden Lightfoot (Kyle Bornheimer...technically). The boys decide to try and complete the spell, but need another Phoenix Gem to do so. According to Barley’s “historically accurate” TTRPG, Quests of Lore, they will be able to find one by accepting a quest from the place where all quests start: the Manticore’s Tavern. And so, the quest begins!

The brothers and their half-dad board Guinevere and drive to the Manticore’s Tavern. On the way, Barley convinces Ian to practice some spells from the games rulebook, but they don’t work because Ian’s not invoking his passion (or his “heart’s fire”, as Barley calls it). Meanwhile, Laurel figures out where they’re headed, but doesn’t know exactly why...yet.

After the journey, they make it to the Manticore’s Tavern, which is now essentially a themed Chuck E. Cheese’s restaurant, owned and managed by Corey (Octavia Spencer), a very overworked manticore. Which is pretty great, not gonna lie.

They try to get the actual map to the Phoenix’s Gem from her in order to conjure their Dad, but she no longer sends adventurers on dangerous quests, mostly because she doesn’t want to get sued by any injured adventurers. When Ian argues with her about this, she IMMEDIATELY DIVES INTO AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS/MID LIFE CRISIS!

It’s, uh...it’s kind of amazing. Having completely lost it at this point, she basically tears down the entire building with her bare hands and fire-breath. Unfortunately, the map to the Phoenix Gem is burnt in the process of Corey’s literal meltdown. However, as Wilden’s about to be crushed by a couple of falling beams, Ian taps into his heart’s fire.

Nice. They get out of there, and head out for the Gem, using a child’s placemat replica of the real map to make their way to a place called Raven’s Point. However, rather than just follow the goddamn map, Barley decides to go on much more dangerous road known as the “Path of Peril”, once again following the “call of adventure” and his gut.

Which...yeah, Barley’s not really considering the reality of this whole situation, which fits his personality. He’s a dreamer, despite the rational and reasonable solution in front of him. And, in case you weren’t sure, I’m pretty sure that isn’t a good thing.

Ian points out the correct point that what actually matters is that they send enough time with their father, and they do indeed take the straightforward path. Good! Barley listened to Ian’s suggestion after all. However, they hit another snag when the car breaks down, completely out of gas. Problem.

Meanwhile, Laurel makes her way to the Manticore’s place, only to find it on fire! She meets Corey, who tells her that she’s met her boys, and told them about everything...except the curse. Also, there’s a curse. Laurel, who is the best movie Mom ever, tricks a policeman interviewing Corey to diverting his attention away from her, and smuggles her into her car to help find (and maybe rescue) her sons. 

Stuck off the freeway without gas, a desperate Ian asks Barley if there are any spells that can get them more gas. They concoct a plan involving a shrinking and growing spell, but that immediately goes wrong as Barley tries to instruct Ian, only frustrating him further, and causing him to fumble the spell and hit Barley with it, making him tiny. 

They decide to head to a gas station, where a group of pixie bikers has just arrived. This backfires when Barley, lacking basically any common sense, ends up insulting the biker leader, Dewdrop (Grey Griffin) and her ancestors. Nice one, Barley. As they escape from the pissed off pixies, the tiny Barley is unable to drive, forcing the driver’s anxiety-riddled Ian to drive, overcoming his fears from earlier by force, being chased by the pixies all the way. It’s a pretty good sequence, to be honest.

Well, they escape the Pixies...but not the cops. And I think that’ll be a good place to pick up in the next part! See you there!

[oohfluffy]

TIHM Ch.11 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 1,839

chapter 11

What was he thinking? Am I that weak and dumb to believe him?

You scoffed as you glared at your locker door, Baekhyun's annoyingly handsome face entered your mind⁠. You just wanted to smack his pretty face on the wall.

"You alright?" 

You quickly closed your locker door, and smiled at your manager, Jisoo. You grabbed your brown apron with your small name plate plastered on the chest area, carefully wearing it and tying it to your back.

"Yeah, manager-nim." You formally said as you looked down, fingers successfully tying your apron on your back. Jisoo chuckled as she shook her head.

"Just call me unnie. Manager-nim is a bit awkward." Jisoo smiled as she looked at your apron. "Rocky's shift will end in a bit, he has this dance practice for a competition. That kid's dancing skill is no joke." 

As you and Jisoo went out of the locker room, you see Hyunjin on the cashier stand as usual. Jisoo mentioned that he's the most quiet kid in the crew, but the most matured one. You smiled as he looked up at you.

"You'll be the waitress along with Yeonjun today since Rocky will leave⁠—" Before Jisoo could finish, you see a black haired guy running out of the locker room. "now."

Rocky just bowed in front of you, and waved at Yeonjun on the other corner of the area. 

"Goodluck." You said, trying to be a little friendly to a co-worker. Rocky smiled appreciatively before glancing at the manager.

"I'll be going now, noona."

"Hm, do well." 

When the chime above the door rang, you immediately went to work. You've done a lot of part-time jobs before. Waitressing, transcribing, delivering, and many more, you did it all. Since freshman year, you sought for part-times, not because you wanted to, but because you needed to. After your grandmother died, you felt like you lost everything. 

She was everything.

You needed to do something for yourself, or else she'll be so disappointed in you. That's what motivated you to go on. Even if your friends turned out to be not as real as they are, you needed to get going. Even if you felt alone fighting your own battles, you needed to get going.

Because no one's gonna stop for your sake.

"Serve this to table 6." Mingyu said, making you bounce up from where you stood. He raised his eyebrows at you. "Nervous?"

You smirked. "Nah, I'm good." You swiftly but carefully took the wooden tray with two cups of caffè americano, a slice of strawberry shortcake, and a piece of garlic bread. Your posture remained confident and strong as you walked towards the table on the farthest right, just by the huge windows. 

"Your order, ma'am, sir." You formally said with a smile, placing the drinks on the round brown rubber mats for the cups. The plates on the bamboo placemats along with the fork and knife. "Enjoy."

You were on your way back to get another tray, when a customer raised her hand to order. You immediately took out a notepad from your apron before walking towards her. You greeted her before nodding at her statements. You still stood confidently and looked easy to approach.

"Well, she's a good waitress, huh?" Mingyu nodded his head before looking at his side. Hyunjin was staring at you with awe in his eyes, looking like a puppy who saw his master. "Am I right, Hyunjin-ah?"

The said boy blinked his eyes before nodding quickly. "Y-Yes, noona is."

⁠—

Sighing loudly by your locker, you tapped your fingers on the surface as you thought over your answers in the long exam you took an hour ago. Taking your lower lip by your upper teeth, you slightly frowned while remembering that one answer was uncertain.

"Shit." You mumbled under your breath incredulously. All the relief due to accomplishing the exam left your system, and was replaced by dismay.

That's why you shouldn't think about the exam after taking it. It's done. No matter how hard you contemplate the right answers, nothing will change.

"Why the long face?" You hear a familiar gentle but dark voice beside you. You shut your locker door and faced your cute senior on your left. You smiled as you slightly bowed. 

"Just post-exam thoughts, Kyungsoo sunbae." You sighed as you nodded at him. You glanced around and saw that there are a number of glares being thrown on your way. You cleared your throat before stepping back. "Lunch break?"

"Yep. I'm on my way to see the boys. You?" Kyungsoo said as he looked around, ignoring the stares he was getting. He probably got used to it already. 

I'm not putting up with that kind of attention either.

"I'll be going to my haven." You mumbled, shrugging as you looked back at him. His thick brows furrowed in curiosity, but his heart-shaped lips curved into a small smile. "Have a nice meal, sunbae. I'll get going."

"Oh." Kyungsoo nodded as he stepped away from you, eyes following your excited steps while you headed for the elevator in front of the current building. He tilted his head to the side in wonder. "Our building?"

You let out a breath as you pressed on the 4th button, the elevator doors closing instantly. You were alone as usual. It's been a few days since you last ate up here due to finishing up school works in the library as all resources are there. Since you have started working at night on certain days, some tasks were delayed and needed to be done quickly. This was your only free time to eat lunch there.

"I wonder if my pianist is here." You mumbled under your breath, slightly giggling at your claim. How possessive, Saejin.

The elevator dinged as it arrived at your desired floor. You stepped out of the lift and went to your usual spot near the staircase. Looking at the empty hallway, you caught a glimpse of the light through the last door on your left. The blinds inside are slightly open, so you could see that someone is using the room. You grinned in expectation as you sat down on the floor.

"Please play something." You prayed as you took out your lunch box in glee. Your eyes kept on looking back at the last door in the hallway as you ate your lunch, blinking rapidly while you waited for your favorite pianist play. 

Twenty minutes had passed and nothing was heard. You couldn't deny the disappointment you were feeling right now. You placed your empty lunch box inside your bag again, sighing as you leaned on the wall. 

"Maybe it's not⁠—" 

Notes filled the air, soothing sounds coming from the piano. It's as if it was to lead you into a dream. A beautiful one. You closed your eyes in relief, feeling the gentle taps of music into your ears. 

"With what words can I express this feeling?"

That voice. It was like the wind whispering in the form of singing. 

"How can I look at you for you to know what's in my heart?"

Your lips curved as the singing tickled your senses. It was lulling you enough to make you sleep peacefully, but at the same time, it makes you want to hear the end of it. 

No. You don't want it to end.

"No matter where you are, I'm loving you"

Your eyes opened a bit, feeling the welling of tears on the sides of them. Your lips quivered at the words he sang. It was as if his heart was the one who was speaking.

"I will be with you"

You sniffled, feeling a lump in your throat as you thought of your loved ones that you lost too early. 

"Always, my love for you"

It was as if he took the words you wanted to say out of your silent heart.

You quickly stood up from your seat and grabbed your bag. Your tears were waterfalls trickling down your flushed cheeks. You almost coughed, choking on the lump stuck in your throat. You walked back in the hallway, eyes piercing through the last door.

You stopped in front of the door without any intention to do so. Your feet just dragged you here. You unhygienically wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. Forcing to gulp down the roughness in your throat, you looked up at the ceiling to calm yourself. 

Let's just go down, Saejin. Go down. 

You closed your eyes as you calmed yourself down. 

Just a peek?

Tilting down your head, you opened one eye and slowly tried to see beyond the small gaps of the blinds. 

Just wanted to put a face on the person that keeps on shaking my feelings. 

You looked closely, nose almost touching the glass door. You can see the well-lit room now. There were various instruments on the left side, arranged neatly as if no one has been playing them for a while. There were mic stands too, and a small stage. Since the blinds don't give you the full image, you found it hard to see the piano. You keep on moving from left to right, until you see a white surface on the farthest right. 

"There." You exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief. "How unlucky. Why would the keyboard be away from the door?" You rolled your eyes as you stepped back. You couldn't see who was playing as he was on the other side, the lid was up, but then the music rack was so tall that you cannot even catch a glimpse of the pianist's hair.

You were about to peek again when the lights inside turned off.

That could only mean one thing.

"Oh sh⁠—" You bit down on your lower lip as you ran to the elevator. Quickly pressing the down button, you breathed in and out rapidly. You wiped your wet cheeks and tried to compose yourself. You nervously watched as the numbers on top increased. 

You hear the glass door opening with a squeak, resulting the drumming of your chest. You looked away from his side, trying to look casual and⁠⁠—

*TING

You almost jumped out of your wits as the elevator doors opened, eyes wide as a few students get out of the lift. With the new noise entering the once quiet place, you quickly entered the elevator. The students were chatting loudly in the hallway, until they went to the left as if seeing a celebrity. 

He's the only one there, right? He must be popular. Especially with his singing and piano skills.

You sighed as you pressed the close button. 

Maybe not this time.

"Byun hyung! You're here!"

Your ears perked up as you heard one of the students call. Byun?

And the elevator doors closed.

You stared at the doors for a while, the silence uncomfortable for the first time. 

"Nah. Impossible." You shook your head as you laughed it out until it didn't sound with humor anymore.

Is it?

—

♫ Ch.12

[melonkooky]

the art of love [kim taehyung]

not requested

word count: 3576

genre: art school/college!au, taehyung x female reader (mainly 3rd person), fluff

warnings: no warnings 😊😊

author’s note: decided to enter into @btsboulangerie‘s september prompt contest. i’ve been working on this the past few weeks since september started. i know it’s early and there’s still a few weeks before the deadline but i just thought i’d put it out there (mainly because i might forget to post it). also, i’m apologizing in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes that i didn’t catch!! 

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

taehyung raised a soft, half-asleep hand up to his face in order to rub the sleep from his eyes. he yawned in the process, soft sigh falling past his pink lips. he was exhausted to say the least, but that was because he had stayed up majority of his night finishing his most recent project.

it was a painting. he was attempting to mimic vincent van gogh’s style of art and integrating it with his own style. it was a simple painting of some buildings that he took a picture of while he was vacationing with his family a year ago in the united kingdom.

the painting was being held in his other hand as it was due today. taehyung walked onto the school campus, not expecting a lot to happen. but he noticed a small crowd of his fellow art students. it was hard to see as they were forming an uneven semi-circle directly in front of a brick wall. it was near the entrance.

quite intrigued by the matter, the tired look in his eyes vanished and his curiosity was peaked. being extra cautious of his painting, taehyung maneuvered through the crowd of students, mumbling tiny “excuse me”s every so often. finally, he reached the front and got a good view of what every was gawking at.

taehyung had to crane his neck back in order to get the full picture of what he was looking at, literally. he was close to the wall. at first, he noticed the shade of purple that was used. obviously it was graffiti, judging by the unique style of letters. it was a statement, a quote, that had been spray painted onto the brick wall. it read: “be the change you want to see in the world.” taehyung shyly smiled. he believed strongly in that quote.

after admiring the artwork on the wall, one that he knew would for sure anger the professors, he was about to turn around when his ears caught wind of some conversations.

“i wonder who did this…”

“it’s so pretty.”

“imagine mr. khan’s face when he sees this.”

taehyung also wondered who had done this. he was intrigued, drawn to the unique style of art, and the choice of canvas. still, he had to get to class.

taehyung forced himself through the crowd once more, checking to make sure that his piece of art hadn’t been ruined or contaminated in any way. once he was sure that it was fine, he hurried into the building, excited to get to class. taehyung had always admired art, it was a passion of his. for as long as he could remember, he would use whatever writing utensil he could find and draw on whatever was in front of him. his mom would always get mad at him when it happened to be a black pen and a placemat at the dining table. sometimes it would even be crayon on the walls. but with all the practice, taehyung’s art majorly improved. he loved how beautiful art was, and he always admired the deep, hidden meaning that some of the pieces had.

taehyung walked into the classroom, the life-changing quote still in his mind. that’s how to start a good day, he thought.

upon walking to his seat, he noticed that the classroom was completely empty. he was a bit early, he noticed when he pulled out his phone to look at the time. but, as he glanced around the vacant classroom, he noticed that there was a girl over in the corner. a section of her hair fell onto the side of her face while she used a pencil to seemingly shade something in. her eyes were trained onto the paper, not even leaving her sketchbook as her free hand came up to brush the section of hair behind her ear. she looked beautiful.

suddenly, she glanced upward, nearly giving taehyung a heart attack. he gasped. strange noises left his mouth as his cheeks changed from their typical sunkissed, golden color to a deep, cherry red. the girl remained staring at him, looking at innocent as ever. “h-hey.” taehyung finally managed to say, hesitantly moving around a few tables to get closer to her table.

“hi.” she replied, eyebrows raised slightly.

taehyung’s hand moved to the back of his neck. “sorry for staring.”

she blushed, a shy smile coming to her face. “it’s okay. you probably were just surprised to find someone else in here.”

or because you were absolutely beautiful…

taehyung cleared his throat. “yeah.”

suddenly, she glanced downward. “is that your project?”

taehyung’s eyes widened, cheeks red once more. he smiled proudly and help up his painting to her. “yeah. my reference was a picture i took when i was in england.”

her eyes were wide with amazement. taehyung noticed a particular sparkle in her eye, and he couldn’t help but feel even prouder. she seemed genuinely amazed at his piece of artwork. “wow!” she said quietly while running the tips of her fingers along each stroke. “it’s beautiful. so unique.”

taehyung grinned. “thank you!” then he glanced around. “do you have your final project?”

she looked down at her sketchbook before gasping suddenly. before taehyung could even blink, she was flipping her sketchbook over, causing her pencil to fling off of the table and onto the floor. when taehyung looked at the pencil, then her sketchbook, and then back at her face, she was bright red in color. taehyung’s eyes widened. “are you okay?”

“uh… yeah.”

she flashed taehyung an unconvincing smile, but taehyung didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. then, he bent down, picking up the stray pencil, and then handed it back to her, a smile on his face as he did so. “well, then.” he laughed shyly. “i’ll see you around i guess.”

she was still blushing, and seemed extremely flustered, but she still managed to say, “see ya.”

----

you sighed in relief as you watched his back while he walked away from you. your heart was still pounding against your ribcage, and your face still felt hot. once he was sitting down in his seat and became distracted by his phone, you flipped over sketchbook and found that you had accidentally creased a corner of the paper. it wasn’t too bad, but it still made your pout slightly. after one glance at your fellow art student, you picked up your pencil and continued sketching.

----

taehyung was proud that the teacher liked his painting. every time he looked at it, he remembered the countless amount of minutes he had spent on it, how he painstakingly painted each stroke. careful not to make any mistakes. his hard work paid off, he got a 100%.

after class, taehyung was ready to go back to his dorm. he planned on calling his parents and asking them if he could visit on the weekend and give them his painting.

while standing up from his seat, just after the bell rang, taehyung glanced behind his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the girl he had met earlier. for a split second, he wondered why he had never seen her before. but his question was quickly answered. she sat in the very back corner of the classroom, an entire desk - that could fit four people total - all to herself. she was also extremely quiet and mainly kept to herself.

taehyung felt like he was very similar to her. he did have friends that attended this college, but they had completely different majors, therefore, he didn’t have any friends in his art class.

the young art student glanced back over in her direction, only he caught her looking at him. surprised by that, taehyung looked away, feeling all of his blood rush to his cheeks. his hands froze, being in the middle of packing his sketchbook into his backpack. he wanted to look at her again, to see if she was still looking. so he did, only she wasn’t there anymore. she disappeared, as if nobody was there to begin with.

his shoulders relaxed, but his heart sunk. a strange feeling.

----

the next day, taehyung showed up at the same time. he wondered if she would be there already, just like yesterday. he was actually really looking forward to seeing her again, and he was wondering if he should try talking to her again. as he walked towards the building, he noticed that a few janitors of the school were working on cleaning the purple graffitied wall, although they had hardly made any progress. he felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards as he walked by, just as he slipped into the building.

the door to the art classroom soon came into view. as he approached the entry to the classroom, taehyung grew nervous. there was nothing stopping him, he had no reason to turn away and come back later. and yet, here was was actually considering it. why was he so nervous? he loved meeting new people, he loved making friends. taehyung found it easy and enjoyable.

taehyung shook his head, as if to shake away all his anxiety. with a deep, calming inhale, he grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. he looked around, finding the classroom empty once again, with the exception of the quiet, artistic girl sitting in the corner.

taehyung stopped, time seemingly to follow his en suite. the morning sun coming in through the tall windows was enough light for the classroom, and while it enveloped everything in a golden ray of light, taehyung easily took in the scene of her in front of him. how the sun gave her skin a mesmerizing golden hue, how he allowed him to see all of her. taehyung was falling in love.

the girl looked up, her beautiful eyes meeting his own. when she recognized who it was, she quickly turned a page in her sketchbook, attempting to hide her sketch. taehyung didn’t necessarily notice, his mind was far too occupied to think.

taehyung came out of his trance, his cheeks burning. he swallowed hard. “h-hi.” he spoke nervously.

the girl blushed as well, although it was hardly noticeable underneath the sun’s glow. “h-hey.” she replied.

taehyung walked closer to her desk. he kept his gaze away from her eyes, her face. he was too worried about how he had basically stared at her for a solid minute. “i noticed that you sit here by yourself.”

she nodded, a shy smile on her face. “yeah. i don’t have any friends in this class.”

taehyung felt himself smile. “yeah, me too.”

a silence fell between them, and it pained taehyung. what else should he say?

“um, do you mind if i sit with you? that way you won’t be alone.”

her eyes widened, her blush coming back. “yeah, yeah, go ahead.” she gestured to the seat across from her.

taehyung felt his heart skip a beat. she was so nice, and kind. it was hurting taehyung. he smiled as he pulled out the seat across from her, placing his backpack in the empty chair next to him. “so,” he said, pulling his sketchbook out of his backpack. “did you see the graffiti outside, by the entrance?”

she looked up, having started to doodle variations of flowers on the corner of the blank piece of paper. “o-oh, that. yeah, i did.”

“i wonder who did it.” he paused. “i liked the message, a lot actually. it’s always been my favorite quote.”

she smiled, “me too.”

“do you have an idea of who did it?”

the girl seemed to avoid his gaze. her eyes were trained on something outside the window now. taehyung stared at her, waiting patiently for an answer. she cleared her throat, “about that… that graffiti was actually me.”

taehyung’s eyes widened. “wait, that was you?”

she nodded.

a wide grin showed on taehyung’s face. “wow! you’re just good at all forms of art, aren’t you? graffiti, painting, sketching-”

she blushed as taehyung complimented her. “although, i wouldn’t say i can watercolor.”

taehyung laughed. “yeah, i have problems with watercolors too. it’s either too dry or too watery and then i can’t really blend or overlap or get the right color, so in the end, it’s just a mess.”

“exactly!” she agreed loudly.

“you know,” taehyung began, still laughing slightly, “i don’t know your name.”

“it’s y/n.”

taehyung smiled and reached his hand out. she gently took it, another blush coming to her cheeks. “taehyung.”

until the art professor arrived, taehyung and y/n talked about many other things, finding that they had a lot of things in common. and on the things that they didn’t agree with, they would playfully argue, and it only brought them closer together.

after class, before y/n could leave, taehyung called out to her. he quickly swung his around, reaching for her arm in order to stop her from walking away any further. she gasped in surprise, cheeks turning a bright red. taehyung himself was surprised. his cheeks gradually began to match hers. he coughed into his fist, releasing her arm. “sorry, i just had a question.”

she smiled at him. “yeah?”

“do you want to get lunch right now?”

she grinned widely. “that sounds nice. where do you want to go?”

“that’s a good question.” he replied, a shy laugh following after.

“how about…”

taehyung watched as her gaze moved around the room. she was thinking, trying to think of a place to eat at. the aspiring artist seemed to space out as he studied her, wondering how she managed to look so cute, because suddenly, she was waving her hand in front of his face. “taehyung?” the way she said his name caused his heart to skip a beat.

“sorry.”

“i said what about [restaurant name]?”

“yeah, that sounds wonderful.”

----

“i have another question.” taehyung spoke, swallowing his bite of noodles.

y/n looked up at him, attempting to slurp her noodles faster so that she could give him her full attention. “hm?” she managed to say.

“why did you flip your sketchbook over so fast? you were so flustered by it.”

y/n almost choked on her noodles. she hurriedly swallowed her bite, sitting up straighter. she prayed silently that her cheeks weren’t as red as the booth they were currently sitting in. “why do you ask?”

taehyung shrugged. “i don’t mean to pry. i’m just curious.”

“are you sure you want to know?” she asked him.

a weird, fuzzy anticipating feeling erupted in taehyung’s stomach. “yeah.”

she seemed hesitant, and taehyung wondered if he was making her feel uncomfortable. he surely didn’t want that.

y/n reached next to her and opened her backpack. she pulled out the sketchbook that taehyung was talking about. after she pushed aside her half-empty bull of ramen and made room to set down her sketchbook, she looked at taehyung. “please don’t feel weirded out by my drawings.”

taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed. he started to picture what he was going to see, both appropriate and inappropriate. he felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of inappropriate sketches.

slowly, she turned over the cover, allowing taehyung to see the first page. the first page was not what he was imagining. instead of nude drawings, there were sketches of birds, ones that he’s seen many times on campus. “wow.” he whispered, a smile on his face.

she continued. the next page was of a few realistic faces, some of the students he’s also seen in classes and on campus. a few pages later, he saw the rough draft of the graffiti on the wall. he spotted the written note in the top corner, reminding y/n to use the color purple.

“this is where it gets weird.” she warned.

taehyung didn’t understand. why was she being so shy? she drew amazing sketches and pictures, so realistic that it almost looked like they were just simply black and white photos.

y/n turned over the page, revealing a sketch that shocked taehyung. it was a picture of him, talking to one of his friends from another class. he was surprised how much detail she drew; the box-shaped smile, squinted eyes as he grinned, the shading on his face, everything about it wasn’t able to be described in words.

another page was turned and he recognized himself again, this time sitting in his chair in the classroom, drawing in his sketchbook. taehyung was in awe.

he glanced up at y/n, finding that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. her cheeks were still red, now matching the red used on the booths. taehyung’s jaw was hanging open and his eyes were wide. he definitely was in love.

seeing his reaction, y/n felt shy. she felt the need to slam her sketchbook closed and run out of the restaurant, away from taehyung. but she also felt a burst of confidence in her work. he didn’t seem disgusted or weirded out from her drawings of him. she often times felt like a stalker, convinced that he would never notice her.

but taehyung, he was in love. “wow, these are amazing.” he managed to say.

she smiled, “really?”

he nodded. “i could never match this skill.”

“you’re not, like, disgusted by me watching you and drawing you in my sketchbook?”

taehyung blushed. “not at all. i’m just surprised, and amazed.”

“taehyung,” she spoke quietly, “i don’t know when it began, perhaps it started on the first day of school when you first walked into the classroom, but, i like you. a lot.”

taehyung’s jaw dropped again. his cheeks were bright red, looking like someone has attached two giant apples to his face.

she giggled in response, afterwards biting her lower lip.

“i must be dreaming.” taehyung whispered. “i like you too.”

y/n smiled happily. “that’s a relief.”

“can i have your number?” taehyung asked shyly.

y/n nodded. she grabbed her phone from her backpack and handed it to taehyung, who put his own number into his phone. “you should probably text me, so that i know it’s you.”

taehyung grabbed his phone, just as the screen lit up. it was a message from an unknown number, but he easily recognized who it was from. it was obvious given the moment. it was a simple heart emoji, and taehyung swore he stopped breathing when he looked at her again.

----

months later

y/n cursed to herself as she glared at the painting in front of her. she had managed to mix the wrong color and in return, it ruined part of her painting. she needed to fix it. the only issue was, she had mixed that color in the first place because the white acrylic paint bottle had gone missing. she thought that she wouldn’t need it, but boy did she thought wrong.

with a sigh, y/n stood up from her stool. taehyung glanced over from y/n’s bed, attention pulled away from his phone. he had a small, mischievous grin on his face. y/n hadn’t noticed.

“what’s wrong, babe?”

y/n glanced at her boyfriend. she gestured vaguely to her painting as she walked over to the shelf across the room where all her art supplies were located at. she wondered if she had left the white paint bottle there by accident. “i messed up.”

taehyung watched eagerly. you wandered over to your art shelf and began moving things around, taking a random box off the shelf, searching through it, and then putting it back with a huff. you would check the same spots again and again, until your gaze gradually traveled up the rather tall shelf. and there, as the only item on that shelf because you couldn’t reach it, was the white acrylic paint bottle.

you heard a stifled laugh from the opposite corner of the room. you didn’t even need that sound to tell you who had done this. you turned around, an angry glare on your face. “kim taehyung.”

he finally released his cackle. he definitely was not holding back, and he was clearly enjoying this. “what’s wrong?” he asked while feigning innocence.

“you know what’s wrong.”

taehyung hopped off the bed, doing a slight skip afterwards, and then walked over to your side. he glanced up, a grin still seen on his face. “did i do that?”

you rolled your eyes. you shifted all of your weight on one leg before crossing both of your arms over your chest. “can you please get that down?”

taehyung reached up, easily grabbing the bottle, only he didn’t give it to you. instead, he opted to hold it up on the air. you groaned, “taehyung!”

“i need a reward.” he suggested.

you blushed slightly. “for grabbing the bottle that you put up there…”

taehyung wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. his lips were puckered out, and you were feeling yourself slipping. why did he have to be so damn cute?

finally, you pressed your lips to his. immediately taehyung deepened the kiss, clearly wanting more. you obliged, only while he was distracted, his arm came down. in the blink of an eye, you grabbed the bottle and pulled away from taehyung, a loud smack resonating after the two pairs of lips parted. taehyung stood there, surprised, as he watched you skip towards your canvas, pretending as if nothing had happened.

he sighed in defeat, shoulders evidently relaxing. “gotta love her.”

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Bonus Round: Hybrid, Again

Yeah, I lied XD Christmas Eve bonus round! And because everyone seemed really enthusiastic about this fic, I picked two chunks of Hybrid for you all. (And if I were to consider Fic-Mas: NYE Edition, I’d definitely like to know what you would all like more of - your choices are more Hybrid, any of the Unexpected Second Life fics, All These Broken Things, or seeing if I can dig up something from Memento Mori.) 

Onwards!

(This happens before Jasper bites Alice, after Alice’s first day at Forks High.)

Dinner that night was quiet – Dad and Simon seemed worried about my first day of school when I hadn’t reported making loads of friends, and loving everything about Forks High; I had chosen to omit my interactions with Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale when they asked.

Cynthia did most of the talking during the meal, and was slowly painting me a picture of her life – she was a good student, very popular, and loved any sort of club or co-curricular. Definitely a joiner. And absolutely bursting with excitement to start ninth grade next year, and finally be in high school.

“So, who did you hang out with today?” Cynthia finally turned to me. Her dinner plate was barely touched – she’d been talking too much to eat – whilst I was on my second helping.

“I didn’t,” I said, stabbing a piece of carrot.

“Really?” Cynthia frowned. “Who did you sit with at lunch?”

I wanted to smile at her middle-school view of the world. As if there was nothing more horrifying than sitting alone at lunch. And then I wanted to punch something because in a town this small, Cynthia probably had more friends at Forks High than I would ever have, and she was only fourteen.

“I went to the library. I need to catch up in a few subjects,” I shrugged. “And the cafeteria food was really bad.”

“It’s nice to know that things don’t change,” Simon chuckled. “Forks High always made the worst mac and cheese known to man. That stuff was a hate crime.”

“You said you weren’t behind in your classes,” Dad said to me, frowning. I guess as a teacher himself, the idea of his own daughter failing her classes was a pretty bad one, though I was a little curious why Cynthia and I attended a local public school when Dad taught at a fancy private school.

“Just a chapter or two in Algebra, and I think a little in Biology,” I said. “Nothing that I can’t get caught up in.”

“Okay, but if you find yourself overwhelmed or really behind, we can get you a tutor over the summer,” Dad said. “I looked over your transcripts, there are some gaps in your schoolwork we’ll have to address at some point.”

That was a polite way of putting it. There weren’t gaps in my schoolwork, there were great gaping holes. Even from before Mom died. But afterwards, there was foster care, time on the streets, my time at the hospital – I don’t think I ever technically attended sixth or eighth grade.

“You have your doctor’s appointment in the morning, Alice,” Simon jumped in. “I had an in with the best doctor in town, and he agreed to see you tomorrow first thing. Just so we can get your medications sorted.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically. Another doctor, paging through my endless file claiming I was completely bat-shit nuts. I knew I’d been living on borrowed time as far as medical intervention went. There was an entire pharmacy of psychiatric meds locked up in Dad and Simon’s room that the hospital had sent with me.

Simon had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the three pages of contradictory instructions, that he’d decided not to drug me until we spoke to a doctor in Forks. Which was definitely a good thing, since the medications the hospital had me on left me drooling into my pillow most of the time.

Or screaming for help.

“Carlisle is a really good doctor,” Simon said kindly, obviously seeing the look on my face. “Actually, an amazing doctor. Way better than we should be able to get out in the sticks. And he’s a good person – he won’t do anything that doesn’t sound right to him, and you’re comfortable with. I promise.”

“Everyone says that,” I said, suddenly full and wishing I hadn’t eaten quite so much. “They say, ‘We just want what’s best for you, Mary-Alice’. Then they find out I stabbed a doctor and they can’t sedate me fast enough.”

Rice fell out of Cynthia’s mouth when I said that. “You stabbed someone?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Cynthia,” Dad warned, but all eyes were on me.

Cynthia ignored him. “Why?” she asked, leaning forward. And I felt it, like something physical that wrapped itself around me. The memories; the fear and complete hopelessness. It was like I was being smothered. As if my ghosts weren’t already carved into my skin permanently, where everybody could see.

“Cynthia, enough,” Simon said sternly.

“No one ever cares about the why,” I said softly, looking at the placemats, a swirling pattern of orange and red. I remembered doing it, grabbing the little plastic scalpel, slashing from his ear to his chin, and being dragged away. Being drugged, strapped down and ignored, like some kind of animal; nobody ever asked me why I’d done such a thing, just assuming that it was my fault. “Can I be excused?”

“Certainly,” Dad said, looking worried. “Do you want us to bring you up some dessert?”

“Key-lime pie,” Simon offered. “My mom made it, so not quite as good as mine, but still worthy.”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

I slipped out of the dining room and upstairs, pausing on the stairwell to hear Dad and Simon lecturing Cynthia about pushing too hard and asking too many questions. That I had had a very hard life, whilst hers had been comfortable and happy.

Sometimes, everything that had happened hit me like a truck, and I just… I kind of just went through the motions. Locked every emotion down so that I didn’t have to deal with any of it. The pain, the terror, the complete misery. It was easier just to feel nothing.

I showered and climbed into bed, the scent of flowers wrapping around me. I thought about asking Simon for one of my sleeping pills, but that required energy and interaction, neither were things that I was up for.

Instead, I just curled into a ball and pretended to sleep when Dad and Simon checked on me, separately, later.  I didn’t manage to fall asleep until much later, after everyone else had gone to bed, slipping into soupy dreams of white rooms and not being able to move.

And then the dreamscape changed, clicking into place.

A vision.

There was no specific way I could tell the difference between a dream and a vision of the future, but I always knew the difference. I had no control over them – some nights, it would be an unending string of visions to wade through, and then nothing for weeks at a time. Mom had tried everything, but there was no way to instigate them, or to choose who or what I would see. Whatever my gift was, it did what it wanted.

I was in a living room with fancy art on the walls, and a piano in the entry way.

The vampires were gathered there – Rosalie Hale and curly haired bear-man were seated on the couch, though she looked agitated enough to jump up and pace at any second. A slightly older woman with light brown hair was seated at a small writing desk, tapping away at a laptop absently, with her attention on the group; Edward Cullen was standing with a light-haired man in front of an actual marble fireplace. And the blonde-boy was sitting in the window, staring out into the night.

“Does she know?” the man asked the red-headed boy with a gentle, patient manner that I wanted to like immediately.

“I don’t know,” Edward said, looking frustrated. “Her thoughts jumped around a lot. She never thought ‘vampire’. But she was alarmed by us.”

“What did you hear?” the woman asked, closing the laptop.

“At lunch, she hated the food, wasn’t particularly impressed with Forks in general, happier to be with her father and his family that she’d admit to herself. Then it was alarm bells, her trying to work out an escape plan. She was very, very concerned about Bella and her safety.”

“She warned Bella, verbally,” Rosalie pointed out. “To be careful.”

“Hm. And you had a class with her? Was she well then?” the man asked Edward.

“Distressed. She had scars that were seen by others when she was changing. Bella said that they were ‘bad’, over her back and her thighs. The other girls were focusing on a particularly nasty one on the back of her leg, so I don’t know the extent. I heard something about a hospital, and when I mentioned hospitals in passing, she became agitated.”

“I spoke with her step-father, and he expressed concern over her psychological state. Apparently, she’s had a history of mental illness and abuse, and he wanted someone he trusted to see her and work out how to help,” the man said. “From her records, she’s quite disturbed, though he repeatedly assured me that her behavior has been absolutely normal since she arrived.” The man looked over at the boy in the window. “Jasper, did you notice anything?”

He looked over. “Curiosity, agitation, worry, depression – the usual teenage maelstrom,” he said slowly, disinterestedly.

“If she’s mentally unbalanced, it wouldn’t be hard to stage an ‘accident’,” Rosalie said archly. “We wouldn’t even have to move; it could just be one of those things. She wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“Would be pretty rough on her family,” the big guy murmured, holding his hands up when Rosalie shot him a look. “Just sayin’, Rose. She only just got here.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about her that much, just yet,” the man said finally. “It’s always a possibility, but Edward, you didn’t hear her identify us; some humans are just more in-tune to their instincts. And there’s a possibility that her medical status can be used to our advantage if she becomes a problem.”

“What about Bella?” Edward asked immediately.

“If Bella could befriend her, that would allow you more access to what she’s thinking. That would be enough for the time being,” he concluded. “At a rough guess, I doubt Mary-Alice Brandon is going to pose much of a problem.”

Edward spun around to Jasper, a glare on his face. “Really?” he snapped.

“What?” the woman stood up, looking worried. I wondered if that was her default state of being.

“He thinks she smelt delicious,” Edward spat.

“Another singer?” the man stepped forward, looking downright alarmed.

Jasper heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he said, in that slow, dull manner. “Just a stray thought. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

“Maybe Bella should stay away for a few days,” Edward said grouchily, still giving Jasper a filthy look.

“Leave him alone, Edward,” Rosalie snapped.

“Please, like you wouldn’t break him into little pieces if he slipped up again,” Edward snapped back, and Jasper rolled his eyes and stood up to leave.

“Are we done?” he asked, and when the man nodded, he left the room, leaving the others to bicker in peace; everyone slowly faded away as my vision turned back into my dreams.

//

(This scene is far in the future - like Ch 13. This thing is The Slowest Burn.)

My pitching was clearly stronger than they anticipated; at least, the surprise on Emmett’s face as the ball smacked into the palm of his hand implied so. It obviously wasn’t as impressive as the pitches thrown by Rosalie or Jasper, but still better than they expected.

Of course, once all the Cullens acquiesced to my participation in the baseball game, Edward vocally encouraged Bella to join in as well.

“If Alice is playing, Bella can play,” was his argument, whilst Bella stood at his side, looking uncomfortable. Hell, she always looked uncomfortable. I wondered if anyone had ever introduced her to the concept of sweatpants and ice cream.

“Alice is less likely to drop dead if she takes a fastball to the face,” Rosalie scowled. I eyeballed the blonde; that statement felt very much like Rosalie was trying to work out how to dispose of me.

“Fractured skull at best,” I agreed serenely.

“Bella is still rehabbing her leg, Edward,” Carlisle said gently.

--

It happened in a second; the ball sailed from Edward’s hands, and Bella swung. She swung too early, and the ball flew past and cracked her across the face. I heard her gasp of pain, of the blood that seeped from her nose instantly, the sound of the bat hitting the soft ground.

And I looked around to see five hungry vampires staring at the blood that was pouring from her nose, Bella’s hands cupped over her face.

Esme and Rosalie were backing away; Esme’s face was concerned but strained, whilst Rosalie’s was blank – her attention was on Emmett, who had taken two steps forward before retreating, his eyes completely black.

Edward and Carlisle were focused on Bella – a broken nose was one of the few injuries I hadn’t sustained over the years, but I could tell from Bella’s reaction that it was excruciatingly painful.  The smell of blood was beginning to affect me, I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for…

For Jasper.

I looked over and he was still standing there, completely still.

If I had thought that he had looked feral the night that he attacked me, I was mistaken. He had still looked human then – sinister, terrifying and dangerous but still essentially human.

Now I was glimpsing the monster behind the man.

His eyes were, somehow, blacker than Emmett’s, and dull. His face was completely devoid of any kind of emotion, his gaze focused on Bella. I could picture his muscles tensing for the attack, and with a sick feeling, realized that Bella probably wouldn’t be the only one hurt today. No one else had picked up on Jasper’s intentions yet, and I was incredibly aware that I couldn’t stop him.

But I could certainly slow him down.

I darted across the field, my hair whipping across my face, and flung myself at Jasper, my arms wrapping around his waist. It didn’t escape my notice that this was the closest we had gotten physically, and I was trying to stop him committing murder.

“Please don’t, please don’t,” I chanted to myself. “Jasper! Stop it!” I finally cried out as he began to move forward, dragging me with him, and Edward finally looked up at the sound of my voice.

Jasper shook me off fairly easily, without looking down, and I knew I had to go into full fight-mode; it didn’t matter who or what Jasper was to me, I had to pull him back from killing Bella.

My leg shot out, and whilst Jasper stumbled for a second, but righted himself. I could hear Emmett and Rosalie yelling in the background, and when I looked around, Jasper’s fist came out of nowhere and caught me in the side of the head. For a second, I was seeing stars, and then I was back – Jasper had managed to get Emmett and Edward tangled in each other, Rosalie and Esme were hovering between where Carlisle stood with Bella.

[kae-karo]

waffles - a lil phanfic

yo waddup i wrote this a while ago when i had a cute waitress at a diner (no, this isn’t what happened to me unfortunately lmao) anyway enjoy!

waffles - 1.8k - no tw apply. just a fluffy meet-cute

read on ao3

“M’name’s Dan and I’ll be taking care of you this morning,” the guy says, as if Phil doesn’t already know this, “can I get you something to drink?”

The voice pulls Phil from his menu-gazing, though it feels a bit more like glazing with the way everything keeps going blurry and his focus keeps slipping; to be fair, it’s quite early and he’s yet to have any coffee. He’d just been struggling to remember why exactly he’d woken up in time to see the sunrise on his way over to the diner when he’d looked up to find that very reason offering him a tired smile.

“Hi,” Phil mumbles with his best interpretation of a grin; it’s only the second time Phil’s met Dan properly, if sitting at a table and being waited on by someone can be considered ‘meeting’, but he’s been enamored since the first second he laid eyes on him. Even clearly exhausted with bags under his eyes and a heavily lidded gaze, Dan looks adorable - fluffy brown curls rest atop his head, stuffed under a black baseball cap with the diner’s logo, and they’re a perfect match for the dark coffee-colored gaze he fixes Phil with.

“Coffee!” Phil finally says in response to Dan’s question, cursing his slow brain and his naturally awkward demeanor - of course his single functioning brain cell had to go and get distracted by the warm curve of Dan’s lips, full and pink and begging to be kissed. Dan swipes his tongue across them and Phil wants nothing more than to copy the movement with his own tongue.

“Sure thing,” Dan’s mouth curls up in a smirk, and Phil wonders if he’s been caught staring; but then Dan’s gone, off behind some counter, and he ducks down and out of Phil’s line of sight. Phil stays focused on the spot, though, waiting for him to reemerge - it’s not that Phil’s obsessed or anything, that’d be weird. He just...really likes the waffles here. The waffles.

Which is the only reason he’d come back - his first visit had been an early-morning-out-too-late sort of trip that had led him past the twenty-four-hour diner on his way home. His rather unfortunate second trip had been the next week in the later morning - much more his preferred time for breakfast - but Dan hadn’t been working- er, rather, the waffles hadn’t been...as...good…

“Your coffee,” Dan’s back already, pouring the steaming caffeine source into Phil’s mug with his lips pursed in a way Phil has trouble deciphering. What he doesn’t have trouble deciphering is the dimple in Dan’s cheek, and it holds him transfixed until Dan turns, until brown eyes lock on his own and he’s left with a warm feeling that crawls up to his cheeks and settles there.

But Dan just keeps staring, then tilts his head in a way Phil realizes means something, and he coughs out a hum in question; he can feel his blush deepening - he just had to go and get lost in Dan’s eyes like a sappy teen falling in love, didn’t he?

“I said are you ready to order, or d’you need more time?” Dan asks, and this time the words actually make it to Phil’s ears.

“Waffles?” He manages to get out, which earns him a poorly-concealed grin from Dan as he jots a note down on his pad, and there’s that dimple again. Phil forgets how to form words, though he’s fortunately left with a ‘I’ll get that order in’ and another brief moment of eye contact before Dan turns, so he doesn’t need to really try.

He ends up following Dan with his gaze again, across the diner until he disappears into the kitchen, presumably to put in Phil’s order. At this point, he decides it’d be quite stalkerish of him - more so than it already is - to keep staring at the closed door and waiting for Dan to come back out, so he makes a grab for his mug of coffee and focuses on adding the proper amount of milk and sugar.

It’s not til he’s just lifted the drink to his lips, intent on taking what he hopes to be a steadying sip, that Dan finds his way into Phil’s field of vision again; he’s balancing a tray on his shoulder - full to the edges with plates for a surprisingly large table for just past seven on a Saturday morning - and expertly unloading each dish with practiced precision. For some reason, this simple and probably rather uneventful act holds Phil fascinated.

And then Dan turns, tray tucked under his arm, and his eyes land on Phil. Who’s not even attempted to hide the fact that he’s been staring, not until he’s been very obviously caught; he lifts his mug the rest of the way to his lips, dropping his gaze to the coffee and trying not to think about how if he’d just added the slightest bit less milk, the liquid would be a perfect match for Dan’s hair.

He sips until he’s absolutely certain Dan’s gone, then waits another few seconds before lifting his gaze to scan the diner again - sure enough, Dan’s nowhere in sight, and Phil takes the time to collect himself; he really needs to not act like he’s quite so obsessed with Dan. He’s just here for the waffles, he tells himself again.

To be fair, they are quite good.

Phil busies himself alternating between taking sips of coffee and playing with the empty packet of sugar, commanding his thoughts to focus solely on how delicious his waffles will be - he does not let his mind wander to Dan, who seems to have disappeared for the time being, not that Phil’s thinking about that at all. Or wondering where he might’ve gone to, or wondering if maybe Dan’s already finished his shift and gone home and Phil’s botched yet another chance to-

And then he spots Dan carrying a couple plates, walking in Phil’s direction, and his worries evaporate and resolidify in the form of nerves mixing with the coffee in his stomach. Or maybe they’re butterflies instead of nerves, he has a tough time telling.

With every step that Dan takes closer, Phil expects him to stop staring, to turn his gaze toward another table - maybe that couple that looks far too perky for being up this early on the weekend, or the mum and her kid sat in the corner, both coloring on a placemat with tired smiles on their faces.

But he doesn’t, just keeps on walking right toward Phil until they’re both sort of just watching each other, and Phil has a very hard time tugging his gaze away from Dan’s. But he does, eventually, trying his best to pretend the dregs of his coffee are a decent replacement for Dan’s warm chocolatey eyes; because if he doesn’t, he’s sure Dan will frown, will think he’s weird, will tell him not to come back.

It’s a silly thought, Phil knows, but he has it anyway.

“Your breakfast,” Phil loses this pathetic little battle with his heart when Dan speaks, when he sets a steaming plate of waffles in front of Phil. But he has to look up, because curiosity wins out: Dan had been holding two plates, but Phil’s fairly certain he’s the only person here by himself.

Phil watches as Dan sets the other plate at the opposite end of the table with a clunk.

“Oh, I didn’t order-”

“Nope,” Dan interjects before Phil can properly argue that he’d only ordered a single plate of waffles - although, he was sort of too dumbstruck to say anything aside from ‘waffles’ so maybe Dan had just gotten confused; frankly, Phil wouldn’t blame him. He knows he’s not the most direct person.

Before Phil can properly ask, Dan’s pulling out the chair opposite him and settling in. It’s only now that he’s staring straight at him that Phil realizes he’s lost the hat and apron, just sporting a red and black jumper with his curls let loose in a messy fluff on his head. Phil must be staring, as Dan ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a moment - or several, really - of silence, then, as Phil does his best to process what’s happening; while he does, Dan’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and he bites his lip while he stares down to his plate. Then his hands grip the edges of the table, and he shifts like he’s about to stand.

“Sorry, this was- fuck, this was really awkward of me to assume- I’m not, I mean- fuck I’m tired and I really should just go, I don’t-”

“Stay?” Phil says before he can stop his mouth from moving, before he can let his still-sleepy brain think too hard on whatever’s happening; the only clear thought he’s got at the moment is Dan’s sat here, and he’d very much like him not to leave.

Phil’s actually quite surprised it worked - why, he’s not sure, but it’s rare for him to get what he wants, so he’s shocked this time seems to be an exception. But he’s certainly not about to complain. No, instead, his heart decides to race and remind him just how nervous he’d been to see Dan to begin with. And now Dan’s just casually sat across from him, offering a small smile and grabbing a fork and knife. Phil suddenly feels quite like curling into a ball and disappearing - he’d barely had a plan for what to say to Dan when Dan was just his waiter, now he’s got to hold a conversation? About what? He doesn’t even know why Dan bothered joining him.

It’s not til Dan lifts a bite to his mouth that his gaze meets Phil’s again, and Phil realizes he’s not blinked in quite a while.

“Are you gonna, like...eat?” Dan’s hand drops, the bit of waffle no longer poised in front of his lips - which, coincidentally, gives Phil a perfect view; they’re just a few shades darker than his cheeks, the ones that clearly haven’t yet cooled from his earlier- was he embarrassed? Did he actually think Phil wouldn’t want him to stay?

“Yeah! Yeah,” Phil rushes out, fingers fumbling to grab his own silverware and cut into the waffles. He shoves a not-syrupy-enough bite in his mouth as quickly as he can, both to break the awkward moment and to prevent himself from saying anything that might scare Dan away. Instead, he offers his best attempt at a closed-mouth smile as he chews. Dan just chuckles, but his shoulders relax and he points his fork at Phil’s plate.

“Good?” He asks, brows raised in a way that makes little lines across his forehead, but Phil’s more focused on the return of the dimple he likes so much. And chewing, which he should definitely keep doing. And he should swallow, too, he thinks, because that’s what a normal, not-obsessed person would do.

In lieu of attempting to respond - because there’s no way he can trust his own words right now - Phil just nods and hums out a sound he hopes Dan will interpret as positive. The waffles are really good. Which was definitely the reason he came here.

[gtsvnbys]

a whole new world

prince!jackson x royal tutor!you

so prince!Jackson

he's the most outgoing, happy, cheerful prince ever to be introduced to the kingdom

the public absolutely adores his positive attitude and caring, considerate manners towards everyone—royal or not

he's always on the move, so he's never in the visiting kingdom for a long time, which makes everyone miss him even moreeee

he lOVES LEARNING NEW THINGS

in every country he visits, he tries to learn the basics of their language

it may be a bit rusty and there's wrong grammar stuff, but he makes the effort and it definitely shows:)

adorably handsome and suave at the same time

he is incredibly humble and and grateful for the working staff and crew after dinners and ball, he tries to help the staff clean up by taking things to the kitchen for them

he also is sure to thank everyone for an amazing night

his role as an ambassador for his kingdom requires him to travel to many countries and know everyone on the royal court

so when he first sees you standing by the entrance when he lands in a new kingdom, he panics

bc he doesn't know your name

he intensely stares at your young face, locking eyes with you for a moment, before he hears someone with a familiar voice next to you

"ah! SOMI!" his attention is diverted towards her as he wraps her up in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning her around in the air

princess jeon somi is basically his kid sister, the only royal daughter in the royal kingdoms younger than him

and like a sister, she dislikes affection from her older brother

"jaCKSON!" she swats her arms on his back as he gently sets her down on her feet

in addition to you and somi, there's royal assistant jiwoo, who tsks her tongue at jackson

jackson formally bows to all of you, thinking you're another visiting royal, "excuse my behavior, somi, jiwoo. I wasn't aware you were entertaining another royal, excuse my behavior, princess..."

but instead, he sees the hem of your skirt hit the ground, looking up to see you curtsy to him, "I am (y/n), a tutor to the princess"

jackson is taken aback, "a tutor?"

you stand up quickly, your eyebrows knitted together in offense, "I am an educated woman, is something wrong with that?"

"n-no!" jackson immediately backtracks, "I think knowledge i-is beautiful! and everyone should be allowed to learn more about the world and the fact that you are a tutor is amazing! I didn't mean anything negative at all, there should be more people like you, eager to learn and teach, thank you for passing on your wisdom"

"oh," now you're taken aback, "uh thank you" 

he's smiling at you warmly and your cheeks tint themselves a light pink as jiwoo clears her throat, "prince jackson, the other diplomats are meeting in the study right now"

"right! I'll get going! I'll see you both later, somi, (y/n), excuse me" he bows and jiwoo directs him towards the study

you're still frozen when somi glances at you, a smirk on her lips, "(y/n)? you alright?"

"huh? yes!" you beam a smile at her, "let's start our lesson! today is all about economics, the mathematics and logistics behind the production, distribution and consumption of goods and services!"

you couldn't stop smiling to yourself as prince jackson's words echoed in your mind

later that night at dinner, the table is filled with much laughter and smiles thanks to jackson's colorful storytelling about his adventures all around the world

when all the heads of royalty and the visiting diplomats leave the room for bed, you usually stay behind and help clean up with the kitchen staff

and you're surprised to see the visiting prince helping some of the elder ladies, "prince jackson, shouldn't you be off for bed?"

"I will be, after this" jackson carefully stacks the placemats and folds the linens as you set away the candles and the metal trays, "and you don't have to call me 'prince jackson,' just 'jackson' is fine"

you nod, "pri—jackson, do you always do this?"

"this? of course, I don't think doing simple things like cleaning up or housework is 'beneath someone's station,' as others have referred it as. my mother always taught me good manners, I just want to do right by her and myself"

you lead the way into the kitchen, "(y/n), how did you start tutoring somi?"

you launch into the story of being scouted at your university, being the only female tutor well-versed in many of the school's subjects

jackson's in awe of your intelligence and knowledge, so he prods you with more questions about yourself

he ends up walking you to your room, the game of 1 million questions sadly coming to an end as he kisses your hand and bows goodbye to you

your heart has never beat this fast bc of a simple gesture

the next morning you and somi finish a morning lesson, there's jackson outside the door 

he offers to take you both out on an adventure in the somi's kingdom, but bc somi is busy with her other princess duties, it's just you and jackson roaming around

somi's texting you nonstop bc she's bored with everything but she's also keeping an eye on you two bc she has a feeling that someone likes someone and bc she wants to be in the loop

you and jackson dress casually with only jackson's guard watching you from close distance

jackson offers to buy you various foods, but you don't want him to spend money on you

he buys it anyways bc "he wants to eat it" but gives it to you anyways as he runs away from you to prevent you from giving it back to him

he likes walking with you into the open markets and bookstores, following behind you as you wander in and explore things on the shelf

at the end of the day, jackson walks you to your room again and kisses the back of your hand, leaving you grinning madly as you shut the door

somi: so how was your date? [10:23pm] 

you: it wasn't a DATE [10:28pm]

you: but I had a very good time:) [10:28pm]

somi: (Y/N)!! [10:30pm]

somi: how much of a good time, huh?? ;)))) [10:31pm]

you: soMI [10:32pm]

on days when you’re not available or out of town, jackson eagerly awaits your return he spends his time split between conducting diplomatic business, walking around the city square and helping ppl, or sulking talking to somi

somi: (y/n), you should come back tonight [9:12pm]

somi: jackson keeps asking me what time you’re coming back and keeps moping when I say I don’t know [9:13pm]

"sooo somi," jackson's avoiding eye contact with her as he asks her about her plans for the day, which is nothing but lessons with you, "would you, uh, mind if I sat in on your lesson with (y/n) today?"

she crosses her arms with a small smirk, "why? don't you have any meetings or appointments to get to?"

"no, not today, I have nothing planned" 

he secretly cleared his whole schedule

he quickly shakes his head "I just want to… to get to know what normal palace life is like! I want to see what a day in the life of jeon somi is like"

"mhmm sure" 

somi is 110% sure he's only going to lessons bc he wants to spend time with you, but she don't say anything else

you're writing on a chalkboard as they both slip in quietly behind you, "somi! you didn't forget your language book right?" she hums innocently as you turn around and you're caught off-guard, "ah—jackson! w-what are you doing here?" 

you're easily flustered by his appearance in the study room

"I just wanted to sit in on your lesson with somi, if that's alright with you, but I can leave if I'm—"

"n-no no! you're fine, you can stay, just don't distract somi" he nods and takes a looks at somi's book, "or me" you mumble under your breath

somi disguises a "too late" with a cough, having heard your mumble

but you switch into tutor mode and start the first part of your language lessons

jackson is v attentive during your lesson, watching you with intrigue and curiosity and waiting to ask a question or two at the end of your lecture 

when your back is turned and somi is working on a worksheet, jackson helps fill out the answers for her

"don't think I didn't see you helping somi with the answers" you say out loud to him as somi takes a restroom break

"I don't know what you're talking about" jackson's just simply smiling at you whilst sitting on your desk

"I know you can speak multiple languages, but you should let somi learn mandarin on her own"

he starts saying something in mandarin about helping you but then he switches to cantonese

you don’t know much cantonese, only the alphabet and some basic greetings

but you can infer that it’s something about him and you

"huh? what did you say?" you move closer to jackson, but lean back against your chalkboard

jackson's eyes go wide, "you don’t understand?? I thought you knew everything though!!"

honest to god, he does think you know everything, that’s how highly he thinks of you:)

"I don't know everything, but I did know that was cantonese" you remark to him, "what did you say again?"

"oh nothing important,” he says, "maybe I can give you lessons... in cantonese, I mean" he quickly adds

"well, I wouldn't mind that at all" you say, a small smirk on your lips

he tilts his head closer to you, keeping eye contact with you until you notice his eyes dart to your lips

romantic tension is buildingggg!!

jackson's leaning in so close till somi opens the door to the room with a shout, "back! am I interrupting anything?"

jackson retracts away and shakes his head, "no, nothing!" 

you turn around and pretend to wipe something off the board, hiding the small frown on your lips, "let's begin again"

when you let the two royals out of your lesson, somi teases jackson in the hallway, "you like (y/n), admit it!"

"somi, not so loud—"

"I saw that whole exchange between you two before you guys noticed me! you said tried asking her out in cantonese, jackson wang, admit it! you like (y/n)!"

"okay, okay! shhh!" he cups his hand over her mouth until she agrees to keep quiet

somi agrees to keep her mouth shut, but she decides to help play matchmaker with you two

"royal ball?"

"yes, you are invited as a guest under my name to next week's ball" somi states, flipping the pages of the novel

you narrowed your eyes in confusion, "it's for potential suitors to mingle around and ask for a person’s hand in courtship, all eligible bachelors and bachelorettes will be there"

somi agrees to dress you up and everything, more excited for her plan to commence than anything

on the night of the ball, after somi helps you get ready, you spot jackson coming out of your tutoring room, closing the door behind him as he jogs up to you

"wow, (y/n)! you look—" jackson has this look of amazement and delight in his eyes as you twirl around in the spectacular gown, making you forget about asking why he was in your tutoring room

seeing you look so beautiful almost makes him forget that he’s not the one escorting you:’(

the jeons arranged the pairings and they probably set him up with a royal princess

but when the announcer reads off the next pairing to go down the stairs together, "miss (y/n) (l/n) of the jeon family, escorted by prince jackson wang"

somi nudges jackson with a smirk, "you’re welcome" 

you and jackson lock eyes and you both begin to walk towards each other, wide smiles on your faces

he kisses your hand as he bows deeply to you, "ready for tonight, princess?"

you blush at the affectionate title as you curtsey and place your hand in his, "ready, my dear prince"

jackson continues to lead you around the ballroom, your arm threaded thru his and his hand firmly set over yours as he introduces you to everyone there

many of them assume you’re an adopted daughter of the jeons or that you’re jackson’s girlfriend or that you’re a princess from a far off kingdom or that you’re the woman jackson is courting aka jacksON’S GIRLFRIEND

so you give them a pleasant shock when you tell them you’re somi’s tutor, "it’s just... you’re so beautiful, and you’re just a tutor?" they all say backhandedly

you plaster on a fake smile on your lips, "I firmly believe that one’s beauty isn’t found in their appearance, but rather in the knowledge and wisdom they share. being ‘just a tutor’ isn’t a role one should take lightly, as they say ‘knowledge is power’"

jackson loves how composed and poised you are, even when you’re absolutely seething inside

he glares at everyone who doubts whether or not you should even be here at the royal ball

you impress everyone with your elegance and grace and intelligence and fluency in multiple languages

and jackson’s absolutely delighted to have the most amazing woman on his arm

he then introduces you to his groups of friends who happen to also be the other princes from the neighboring kingdoms

princes jaebum and mark keep to themselves and enjoy your company, watching jackson stare at you in amazement as you make conversation with them and him

prince jinyoung adores you, as he finds your intelligence a breath of fresh air when you mention something from the same novel he finished reading

princes bambam and yugyeom each ask you for a dance with them but jackson just pulls you away from them and into another dance with him and only him

jackson doesn’t like sharing you

dancing with him is easy, it feels like second nature being with him

he LOVES being this close to you and being able to wrap his arm around your waist

he spins you around so much that it makes laugh so hard and it leaves you super dizzy, so you gotta lay your head on his shoulder;)

he leaves to get you water when you spot somi talking to her fifth potential suitor across the floor and something clicks in your head, "jackson, why aren’t you talking to any of the other royal women tonight? you’ve spent this whole evening with only me"

"what’s wrong with that?" he shrugs

"but isn’t this night for courtship and marriage proposals?" 

"mhmm" 

you’re still very suspicious, "shouldn’t you be courting someone? or asking for their hand in courtship tonight?"

"I was planning to ask someone special but—" 

"but what...?" you wait for an answer, but jackson bites his lip till his expression changes

"wait! close your eyes" you close your eyes as he begins to pull you along, "wait, actually not yet, follow me first"

jackson leads the way back up the stairs, back to in front of a very familiar room, "and we are outside my tutoring room because...?"

he opens the door and on your board are cantonese characters written on the board with different sized blank lines next to a bubble that says ‘jackson’s cantonese lesson #1’

you look to jackson, "what is this?"

he smirks, "my very first cantonese lesson with you, and for the first exercise, you have to translate this phrase from cantonese" he taps a cantonese dictionary on your desk, "use this and solve the riddle"

"why must I do this?"

"just do it!!" he excitedly nudges you towards the board and you melt at his smile

after a while, you manage to figure out what each character means and build a phrase from it

especially with jackson helping you turn to the right page and everything

"‘could I take/have your a hand in a courtship?’" you stare at it for a minute, repeating it over and over bc something about the phrase seems off??

"oh wait, let me fix it!" jackson adds things to your translation, changing it to read "‘dear (y/n), may have your hand in courtship? -sincerely, jackson’"

"and the answer is..."

you’re too busy wrapping your arms around jackson to answer

xx

[minhyuwun]

34 and 2 with guanlin!! 😊

prompt: (34) date gone wrong + (2) “I had a lot of fun, surprisingly.”

genre: fluff

a/n: yay i’m so happy i finally have written a drabble for each member! also i’m trying to practice using kuanlin than guanlin if all of u dont mind hahahah

“Sorry, our restaurant has closed. Thank you for loving us for the past ten years,” you squint as you read the letter taped onto the glass door in front of you.

“Great. I drove for an hour to eat at this place and…” you look at the time on your watch. “My date hasn’t even arrived yet. I better text him.”

Kuanlin was startled seeing your name suddenly pop up on his phone. He sensed something was wrong, besides the fact that he was running late—on your first date.

“Oh no,” he mutters under his breath. “Good thing I have Plan B ready,” he starts to think as he fiddles with his car’s steering wheel. “I don’t have a Plan B.” He slams his head onto his steering wheel, trying to come up with something–and fast.

“Yep. This is how I die,” you thought to yourself. Looking around, you realize that the restaurant you were supposed to eat at was basically in the middle of nowhere. Thank god you both agreed to have lunch, otherwise this was the perfect place for a crime scene.

Kuanlin lifts his head up and catches a glimpse of a take-out sushi restaurant. “Yup, I have a Plan B!” He smiles as he parks his car immediately in front of the building.

Afraid of getting brutally murdered, you send him a ton of texts asking where he was. “All pride is forgotten in near death experiences,” you reassure yourself.

“Five more minutes?!” You look in shock as you read his reply. “Does he not care about me getting murdered? He was the one who suggested this place!” You stomp your foot out of annoyance, your patience shorter each second. “I’m definitely setting the bar low on my next date.”

Suddenly, a loud honk from a car startles your conversation with yourself. “Sorry I’m late!” Kuanlin shouts from the inside, immediately rushing to get out. “I’m so so so sorry!”

You turn to look at him, “You better have a Plan B, mister.” Catching sight of the paper bags he was struggling to carry, you jog towards him. “Hmm,” you raise your eyebrow out of curiosity.

“I do have a Plan B!” He smiles at you–his eyes squinted from smiling and the sun which has reappeared from behind the clouds. You were reminded what brought you to get out of your house in the first place. This guy right here.

You nod towards the paper bags, “This better be good.”

“Trust me. At least on this one,” he pouts.

“How could I? This looks like a perfect murder scene! And you said you grew up here! While I’m a complete stranger,” you gesture towards the number of lined up trees in front of you, “to all of this!”

“I am not going to murder you! No one is!” He laughs at your quite vulgar statement.

“Well, that’s exactly what a murderer would say!” Your eyes grow wide at him as you lend an arm for one of the paper bags.

“Just follow me,” he says as he picks up his pace and strides right past you.

You check the inside of the bag, making sure they weren’t murder weapons of some sort. “Dumplings,” you squeal. “My favorite!”

“Yeah, you texted that last night,” he shouts from in front of you. “But I really wanted to take you to that sushi restaurant. I didn’t know they closed down. It was a childhood favorite of mine and my family’s.”

“You did text that last night…” you were suddenly stopped in your tracks.

“Here we are,” he places the paper bag down on the freshly cut grass. “My favorite picnic place.”

You look over towards the river sprawled right in front of the both of you. Sparkling beneath the sun’s rays, like a pile of morning stars.

“Wow,” you take a deep breath—taking it all in. “For a second I thought I was really getting killed today, but…this, this is beautiful!” You smile.

“Sorry, really. For making you wait,” Kuanlin plops himself down. And carefully opens each takeout box, using the paper bag as your makeshift placemats. “I hope this makes up for it.”

“We’ll see,” you tell him as you sit down cross-legged right beside him. “If I don’t get murdered, then sure.”

“Stop saying that! That won’t happen! I won’t let it, so calm down,” he says with a chuckle. “Look! There are tons of people hanging out here! Even dogs!”

A smile never leaves your face as you turn to look around. Everyone sure was enjoying themselves underneath today’s warm weather. Honestly, this was pretty nice. Maybe even better than sitting inside a restaurant.

“How come we didn’t think of this the first time?” You ask him as you dip your dumpling in soy sauce.

“I actually forgot this existed,” he says. “I only remembered, like, an hour ago.”

“See! You didn’t have a Plan B!” You accuse him. And the both of you are left in a mess of laughter.

“Hey!” He tries to stop himself from laughing. “You caught me. But! But in my defense, I came up with something much better, so…” He shrugs, looking so proud of himself.

“You were still late, so…” you answer him back with a shrug. “Okay, fine. Your tardiness forgiven,” assuring him with a smile. “This is pretty neat. You’ve outdone yourself, Lai Kuanlin.”

“So…will there be a second date?” He mumbles. His eyes intent on the dumplings, afraid of your reaction.

“Well, I didn’t get murdered,” you chuckle. “So, yeah. I had a lot of fun, surprisingly.” You turn to look at him, the sunlight making his fair skin glow.

“This isn’t so bad, isn’t it?” He turns to look towards the river. “I’m quite surprised at how this day turned out too,” he smiles. “And I’m glad it turned out the way it did.”

“There’s no better way to do first dates,” you giggle. “Than a date gone wrong, turning out unexpectedly well.”

“I’m glad I got to do this with you,” Kuanlin says as he looks back at you. “‘Til our next one!” He raises his dumpling, motioning for a cheers. You laugh at how silly he looks, but you do it as well anyway.

“‘Til our next one! May you not show up late!” you say as you bump your dumpling with his, “and don’t worry, I’ve already set the bar low.” You playfully wink, hearing his laugh eventually fade along with the passing of the wind and the clashing of the waves—this, this may be the perfect date.

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Unexpected Guest

Today is a good day for Todd—though they mostly are, as of late.

He’s heard people, mostly the damned, mention the “good ol’ days”; these must be his in the making.

By the end of the afternoon, he’s improved greatly on his stitch counting and his triple crochets and, especially, in mastering how to properly turn his piece so his rows are no longer frustratingly mismatched. It’s still a work in progress, but Granny Ethel’s lessons are wonderful as always. Next up is learning how to incorporate another yarn color for bright, fun designs—or in his case, dark and atmospheric—after their midday break of coffee and desserts, of course. Because as fond as she is of his preferred black yarn, she insists he has to branch out from solids eventually. There’s no growth if one always remains in their comfort zone.  

Instead of coffee, however, Granny Ethel is in the mood for tea—and just as with everything else he’s inherited from her lifestyle, the art of brewing tea presents a difficult learning curve.

She doesn’t take her tea from grocery store boxes and tiny sachets—she doesn’t buy those in bulk because they only go to waste and sit stale in the cupboards. When she drinks tea at all (that is, when she isn’t in the mood for espresso), it must be fresh, and from organic, homegrown ingredients. For this reason, tea isn’t an impulsive choice of drink. It must be planned. It’s another lesson she’s instilled in him during his stay, and, the week before, they’d spent an entire morning identifying each of the specific herbs thriving in the back garden, and which parts were best used in which blends. Of course, he is well acquainted with the rosemary and sage, the lavender and thyme, the basil and juniper, and the chamomile and anise. But lemongrass is new, and it grows in abundance in the planters set on the windowsills.

Because it’s such a novelty, he chooses it as the main note and adds in chamomile blossoms to offset the citrus tang. It’s a challenge to balance it just right so neither is too overwhelming, nor too bland, and he doesn’t expect this to be a great attempt, but Granny Ethel is honest with her evaluations and generous with encouragement. There’s also the matter of heating the water to a proper boil, and not overheating the mix, then steeping it for the right amount of time…

Well, there’s a reason he never apprenticed to a potion brewer and enlisted in the debt collecting department for souls instead.

But for Granny Ethel, he tries his best.

The kitchen counter, small as it is, is a difficult surface to work with. The kitchenware is tiny in his hands, and if he isn’t careful when he moves, his horns scrape the ceiling above, sending a fine powder of popcorned drywall down like snow out of season.

Water sloshes out of the kettle and spills across the granite, some trickling down onto the tiles, and the small, fragile jar he mixes the herbs in cracks beneath his claws, but doesn’t shatter. He scoops out the blend with care and packs it loosely into a metal tea strainer, but even so, most of it ends up scattered across the counter. Grass and petals bounce and dive out of the tea ball as he fumbles to secure the latch, and by the end of the struggle, only a small portion of what he���d placed remains within.

He tries once more—and again. And once more, just until there’s an appropriate measurement of herbs trapped inside. Then, ever-so-carefully, he sets the tea ball into Granny Ethel’s favorite tea cup (the special one, decorated with playful kittens and ribbons and an elaborate, golden cursive “C”) and pours boiling water over it to steep.

A freshly-baked apple pie waits on the small, round dining table, taken fresh from the oven only an hour before. A sliver of the circle has been removed for tasting—and it is delicious. Slicing two pieces of the pie is a far simpler task than brewing tea, and Todd makes sure that Granny Ethel’s piece dwarfs the plate it sits upon, because she deserves the best. And bigger is better.  

The two dessert-filled plates sit across from each other, equidistant, on the table, on finely crocheted doilies that serve as placemats. The pastel yellow tablecloth covering the table is riddled in fragile, embroidered daisies and winding leaves and it screams spring despite the heat of summer weighing heavy in the air. He’ll have to find another to replace it with, soon. Maybe one with sunflowers.

As he considers this, the doorbell rings.

It isn’t something he thinks twice about anymore. Not since their new friend from the supermarket made it habit to participate in their weekly Yahtzee or domino nights, and their bi-weekly trips to the bingo hall.

Neither does Granny Ethel—he can hear her call to the door from the living room, remaining in her seat, “Come in, dear! The door is unlocked.”

But it isn’t a game night, or a bingo day.

It’s midafternoon on a Tuesday and the only thing scheduled for the remainder of the day is a rerun of one of their favorite TV dramas about two women in law enforcement.

The door creaks open—it’s something Todd’s been meaning to fix, though the home is sorely lacking in tools and hardware necessary for the job. If there was hinge lubricant around, it would fix it right up, but he may have to resort to cooking oil as a quick fix.

Curiosity gets the better of him. Carefully balancing the teapot and teacup in both clawed hands, he approaches the carpeted hall between the kitchen and living room to take a peek at the mystery guest. But multitasking, pouring the tea and looking at the same time, proves to be a mistake and in hindsight something he should have avoided.

The tea, so carefully prepared and brewed, overflows from the fine china cup, spills onto the matching, chipped saucer and steadily splatters the floor. Todd doesn’t even move, doesn’t blink, as it saturates the floral rug beneath his claws. The drips are the only thing moving in this scene removed from time, and all else stands still, even the dust in the air.

Neither of them expected a guest today—neither of them ever expected this particular guest. Mostly because one believes he is already present, and one believes he is too selfish to ever even have the passing thought to visit, much less call or write.

“Oh no, Todd, the carpet! Hurry now, dear, hurry, go and—no, I’ll go and grab a towel, I know where the cleaning ones are!”

Granny Ethel is the first to break free from the frozen atmosphere—though she refuses to acknowledge anything aside from the growing stain on the living room floor. Todd quickly rights the white china teapot hanging from his claws and holds his other hand steady to prevent the flooded teacup from dripping more hot tea to the puddle below. It doesn’t work—seems to make it worse, actually. It’s a vain task, so he gives up and cradles it all in his large hands, doing his best to keep the remaining tea contained in his palms. 

“‘Todd?’” says the clean-cut young man standing in the open doorway, a jarring juxtaposition to the black clothes and heavily-blackened eyes and metal accessories from familiar photographs—but even in the full Sunday suit, those downturned, bright eyes are unmistakable, and they are fixed unblinkingly on Todd’s decidedly un-Todd-like form. “Who are you?”

I’m you, but better, doesn’t seem like an appropriate response, no matter how true it is. Todd the demon holds his silence and doesn’t break the gaze, because it feels like a challenge.

This man is the human Todd, and he’s come to visit.

Today is a....strange day, for Demon Todd.

Tea time is no longer a pleasant, cozy time. Not with their extra guest, seated between them at the small round table with a (small) slice of pie of his own and an untouched glass of water—no tea, no coffee, for him. He’s tall—a bit too large for the small table, though Demon Todd is one to talk. But being who he is, it’s only natural he dwarfs everything around him. This Human Todd, though… just what is his excuse?

Granny Ethel hasn’t spoken a single word to the young man the entire time and her silence is strange. She’s usually such a chatty, friendly woman.

So they eat in silence—but not Human Todd. He sits still, staring with narrowed, mean eyes, on edge. But not entirely frightened, like the general public tended to be in his presence. It’s odd. Perhaps it runs in the family.

As he sits in the silence, he wrings his hands together—clean hands, like one unaccustomed to frequent physical labor. No dirt in sight underneath his nail beds. Not even flecks of old nail polish hinting at remnants of a secret grunge lifestyle never quite grown out of. Whatever he has grown into certainly isn’t that of someone who toils in the underworld or its culture, like his counterpart.

No, rather, it reeks of money. Given—not earned. And possibly taken, too.

Demon Todd has an inkling of why Human Todd is here. After all, he didn’t come alone. Accompanying his arrival were three large, expensive suitcases, stuffed full. Still sitting in the living room, out of place.

At long last, as the last crumb falls, Granny Ethel speaks.

“Well, dear, speak up, speak up. What brings you here?” she asks the young man as she pats at the corners of her wrinkled mouth with a cloth napkin, and she avoids speaking his name despite the fact that she must know who he is.

The words, though, aren’t entirely conversational. With the three of them sitting at the small table, it more resembles a conference—no, a hearing. Especially when she pulls up the thick, round spectacles hanging from crocheted strings around her neck and sets them atop the bridge of her nose to better see the new visitor.

Human Todd’s eyes drift warily from the long, sharp claws tapping silently on the tabletop, and he clears his throat before looking to his grandmother, wearing a sickly sweet and fake smile as he does. “Well, it’s been so long. So, so many years, Gran. I’ve missed you, see. Dad was in the wrong, and he treated you terribly. I understand that now.”

“Ah, Arthur…” she replies faintly, setting the napkin down on the table and folding her hands across her lap. Yes—she knows exactly who Human Todd is. But the behavior is still so unlike her. No joy, no sweet smiles. All gone, drained, as empty as the teacup set in front of her, but not even leaving the dregs of what she once was behind.

Demon Todd briefly considers kicking Human Todd to the curb.

“He said awful things about you, and I listened. I came here by way of apology, to take care of you, but,” briefly, and not without a flinch, his eyes wander to Demon Todd, and linger on the dark, hand-crafted shawl perched on his spiny shoulders, “it seems like you’ve already gotten that under control.” His gaze lingers, fixed in a poorly-concealed grimace. “Who are you, by the way?”

Granny Ethel speaks for him, and for a moment her cheer returns. “This is my wonderful grandson, Todd! He’s such a polite young man. And it’s true, life has certainly become easier, and better, since he arrived and helped out so, so much.”

Demon Todd can only nod, but if he could smile without it looking like several rows of craggy, sharp teeth gnashed together in malicious threat, he would.  

Human Todd wrenches his gaze away, and pulls at the collar of his pristine white shirt. His hairline shines with sweat, and it isn’t due to the cozy temperature Granny Ethel prefers to keep in the house.

“Then…who am I?” he ventures quietly, eyebrows furrowed in an odd mixture of confusion and shame. Ah, the bafflement of mortals.

“Why, dear, I couldn’t say. In fact, I’d say that depends entirely on you! Actions speak louder than words, don’t you know.”

The sweat creeps down his temples, shining in the faint light. “Right, I…I see.”

“But if you’d like a name…I would insist on Theodore. What do you think, Todd, dear?”

Demon Todd nods once more, pleased by the way the conversation unsettles the man. In fact, the situation is much like naming a pet. Although something fluffy and small, or covered in feathers, would be preferable to this sweaty human.

“Theodore it is, then!”

Human Todd—now, Theodore—switches his gaze between them, fingers tugging at his shirt collar once again. “Alright. Theodore it is,” he agrees, as if, perhaps, it has been his name all along, and using a shortened form of it had been a way to rebel, once upon a time. A memory lost to time. A privilege denied. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, Theodore, dear, how long are you planning on staying? I must warn you, showing up unannounced means Todd and I haven’t been able to prepare for guests. I’m afraid that means you and Todd will have to share a room until we’re able to make other arrangements.”

Theodore gulps audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing. He refuses to meet Demon Todd’s—just Todd, again, something of a victory—eyes. “Y-yes Gran.”

“And you must be aware of the house rules. Everyone contributes in any way they’re able.”

“Actions speak louder than words, right?” Theodore asks, shaky fingers reaching for the glass of water set in front of him. Not quite making it and falling still on the table, instead.

“That’s right, dear.” Granny Ethel smiles, at last. Full of her old joy again, as she should be. Renewed. Her eyes, large and owlish behind the clouded lenses, turn to Todd. “Now, Todd, won’t you be a dear and show our new house guest to his room?”

Todd looks to the dirty dishes on the table, caught between wanting to tend to them before taking care of any other, less important, duties.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Well, Granny Ethel’s word is law.

He rises to his feet—careful, always careful. Barely resisting the urge to let the ends of his horns graze the ceiling above Theodore so he gets a nice, healthy dose of powdered scrapings on his painstakingly slicked-back hair.

The man follows, cautiously, and keeps three steps behind as Todd leads him out of the kitchen and into the living room to scramble for his luggage, then down the hallway to the guest room, not making a peep, and not even stepping hard on the floors just to startle his counterpart a little, because one, it would flatten the carpets into ugly tracks, and two, Granny Ethel would want him to be a good host.

Theodore knows who—what—he is. Yet even when Granny Ethel is out of sight and out of earshot, he doesn’t question it. He simply goes about his business and does his best to ignore the hulking beast standing in the doorway, watching.

Though, between the two of them, Todd isn’t sure which one is the real monster.

It’s a conversation for another day.