#like I? put it in my phone calendar on the 19th! I think it's the 19th! I always said it was the 19th! but it wasn't?!

[moonlight-records]

Christmas via letters| OP81 (HAC #10)

pairing: op81 x reader

summary: after you break your phone and waiting to buy a new one, you decide the only logical way to contact your boyfriend is via letter for the holiday season.

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: ??

a/n: I FINALLY CAUGHT UP!!! day 10 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | current day | day 11

My dearest Oscar,

Oh my dear, Oscar, I do hope this letter finds you well. How these are very troubling times we have entered. I write this letter to you in the darkest of nights as slumber is near impossible. With you thousands of kilometers away my bed is so terribly big and empty and I am so terribly cold when I’m not in your embrace. Oh how I long for your embrace and to see your handsome face again.

Seriously though, hi babe! Did you like that opening? I hope so because that opening put a LOT of brain cells to work and we both know that I typically never have the brain cells. Now, you’re probably wondering why the hell am I sending you a letter when we can text or video call even though you barely answer your mom or me though since you’re always napping or flirting with Lando or Logan but I’m letting that go right now.

I am so glad you asked because my phone is…broken!! Isn’t that SO fun?! Before you ask, I am already one step ahead of you. Imagine it: a cold, bitter, and rainy Tuesday morning. I’m heading to class. Am I running late to class? Yes. Was it because I got myself a sweet treat? I am just a girl babe, just a girl. Anyway, I am making up for a great time and I will be early to my 8:30 class. Well, about that. I’m looking at my phone and I trip over my feet. Phone goes into a pothole puddle and is completely ruined so I have to wait till my next paycheck to buy a new one while trading in my old phone to get like a piss poor discount off my new phone.

I think I sent you a message on Instagram and TikTok from my laptop about it. I forgot that you aren’t on social media often like me which is very valid so I decided to send you a letter! Besides, I’ve always wanted to write Christmas letters but nobody I know wants to write letters anymore so you, my most loyal subject, are going to write Christmas letters with me! If you want, that is but I hope you do! Unless you want to be on social media to talk to your totally amazing, beautiful, funny girlfriend because I would not complain about that. Maybe you’d finally look at all those super funny cat memes I keep sending you! Well, hope to hear from you soon love

With much love,  Y/N

My sweetest Y/N, 

I will not be talking in the 19th century. I don’t think I can do justice compared to you but I can confirm that this letter has found me well and I will cherish it deeply.

Listen babe, you knew that when you decided to accept the first date you gained a very sleepy and polite cat from what the fans are deeming me. This should not be a surprise to you or my mom. Though I am not ignoring your text messages to flirt with Lando! Babe, how could you ever think that I would do such a thing? Lando is just a dork that needs constant supervision. Now Logan, on the other hand…babe that is my emotional support American. Are you telling me I CAN’T flirt with my emotional support American? Come on Y/N, you should’ve known that when you said yes to being my girlfriend that it was me AND Logan. We are obviously a package deal.

You dropped your phone in a pothole puddle? That’s…disgusting oh my god. I actually almost gagged at the thought of you reaching into the puddle to grab your phone. No wonder why my phone hasn’t been blowing up as much, babe I am so sorry. Both about your phone being ruined but also for my lack of checking in. Honestly I’ve just been recharging socially to answer emails and stuff. It’s taking much longer since you’re not here to cuddle me…still not an excuse. I wanna emphasize that I’m not excusing my lack of check in for the past few days. Promise to get better on that.

You know what, when you get your new phone, I will not only have opened all your wonderful videos but I’ll even send some back. Just you watch. Though in the meantime since you do want to send letters this holiday season, I guess we can so, do you have anything fun planned for the holiday season?

Sincerely, Oscar Piastri

Dear Oscar,

You answered!! Oh my god, baby you don’t know how excited I am for this. Also god, please do not remind me about the puddle. The thought still makes me shudder and gag. Though babe, you know me. I am not upset at all with you not answering all the time because it doesn’t really upset me. You know that because I know that you answer when I really need you to, which is like once in a blue moon. Like when I got the flat that one time and you so graciously got me an uber home. That was like what? Three months ago? Besides that, babe, show me a sign of life and I’m content for the day. Though are you admitting that Logan gets more attention than me? I might have to find our dating contract and revise that I get equal amount sir sleepy Piastri. But you’ll send me silly Tiktoks?! Oh Oscar, if you want to marry me, you should just ask me but this is so much better.

Oh! I don’t know. I’m helping mom this weekend decorate since it’s going to be the warmest weekend to handle the outside decorations. I’m going to attempt to help with the inside decorations since mom got grandpa’s Christmas village since we finally cleaned his house out. After that I’m kind of going with the flow, you know? Though mom has trusted me to do all the online shopping this year AKA she sends me screenshots and then tells me to order it with her credit card and hoard everything in my room, so. Eventually I will sit down one day and attempt to wrap though mom will probably redo it.

I know one day my friends want to go ice skating and see Wicked again. Now I am all for seeing Wicked again but ice skating? Babe, I fear if we go ice skating that you’ll get a call from me with all of us in the hospital. We can barely stand on our own two feet on a regular day and I know you’ve seen us. You know how clumsy my friends and I are but ‘tis the season, I guess!

Oh! We’re hosting Christmas this year, which will be very interesting. I mean, we got the space for sure but now that means fighting my cousin’s off so they don’t steal my plushies. Gotta defend ‘Mr. Artbag’ and ‘Sir Giggles’ you know? Do you have any plans for this upcoming holiday season?

Waiting for these cat memes, Y/N

To my darling Y/N,

Oh my dearest Y/N, the thing about our dating contract is that it has sadly ended up with me back in Australia so you cannot have it. Though I am willing to revise the contract to make sure you get an equal amount of attention as Logan, though I need something in exchange. Luckily, I have found the contract and as I review our agreement, I think if I give you an equal amount of attention, you have to let me buy you one thing you want every month. Would you be willing to agree to those terms? I’ll throw in 5 cat memes a week free of charge.

Oh that’ll be fun. My sisters wanted to go shopping and since I haven’t seen them I decided to go with them. I really became the bag holder though I wasn’t that upset because I did manage to find some of your Christmas gifts and actually get them with the assistant of my sisters. AKA they asked me what I was looking for and they found it by some miracle. I wish I had that special touch to find things I need–like mothers do you know? Anyway, besides that I don’t know. Mom’s almost done decorating and dad got the tree since ours sadly broke (we’ve had it for almost 10 years, we needed a new one) and they already decorated the tree. Though I might take Rosie and Basil out to grab some gifts.

Wait, you guys are going ice skating? Well, surprise, I’m actually coming out to visit for a bit. Logan and Lando want to hang out before Logan heads back to the states for the holidays so if you guys could try to schedule that about two weeks later when I’m around, I would love to go with you guys, though I would ask if Lando and Logan could possibly join? I have no issue in becoming a personal ambulance, especially if Lando is going to go ice skating. Save us all.

What are you doing for New Years? If you’re not doing anything, mom and my sisters would love to have you over. They miss you and they’re going insane without you having a phone to text them life updates. To be honest, I also miss waking up to all your messages and memes and getting real time updates about your life. Can I buy you a phone? Please?

Hope you get your new phone soon, Oscar Piastri

To the polite sleepy cat,

I talked to my lawyer about this new agreement in our contract and we have agreed to the terms you are requesting. Though I am not exactly happy with the terms about buying me one gift a month but you promise to send 5 cat memes so it’s fine. Though I will say, I am okay with it just being 5 memes a week free of charge if you cannot find any good cat memes. As long as it is a meme of any sorts I will overlook the buying me something for once a month.

Though on a serious note, YOU’RE COMING TO VISIT?! Oh my god, babe this is the best news I have ever heard. Yeah of course! I already asked the group and they would love to have Logan and Lando join us with ice skating! We were planning on getting dinner after if that’s okay with you guys? We’re not sure where we want to go yet but I’m sure we all can figure something out when we all meet up! Also, yes I made sure I was all bundled up, I’m not that crazy! Besides, I want to be able to smooth my dear boyfriend before the season starts without getting him in trouble for starting the new season a bit under the weather. 

Ha! Jokes on you, I already ordered my phone. I’m just waiting for it to ship because of course it wasn’t in stock when I went to get it in person. You know me, I just need a simple phone so I was going to get the same one as before. Sadly, it seems that my phone has become popular because they sold out in person! Oscar, do you know how devastated I was to venture out on my weekend to find out it’s out of stock? Truly, a dark day for me but my phone should be here before this letter is sent out. Promise that I’ll send you all my funny memes to make up for these lost times.

 As of right now, I don’t think I’m doing anything for New Years. I don’t know what the group wants to do yet but I think they’re all spending the holiday with their significant others so I would love to stay with you and the Piastri family! Are you kidding me? How else am I supposed to see Rosie and Basil? 

Well, this is probably coming around the holiday so, merry Christmas my love.

You’re probably napping, Y/N

To the golden retriever,

Hopefully, this reaches you before I arrive. I’m glad to know that your lawyer agrees with these new terms. Do you accept memes via powerpoint presentations? I have taken some time out of my very very very busy schedule to compile a list of the top ten, not five but ten memes that I have seen this week that I believe you will enjoy. Most of them are from the same meme trending on TikTok but I think these stories are right up your alleyway along with some cat memes. 

I’m glad you were all bundled up. Not that I would personally care if I got sick if it meant getting my mandatory kisses and cuddles that I’ve been longing for. Any trouble is worth it if it’s so I can see you. I’ve spoken to Lando and Logan and they have agreed that planning for dinner would be the best. Lando has done his usual request of no fish please and thank you. Damn. I was hoping that you didn’t order it so that could’ve been the free gift of the month on top of your Christmas presents. Whatever. Buying you a book will be a great second option and you can’t yell at me!

Oh haha, very funny. I knew this was going to be an issue when I brought you home but I’ll let it go, only because that means you’ll give me extra cuddles later for feeling bad. Kidding, kidding, but seriously. I’m glad that you can come over for New Years. It’ll be fun and everyone will be glad to see you.

Also, I appreciate what you did with the lipstick on this letter. Y/N, you truly flatter me. You think so highly of me that you’ll give me a kiss through the letter? Oh, be still my beating heart. I hope you like my washi tape decorations. I know it’s not on the level of kissing a letter but I think for the first time, it’s great. I also hope you like the polaroid attached as well, if it stays attached. Mom is pretty proud at capturing my failure of trying to build a gingerbread house.

See you soon & at New Years Eve, Oscar Piastri

[running-in-the-dark]

okay okay so I think this is what happened (and this is all about death and dying obviously so here's a read more)

my dad died of cancer and I was his carer for about the last 6 months. it increased as he got worse, so the last ~3 months I basically did nothing else, I slept 2 hours at a time at most because he'd get out of his hospital bed on his own to try to go to the bathroom. so he'd usually end up on the floor unable to get up and I'd have to go help him back into bed. but whatever, the only reason I'm explaining that is that I was very very tired and exhausted and basically not well.

but, I don't remember when exactly he died. I think it must have been a Friday night though? because I know when we called my mother to tell her, she insisted that we don't call a doctor to confirm his death until the Monday (because you're allowed to wait 48 hours or something, I didn't check, and I won't now, it was the worst 2/3 days of my life so I don't want to think about it)

it wasn't the Monday he died on, that was just when the doctor came (his GP, who looked at him for one second from the door and went yeah okay he's dead, goodbye and left basically). so it wasn't the 19th, it must have been the 16th. what the fuck man this is messing with my head

just looked at the time and saw that it's the 19th already (I don't know what date it is, why would I, I don't do anything). so it's the 7th anniversary of the day my dad died.

except. wait. for some reason I just had the thought 'something about that doesn't make sense' and I checked the calendar for 2016 and. I think I've been misremembering what day my dad died on??? for seven fucking years??? what the fuck

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: A Festive Day in the Life of Dan and Phil!

Date video was published: 12/20/2014 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 254

The 2014 DITL video! The last one had been back in August 2013. This is my absolute favorite DITL and probably one of my top five DNP joint videos of all time. Get ready for me to have way too much to say about it.

0:00 - sleepy morning + quiff Phil! We’ll see a surprising amount of that in this video.

0:05 - “almost a week till Christmas,” so they must have filmed this just a few days before it was posted

0:25 - no waking up Dan in “his” bedroom like in the first two DITL. Hmmm...this scene doesn’t seem staged at all...especially since Phil’s laptop is already open on the arm of the sofa. Unless he just left it like that overnight.

0:37 - love that the other advent calendar on the mantle in the one they made. 😂 There are 18 of the doors opened on it, so they’re probably filming this on the the 18th or 19th of December.

0:47 - they both jump into doing the theme music as soon as Phil says “titan”

0:57 - that is pretty late for them to be putting up the decorations! Phil looks sad about it too.

1:01 - sad tinsel. I think Phil had the silver piece in the background in his last video. And the little WALLE in the background here, from all the way back in PINOF. 🥺

1:17 - this domestic insight, just 😭😭😭

1:26 - full circle back to the first DITL video. I wonder if they watched the previous DITLs before filming this one.

1:41 - so many mugs.

1:48 - Dan did not want that one because it was very hard to actually drink out of as he discovered in DITL London. I really bet they did watch the previous ones shortly before this...so many references back!

1:55 - awww, happy warm Phil

2:13 - such a dramatic sigh but he goes to get it anyway!

2:25 - well that is a terrifying way to burn a tealight...put it on a dish!

2:33 - I love that there is no explanation for this in the video. Phil is superstitious about new shoes on the table, which they had both tweeted about before.

2:40 - Dan fashion show and an encouraging Phil

2:47 - immediate smile when Dan notices Phil there

2:56 - why does Phil looks SO GOOD in this clip. also, as usual a weird/slightly horrifying poem from his brain.

3:02 - love that they both decided to wear holiday jumpers. They also wore these same ones for their December radio show. Also the Dan lean-in 🥺

3:12 - PJ tweeted about this DNP visit!

3:27 - this whole leaving scene is possibly the most domestic part of any video - the candle argument, the coat adjustment, the stop in the bathroom to check their hair, Phil checking to make sure Dan has keys, the spider checking and joking... I mean.

4:13 - more throwback conversation to DITL London

4:35 - so glad he chose not to lick his hand. Even more horrifying in 2021.

4:40 - Dan talked about this and falling up the escalator in What not to do on Public Transport

5:00 - “bit corporate isn’t it?” but caves immediately because Phil wants to. 

5:10 -  Love that Phil orders while Dan finds a table. Love that Phil makes Dan draw something happy not just a sad face. Love Dan’s huge smile after that.

5:33 - Dan really can’t say much he was reading his phone in the clip right before this!

5:58 - Dan’s talking about this weird incident that Phil posted a clip of on LessAmazingPhil

6:18 - they always go to at least one nerdy shop in the first DITLs!

6:36 - the things they choose to zoom in on in this shop...Dan with Spiderman’s crotch a few seconds before this and now Phil on the shirtless guy book cover. subtle, lol.

7:29 - I had actually heard of this board game prior to this video because Wil Wheaton did a TableTop episode. I remember being so surprised to see DNP wanting it!

7:39 - Phil and his weird people encounters. 😂 And Dan just mocking him for it.

7:59 - they did, in fact, go to see Matilda the next summer.

8:10 - oh my god this clock scene. Of course Phil wants to make a game of it. And then Dan with the seemingly slight fudging of what he was pointing at. And this look and then both of them giggling. 👀

8:32 - that start of Dan’s running! This is around the time or shortly after he had started to see a therapist (according to the timeline he gave in Daniel and Depression), so thinking he probably wanted to start for his mental health.

9:11 - Dan talks about the “guy wearing the white sheet in Manchester” in What not to do In Town. Their reminiscing faces are too much.

9:19 - Phil is so excited about this. He had tweeted a couple times in the past about Moomins (1, 2)

9:37 - the excitement about the treats and the festive drinks and decorations and Phil’s teasing 😭

10:04 - they film fairly often in the back of cars and I just feel like must be so awkward, but it doesn’t seem to bother them. And Phil’s hair is quiffed again!

10:28 - and the stairs song! Which they are too prepared for so it must be a regular thing they say/sing. This video has SO MANY moments that I love.

10:51 - Phil just sitting while Dan hauls the tree box out. Maybe Dan lost rock-paper-scissors.

10:59 - reminiscing about THE TREE now, which is the last time they decorated on camera

11:09 - why is this a common theme in DITLs!? lol. Love that they’ve lit the candle again after getting home.

11:22 - “stop doing that” as he can’t control his giggles. sure.

12:03 - okay, Phil had to go get the other decorations! The “Christmas faces” are slightly horrifying

12:22 - that is the most horrifying. also, Dan and Phil themed toys/decor even in the bathroom.

13:02 - Dan’s little messed up piece of hair in the back is so cute. Also love that they have the garlands up and everything at this point too.

13:19 - even more quiff-Phil!

13:31 - their fridge contents are not great

14:04 - unexpected filming but a huge grin anyway from Phil. Also, how do they make just answering the door so awkward, lol. Also: what is that picture in the background in the bathroom(?)

14:32 - they’re so excited about this set up and dinner plan

14:43 - and now glasses Phil! Also, arguing about wrapping neatness. I love it. Although when we see Phil’s wrapping in a minute, I think I might agree with Dan...

15:03 - PJ will end up with one of these face banks

15:10 - Phil came up with some decent gifts for Kath this time, although he didn’t think she had good ideas.

15:18 - I find it so cute that Dan wants to keep the cookbook

15:30 - Dan looks almost embarrassed to share this. He’s also got something “12 Days of Christmas” themed in that blue box on the chair. Although apparently a lot of his family just wanted money.

15:37 - I have no words for Dan filming this closeup and then them choosing to keep it in the video.

16:16 - Phil’s trying to be all serious with his wrapping tutorial and then the tape just immediately falls. 😂

16:40 - “it’s endearing” Dan does look pretty endeared, lol. Dan’s concerned because the face banks are actually gifts from both of them, at least according to PJ

17:04 - wow, Vine mention

17:25 - Dan’s just expecting Phil to come up with a great pun on the spot. Also, the lobster thing is an old reference.

17:39 - I think I mentioned this in the last DITL post, but I like that we do see even in a short video that they spend some time alone. That’s just so normal, especially for introverts even when you’re that comfortable with someone.

17:45 - Phil will keep reading that book over the holidays

17:48 - we did see the inside of the chest. So what is Dan implying here, lol.

17:52 - well then. Dan’s giggly face though.

18:08 - soft piano Dan 😭

18:25 - Ariana Grande had sent them both cat ears after they met her for the radio show

18:37 - a glimpse at the early gaming channel set-up.

18:46 - we don’t actually see that footage in the gaming video

18:51 - it must be pretty late at night by this point considering it was dark when they came home 

19:15 - Phil’s first instinct is to throw it of course

19:18 - this face and the sweater paws. I can’t. 😭

19:25 - and of course a joint ending. 

19:40 - Dan is so sleepy and happy seeming here

20:13 - awwww 🥺 The last video of 2014!

One difference from the first two DITL is they don’t even pretend that they’re going to see other friends/invite someone over. Just the two of them hanging out and they seem quite happy with that. This is probably the most “domestic” of the DITL videos. I love it so much.

Phil went to his parents’ on the 23rd to celebrate Christmas. He had Swedish food, was very excited as usual, got a stocking with a toothbrush and animal socks, and watched Guardians of the Galaxy. Dan went to his family’s on the evening of the 24th after a candle incident (lol, though I love that he was burning the candles even without Phil there. He started the tradition of yearly Christmas pictures of Colin. And also posted this.

On to the 2015 videos, and the start of the TABINOF/TATINOF era!

[lovely-ateez]

Silver Nights With You~

ꕥPosted: 12/18/20

ꕥGenre: College!au, Christmas Imagine, Fluff, Angst & Smut (You know it’s gonna end happy, I’m a sap)

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Mingi

ꕥSummary: You get stuck in a cabin with Mingi and shit goes down( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ꕥWord Count: ~4.9k (Holy shit I’ve never written this much before I am so sorry)

ꕥWarnings: Angst, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my dudes), Praise (m & f receiving),

ꕥA/N: This is the most angst I will ever write, I was genuinely on the brink of tears while writing this because I honestly can’t stand people being sad. Anyway this literally took me days to write and I really hope you all like it :)

ꕥTagging: @raysanshine​

“It’s fucking cold.” I took a sip of my hot cocoa, burying myself deeper in the mountain of blankets on my lap, glancing at the snow falling outside.

Wooyoung scoffed and spread his arms along the back of his couch, “It’s December, of course it’s gonna be cold.”

I turned back to him, “Okay, yeah, but I’m still gonna complain about it.”

“You complain about everything.”

“That is a gross over-exaggeration that portrays me in an unfair light and, frankly, you should be ashamed.”

My closest friend smiled, showing his slight dimples. His eyes drifted to my own, smile fading slightly. “What do I have to do for you to join us? Even for an hour or so?”

I sighed. Wooyoung had been bothering me about coming to our friend Yunho’s annual Christmas party for days now, but I simply wasn’t in the mood.

“I’d rather not go at all.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

A year ago at the same party, my boyfriend Mingi broke up with me. It wasn’t a bad breakup, but it still hurt. He was set to study abroad for the next year and it just made the most sense to him, he told me. So who was I to stand in the way of his dreams? We decided to cut contact shortly after, it being too painful for us to even have small talk. We hadn’t talked since.

I’d spent the following year in a limbo, trying my hardest to enjoy my newfound independence, but ultimately failing, my thoughts somehow finding their way back to Mingi. Everything reminded me of him.

Rainy days made me think of the way he loved to dance with me in the rain, spinning me and smiling wide, warm raindrops messing up our hair. Sunny days made me think of the times we’d both take off work to have picnics, making wishes on dandelions. Stormy days made me think of how we’d cuddle up to one another and watch a trash movie, making fun of the characters’ bad choices. He was a part of me. He always would be. I suppose two years of dating does that. I suppose they take a part of you with them, too.

I told myself I healed. I told myself I was over him. But deep, deep down I knew I wasn’t. Part of me never would be.

“He won’t be there this year, if that helps at all.”

I remained silent, refusing Wooyoung a response, looking down at the carpet.

“I get it. I know what you’re going through. It really wasn’t that long ago that Aisha broke up with me.”

My eyes darted up. Wooyoung hadn’t talked about their breakup with me yet. I refused to push him, knowing he was still in pain and that he’d tell me when he was ready.

“It was for the best but I can’t pretend like I’m gonna move on soon. We were dating for a year and a half for god’s sake.” He let out a bitter laugh and turned to me, “I know it’s tough, but would you do it for me? Please come.”

“Okay.”

-

The high shrill of a female voice rang out through my phone, leading me to pull the device away from my ear.

“I knew Wooyoung could get you to change your mind!”

“Arin I get that you’re excited, but I’m gonna go deaf if you keep yelling.”

“Ack I’m sorry! I’m just so excited to see you! It’s been, what? Five months since I saw you last?”

“Yeah something like that.”

“Well anyways, I know it’s probably tough for you but I really appreciate you going. I know everyone else will, too.”

I tried to push down the longing I felt for Mingi, remembering the previous year in far too much detail.

“Yeah it’ll be nice to see them.”

“Okay I hate to cut it short but my boss might actually fire me if he finds me on my phone again.”

“You’re literally dating him. There’s no way in hell he’d fire you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Shh not so loud!”

I rolled my eyes, knowing I was speaking no louder than usual.

“Alright. Take care then. I’ll see you at the party.”

“Yep! Love you, girly!”

“Love you, too. See ya.”

My phone beeped, signaling the end of the call.

I checked the calendar hanging on the wall of my bedroom. Three more days till the party and I was dreading it more and more.

A knock at the door startled me and I made my way over, opening the door to find Wooyoung standing before me with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t a guy just drop by to say hello to his best friend?”

“He can, but you only do when you’re up to something. What is it this time?”

“Nothing! Scout’s honor!” He lifted a hand to make the famous three-fingered salute. 

“You were never a boy scout, dumbass.”

Wooyoung brought a hand to his chest, mocking offense, “I’ll have you know that I simply brought flowers over as a thank you for agreeing to come with us.”

“Aww really? Do you wanna come in?”

“Yeah, really. But nah I can’t stay, I just wanted to drop them off.”

“You’re sweet.”

A cocky smile formed on his face, “I know.”

He passed the flowers over to me, giving me a hug and saying his goodbyes. I watched him walk to his car, a little skip in his step, wondering how anyone could let him go.

-

I grabbed my warmest jacket and walked out to my car. Today was the day I’d been dreading for weeks. Today was the day I’d have to put on a brave face and pretend I was alright. I mentally hyped myself up as I slid into the driver’s seat.

You’ll be okay. You’re strong. You can do this.

Snow was already starting to fall and I made a mental note to be careful. After all, Yunho’s cabin was roughly an hour away.

As I drove, the snow began to fall much faster, leaving me no choice but to feel concerned. My car didn’t have four-wheel-drive and what if my car got stuck? I was only fifteen minutes away but in snow like this with such a low temperature, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk the rest of the way.

The sun had already begun to set and seeing the road becoming much harder. Only four more minutes with the current speed I was going. I could make it.

Of course, the universe wasn’t having it and my car broke down almost immediately after I had the thought.

“Fuck.”

I panicked for a brief moment, trying to start up my car with no success.

Wait. My phone.

Grabbing my phone at rapid speed, I found it out of battery.

“I literally just charged it what the hell?”

I tried my best to cope with the fact that I had no choice but to walk the rest of the way. Taking a deep breath, I opened my car door and braced for the cold wind.

Trudging through the snow storm, I felt my ears and hands begin to hurt from the cold. I could barely see where I was going, having to rely on remembering where the cabin was based on the times I had been there prior.

Eventually I spotted a cabin in the distance and kept going, feeling myself lose heat with every step.

Finally, I climbed up the stairs and reached the main doorway.

I knocked loudly against the large wooden door, silently pleading for someone to answer. After waiting a few seconds with no response I tried to turn the door knob, grateful to find it unlocked. 

I pushed the door open and entered, quickly closing it behind me. Warm air rushed over me and I never felt so thankful for indoor heating. The inside looked the same as it always did; the main door lead to the living room which had the same snow globes above the fireplace as always, the same Christmas decorations scattered throughout, and the Christmas tree in the same corner as usual.

I shivered and moved to find a blanket when I saw a tall figure enter the living room. I looked up, feeling my heart drop. Standing before me was the one man that I didn’t want to be here.

Mingi’s eyes widened and mouth opened, looking at me with surprise. It seemed both of us were frozen, unable to do anything other than look at one another.

His rich chestnut hair was longer than when I saw him last, it was parted in the center, reaching his eyes. He was wearing a fitted green sweater that complimented his honey skin and tight ripped jeans. I refused to allow myself to acknowledge how attractive he truly looked. I refused to tell myself how much I missed him and how I wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to say, hating how timid my voice sounded. It’s because of the cold, I thought.

He seemed to come out of his trance, “I could ask you the same.”

“I’m here for the Christmas party.”

Mingi gave me a confused look. “The party isn’t until the twenty third.”

Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes, “It is the twenty third.”

He raised a brow and took his phone from his pocket, turning it to me, ‘December 19th’ it read.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I huffed, moving to sit down on the couch while running my hands along my arms for some sort of warmth. Mingi noticed immediately and left the room only to bring back several thick blankets.

I removed my jacket and wrapped the blankets around me as tight as I could.

“My car broke down a while back and my phone is dead. Is there anyone here that could give me a ride?” I didn’t want to spend more time with him than I had to. It hurt too damn much.

Mingi gave an apologetic smile, “I’m the only one here, actually.”

I gave the man a confused look, “Why are you here?”

“My second semester ended so I’m no longer studying abroad. I came back to visit friends but didn’t have a place to stay so Yunho has let me stay here for a few days.” He was silent for a few seconds before adding, “I was gonna leave before the party I-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s fine.”

Silence.

“I would take you home if I could, but my car is being fixed right now so it isn’t here. We could call someone maybe if that-”

“Yeah that’s fine. Can I borrow your phone?”

He nodded and handed it over. I didn’t notice it when he showed me his phone before, but his lock screen was different. It shouldn’t have hurt to see that it changed from a selfie of us to a picture of him with friends I assume he made abroad. It shouldn’t have. It had been a year, I should be over him.

I opened his phone without needing a password and tried to hide a smile. He never had a password in all the time I’d known him.

Good to know some things never change.

I dialed Wooyoung’s number and pressed the call button.

“We are sorry, but at this time your service provider is out of range. Please-”

Great.

I handed back his phone, “You don’t have any signal.”

“That’s odd, we always have service here...Do you wanna charge your phone? Maybe you’ll have better luck?”

“Yeah.”

He left the room and I placed my head in my hands, trying to process seeing him for the first time in a year. He was devastatingly handsome and still as kind as always.

I really miss him, don’t I?

His voice started me, “Hand me your phone, I’ll plug it in for you.”

I passed my phone over, accidentally touching his warm hands and I felt a spark run through me which I did my best to ignore. With almost comical timing, just as Mingi reached a plug-in, the lights went out.

“Uhh...that’s not supposed to happen.”

I scoffed, “No kidding. Do we have a generator?”

“Honestly, I don’t think we do.” Mingi gave me a sad look, “It’s been snowing hard outside for hours so there’s no way we’ll be able to leave now. Even with a car.”

“Awesome. I love to hear that.”

“At the very least we’ve got food to last us a few days. We should be okay-”

“Do I look like I want to spend several days here?” I snapped.

He looked taken aback at my words and I felt a pang of regret in my chest.

“I’m not sure we have a choice.”

I hated to admit it, but he was right.

“Do you want any food?”

“Huh?” I asked, confused.

“Are you hungry? I could make you something if you’d like.”

I thought for a moment. “Yeah, actually. If you don’t mind, anyway.”

Mingi shook his head, walking to the kitchen. I didn’t realize how hungry I really was until he mentioned it, so I didn’t care what he made for me.

Minutes later he placed a plate and cup on the coffee table in front of me.

My favorite sandwich and chips. He remembered.

It should have been considered kind, but it just broke my heart a bit further. It was a simple act, but it proved that he stored it in his memory.

He remembered.

“I hope it’s still your favorite. I got you your favorite lemonade, too.”

I nodded, trying to prevent tears from spilling.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure what to do.”

“Lighting the fireplace would probably be a good start.”

He laughed, “Ah you’re totally right. I’ll be back with a lighter, call out to me if you need anything.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Stuffing my face with the sandwich, I hummed. I always loved his sandwiches. There was something special about them, knowing that he made them for me, and this one was no different.

Mingi once again returned, this time with a lighter and a blanket, lighting the fire and sitting down on the couch across from me, wrapping himself in the blanket.

I couldn’t help but wonder how I possibly ended up in the current situation. Maybe the universe was out to get me. Who knows?

I took another bite of my sandwich, hoping I’d be able to leave soon.

-

I briefly glanced over at Mingi to find him on his phone.

Lucky. I wish I had mine so I wouldn’t be so damn bored.

The crackle of the fireplace was the only noise for what seemed like an hour. Neither one of us spoke. Growing tired of not doing anything, I stood and walked towards the fireplace to admire the snow globes. I noticed that behind the globes rested a photo album. I debated whether or not I should open it for the span of a few seconds before my curiosity got the best of me.

Opening it up, I saw pictures of all of our friends from the previous years of Yunho’s Christmas party. I began to walk back to the couch with my eyes on the book when I tripped, some of the pictures falling out. Mingi noticed and quickly rushed over to my side.

“Are you alright?” He was careful not to touch me, I noticed, but he was still right by my side.

“I’m fine, just help me pick these up.” I motioned towards the pictures scattered across the floor.

“Of course.”

We resumed our silence, picking the photos up and placing them back in the book. Noticing Mingi had stopped helping me I looked at him, prepared to make a quick jab at him for not helping, when I saw why he stopped.

In his hands he was holding a picture of the two of us kissing, dated two years prior.

I let out an empty chuckle, devoid of all humor, “I don’t know why that’s still there. Here,” I reached out to take the photo, “I’ll throw it away-”

“Don’t.” His response was immediate, taking me by surprise. He shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat, “I’d like to keep it.”

My heart felt like it stopped for a moment, hoping he missed us as much as I did.

“Why?” I asked.

Mingi smiled, still looking at the frozen image of the two of us. “Do you remember this day?”

“Of course I do.” My eyes began to water without me realizing, “That day was the first time you told me you loved me.”

His eyes found mine, sadness within them, “Yeah. Yeah it was.” His voice became horse as if he was fighting back tears.

“I didn’t want to let you go.”

“Then why did you?”

His eyes drifted down. “I was traveling halfway across the world for a year. I guess part of me thought you would meet someone else. I wanted to save myself the heartbreak in case you did.”

“I would’ve gladly stayed with you if you had asked. I have no desire to meet anyone else. Ever. You are the only one for me.” I froze, the realization of my words hitting me.

Mingi looked at me, “When I was abroad, I missed you every second of every day and I have missed you every second of every day since.” His hands cupped my face as if I was made of glass and a single tear fell down his cheek, causing my own tears to spill.

I was no longer able to speak, and so I did the only thing I could think of: I kissed him.

I kissed him with all the hurt that I felt after he left me. I kissed him with the deep love that I still felt for him. I kissed him with the fear that I’d lose him once again.

Our kisses soon grew heated, the photo album quickly forgotten, and I found my arms wrapped around his neck, hands running through his soft hair while his found their way to the bottom of my sweater, toying with it.

“Do you want this?” He growled, voice much deeper and raspier than before.

“Yes.”

With that, he pulled my sweater over my head, eyes scanning the red, lacy bra I was wearing.

His favorite.

Mingi chuckled, “This is still my favorite bra of yours.”

“I don’t know, I’ve got some new ones that are pretty hot.”

He let out a groan and began to leave kisses down my neck, setting my skin on fire.

I stopped him, needed to know one thing before we continued, “Did you...have you...since we last...?”

He smiled, “How could I? I’ve only ever been yours. Have you?”

I gave a slight smile, “No. No, I haven’t.”

I kissed him again and lifted his sweater, tossing it across the room. He had slightly defined abs when I was with him before, but they were far more prominent now. His arms were much more defined and it took all of my concentration to keep from drooling.

“Like what you see, doll?”

My voice was a borderline squeak, “Yes.”

“You still into praise, sweetheart?

I nodded, pulling on his jeans. Only slightly embarrassed with how eager I was.

“Not yet, baby.” Mingi easily lifted me to the couch and helped me remove my jeans. He grabbed my hips and placed me on his thigh, tightening his muscles as he dragged my clothed core across his own jeans. In mere seconds I became a quivering mess. I realized how truly long it had been since I’d been with anyone like this, and I had to admit I was needy.

“What a good girl you’re being for me. Aren’t you? You’re doing wonderfully, my love.”

I whimpered and pulled myself closer to him.

“Are you close, baby?”

I nodded, maybe too quickly, and felt my orgasm wash over me. I panted, already out of breath.

“Good girl.”

Bringing my lips to his I reached for his pants again and this time he helped me remove them. As I grinded down against him, he let out a deep growl.

“Let’s rid you of these, hmm?”

He eagerly removed my panties and bra and stared at me for a minute.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

I blushed fiercely. “You’re so incredibly handsome. Somehow even more so than when I saw you last.”

Mingi looked at me with a shy smile then resumed his actions. He removed his underwear and ran his length across my slit, teasing me slightly.

“Mingi, I need you.” I begged.

His eyes darkened and he entered me without hesitation. My back arched as he reached a steady pace and littered my neck with kisses, most likely leaving hickies, marking me as his.

I pulled his hair, bringing him closer to me. Mingi was always fairly vocal, but he could never get enough of me pulling his hair, always moaning in response.

He reached down and toyed with my clit, causing sparks to fly through me.

“Fuck—babe don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t—shit—planning on it, doll.”

Both of us quickly reached our high, cumming at the same time. I pressed a hand against his chest as I caught my breath.

“You’re still really, really good at that.”

Mingi laughed, “You are too, sweetheart. Oh wait-”

He got up and returned with a warm towel, cleaning me up and looking at me fondly.

“You’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingi smiled, placing the towel aside,“Now, how about we get under some blankets? We’ll feel cold soon enough.”

I nodded and began to put my undergarments on, reaching for my sweater.

“I think not.” He said, now with his pants on, handing me his own sweater which I gladly took.

“You look hella good in my clothes, miss.”

I giggled at his choice of words, feeling happiness bubble in my chest for the first time in a long time.

“You look hella good without a shirt, mister.”

Mingi raised a brow and ticked my sides, making me squeal.

“I’ll fight you!” I yelled.

He stopped and rubbed his nose against mine, “Sorry I can’t help it. Your laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world.”

“Shut up.” I laughed, feeling shy.

He placed arm around me, nuzzling my neck.

I turned to him, worry in my eyes, “I’m really sorry for lashing out at you earlier. That’s not like me.”

He smiled, “I know it’s not. But don’t worry about it, I understand. It’s a defense mechanism I guess.”

I cuddled up to him then realized I needed to use the restroom. I tried to get up when he pulled me closer to him.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Silly, I just have to use the restroom. I don’t want a UTI.”

He laughed aloud, “Fine but you better come right back.”

“I will,” I told him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before I walked away.

I soon looked in the mirror of the bathroom, observing my flushed cheeks and the wide smile I couldn’t seem to wipe off my face.

This girl looks happy. I think I can get used to seeing her in the mirror.

I returned and was instantly pulled back into his arms.

“I love you.”

I felt a tear run down my face, feeling beyond happy, “I love you, too. So much.”

I wasn’t sure when, but I felt my eyes began to droop, slowly falling asleep in the arms of the man I loved.

-

The day following, Mingi’s phone recieved signal and I was able to call Wooyoung. Apparently the power lines had fallen, everyone in the immediate area losing power. The nearest roads had been somehow cleared overnight and he’d be able to come pick me up.

“Wooyoung’s on his way over, apparently everyone lost power.”

“Hmm. well I, for one, am glad we did,” Mingi pulled me into a tight hug.

“Yeah, me too.”

A silence fell between us, but it was comfortable this time.

Mingi spoke up, his voice becoming playful, “I’m taking you on a date soon. There’s nothing you can do about, I’m afraid you cannot refuse.”

“As if I would refuse.”

“Mmm.” I didn’t think he could, but he pulled me even closer to him.

“Mingi you’re literally gonna break my bones.”

He let go of me, eyes wide, “Did I hurt you? Gosh I’m so sorry I can—”

“You didn’t hurt me you goof.”

“Oh good. You scared me.”

The honk of a car horn scared me and I jumped, Mingi hiding a smile.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? You’ve got my number.”

“Of course.” Giving him one last kiss before I bid him goodbye and left the cabin, hopping in Wooyoung’s car.

“Holy shit are you okay? Was anyone even home? My god I feel so bad—”

“Mingi was there.”

Wooyoung’s face froze, quickly turning into a scowl, “I swear if he did anything to you—”

“No, don’t worry about it. We’ve made up,” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

He didn’t say anything, he only stared at me before he spoke again, “You two totally fucked, didn’t you?”

“Wooyoung!” I slapped his arm in shock.

“You didn’t deny it!”

“Oh shut up. Just take me home.”

He playfully rolled his eyes and put the car in drive.

“Just so you know, I’m happy for you. I get why he did it but I am still a little pissed. I swear to fucking god if he breaks your heart again I will actually break his knee caps.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it. I wouldn’t worry to much about it, though.”

“If you insist, okay.”

“I do.”

-

December twenty third. The day that I had been dreading once, now one that I had been very much looking forward to. I checked my makeup and outfit once more before texting Mingi.

Me: I’m ready whenever you are!

Mingi Mango: I’m outside :)

Me: Shit, already?

Mingi Mango: Language

I scoffed, grabbing my purse and running outside to meet him.

“Babyyyyyy!” Mingi yelled as he saw me.

“Mangoooo!” I yelled back, jumping into his arms.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Mingi it’s been two days.”

“But it feels like forever! You look absolutely stunning, by the way.”

“You cheese. You look really good yourself.”

“You know it,” Mingi winked and opened his passenger car door for me, “My lady.”

I was unable to keep from smiling, giving him a little kiss on the cheek and climbing into the car. The entire car ride was filled with lighthearted conversation, not a single silent moment between us.

“We’re here, doll.”

“Yes I see the cabin in front of us.” I teased him.

“Well just in case you didn’t I thought I’d let you know.” He laughed, eyes disappearing into crescents, and I felt my heart swell.

We held hands as we walked into the cabin, finding several pairs of eyes turning to us, then to our intertwined hands. I was pleased to find smiles on my friend’s faces, feeling happy that they were happy for us. Arin came running towards me at a seemingly inhuman speed and wrapped her arms around me.

“Ahhh how are you, girly? I’ve missed you so much! And you look gorgeous! I love that sweater on you! And your makeup! Wow! How’d you do that? Have you been eating well?”

“One question at a time, Arin.” I smiled.

“Sorry! I’m just so happy!”

"Me too!” I looked around, “Do you know where Wooyoung is?”

“Oh he’s out back with San. They’re having a competition to see who can build the better snowman.”

I shook my head with a smile.

At that moment she took a step back, looking at our hands. I had told her about Mingi and I dating again over the phone and she seemed happy for me, but I had to admit I was nervous to see her reaction in person.

“You,” She pointed a finger at Mingi, “If you hurt even a hair on her head I will actually fight you.”

Mingi’s eyed widened, assuring her that he would never hurt me.

She clapped her hands, “Well, good. Now that that’s over, do you all want a drink?” Arin cocked her head, the change in mannerisms throwing me a little.

“Yeah that’s fine.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back! Catch up with everyone you two!”

As if he was a ghost, Yunho appeared next to Mingi, scaring us both.

“Christ, Yunho. Give a man a warning first.”

“Sorry,” He chucked, “How are you both?”

“We’re doing well, thanks.”

“We’re happy.” Mingi turned to me and looked at me with heart eyes, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“You all are cute. Speaking of, you haven’t met Mia, have you?”

Mingi and I exchanged confused looks.

“No, I don’t believe so. Who’s that?”

“She’s my new girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a little over a month but if I’m being honest, I’m already head over heels for this girl.” Yunho turned, calling out to a girl surrounded by people, “Mia, can you come here?”

The short brunette walked over, a smile plastered on her face as she made eye contact with Yunho.

“I’d like you to meet my friends from high school.” He introduced us and she nodded, fully invested in the conversation.

“I’ve heard a lot about you both! I’m so excited to get to know you all better!”

I smiled at her enthusiasm, “Aww you, too!”

Arin walked over and handed Mingi and I our drinks, skipping off to meet another friend.

Yunho and Mia wondered off soon after, greeting more people coming in.

“Hey I’ve got something I wanna show you.” Mingi whispered in my ear.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Come with me.”

Before I knew it, Mingi was pulling me into a bathroom and locking the door.

“I know what you’re doing, Mango.”

“And what’s that?” He asked as he leaned down to reach my neck, kissing me gently, arms resting on my hips.

“We’re at a party.” I said, whining at him but doing nothing to stop him.

“I saw that couch when we walked in, you know? I’m never going to be able to look at it the same.”

“Me either.”

My head eventually won the fight I was having with myself, and I promised that if he could wait till he dropped me off I’d be all his. It seemed to appease him as he gave me one last kiss and led us out of the bathroom. Somehow, no one noticed and I was grateful, sure that my flustered expression would certainly give us away.

“Hey, look at this.”

My eyes moved in the direction Mingi was pointing, seeing a mistletoe directly above us.

“Oh you definitely planned that.”

“And if I did?”

“I’d kiss you all the same.”

Mingi bent down to kiss me, a hand on my face, another around my waist. As I wrapped my own hands around his neck, deepening the kiss, I couldn’t help but think that this was what true happiness felt like.

Thank you, Mingi. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift of your love. Merry Christmas, my love.

[folkloreguk]

❄️December 7th (part1)

A/N: Today’s scenario is actually a kind of continuation from the two last scenarios I wrote for 2017′s advent calendar (so the 19th and 21st)! I tried to write it in a way, so you wouldn’t necesssarily need to read the other two parts first, although (shameless self promo) I love those two scenarios a lot, and I barely ever say that about my writing rip (you’d find them on my masterlist)

words: 1.8k

genre: comedy? / smut in the second part I’ll post on the 9th), optional bias (male), enemies to lovers

Sorry that this stops so abruptly, this is part 1, I’ll post the rest on the 9th of December!

A week had passed since the Christmas party at your job. When you had gotten into a fight with your arch enemy over some Christmas lights and then over organizing the party together. One week, since you had hooked up with him.

And you couldn't say things had changed positively afterwards. You still bickered and fought over your boss' attention and neither of you had reduced the ridiculous amount of Christmas lights outside your houses, which stood opposite of each other. Long story short, you hadn't magically fallen in love with him, like your friend had expected you to be after you had told her what had happened.

But you could say things had changed... slightly. Additionally to the bickering, you now also flirted with each other, in the most subtle way possible. Neither of you would risk being obnoxiously flirty at your loved workplace. You seemed to still hate each other, but to be a lot more attracted to each other simultaneously. And to say it confused you would be an understatement.

He winked at you from across the room, making it hard for you to not flash him your middle finger, while you liked to remind him of the dress you wore a week ago, by setting a photo from the party as his computer's background when he wasn't looking. Although you needed to admit your plan backfired, since he didn't just give you a dirty look, but was also praised by your boss for having planned and enjoyed the party so much. You made a throwing-up expression at him when you saw his holy smile. 

You went home that day, exhausted from too much H/N - interaction, as most days. At least you were happy with the work you had done that day, you told yourself, trying to get him off your mind, as most days. You were ready to have a calm evening, watching a Christmas movie and eating some of your favorite snacks.

You had already taken a shower and changed into your comfortable clothes, when you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. You couldn't believe your eyes when you looked out the window.

Your massive glowing snowman was there in your front yard, practically staring down H/N's much smaller one. But that wasn't what was so unusual. On the steps to his house, H/N sat. One of his hands was buried in his coat's pocket while the other was holding a phone up to his ear. By reading his expression, you could tell he wasn't happy.

His cheeks and nose were red and the way he his shoulders were pulled up made it clear that he must had been freezing.

As much as you hated to admit it, you felt sorry for him. You weren’t sure what was going on, but he clearly couldn’t go inside his house. Who would sit outside in this temperature, voluntarily? If he needed me to help him, he could just come and ring my doorbell, you thought. But the second you had finished the thought, you knew he would never admit to needing your help.

So, you grabbed your coat and headed out the door. In your pajama pants, you crossed the street and found him still sitting on his front porch.

“What do you want now?” he asked, clearly angry at someone and letting it out on you.

“I wanted to make sure you’re not freezing to death out here, if that’s okay with you,” you snapped back. His expression softened slightly.

“I locked myself out and my parents who have a second key only come back into town tomorrow,” he said. “And I refuse to pay an insane amount of money for someone to come and open my door. So now I’ve been calling people to let me stay the night and for some reason no one seems to be at home or have enough space.”

“Okay, I feel you on that part with the money,” you said, and he gave you another annoyed look. “But you know me, and you haven’t tried me yet.”

“You’re not exactly my first choice for a sleepover,” he stated.

“Looks like I’m your only choice,” you replied. His hands were red from the icy temperatures when he pulled them out of his pockets. “Listen. I’m getting cold, so I’m going back inside. If you want to stay at mine, come with me. If you want to wait until your body has turned into an ice cube, that’s fine with me too.”

It only took a few seconds until you heard his footsteps on the pavement behind you. At first, you thought this would be awkward. But he managed to displace that emotion for annoyance in a heartbeat.

“Home sweet home,” he sang, walking into your house like he owned the place. You couldn’t believe he was about to keep you from having a peaceful December evening, but there you were, walking him into the living room.

“Not to sound like a douchebag, but do you have any food at home?” he asked, while he sat down on your couch and put his feet up.

“First of all, get your feet off my favorite pillow,” you said. This guy was unbelievable. “Secondly, I was about to make popcorn.”

You shot him another death glare as you walked off to the kitchen. You just about trusted him enough to leave him alone for five minutes. When you returned with two bowls of popcorn (absolutely not would you risk the awkward hands-touching-as-you-both-reach-for-the-popcorn-incident), he hadn’t moved a centimeter.

"I see you have a heart after all," he stated, as you gave him the bowl.

"Do you want me to throw you out again?" you asked. "Because that's what it seems like."

"I'm joking," he responded. "You know I always am."

"Is that a confession?" you teased.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he went on. “I thought we were good since our little pre-Christmas-party get together.”

He was giving you a look from across the room, since you had chosen to sit on the other end of the sofa. You knew he was just playing with you, and you refused to go with it. Although knowing he was thinking about sex right now only made you think of it too. You remember how well his body was built, and how his hands had touched you, in ways you had never imagined he ever would. But then you snapped out of it.

“We’re watching Home Alone,” you said, getting up to set up the movie.

“Oh, come on,” he began to complain, which only made you more upset.

“My house, my rules,” you said. “Besides, if you don’t know what’s good, I’m sorry for you.”

He seemed sulky for a moment. “Do you at least have a blanket, so I will find this remotely bearable?”

At this comment you could only laugh. Sitting down, you clicked ‘play’ and grabbed a blanket from next to you. Swiftly, you rolled it up into a ball and threw it – at full speed – at him. He half caught it and got half hit, letting out a sound that sounded almost like a genuine laugh.

“Are you trying to start something here?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how good this movie is,” you replied. He only shook his head, directing his eyes to the screen.

And oh how much you would be able to tease him when this was over. Whenever you glanced at him from the side, one thing was crystal clear to you. He was having the time of his life. At first, you thought it was weird to laugh at the same time as him. It felt almost intimate – more intimate than hooking up with him – and you stopped yourself from laughing. But as the movie went on, you gradually stopped caring. You realized you had known him for what felt like forever, but had never really heard him laugh like you did now. And you had to admit, his genuine laugh wasn’t half as annoying as his fake laugh you constantly heard at work.

When the end credits started to roll, you didn’t know what to do next. So, to stall time and figure out what to say, you decided to grab your popcorn bowl and make your way to the kitchen. Suddenly, you heard his voice behind you, as he followed you.

“Before you say anything, I would like to remind you that I haven’t seen Home Alone in years and forgot how funny it was.”

“That’s a weak excuse but I’ll accept it,” you said, setting your bowl down on the counter. He had kind of messed up his hair, and his clothes looked wrinkled, but you couldn’t say he didn’t look handsome.

“How nice of you,” he mocked, but gave you a grin. “I hate that thing.”

You let out a laugh when you saw him staring at the ten-foot snowman outside the window.

“I’m sure it hates you too,” you joked, only making him roll his eyes. You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair, and inwardly cursed yourself at how you admired his hands. Stop being so thirsty, you told yourself. For a moment, neither of you spoke, but then you looked at him and let out an involuntary laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said. “I just thought about how I never seem to be able to get away from you.”

“It’s not like I locked myself out on purpose,” he stated. “Oh, and speaking of you not getting away from me. I told our boss we would love to plan the Christmas party again next year.”

“We?” you couldn’t believe your ears. You took a sip of water from a glass you had poured yourself. “So, there’s a we now?”

“Sweetheart there was a we ever since we figured out we disliked each other,” he spoke. You almost choked on the water. In response, he said nothing, letting you take in his words, only making it worse. If he hadn’t already brought up the hook-up earlier, you surely wouldn’t have said what you were about to say.  

“Do you ever think about the Christmas party?” you asked.

“About the lovely conversations I had and the amazing food there? All the time,” he said, like he was completely serious. You could have snapped at him, but he unfortunately looked so hot that your head decided it had other plans.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you spoke, setting down your glass and taking a step towards him. “And judging by how much you flirted with me in the past week, I’m going to assume your answer is yes.”

By now, your head was dangerously close to his. If he hadn’t wanted this, now would have been the time he would have stopped you. But he didn’t. Of course not.

[asknarashikari]

Minific with Zi-Ot3 please?

I know this is like a month late but whatever. Birthday fic for Sougo!

Sougo woke up to the smell of bacon frying and his boyfriend and girlfriend’s muffled squabbling. His stomach grumbled as the scent wafted into his room, so he decided to make his way downstairs to obey his stomach’s demand for sustenance first.

“Oh, Sougo! Good morning,” his uncle greeted him at the bottom of the stairs. “Happy birthday, my boy! Or should I say, my man!”

“Birthday...?” Sougo yawned groggily, before spotting the calendar hanging on the wall. It was, indeed, the day of his twentieth birthday. “Oh yeah...”

“Tsukuyomi-kun and Geiz-kun were making breakfast for you,” Junichiro chuckled. “They wanted to surprise you in bed,” he said, shaking his head. “I think it’s to make up for the fact that you can’t go out right now, with the lockdown and everything.”

“Oh,” Sougo replied, a little shocked. “Sh-Should I head back up, then...?”

His uncle patted his head. “Up to you, Sougo,” he said kindly. “I can go in ahead of you and tell them you’re awake, if you’d like.”

“Thanks Uncle. I think I’d go back up,” he said. His uncle nodded then went into the kitchen, while Sougo climbed back up the stairs and went back to his bedroom.

He leaned back on the door for a brief moment and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “So... I’m hatachi* today...” He sighed then belly-flopped onto his bed.

It seemed like it was only yesterday that he was celebrating his 19th birthday. Tsukuyomi and Geiz were only tentatively his friends, and they were all embroiled in a war that was, unknowingly to them, supposed to decide the fate of the Heisei Kamen Riders. Has it really been a year since then?

Speaking of the Heisei Riders... Sougo reached for his phone, and indeed the group chat was already filled with birthday greetings from hise senpai Riders (and one kouhai). He smiled and fired off a quick thank you note before setting his phone aside again.

As if on cue, there was a knock on his bedroom door. “Sougo?” Tsukuyomi’s melodic voice called. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah, go ahead!” Sougo replied, sitting up in his bed.

Tsukuyomi entered first with a gift bag in tow, holding out the door for Geiz who was carrying a tray of breakfast foods including the bacon he was smelling earlier. Geiz put the tray on the bed carefully, then sat on one side of Sougo while Tsukuyomi sat on the other.

“Happy birthday, Sougo,” she greeted, kissing his cheek gently. Geiz said nothing but repeated the gesture on his other cheek, smiling all the while.

“Aw, thanks you guys!” Sougo looked at the spread before him, licking his lips as his mouth watered. Aside from the anticipated bacon, there were two fried eggs, buttered thick-slice toast, soufflé pancakes with syrup, a bowl of sliced fruit, a cup of coffee, and a huge chocolate muffin with a lit candle stuck into it like a birthday cake. “You didn’t have to do all this for me...”

“We wanted to.” Geiz cleared his throat, looking embarrassed as he usually did when expressing his affection candidly. Tsukuyomi laughed at his awkwardness, which caused a flush to appear on his cheeks. “A-Anyway, are you going to eat or what?”

“Alright, alright, I’m eating- itadakimasu!”

*hatachi- special term for 20 years old

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 2: Wake Me Up When September Ends

Previous ~ Next

Summary: A new client arrives...

Warnings: None that I can think of (shocking I know)

The next morning, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Remy burst through the door of the shop at 11am.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault this time!” Remy panted. He was in the ragged sweatpants and baggy crop top that everyone in the shop recognized as his pajamas, a flannel wrapped hastily around his waist. Gripping his coffee and a pastry bag like a lifeline, he looked around the shop frantically, “Where’s the client, I’ll share my muffin or something to appease them.”

“Oh, their appointment isn’t for another half hour,” Ali deadpanned.

“…Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Ali drawled with a smirk, “I had a feeling this would happen so I told you the appointment time was an hour earlier than it actually is.”

Remy sputtered indignantly, “That’s…! How dare you, I….!”

“Remy, drink your coffee,” Rafael chimed in, snickering, “Your sleepy sass sounds do not make a particularly compelling argument.”

Huffing, Remy threw his bag onto a chair in his station, “You guys are the worst. I ran here. RAN. I haven’t moved that fast since gym class in high school.”

“You expect us to believe you ran in gym?” Cass challenged.

“Exactly! You guys are literally worse than high school gym!” Remy glared at each of them in turn, shoving his muffin into his mouth angrily.

Shaking their heads fondly, the rest of the staff returned to their various tasks as Remy finished his breakfast, sipping on his coffee. The caffeine didn’t hit fast enough and he found himself yawning. “Uuuuuuuugh,” Remy groaned, throwing himself into an empty chair at the front desk and laying his head on his arms.

“Sleepyhead, don’t-” Brett began before being cut off.

“Relax, gurl, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Brett shook his head, “Famous last words.”

~

“Remy.”

The artist groaned, burrowing his face deeper into his arms.

“Remyyyyy.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything more than grumble. Surely whoever it was would leave him alone soon.

“REMY!”

A loud ‘BANG’ inches from his face had Remy shooting upright, sunglasses clattering onto the desk and nearly falling out of his chair as he regained his bearings, blinking rapidly. Heart still beating rapidly, he turned to glare at Cass, who was staring down at him with a smirk, her hands still on the desk where she had hit it to wake him up.

“What kind of disrespect?!” Remy exclaimed.

Cass only snickered, “Hey, we warned you not to ‘rest your eyes’, Sleepyhead,” She crossed her arms as she chastised him, “Your client is here, so look alive!”

A light chuckle came from behind her, and for the first time Remy noticed the newcomer. The man was short, standing only slightly taller than Cass’ 5’5”, but he was muscular, and he fit in perfectly with the studio. Ripped jeans and a tattered black tee shirt under a leather jacket, with tattoos poking out from the neckline. He had an undercut, short black hairs contrasting sharply with the messy red/orange gradient that fell around his face, and dark circles under his eyes. When they made eye contact, he gave Remy a crooked smirk, raising his hand lazily in greeting.

“‘Sup.”

Raising an eyebrow, Remy sighed through his nose before grabbing his sunglasses and plastering on a smile as he pushed them onto the top of his head, “Hey gurl, sorry I’m late-”

“I mean, technically you were here on time-”

“Whatever, yeah,” Remy waved his hand dismissively as he gathered his notebooks and his now cold coffee, “Alright, let’s get this appointment going,” He sauntered past the two, entering the lounge in the back, dropping into one of the couches, “Come on, chop chop, waiting on you hon.”

Shaking his head in amusement, the client followed leisurely, as Cass rolled her eyes and returned to her own station.

The lounge was situated past the entry area, and was cleaner and more professional than the staff break room in the back. Photos of the staff and framed art covered the walls, along with a copy machine in the corner, a few couches, and a large coffee table with the artists’ portfolios spread out across it. Consultations were always held in the lounge so that both the client and the artists could be comfortable as they discussed their projects.

As the man sat down, Remy held a hand out, “As you’ve probably already gathered, I’m Remy.”

“Toby,” he replied, shaking the offered hand. Remy noticed his eyes dart down to his pronoun necklace, but he didn’t make any comment.

“So,” Remy crossed his legs, getting comfortable, “let’s talk tatts. I can see you have some tattoos already, you been to our shop before?”

Toby leaned his arms against the back of the couch casually, “Nah. I lived a few hours away during college and just moved back last year. This is the first tattoo I’ve gotten since then.”

Remy nodded, “Alright, so I’ll need to get your information before you leave for our files. But first, tell me about what you’re looking to get.”

Nodding, Toby pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, smoothing it out as he handed it to the artist with a grin, “I want to get this quote in the center of my back, with some kind of border around it.”

“Well that’s not vague at all,” Remy drawled, taking the page and looking down at the quote.

“Ha! I know, I know,” Toby rubbed at his neck, grinning sheepishly, “I guess I was kind of thinking maybe like, branches, or leaves or something. But honestly I’m open to anything if you’ve got any ideas.

Remy hummed noncommittally. Maybe it was because he was still a little drowsy, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the usual cliches. Virgil might be able to come up with something. “This is a pretty long quote. How big did you want this?”

“I don’t have any tattoos on my back, so I’m cool with it taking up as much space as you think it needs.”

“How do you feel about editing this quote down a little? Just to give some more room for the design.”

Tilting his head, Toby thought about it for a moment, “I think that’d be fine. Could I edit it down myself and email it to you once I’ve worked out what I want?”

“Yeah girl, ain’t no thing,” taking a long sip of his coffee, he leaned back against the couch, “Now, a tattoo this big isn’t going to be cheap, or quick. Obviously what you choose for the final design for the border will effect it, but if I had to guesstimate I’d say you’re looking at probably a four hour session. We could also break it into two session if you wanted.”

“Cool, that’s about what I expected,” he grinned, “Don’t worry, I’ve been saving for this.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Remy raised an eyebrow, “We get your card information before we start inking. I ain’t letting anyone tatt and dash.”

Toby barked out a laugh, “That’s a good system.”

“Mmhmm,” Remy nodded, making a few quick notes in his notebook, “Alright. I’mma need to photocopy your ID and have you fill out some paperwork while we work out a date for you.”

Nodding, Toby pulled out a beat up leather wallet, pulling out his driver’s license to give to the artist. Remy took it and stood to go to the copy machine when he suddenly froze, staring down at the plastic card.

“Toby, huh?” Smirking teasingly, Remy waved the card in front of him, “Cause this says your name is October.”

Raising an eyebrow, the man in question grinned, “Who doesn’t love October?”

“I’m not a fan,” Remy deadpanned. It was a total lie, of course, October was objectively the best month, “Besides, if that’s the case why go by Toby? Honestly if no one calls you Doc Oct then what’s the point?” Suddenly he gasped, “Wait. Hold up. Girrrrrrrl why do I suspect you have too many autumn tatts?”

“I have exactly the right amount of autumn tatts.”

Looking back down at the license, Remy burst into giggles, “And your birthday is October 1st?? This is too much, like, I am unprepared for this situation.”

“Falling for me already?” Toby leaned forward, eyes bright and wearing playful grin.

Shaking their head, Remy pulled out a form from one of the drawers in the coffee table, “Tsk, I’m surprised it took you that long to bust out a pun,” he handed the paper to him.

“I try to ease people into the fact that I’m both hot and witty,” he grabbed a pen from the coffee table and began filling in his information.

“And modest, too,” Remy leaned against the copy machine as he waited for it to finish printing.

“What can I say, I’ve got it all.”

“Except height.”

Toby gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense, “Low blow!”

“Any higher and it’d go over your head,” Remy grinned, tossing his ID onto the coffee table and setting the photocopy aside.

Chuckling, the man returned to filling out the form, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the heels on those boots. You can’t be that much taller than me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remy took out his phone, leaning against the wall as he flipped through his calendar, “Alright, so as far as setting you up with an appointment. I’ll need some time to get the design drawn up and approved by you. Plus I’m pretty booked, so next available time slot I could fit you in would be next month on the 18th at noon.”

“What day of the week is that?”

“Wednesday.”

“Hm, no go. Do you have anything on Thursday? The 19th?”

Remy scrolled down the page before nodding, “Yeah, that day is clear. You can pick the time.”

“Let’s do 1pm, I am not a morning person,” Toby looked up and smirked, holding out the completed form to Remy.

“Mood,” Remy grinned back, looking over the page to double check everything looked good before grabbing a stapler from next to the copy machine to attach the photocopy of Toby’s ID. “Alright then, I think you’re set.”

“Aw, getting rid of me already?” Toby leaned forward, chin in hand and he smiled up at the artist, “But we’re having so much fun.”

“So let’s quit while we’re ahead, mmkay?” Tossing his hair back, he picked up his notebook from the table, “I’ll email you once I have a sketch of the design to get your opinion or whatev.”

“I look forward to it,” he stood with a wink.

Remy deadpanned, “Well that makes one of us.”

“So cold,” Toby shook his head with a laugh, “Alright, thanks for everything. We’ll talk soon.”

“Uh huh, byeeee,” Remy waved his fingers as Toby finally left the shop. He barely made it to his station to put his things away and start preparing for his next appointment when Cass’ face peaked above the wall dividing their stations.

“Soooo,” She grinned teasingly, “You two seemed to get along.”

“Ali said I have to have some level of professional courtesy with the clients,” Remy raised an eyebrow.

Cass rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, you were both sassing easy as breathing! He’s the first person I’ve seen in a long time, if ever, that could keep up with you.”

“Oh my God, so what? Witty banter happens, it’s all around us, be more chill, girl.”

“You have his number~” she sing-songed, pointing to the form Remy was putting into his client drawer.

“Yeah, I needed his contact info. He’s my client.”

“Oh come on, we’re not doctors or anything, there’s no rule against artist/canvas relationships.”

“‘Relationships’? Ew.”

Cass laughed, “Alright, maybe not a relationship, but there’s nothing stopping you from tapping that!”

Remy felt his teeth clench together, and a lot of words flew through his mind, but he didn’t feel like he had the self-restraint to say any of them in less than a scream. So he settled for a cold, “Right, nothing at all,” as he pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes and returned to looking over the designs he needed to print for his next client.

“Hey, Sleep, I was just kidding,” Cass’ voice was a little softer, “We all know you’re not into that. It was a joke.”

It was a joke he’d heard too many times. It wasn’t really funny anymore. Still, he glanced over the top of his glasses and smiled, “I know, hon, it ain’t no thing.”

“You just seemed to get along more than you usually do with clients,” Cass continued, “If nothing else he just seems like a cool guy.”

“Ooooh, you sure you don’t want to tap that?” Remy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Cass threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him as he laughed, “This is what I get for trying to expand your social circle!”

“Give up, babe, I’m a lone wolf,” He grinned. Cass shook her head in fond exasperation as they both returned to their work. Tapping on his phone, Remy entered Toby’s information into his calendar to mark his appoint.

After putting his phone in his pocket, October didn’t even cross his mind.

[bxcketbarnes]

The Planning - Part One // Mini Wedding Series

Gif credit goes to @tothemoonmikey​!!

Pairing: Ashton Irwin/Reader

Words: 2586

Author’s Note: So, this part of the series will be two parts. I should only be two parts, but if it’s three oh well. This part is so cute though and I’m so excited for you guys to be able to read it! Enjoy xoxo

The Proposal

It's been a little over two months since Ashton proposed to me. Being engaged to my best friend feels like a fucking dream that I never wanna wake up from. Except I am awake, I'm actually engaged to the man I've known for almost a decade. The man I slowly fell in love with, the man that makes me feel like a princess.

I sit at the island, a cup of coffee sat in front of me as I stare at the engagement ring on my finger. Nobody knew about the engagement, hiding it until we figure out a date for the wedding. Although, I have almost slipped up more than once.

My phone rang, vibrating against the marble surface and I snap out of my thoughts, looking down at the device to see Ashton calling me. I smile, biting my bottom lip while picking the phone up, answering it. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey, beautiful! How did everything at work go?” His voice asks on the phone.

I grin, bouncing with excitement as I tap my fingers against the coffee cup. “Really well! I've worked my ass off so much for the past month and a half that my boss me a two-month vacation,” I tell him, taking a sip of coffee.

“That's incredible, babe! I'm so proud of you. My lil worker,” Ashton teases and I roll my eyes playfully, staring at the confirmation page of the plane ticket I bought.

“So, in celebration of me being off for two months. I bought a little something,” I gush, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Oh really? Does it happen to be a wedding dress?” He asks and I chuckle, shaking his head.

“No! I'm not buying a wedding dress without my girls,” I laugh, getting up from the stool, dumping the cold coffee down the sink. “I so happen to be going to Florida in a couple days.”

Ashton gasped through the phone, imagining his jaw dropped. “Are you fucking serious?! You're coming to Florida?! When?!”

I walked back towards my laptop, seeing the plane ticket dated for the seventeenth. “I'll get to see your face in about ten days,” I smile, fiddling with the engagement ring.

“Oh my god,” Ashton mumbles, hearing him shuffle around before a door shuts. “Are you… gonna bring the ring?”

I furrow my brows together, letting out a light sigh. “I thought about it. I'm sure the two of us are gonna be sharing a hotel room, so I thought about just wearing it while you're around,” I explain, logging out of my computer before going to sit on the couch.

“I'm sorry you can't wear it in public,” Ashton sighs and I frown.

“Baby, it's okay. It was a mutual decision for us to keep it quiet until we set a date,” I reassure him, wishing I could be there to hug him.

“There's nothing going on when you get here, so maybe we just could chill in the hotel room and talk about it?” He asks and the frown turned into a smile.

“That sounds amazing, Ash. I can't wait to see you.”

“I can't either. I'll be counting down the days, baby,” Calum could be heard in the background and I chuckle as Ashton was yelling at him. “I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. I love you.”

I love you, Ashton. Tell the boys I said hi,” I grin, the two of us saying our goodbyes before hanging up. I set the phone down, grinning ear to ear. I cannot wait to marry you, Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

-

I stood at the entrance of the airport, waiting for Calum to pick me up since Ashton was a bit busy with one of the crew members. Apparently, something fucked up with his drum set and needed to fix it before tomorrow's show. My fingers gently smoothed over my bare ring finger as I continuously glance left and right.

“Y/N!” Cal’s voice calls out and I snap my head towards the left, seeing his curly hair standing near a black SUV.

I smile softly, grabbing my bag before making my way over to him. “Cal!” I made it over to him, dropping my bag before wrapping my arms around his neck. “It's so good to see you!”

He chuckles, his hands resting on your back. “It's good to see you too, Y/N. Ash says you'll be with us for two months?!” Calum asks and I pull away from him, grinning while nodding my head.

“Yeah! I'm stoked to be here. I haven't joined tour since like 2014,” I laugh, grabbing my bag from the floor before putting it into the trunk of the SUV.

The two of us made small chat about how the tour was going on the way to the hotel. I couldn't contain my excitement to see Ashton as Calum drove closer and closer to the hotel, seeing the giant building in the distance.

“Ashton's been annoyingly excited that you're here,” Cal mentions and I glance towards the brunette, the smile on my face widening.

He pulls into the parking lot, claiming a spot near the front doors as we got out of the vehicle. “I'm excited to see him too. Although, I'm excited to see the rest of the boys as well.”

I grab my bag from the back of the car, following Calum inside as we head towards the elevator. I tap my fingers against the bag, watching the numbers increase as my heartbeat began to pick up. 

We stop in front of a door, 425, and I glance towards Cal as he presses his keycard to the door next to me before opening it. “You can go in. He should be back by now. We’ll see you later!” He told me before heading into the room, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I took a deep breath, pressing the card to the scanner, hearing the unlocking sound. I open the door slowly, hearing Dark Paradise quietly playing in the room. “Ashton?” I call out, biting my lip softly as I step into the hotel room, closing the door behind me.

“Baby?!” Ash basically yells and metal clanging was filling the room making me flinch a bit. My lovable fiancé came around the corner, a large grin on his face and his hazel eyes lit up.

I let out a small squeal, dropping my bag before sprinting towards him. I place my arms around Ashton’s neck as his wrapped around my waist, spinning me around. Cliché I know. He places me back on my feet, moving his hands to my cheeks before pressing his lips to mine. My fingers comb through his hair, returning the kiss as butterflies were soaring through my stomach.

Ashton pulls away from me after a few moments, both of us panting slightly as our bodies were pressing against one another. His hand wraps around my left arm, slowly dragging it up towards my hand that rests on his shoulder. His index finger softly trail over my ring finger, feeling the bare skin. “Where's your ring?” Ash asks, glancing down at me as I gently pull away from him, walking towards my bag.

I dig through it, the velvet box hitting my fingertips and I pull it out of the bag. I open the ring box, taking the engagement ring out before tossing the box back into my bag. “Right here,” I mumble, stepping back towards him.

Ashton grabs the ring from my hand, sliding the diamond ring onto my finger. I smile, keeping my eyes on his face as he stared at my hand. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you too, Ash.”

-

It was just past midnight as Ashton and I lay on the bed, legs intertwined. “Have you thought about the wedding?” He asks quietly, feeling him shift on the bed so he was facing me. Ashton rests his head on the palm of his hand, grinning down at me as I nod.

“I have a little bit. I wrote some idea in a notebook, but I left it at home,” I tell him, scooting closer to him.

The light brown haired man’s fingers glide up and down my arm, humming quietly. “I was thinking we could have the wedding in the fall,” he mentions and I look up at him.

“That's my favorite season,” I mumble in awe as he nods.

“I know, that's why I suggested it, silly,” Ash laughs and I grin ear to ear, something I've been doing a lot lately.

I turn over towards the end stand, picking up my phone before opening the notes app. “Okay, so we've got three months to work with.”

“October,” he immediately says and I chuckle, looking up at him.

“Have you been thinking about the wedding? You're really quick on these answers.” Ashton grins widely, shrugging his shoulders as I lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“October it is then! Now, did you wanna set the date for next year or the year after?” I ask, typing down the month on my phone. Ashton hums again, thinking about the question as I find myself looking back up at him.

His lips brushed against the side of my face after I look back at my phone, tapping the screen. “Next year. I don't know if I can wait two years to call you my wife,” he tells me and my heart flutters, smiling.

“October 19th, 2019?” I ask, closing out of the calendar, looking back at him.

Ashton nods, his finger hooking under my chin as I finish typing in the wedding date. His breath fanned my face as he connects our lips in short kiss. “In a little over a year you'll be Y/N Irwin and I honestly couldn't be any more excited. I've been wanting this for four years,” he whispers against my lips as I felt my cheek heat up.

“I think Y/N Irwin has a nice ring to it,” I smirk as Ash did the same, nodding his head. I shuffled a bit laying on the mattress as Ashton did the same, his arms wrapping around my waist. “I can't wait to tell everyone the news. My family is gonna be so happy.”

“Mine too. Sometimes I think they love your more than me,” Ashton laughs and I roll my eyes playfully, letting out a yawn.

“Hush, you. Your family loves you the same amount as me,” I mumble tiredly, resting my head on his chest as my eyes droop shut.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep and Ashton presses one last kiss to my head. “Sleep well, gorgeous,” he whispers and I let out a soft hum, nuzzling my face into his chest.

-

I woke up to the feeling of Ashton’s fingers gliding up and down my back, letting out a small groan as I nuzzle myself deeper in his chest. A chuckle leaves his lips as I stretch slightly, tilting my head up to look at him. “Mornin’,” I tiredly spoke as he moves some of my hair behind my ear.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. We're meeting up for breakfast in about half an hour,” Ash informs me and I nod, sitting up against the headboard.

“Can I keep my ring on?” I ask quietly, subconsciously playing with the engagement ring. Ashton smiles, nodding his head a bit before pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

My phone started ringing and I look down at it, seeing my parents Skype calling me. “What perfect timing,” he laughs, nuzzling his nose into my hair as I answer the phone with a large grin.

My smiling parents came on screen. “Good morning, guys! I guess that work thing went well?” My mom asks and I nod, patting Ashton’s thigh. “You staying with him until the tour ends?”

“Yeah, we'll be back in November,” I tell her, my thumb fiddling with the ring, glancing towards Ash, giving him a knowing Iook. He nods his head in confirmation and my heartbeat began to beat rapidly in my chest.

“We've got some news,” Ashton started, grinning ear to ear as I did the same. “Y/N and I are getting married.”

Amy’s lips part, eyes wide before she lets out a small squeal. “Are you serious?! Oh my god, let me see the ring!” She gushes, leaning forward as I bring my hand up to the camera, showing her the ring.

“I love you,” Ashton whispered into my ear as my mother was gushing to my step-dad. “Did she cry?” Greg asks Ashton and the drummer laughs.

“Just a bit, not too much,” Ash tells him and a couple loud and obnoxious knocks were heard from the door. “The guys are here. We gotta go, but we’ll talk soon!”

“Alright. Congrats guys. Love you!” They both said and I blew them a kiss before hanging up.

I wasn't sure if Ash and I were telling the boys yet, so I began to take the ring off my finger. Ashton's hand shot out, stopping me and I glance up at him. “Keep it on, lovely,” he mentions and I nod before grabbing the sweatpants from his suitcase, slipping them on quickly while Ashton goes to answer the door.

“Finally you guys answer!” Mikey complains and I chuckle, shaking my head. I slip on a pair of socks, walking over to them.

“Sorry, we were talking to my parents,” I tell him, smiling a bit as Ashton’s hand brushes mine before clasping our hands together.

“What are you guys doing on the 19th of October next year?” Ashton asks, glancing at me for a few seconds before looking back towards the guys.

All three of them furrow their brows as Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Got no clue, dude. Why?” He asks, his green eyes darting between the two of us.

My thumb rubs the back of Ashton’s hand as a smile came to his lips. “Well we're getting married and I want you guys to be there, obviously,” the older bandmate told them as Luke’s eyes widen first. The other two followed suit a few seconds later.

“Holy shit, what?! Are you serious?” Luke asks and I nod my head, lifting my left hand to show them the ring. Cal, Michael, and Luke surround my hand, looking at the engagement ring on my finger as I look up at Ash. I blush immediately as he smiles lovingly at me, his hand leaving mine to rub it up and down my back.

Cal looks over at us, his face looking confused. “Wait. When did you ask her? Last night? No, that couldn't be right since you'd tell us. The only time I could think you did it was before we started the tour and…” he trailed off, his dark brown eyes widening. “That day you asked us to help you set up that date… that night?” He asks and Ashton nods his head, laughing.

“Yeah, we didn't want to tell anyone about the engagement until we figured out the date and since tour came really quick we never really got to talk about it until last night,” I explain, leaning my head against Ash’s shoulder.

Michael rubbed his chin, his fingers gliding over the stubble on his face. “So the real question now is… who's gonna be your best man, Ash?”

-

Taglist: @gotta-try-something-new​ @honeymoonmuke​ @dashlilymark​ @lukeskisses​ @kinglyhood​ @thebookamongmen​ @shower-me-with-roses​ @morningfears​ @h0tsos​ @ashs-cheergirl​

[justtryingyaknow]

I was cleaning out my Drive and found a doc full of unfinished one-shots. Little starters meant to be developed into full one-shots. I don’t remember where they were going honestly, But I do want to share them rather than let them die in my drive.

Moving in together had not been part of the plan, and According to Simmons everything has to be planned. Then again, pushing Grif out of the way of the bus (and therefore taking the hit) had not been the plan, hell Grif had not been part of the plan. So maybe, just maybe, fuck the plan. He bitched and moaned but living with Grif had been the closest thing Simmons had ever felt to home.

Simmons family wasn’t really in contact and he didn’t have that many friends he could just call up and ask to take care of him after the bus incident. He had said those words to a very annoyed Grif while he sat in the hospital bed; “I don’t really know where I’m going to go. I could call my cousin, but then she’d have to take off work to come get me and I don’t want to be so far away from… everything. I could get someone to do it professionally, but I don’t have the mone-”

“Shut the fuck up Simmons. We both know you’re coming to stay with me.”

And so he did. They set him up on the couch. And then Grif decided Simmons needed to be in the bed for a more full recovery. And then Grif complained about having to sleep on the couch. And then Grif got into the bed with him and no one said anything.

__________________________________________

Hi this other one is long so under a read more!!

“Hey, your birthday is this weekend, isn’t it?”

Simmons looked up from his miniature, putting the paint brush aside. Grif had come into the kitchen and was looking at the fridge, maybe realizing that there were things on it as well as in it.

“What gave it away?” Simmons couldn’t hide the edge to his voice. He had been getting cards in the mail all week, semi-proudly displayed on the fridge, he had written all over the calendar, he had set a reminder in Grif’s phone, he had left the voicemail from his mom for Grif to find, and now three days away, Grif had realized?

“What it’s gonna be, 36?” Grif scratched his stomach and opened the fridge, for the 19th time since Simmons had sat down to work.

“34. Why would you make me older, it just makes you even older. What’s my present going to be this year, another box of stolen office supplies from work? Another half-eaten pizza? Stealing my glasses and wrapping them?”

“That was very funny and you fucking know it.” Grif smiled.

“Not when I broke my pinky toe on the table before you gave them to me.”

“You never went to the doctor, we can’t know if it was ever actually broken.” Grif watched Simmons scowl and pick up the paint brush again. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want next time so you don’t get so fucking pissed off every year?”

“Where’s the surprise in that?!”

“Why does it have to be a surprise? I say I want a goddamn dvd and when you give it to me I’m glad I have it. That’s all there is to it.”

“I can’t explain it to you if you don’t get it. Goodnight Grif.” Simmons practically screeched.

“What?” Grif questioned, standing in the kitchen still. “I’m not going to sleep.”

“I’m storming out figuratively. You have to leave. I’m kicking you out. Go! Leave!” Simmons voice rose another octave.

“Fine!” Grif could storm out, he could slam the door, he could hog the blankets and be pissy when Simmons finally came to bed. Easy. No problem. He turned his back and stomped to the bedroom, making sure Simmons heard the door as it came back to the frame.

Simmons grumbled as he left. Why was his boyfriend such a bad gift giver. A birthday gift should be a surprise, should be something that shows how much someone loves and thinks of you. It should not be a stapler stolen from your boss. How many bad gifts had Grif given him over the years? How could Grif be so awful at buying gifts. But it wasn’t like he didn’t know. Grif would always give it half-heartedly. He would always say something that sounded like a vague apology and promise to do better next year. Maybe asking him what he wanted was his way of doing better this year. Simmons swallowed his pride and opened the bedroom door only a crack; “I want a nice night. With you. I want you to make me dinner, buy some wine, put on a movie I like, I want a warm bath, and I want to go to bed without you being all gropey and gross.”

***

“What do you want for dinner?” Simmons waved goodbye to a coworker that wasn’t looking as he rested the phone against his shoulder to open the door.

“What?” Grif paused. The smell of red wine coated the kitchen, Grif hated the stuff but Simmons lived for it so he had bought four different bottles, not quite sure which Simmons liked the most. There were dirty knives and chopping boards on every counter. His hands were stained red from trying to stuff the mushroom caps with a wine soaked vegetable medley. This better not have been for shit.

“Yeah I’ll stop on the way home. We haven’t had Chinese in awhile.” Simmons sounded tired, but more importantly, he fucking forgot. Maybe Simmons could get his surprise still.

“I… already ordered. Thai so I hope that’s ok. It should get here right before you actually. So I’ll see soon.”

“Oh. Did you get it with the-”

“With the sauce on the side. Yeah.” Grif checked the oven, nothing was burning...yet.

“Thanks. God today was so-.”

“Yep.” Grif hung up the phone. There wasn’t time for chit-chat. He had to make sure everything was perfect.

[tryingtofeelanything]

Eventually...

English Bungou Stray Dogs Soukoku (just a bit at the end) & platonic Dazatsu One shot SFW (TW though : implied suicide attempts)

For DazaixHappiness week 2nd Day : How to suicide love / Birthday party. Third day will be on my art blog again. This... got out of hand. Like, it was supposed to be much shorter and somehow it feels like it changed into a series of short stories with a shared story line more than a whole, single one shot. I ended this in a rush honestly and, as some of you know, I had to translate it in English after getting done with the original version. So I really, really hope it’s not too bad. I did work hard on it. I may fix this when I’ll post int on AO3... probably next week, I hope. Oh, by the way, this has some references, well, about BSD manga and BSD Wan, but also about the real life authors. Can you spot them~? Happy birthday, Dazai~! ღ

    June 11th.

    The clinking noises of typing on a keyboard, with a tolerable speed, mingled in a well-known tune, of those sounds creating unfailing everyday life and familiarity, even where it wasn’t meant to appear. Atsushi looked up from the screen of the laptop settled in front of him for a few seconds, searching for the appropriate word he could not get a grab on. His gaze briefly scanned the office facing him, quickly noting a few of his colleagues in their most usual situation. In front of him, the grating of the plastic bag, wriggled with meticulous regularity, to the rhythm of Ranpo’s fingers getting one sweet after another. To his right, the sounds of Kunikida’s keyboard, smashed at an exaggerated, almost nervous speed. Leaning against one of the windows, Kenji’s heel nonchalantly tapping the floor, not caring about any tempo, too occupied as he was watching the city-dwellers’ swarming life. Behind his back, another sound, a lot less pleasant to his ears, of metallic items grinding against each other ; Yosano, busy with “maintaining” her “work tools". Finally, a few steps away, Naomi’s enamored monologue, having some tea with her brother between two files. The scenery was one of a distressing banality, some that could only be noticed, eventually, by someone who had not known the slow repetition of everyday life for far too many years.

    Both two-tone eyes found their way back to the screen in order to type a few letters without real confidence. The young man was trying to remember the previous afternoon so that he could render it into the most accurate report he could master. The route he had followed with Dazai and the comments the latter had done about the case involved back then - a potential abduction of a kid on account of an ability - paraded in his mind. He reassessed his mentor’s words. This feeling was getting familiar too, but he could not prevent the surprise from overwhelming him every time he realized how right his reasoning and anticipations were once the investigation was solved. By the way…

    He examined the small space on the screen giving the time in a digital format. The morning was getting quite late, and Dazai had still not passed the door of the Agency. Atsushi thought it right to mention it out loud. As if this situation was not a part of everyday life too - some familiarities are not good to keep. Kunikida’s frantic typing stopped. A sigh replaced them.

    “ Nothing to worry about. He’ll just appear from nowhere in a poor state or I’ll get a call soon from the police office to pick him out of there. It’s always like that at this part of the year. You can expect, starting from now, two very hard weeks. Take it as a test. ”

    “ A test ? Why this part of the year ? ”, Atsushi asked, looking perfectly confused.

    “ One : the test. To determine how long you’re still going to be able to put up with this whining wimp. Two : this part of the year. This desperate case’s birthday. It’s surprising he hasn’t started harassing you yet. Get ready. The longer it takes to happen, the hardest it will be. ”

    Atsushi was opening his mouth again still looking as much questioning. His colleague stopped him :

    “ Yes, two weeks. One before it, when he does all of his ‘preparations’. It seems like he does all of his ‘best attempts’ from the previous year. One year ago, it was death by suffocation, defenestration from a rooftop. Among other ones, of course. And the second week is after his birthday. Since he couldn’t get into his grave, he harasses his colleagues instead to beg for money as a birthday gift. Ah, right… It’s exactly on June 19th. You can get yourself ready mentally-speaking. And to do his work too, potentially. Of course, he doesn’t do anything here for those two weeks. At least, even less than usual. ”

    Tanizaki’s voice raised from behind the wooden screen hiding the sofa from the desks :

    “ That’s impressing, Kunikida ! I couldn’t remember everyone’s birthday if I wasn’t checking on my calendar. I even forgot Dazai was born in June. ”

    Kunikida answered nothing ; he looked like he was hiding some embarrassment, though. Atsushi saw him slide a hand towards his precious notebook, carefully settled close to his workstation. He wondered if he had written every members’ birthday right beside his “ ideals ”. Even Dazai’s. From sheer curiosity, the boy would have wanted to ask about it. His probable reaction appeared in his mind before he could do it, however, and he immediately changed his mind.

    “ Ah, now that I think about it, wasn’t there an attempt with fireworks too, last year ? ”, Tanizaki said, coming back to the part of the room dedicated to work.

    The newest recruit from the Agency quickly understood that it had been an attempt to blow himself up in the middle of “ fireworks "… Could they really get accustomed to this… strange part of Dazai’s personality so casually ? His colleagues got hooked on it and started talking about the incident. It seemed that Dazai had "accidentally” ran into a stock of explosive devices. And some people getting instructions right from the government owned the warehouse in question. Someone called “Sakaguchi”, coming right from the Special ability Department, had personally taken care of this case. No one really knew who was this Sakaguchi, by the way - and it seemed liked Dazai had made sure no one would know anything.

    Eventually, only one conclusion imposed on Atsushi. His mentor’s birthday did not sound like it was favorable for celebrations. It felt too much familiar. And it was also so sad. Even for someone like Dazai…

    His decision was made. Whatever kind of frowns he could get from his colleagues or Ranpo’s mocking smirk. He would prove that this day could be celebrated : he would hold a birthday party, and a decent one ! After all, he owned him at least that. Against all odds, after some obvious reluctance, everyone was (relatively) convinced by the newcomer’s enthusiasm.

.

    The first considerations and preparations were not difficult to do. The main guest hardly sent any sign of life in the two days following Atsushi’s decision. He proclaimed himself “ ill from an unknown illness with, as the main symptom, the inability to leave one’s bed ” on the first day, with a phone call to Kunikida. The following afternoon, he was using the same number to send him a message with a shopping list consisting mainly of alcoholic drinks. His partner almost threw his phone across the nearest window, before he remembered it was his. The only real risk, actually, was that Dazai could annoy the Agency members so much that they would give up on any kind of celebration… like the previous year, or so it seemed.

    The place did not pose any major problem either ; or rather, choices were very limited so that they did not really have to wonder about it. They would use the Agency, temporarily pushing desks against the walls - it took Kunikida some time to get convinced  ; it was promised that only he could touch his desk to move it. They did not have any budget to rent a hall and no one owned a place big enough for them to meet all and not being cramped. The sum on one of Akutagawa’s paychecks, he had shown him once as his monthly earnings, furtively and treacherously crossed his mind.

    Talking about Akutagawa… Maybe he was thinking too much about it, but, after the place, should they consider the guests…? Of course, all of the Agency was invited, but should he think beyond that ? He did not know who Dazai could meet outside of work at all… Or if there was anyone. Probably ? After all, Dazai was popular… Well, that’s what he was thinking, at least ? He could think about it as much as he could, his mentor never mentioned anyone Atsushi did not know directly from their mutual employer. Except from… one person, one he talked about only to criticize them in a negative way ? Who was from the opposite side - but they currently were on a truce and so wondering about it was possible.

    Now that he was studying this case - something that Dazai had skillfully avoided until now, it seemed, by only sliding implied comments, in moments and situations which would prevent anyone from wondering immediately about their frequency -, his ex-partner was rather often mentioned. It was only things like “ I’m sure a certain micro mafia was there ”, “ it smells like hat rack, don’t you think ? ”, “ I rarely had such a bad moment, except with some chuu-huahua ”. That being said, Atsushi could brag about starting to know him well ; he could now easily determine when Dazai was mentioning Chuuya Nakahara, even though he never used his name, but a myriad of degrading diminutives from what sounded like an infinite list. And yet, he did mention him, and he had done it often since their hard-luck story with the Guild. Did they meet outside of work ? Nothing could prove it, but something like instinct whispered to Atsushi that, yes, they did. Anyway, no one could talk so regularly about someone else… not wanting it at all… right…?

    Bringing it up to his colleagues was out of the question. They would only try to put him off this rather crazy idea and he would surely regret not trying. Well, it was a bit of a hazardous bet…

    This morning, just before heading to work, and as he let Kyouka leave first, Atsushi took a decision he would have thought inconceivable just a few minutes before it : he grabbed his second-hand cellphone, opened his contacts list and searched for Akutagawa’s name. How had they exchanged their phone number was a mystery even for them. The facts were that they both had it and had not erased in only minutes after saving it.  Using it was another whole story though… It was a true first time for the young man this one day.

    The tone of the call echoed for a long time and he thought Akutagawa would never answer. Yet, as the answerphone was about to set off, he heard someone answering the call. Then, silence.

    “ H-hello ? Um, Akutagawa…? ”

    Still, the same silence. Atsushi held his breath, both of his hands tensing around his phone, which was like glued to his ear. He repeated the name of the one who was supposed to be at the other end of the line in a questioning mumbling.

    “ What do you want, Jinko ? ”

    Atsushi swore silently that he would never admit he jumped from surprise at this very moment.

    “ Akutagawa… I have something to ask you ”, he stated with a tone he wished sounded solemn.

    A slight sound came to his ear, like a snort, but he got no… “human” answer. After another moment of hesitation, he hurried to get to the point, realizing the person he was calling could just decide to put the phone down on him any time.

    “ What do you know about Dazai and Chuuya’s… relationship ? ”

    Akutagawa’s surprise was not exactly audible. However his… “occasional partner” (?) felt it very clearly. And was only granted by silence again. As he was trying to repeat his question, he found himself bumping against a wall of oppositions. For a reason he could not understand, mentioning this subject was absolutely forbidden. He insisted.

    “ What do you want to do about this information ? ”

    Fatal question. Admitting the reason of his wonders meant that he could not decline the young man’s presence the night of June 19th. Dazai would not be pleased about that, for sure. As he would complain about Chuuya being here too anyway. Yet… He sighed. This was the only concession he would do to reach his goal.

    Akutagawa’s interest was still as quiet, but it increased in an almost visible way through the communication. To the point that Atsushi thought about sitting down for a moment, and he would have done it, if the idea of physically lowering down did not repel him so much - well, Atsushi would have been the only witness, but it was already too much…

    Talking about his initiative did not get him any real answer to his question, or any explanation either, though. However, he understood that Akutagawa was giving him his approval. Only his approval. Before hanging up with no warning. The boy kept the phone against his temple for a while, staring at the immaculate and shining sink of his kitchenette, looking outraged. As he was staying motionless, in order to get sure he could really not hear anything from the other end of the line anymore, the device vibrated against him to inform him about the reception of a message. He eventually pulled it away from his face and checked the small screen. A message from his recent call - the very first one from him - was displayed, with a phone number. Atsushi’s heart rate suffered from some uncontrolled frenzy.

    Taking some furtive side glances around him, as he was about to do something particularly compromising, he saved the series of numbers in his contacts list under the name “Nakahara”. Then, after a long moment of hesitation, he opened it. Another minute passed with his finger hovering over the phone call icon. He eventually could not find the strength for that and chose to write a written message instead. Today was still a day full of first times, anyway.

    Atsushi swiftly left home, in order to not get late. He attempted, with some difficulty, to find a way to formulate his invitation message to someone he hardly knew, but he knew to be quite short-tempered and not exactly the kind to jump at an event involving his ex-partner - at least from joy… While he was barely and somehow avoiding some passer-by, the text, modified so many times already, took on a more and more look of some sort of official declaration of intent and he wondered if his message could ever get too long to be sent… It was about truce - several times, just in case -, about free - but really, really free, no obligation at all here ! - choice and finally, after two paragraphs and a few dozens lines, about Dazai. At last, after reading it again for the fifth time, he pushed the sending icon as if it was a button that had something about life and death. The young detective then realized he had frozen on a crosswalk and hurried to reach the building where the Agency was waiting for him.

    As he was about to enter the building, his phone vibrated again. He jumped as if he was under a death threat. Nakahara Chuuya’s name was displayed on the screen like an order to answer in the following second. Maybe was he really under such threat…

    “ What’s that ?! ”, was the immediate exclamation, even before any kind of ‘h’ from a very hypothetical ‘hello’ could be articulated. “ Nakajima… The were-tiger, Dazai’s newest flunky, huh ?! How did you get this number ?! I didn’t understand anything ! I am supposed to do something for this idiot ?! With his stupid bunch of ‘good people’ or something ?! What did this pathetic excuse for a human being do to you to force you into asking me something like that ?! ”

    The boy stayed frozen on the threshold of the building, one arm reaching for the door. He jumped again when the Mafia executive’s voice resounded, pressing him to answer.

    “ I… What should I start to answer first…? ”

    The whole conversation sounded unreal. Like a dialogue of the deaf too, for its first half, at least. It also lasted quite a long time, considering how they got so little things out of it when it ended… At least enough for Kunikida to poke his head through several windows of the agency to check if their newest recruit was finally coming and, when he finally spotted him, to scream at him to hurry and get in. Chuuya got even more irritated by the mumbling that followed, half of it for his boss, the other half for his call. And yet…

    “ I don’t see why I’d do anything for this idiot ”, were Chuuya’s last words before curtly hanging up. “ I don’t owe him anything and I’ve better to do than wasting my time for him. I don’t have anything planned for this day but even doing nothing is more interesting than putting up with him. I’ll see. If I want to bump someone off. ”

    Once again, Atsushi found himself confronted with the sound signal informing the call had ended without prior warning. Nakahara did sound less… aggressive than at the beginning of the conversation. Despite the meaning of his words, he had high hopes. Was his intuition right…? He hoped so. Really. Otherwise, the whole night would turn into a fiasco…

—————————————————————

    After this first tacit victory, though, nothing happened as planned anymore. Dazai decided to appear again three days before his birthday, in one piece. Sources of anxiety kept accumulating starting from then : their purchases - bought with everyone’s savings, the Agency could not really help them with money - disappeared, the main reason of the party kept coming in without prior warning when they were discussing preparations and how to organize them… He even looked like he came out of nowhere, once, while Yosano escorted Atsushi to get some drinks and snacks. The latter was convinced that he would lose a few years of life expectancy in this episode…

    On June 18th was the climax. Dazai entered the agency in the middle of the morning, opening the door with a wide and dramatic move. Atsushi felt his hair stand on the back of his neck in an absolute warning sign. He exclaimed with a fake solemnity that he had a great announcement to do.

    “ I’m here to bid farewell to you all ! This time, I’m about to find the woman of my dreams for a perfect shinju ! Well, not like I’ve any r…! ”

    “ Dazai ! ”

    Atsushi’s blood boiled. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him.

    “ Please come to work tomorrow ! Please ! ”

    Those times when Atsushi could actually surprise Dazai were rare. He once even made it his goal. Unfortunately, he could not fully appreciate the way chocolate eyes widened in surprise for a short moment. The expression only fleetingly crossed his face before his features softened back to let a light sigh escape.

    “ Very well. If, really, you cannot go without me, I’ll make an effort for you. ”

    The corner of his lips tensed in a slight smile.

    “ But well, Atsushi… I’m so sorry. I am really not interested in men. ”

    Atsushi looked away, unable to choose between feeling embarrassment or dismay.

—————————————————————

    June 19th.

    Atsushi should not be so nervous for something so trivial. He was. Definitely. He was not Osamu Dazai but he had already thought about dozens of worst-case scenarios involving the party. It could not go well. Why did he even get such idea ? Ah… no, no, no. Get a hold of yourself, Atsushi ! Everything will be alright if everyone believes in it…!

    The young man had come earlier than usual to work after he got out of his usual way to stop at a flower shop. The premises were still empty when he entered. Kyouka should not take long to come in, though ; she was also about to depart when he left her. After he carefully hid a perfectly wrapped packet - two hours and nine tries had been needed to do it, and his young roommate had come to his rescue for the last one - in a drawer of his desk, praying every god he could think of for it not to disappear like half of the drinks and the cardboard for ornaments. After some time of thinking it through, he put his bouquet on the desk Dazai was supposed to use. He adjusted the composition a bit - daffodils ending the season and iris, interspersed by a few flowers of vibrant bluebells, enhanced by some ribbons here and there. He trusted the seller entirely for his choice. Dazai had never shown any interest for flowers ; they had felt like a good idea as a first present, before he would give, later in the evening, his actual gift - a book. Atsushi was sure about that one : Dazai liked reading a lot. He had taken a long time examining publications for sale in a small book store sitting close to his home. His choice had eventually inclined towards a collection of short stories. One hundred views on Mount Fuji. His mentor was hard to grasp, he would not have pretended he knew him that well. Yet, this work had immediately felt fitting. He just hoped he had not already read it.

    The front door slid open with a very light noise. He smiled at Kyouka while she closed it as quietly.

    “ You’re the first one to come ”, he noticed.

    “ Kunikida is here too. ”

    “ He’s early too. ”

    “ He’s waiting in front of the door. ”

    A slight, more bothered than amused, laugh passed through Atsushi’s lips. He checked the clock hanging on the wall. Kunikida would still wait 3 minutes and 36 seconds before turning the handle…

    Dazai only came around 3 in the afternoon, with a wide pout crossing his face and looking particularly bothered from the effort he had to do to reach the agency. As he made his way to “his” couch, under Kunikida’s unbroken flood of blame, Atsushi rushed to his bunch of flowers to hand it to him.

    “ Happy birthday, Dazai ! ”

    The flowers were stared at from some distance away for a while, with an unreadable but almost suspicious expression. Then Dazai’s shoulder shook from a silent laugh and he took the gift. The boy could not exactly ignore the feeling of relief spreading in his chest.

    The following hour, however, was only whining and Kunilkida’s more than irritated comments, getting to the point that no one could really work on any kind of task. Tanizaki, Naomi, and Kenji were luckier : they were on a small business trip with no real consequences for a client. They should not be long to get back, by the way. Atsushi hopped everything would go as planned and there would not be any setback.

    The phone rang. Kunikida, as usual, picked it up. After the first formalities - identity, reason of the call, essential details about the case -, he spent a long time listening to, obviously, some client’s explanation. When the call ended, he silently stood up and made his way to Fukuzawa’s office, under Dazai’s suspicious gaze. He came out a few minutes later.

    “ Dazai ! Tear off your rear end from this couch and get back to work ! ”

    The succession of complaints this sole sentence triggered surprised no one. Kunikida did not let a single one get fully worded and vehemently pushed his partner towards the door. Atsushi could only exchange a quick glance with him and got up from his own seat.

    The door, of the agency, then of the building, closed behind both men. Dazai immediately stopped his lamentations to move on to an amused smile instead :

    “ So, then, where were we meant to go oh so suddenly ? ”

    Kunikida was about to tell him the exact place ; he remained silent as he turned to the young man and met his gaze. A sigh escaped him.

    “ You’ve already figured everything out, haven’t you ? … So you were the one who stole Atsushi’s purchases ? ”

    “ So, how long do we have to stay outside ? ”, the young brown haired man asked, obviously avoiding the last question.

    “ I figured that, with the time to go there, quickly stop and go back, it would take one hour and forty-two minutes ”, his colleague speculated, swiftly browsing his notebook. “ It’s quite far away from here. ”

    “ Well then, Kunikida, instead of running to some place where no one is waiting for us, and since you wouldn’t let me have a drink meanwhile, you could buy me a coffee ? It’s supposed to be my day, right ? ”

    Another sigh. At least, Kunikida could find a new café, and a rather nice - and expensive for his wallet, the only one to suffer - one. The Agency’s usual café was not an option, since Kenji, Naomi, and Tanizaki could come back at any moment and see them.

—————————————————————.

    Two hours later - eighteen minutes were lost because of Dazai, who did not find anything better than offering a young waitress to chose her favorite bridge for them to jump from it together, almost crudely -, both partners appeared again in the narrow hall leading to their workplace. Seeing Kunikida hurriedly typing something on his phone, his colleague, uselessly loud, exclaimed that their client had been particularly impolite not waiting for them although they had made the trip for him only. A series of hasty sounds, hurried steps among them, came from behind the door. Eventually, Kunikida put a hand on the handle, glancing one last time at Dazai to show him clearly that his patience was getting to an end and that he would not do that much for him so soon anymore, and finally entered the room, taking a side step so that the main guest could get a good look at the work done while they were away. The way chocolate eyes widened for a quick instant of surprise did not look fake.

    Atsushi really had put his heart and soul into it. The whole thing was a bit precarious, the desks somehow pushed on the sides, a few garlands clumsily hanged up and clearly cheap (the cardboard holding ornaments had suddenly reappeared in the afternoon in Fukuzawa’s office, whereas the latter would have never had the absurd idea of stealing it, and Atsushi would have never dared to hid it there), but the efforts were obvious.

    “ Once again, happy birthday, Dazai ! ”

    The latter looked down at the radiant smile from his… protégé ? Yes, maybe, a bit, he surreptitiously thought while noticing the wrapped packed he was handing him. He took it with a questioning look and, not caring about any decency, he unwrapped it immediately. Once again, a slight surprise briefly appeared on his face when he silently read the title.

    “ I hope you haven’t already read it… ”

    “ Actually, I did ”, he admitted, with a strange smile, softer than what he got those around him used to. “ But it’s a nice book. I wouldn’t mind reading it again. Thank you, Atsushi. ”

    Even someone like Dazai, supposedly, could be delighted about the expression of joy, mixed with relief, which brightened Atsushi’s face at this moment.

    It was however quickly interrupted when a black figure, which did obviously not belong there, but was clearly determined to firmly stay, slightly moved from a less lighted corner looking like it was made just for it. Akutagawa’s dark gray eyes were staring at Dazai with a piercing gaze. The latter looked sideways towards Atsushi, looking clearly disapproving. The boy answered with an apologizing smile. Dazai immediately examined the room, suspicious.

    The first part of the evening went without a problem. Atsushi tried to approach Akutagawa cordially a few times. He kept his distance, scanning Dazai’s every move. The latter emptied a generous amount of bottles of sake, even though he was significantly helped by Yosano, who quickly became very jolly…

    The door opened abruptly in a relative crash. Silence fell onto them immediately as everyone turned to another black figure, with only fire-like hair and blue eyes on watch standing out. A few minutes passed with no movement.

    “ What ? Do you want a photo ? ”, Chuuya flung, closing the door behind him without any care for gentleness.

    Atsushi cast a quick glance at Dazai. He had an ostentatious pout on his face. Chuuya, maybe not feeling so at ease, quickly took a look at everyone and stopped at Dazai with a disdainful glare. He walked to him with fast steps and forced what clearly looked like some bottle of alcohol wrapped in gift wrap onto the detective’s chest.

    “ What is a Mafia hat rack doing here ? ”, the young brown haired man let out once he found his breath and grabbed the bottle with a critical look. “ And I hope it’s not one of your dated wine inside. ”

    “ This is not the first time I’m coming here and anyway, you sneak in our headquarters whenever you feel like it, so I don’t see a problem. And about my wines, there is a difference between dated barrels and quality ones, you ignorant idiot ! ”

    “ You’re the one with awful tastes, chibi. "  

   Dazai’s eyes stopped on a single peach blossom, carefully attached to the wrap with a thin ribbon tied around the bottleneck. He looked up at Chuuya, raising an eyebrow, but it was thoroughly avoided. Conversations echoed back around them as they found a new - more consensual - topic to biker. Dazai unwrapped the gift meanwhile, to find a high-quality bottle of sake. He did not make any comment about it, which clearly pointed out his approval. A very informed eye would have seen him surreptitiously slide the flower in one of his coat pockets. If Atsushi did not see it, watching them interact, he came to the conclusion that his idea had not been so bad. He would have not been able to say why he had this feeling though.

    Maybe was it because, from this moment, Chuuya entirely monopolized Dazai’s attention. Sure, they only complained about each other. Yosano was interrupting them from time to time with a not so really elegant, loud laugh. The young man with auburn hair looked at her.

    " She looks a bit like Kouyou when she’s way too drunk… ”

    “ Ugh, Chuuya, you could’ve avoided talking about that. ”

    “ You wanna talk about you when you’re drunk as fuck ?! ”

    “ Are you sure you want to get on such a dangerous topic, Chuuya ? I have a lot of compromising files involving Chuuya and alcohol… ”

    “ Hah ?! And what if you shut up for a while so that we can all have five minutes’ peace ?! … I’m going out for a while before I really make you choke on my hands right here and there ! And none of your buddies here could save you ! ”

    “ Oh, chibikko is worrying about me now ? I would almost be touched if it didn’t come from a midget with such bad tastes… ”

    Chuuya’s “ go fuck yourself ! ”, followed by the slam of the door behind him, actually meant “ I’ll be back soon ”. No one was surprised when, only five minutes later, Dazai announced he was going to get him. He was so small that some passerby could mistake him for a child stuck on the roof and call the emergency number for nothing. No one thought about asking him how he knew the Mafia executive was on the roof either.

    Chuuya was barely starting on a cigarette, leaning his elbows on the fence separating him from the asphalt of the street, around twenty meters below. He did not react when Dazai’s footsteps got closer, watching the darkened sky with no stars, his back willingly exposed. He turned his blue eyes to him only when his ex-partner came to lean against the fence too.

    “ I’ve never asked you to follow me. ”

    “ I know. If you had, I wouldn’t have come. ”

    A grumble answered him. Chuuya’s gaze turned back to the city spreading in front of them. A simple and calm silence settled for a few minutes. Then Dazai’s voice broke it gently :

    “ Why did you accept Atsushi’s invite ? It’s quite impressive he could convince you. ”

    Chuuya took the time to take a long puff out of his cigarette before starting an answer.

    “ I was just curious, to see that someone actually cared that much for you. I wanted to see… your new colleagues and all… ”

    Dazai just looked at him in silence, his face unreadable. Chuuya let him avoid the comment. He knew this face. He knew it hid the will to not let any kind of emotion transpire. It wasn’t all that hard to admit he was just a bit thankful…

    “ Besides, Chuuya ! "

   The suddenly joyful tone was rather worrying.

    " I’m still waiting for your gift ! ”

    “ Hah ? I’ve already given it to you, moron. ”

    “ Ah, Chuuya, I would’ve never thought you were this shy. I even have no choice but take it myself. ”

    A flash of understanding crossed Chuuya’s gaze before Dazai slid one hand on his cheek to bring their faces closer. Surprise first tensed the jaw under his long and thin digits. A breath imitating a sigh gratified the young brown haired man and the jaw slightly rotated so that their lips could perfectly mold together in an innocent kiss. They kept still against each other for some time, just enjoying the softness of the touch. It felt like the traffic had stopped under their feet, the only sounds from the city echoing from far away. A light laugh, lacking any kind of animosity, even betraying longing, made the throat wrapped in a leather choker shake.

    “ You’re horribly sentimental tonight. It’s disturbing. ”

    “ Don’t worry like that, Chuuya. It’s just a foretaste for what is coming tonight. You should read it as a signal telling you not to drink too much. When this party is over, I’m going back with you. ”

    Dazai’s voice gradually got lower, turning into a whisper pleasantly vibrating against the young man’s lips. He let a few of his strands of hair getting gently pushed away by a bandaged hand. Before their lips met for a second time, he opened his to make a quick comment. However, his partner forestalled it :

    “ You know my walls are too thin for me to bring you home. ”

    Chuuya felt the need to whisper the few letters of “ pervert ” before kissing him again, even though that allowed his lover to feel his smile which wouldn’t erase, nor even fade. They had had a lot of “accidents” since their temporary partnership against Lovecraft and had found themselves in crumpled and soiled sheets of the mafioso’s bed several times. Their secret encounters had increased after Dostoevsky’s rats appeared in Yokohama. They started to accept it, to discuss without insulting each other, just lying together in bed, just barely a few weeks earlier. Dazai never had demonstrated any form of… “romanticism”. Kissing had only been used for their provoking, sometimes brutal game of seduction. Both pupils encircled with blue tones watched this face, formerly wrapped in bandages, compresses and band-aids. They got briefly covered by two eyelids, in silent admission. This naive boy had managed the achievement of making Dazai feel happy for just one night. Or at least, as happy as Dazai could be…

    Footsteps revealed a third person was coming. Chuuya stepped backward in order to quickly break their embrace. His partner stopped him and put one hand on the back of his head, his fingertips pushing between red strands of hair, against his scalp, as if affectionately massaging it. The movement was meant to be soothing and he got it as a silent “it’s okay”. So he let Dazai kiss him tenderly as Atsushi froze a few meters away. The gentleness in Dazai’s eyes when they pulled away was something he had never witnessed before.

    Chuuya finally acknowledged Atsushi's presence. The boy sported two very crimson cheeks. A part of Akutagawa’s coat was pulling at his arm. He probably had advised him not to check if everything was okay on their mentors’ part while denying him any kind of explanation… The were-tiger hastily apologized and stated that they could take as much time as they want, that he was relieved to see everything was going well. A split second later, the soles of his shoes disappeared through the door leading to the last floor of the building.

    When the young man turned back to Dazai, he was smiling tenderly at him. Once again, he could interpret his silence. “ Thank you for coming ”. He let a small laugh out.

    “ You better thank Atsushi properly. ”

—————————————————————

     … it’s not so bad.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ 

A/N: The name of the game is adult content. The adult content is back. This is where I warn you. Okay, proceed.

Chapter 3

I had felt my phone buzzing against my thigh all evening while I was at my dad's house. But I wouldn't let myself look except once to verify the messages were from Noble. When I saw the number of alerts, assuming what he was up to, I quickly darkened the screen and put it away, a jumpy heat in my heartbeat.

I made it home, showered and put on clean clothes before I decided to find out what he was so eager to tell me.

It starts with a picture and for a second, I hold my breath because I don’t know if I’m ready to see it, even though I’m alone in my own house. But it’s simply a picture of him, a look on his face as if he’s confused or annoyed at his sister whose chin is propped on his shoulder beside him. She wears sunglasses and a wide grin and the two of them appear to be on some sort of restaurant patio. I read the message beneath it:

Noble: I tried to crop her out but she wouldn't let me.

Noble: So hi, we miss you. But I miss you more. Come back.

I laugh softly, a little tug in my chest when I see his face, the way his eyebrow arches as he glances off to the side, his lips parted like he’s in mid-sentence.

That message had come earlier, and after about a two hour gap another string of them begins.

Noble: I guess it’s been a week right? For some reason, in my head, I thought I’d be chill about being apart from you for longer. But guess what I’m not and I miss that butt so if you could get it back down here, I’d appreciate it.

Noble: Actually, I had a dream that you did. That you were in my bed. So imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there. But damn it felt real. And I was hard just thinking I heard your breath in my ear.

I feel my eyebrow twitch at the last sentiment. I hadn't so much had dreams about him -- I rarely remember my dreams. But at night I'd lie in bed and think about him there. I hated that he wasn't. I spent one night with him last weekend and now I want it again so bad, my body was restless for it.

I’ve endured way longer -- shamefully longer -- stretches of time in my adult life where I wasn’t getting laid. But now I’ve gone a week and I’ve never been so damn incessantly turned on. The constant arousal had me jumpy. And it’s all because I know how good it could be and I craved it again, especially at night when I try to sleep.

Glancing down at my phone, I tap the screen to reply.

Jamie: So what are you going to do about it to make it real?

Then I toss my phone on the covers of my bed and head back out to turn everything off in the rest of the apartment. I make my way to bed and throw myself heavy onto the mattress, backing up against the pillows and retrieve my phone.

Noble: I’d get on a plane right now if jobs and shit weren’t an issue.

Jamie: I know, what the fuck?

Noble: You tell me when you have a free weekend and I’ll get there if I can.

I swipe to my calendar app and look at my schedule. Typically, I work one Saturday shift a month. I’d also promised Erin I’d spend an afternoon helping Nicky learn to drive. So I settle on a couple of the soonest weekends around the ones that are already booked.

Jamie: I could do the 19th or the 26th.

Noble: Alright. I’ll get back to you.

Jamie: So what else happened in this dream? You can’t just throw it out there and not expect me to need details.

Noble: It was just a feeling.  No sequence of events, just like… you were there next to me.

Jamie: Just laying there? Kinda bummed I wasn’t on top of you.

Noble: I save those thoughts for when I’m awake.

Noble: I am a fan of you on top of me.

Jamie: Yeah I am too. I think about that a lot.

Noble: I’m such an ass grabber with you so it’s a good position for me to be in.

Jamie: You are pretty handsy back there. That’s not a complaint.

Noble: You should see your ass, though. You can’t blame me.

With a shake of my head, I laugh softly, sinking further onto my back before I reply.

Jamie: I’ve seen it, but I’m glad you appreciate it.

Noble: I don’t know… the memory is fading… Maybe I need a picture.

Jamie: I’m not sending you a picture of my ass. Don’t even try.

Noble: One buttcheek.

Jamie: Considering your sister’s habit of helping herself to your phone? No way.

Noble: Dammit. What can I get a picture of? Like your knee or something? I can work with that.

Amused, I run the edge of my finger along my bottom lip. On the screen, my thumb hovers the icon to call him over video and I quickly tap it, waiting while it connects.

In a moment, his face is there, soft in the glow of dim lamp light. His brow furrows and with a guilty glance to the side, opens his mouth.

“Dude,” he greets me. “I was just trying to sext this hot guy. I’m busy.”

I smirk. “Yeah? Well he’s probably lame and a tease. Talk to me instead.”

“Are you in bed?”

Holding my phone over my face, I arch my brow to peer back at my pillows. “Yes.”

“It’s like, nine o’clock. ”

“I'm tired, bro.” I chuckle, sliding a hand up my face to rub my eyes. “Gotta be at work early tomorrow.”

“I know, me too.”

“But I figure if you want to see something, you can see my face while I talk to you.”

“I miss your ass and your face equally, so I'll take it.”

I have to shake my head. “You get no ass pictures.  You have to come get it in person.”

Tipping his head back against his couch, he lets out a frustrated moan. The way it rumbles, the way his throat clenches when he does stirs my already eager arousal. “God I want it so bad,” he murmurs his complaint. “I'm definitely coming for it, so I hope you're ready.”

Sucking my antsy bottom lip beneath my teeth, a smile twitches my cheek. I shift on my bed, my insistent hard on urging me to tilt my hips down against nothing. Fuck, why can't it be him?

I arch a questioning brow. “Ready how?” I know what he means. That night in Miami I was drunkenly determined to take it all from him, to have him inside me only to freak out and not go through with it. I could have shut down, been traumatized by it all. But I wasn't, because Noble didn't pressure me or make me feel ashamed or like I was a disappointment. And that whole night solidified my trust in him.

Chalk it up to my drive to excel, but I came home pretty damn curious about ways to ensure I'd be able to go through with it if we found ourselves trying again.

“Whatever you are game for doing, I'm coming for it,” he tells me. “Even if we just make out for forty-eight hours, I'm down.”

I scoff. “You would not be.”

“Yeah, forget that. But seriously, I think about you every fucking night, Jamie--”

The low urgency of my name in his voice, god that voice, it's such a turn on. His confession makes my stomach flip.

“More than that,” he adds. “But definitely at night. I get hard thinking about everything we did, remembering everything. Even by myself this week--” He laughs softly, arching his head back again. “I come so damn hard when I think about you.”

“Fuck--” I mutter in a whisper, reaching down to stroke a hand over my shorts. Then clearing my throat, I reach over and flip the lamp off beside my bed. “Alright, now we’re getting somewhere.”

Noble’s low chuckle rattles through the phone. “You going to sleep on me?”

“Hell no. Keep talking.”

“Oh, my god. Did you turn off the light to jerk off?”

“Maybe I did.”

“That’s really cute and Catholic of you.”

“Shut up. Want me to keep the light on?”

“I mean, I can’t really see you, but that’s okay,” he says. “I can sort of see you, and it’s hot. So please continue.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Go get in bed,” I tell him.

He cuts me an amused gaze and then I see him get up from the couch. I see the inside of his house before he turns the corner and he’s in his room.

“Oh hey, I remember that room,” I muse, catching a glimpse of his dresser in the background. “It knows all my secrets.”

“Oh-ho, yeah it does.” With a smile, he reaches for the lamp and turns it off.

In the darkness, I see him set his phone on the nightstand. Then the faint jingle of his belt and the sound alone makes my throat hot. I hear him shift, getting rid of his jeans before he falls back on the bed and picks his phone up.

“You wanna hear one of my secrets?” His coy question sparks a heat deep in my core.

I stretch back and close my eyes. “Mm-hm. Preferably one that involves what you plan to do to me when you come back to New York.”

“Ah god,” he says in an exhale. “What I plan to do? I want to shove you down on the bed, get on my knees and suck you off--”

“Shit--” I hiss in a shaky whisper. Then I can’t help blow out a breathy laugh at the blatant confession. Shifting, I dip my hand beneath the waist of my shorts and grasp my aching hard on and I waste no time with a needy tug on it.

“That's all I can fucking think about.” His hushed voice is raspy through the phone. I look and we can hardly see each other, but depending on how he moves, I catch the outline of his neck, the strong edge of his jaw in shadow. It heightens all the other senses and it’s just his voice and his intentions shooting my pulse straight to my cock.

My hand holding the phone just lets it slip onto the pillow beside me and I reach down. I adjust my shorts down and work myself in my fist, with the added sensation of my other hand. I’m not even trying to idly stroke and make it last longer. “Fuck,” I breathe out. “I wish you were here.”

“I am. I’m right there.” He murmurs his assurance and his it’s like I feel his hard exhales on my skin.

I imagine my hands are his. Pressing my lips together, I hum a broken grunt in my chest. I tip my head back, letting the noises that he makes seep inside me, the vibrations of his subtle moans shaking there.

I swallow hard and we just listen to each other’s heavy, determined breath before I tell him, “I don’t think you know how bad I want you to fuck me.”

All he can do is swear in a hot breath before another groan sneaks out of him. “Oh, my god, Jamie.” And then he starts to say Please but the word gets lost in a defeated sigh.

We both just mutter a string of fucks before I can tell he’s about to come. Seconds later, I am too. We’ve only finished at the same time while we’re talking on the phone and it’s an intense sensation, each of us consumed with our own release but provoked by the other hitting his limit. It builds until it breaks and together, we come undone.

It takes a while for my twitching muscles to let go, to finally collapse, hopeless and spent. After a moment of just listening to each other’s panting breath, it begins to even out. I have to smile when I hear that lazy laugh of his.

“I don’t really know why we’re on FaceTime,” Noble’s voice floats into the air above me.

An exhausted chuckle rumbles in my throat before I reach for my phone on the pillow beside me.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m into it,” he adds. “But I wasn’t… exactly paying attention to my phone screen. Let’s just say that.”

“I wanted to see you initially, but then-- Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Who cares?” He reasons. “You’re hot.”

With another laugh, I drop my free arm up and behind my head. “You’re so sick.”

“I know. Don’t judge me.”

“I like it.” A smirk flicks the corner of my lips. “I like that damn mouth of yours.”

“Yeah? Well you’ll get it soon enough.”

“Good. I’ve got plans for it.”

A soft laugh blows out of him. “You’re sick too, you hear me?”

I breathe deep and let the calming air fill my chest. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You want to hear something pretty gay?” He wonders.

Amused, I absently running my tongue along the ridge of my teeth and blink my dark bedroom into focus, “I’m fairly certain this entire conversation has been pretty damn gay, but go ahead.”

“I was really sad to wash my sheets last weekend after you left,” he admits. “That pillow still smelled like you and--” Then he pauses and I see him turn his head before he huffs a deep sigh and adjusts again on his bed. “Feel free to hang up now. Because I’m gross and apparently sentimental. But I miss you and you smell good and whatever.”

I bite into my lower lip, fighting a smile over his effect on my heart. “That’s super gay,” I tease him.

“I did wash my sheets,” he clarifies. “I’m not pathetic. But I’m just saying.”

“Fuck, that’s cute, Noble.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway.”

“I haven’t washed that sweatshirt,” I tell him. “The one you let me borrow after our run. It’s in my drawer and it still smells like you.”

“Oh damn,” he groans. “Why, do you have a crush on me or something?”

“You know your sense of smell is the only one that has a direct connection to the part of the brain associated with memory? That’s why… y’know, people can recall specific events and emotions just by smelling something--”

“Oh, my god. Look, I’m cool with jerking off on the phone together, but I’ll pass on this kinda talk.”

I crack up, my head tipping back into my pillows.

“You nerd.”

“Sorry,” I laugh. “Alright, I’m going to get ready for bed. Fucking deviant.”

“Go to sleep,” he tells me and I can hear the sleepy smile in his voice. “I’ll see you soon.”

[phroyd]

This has been going on for over 5 years, funded by the Koch brothers, to take State Legislatures, turn them Republican, and use ALEC to draft Agreements for passage in those states to Agree on an Article V Constitutional Convention. They have secured 28 out of the necessary 34 States needed for approval. - Phroyd

Mark Levin's bestselling book, The Liberty Amendments, contains some radical notions about a complete overhaul of the US constitution, but to debate the specifics of their merits is to ignore the larger insanity of the project.

He proposes 11 amendments, intended to be affixed more or less immediately (well, as soon as can be achieved), and the number alone is – ahem – audaciously hopeful. Remember, since 1789, the constitution has only been amended 27 times; ten of those amendments were accomplished when passed as a group with the adoption of the bill of rights. There have been over 11,000 proposed amendments. A simple assessment of odds puts any one amendment at about a 0.2% chance of getting passed. The chances of all 11 getting passed is beyond my limited recall of high school mathematics. Then again, in the fantasy world where one of Levin's amendments gets ratified, all of them have 100% chance.

In the real world, almost no one believes conservatives could accomplish what Levin has put forward. He begins the book with a blustery denouncement of the current administration familiar to anyone who's surfed over the AM radio spectrum in recent years. And give Levin credit: his rhetorical style has the ornate filigree of a 19th century lawyer – all embedded clauses and rat-a-tat 50-cent words:

Social engineering and central planning are imposed without end, since the governing masterminds, drunk with their own conceit and pomposity, have wild imaginations and infinite ideas for reshaping society and molding man's nature in search of the ever-elusive utopian paradise.

Levin channels his silken outrage into a generous read of the constitution's article V, which he describes as a mechanism for "restoring self-government and averting societal catastrophe (or, in the case of societal collapse, resurrecting the civil society)". The parenthetical aside is telling: he means to impress upon readers – ahem, again – "the fierce urgency of now". With the alarm bells ringing so loudly, we hardly notice the improbability of actuallyusing article V, which theoretically allows state legislatures to directly propose constitutional amendments – amendments that would not be filtered through Congress. (Congress is part of the problem, of course: it "operates not as the framers intended, but in the shadows.")

State legislatures, as Levin fully knows, have become increasingly conservative over recent years – due to the older, whiter, smaller electorate that turns out in off-year contests. If any layer of our government is likely to approve of the amendments Levin puts forward, it's them. Indeed, as he points out, many states already have adopted, for instance, terms limits and balanced budget provisions in their constitutions.

Levin's complaints and his ideas about how to solve them have the perfect structure of a luminous Mobius strip: if you believe his indictments, then you'll believe his solutions. But once you leave his twilit logic, the structure crumbles. Phyllis Schlafly, who plays on the same ideological team as Levin, wrote a response to his article V plan that could be summed up as "LOL": Levin and his supporters are "fooling themselves" if they believe an article V convention can achieve their goals. They can "hope and predict, but they cannot assure us that any of their plans will come true …The whole process is a prescription for political chaos, controversy and confrontation."

It's no wonder that many conservatives have chosen to believe anyway. Levin's fantasy world is elaborate and specific: he presents his amendments as necessary to recapture the intent of the founders, even as the very proposal of so many "reforms" goes against the founders' explicit design of a constitution that is very difficultchange. The meat of his proposals would be, I think, just as unpalatable to their view of the constitution as a broad outline for governance, one more inclined to negative than positive prescriptions. One fellow conservative noted that Levin seems less interested in reforming a corroded document than "tinkering" with it.

Indeed, the specificity of his recommendations – he includes an amendment that would set an upper limit to government spending as "17.5% of the nation's gross domestic product for the previous calendar year" (the number seems to be drawn out of thin air) – suggests that Levin is working less to save the constitution from "Statists" (capital S, always) than just backwards-engineering his personal ideal.

Indeed, there's no arguing that his recommendations are not largely (if not solely) designed to reshape the country as conservatives desire and to disenfranchise or otherwise disempower anyone who might disagree with those objectives. Levin may be able to muster Federalist Paper-footnoted arguments for term limits for supreme court justices, a national voter ID law, and the strengthening of states' ability to override federal law and supreme court decisions, but the real-world impact of such amendments would be to turn America back toward the Federalist era in terms of civil rights as well.

Levin's ideas are not conservative in political philosophy at all, at least in the sense of "standing athwart history and yelling 'stop'". He is liberal to the extreme when it comes to using the tools of the founders beyond what they intended. He seems to confuse his admiration for the logic and writing of our early leaders with ahistorical alignment with them. The Liberty Amendments is heavily larded with passages lifted from their correspondence as well as the Federalist Papers. And by "heavily larded", I mean give-Paula-Deen-pause "larded". Heart attack-inducing larded. You could fry Levin's book and serve it at a state fair.

But it does not come fried, only half-baked. The passages from the founders are not invigorating (or tasty), but dry coughs of rationalization. Yet, it is their frequency that makes Levin's book curiously impressive: it debuted at the top of the New York Times bestseller list. And it is as boring as a phone book – or a recitation of the Affordable Care Act.

Though sprinkled throughout with the ranty denouncement of "soft tyranny" that energizes likeminded listeners to his radio show, the odd genius of The Liberty Amendments isn't that he has riled up his base with fiery rhetoric, but that he seems to have riled it up without it. Given the ludicrousness of his specific "fixes" and the near-impossibility of achieving them, Levin has produced something I have to concede I admire – as a literary trope, if nothing else – speculative fiction disguised as documentary. I admit I liked it better in World War Z.

It is true that Levin's amendments are dead on arrival, but his are zombie ideas that may yet attack. Levin has been mentioned as a possible moderator for the Republican national committee's 2016 primary debates. The committee intends them to be more substantive and less theatrical than the clown-car contests of 2012.

The notion that Levin would lend gravitas, via his originalist fixations, to the events has understandable appeal. But gravitas only comes from plans that are grounded, and Levin's are just wishes, conjured out of thin air.

Phroyd

[meisteralready]

Today. I’ve been having a bad day.

Everything was off. I didn’t know I had to work and discovered just an hour and change before so. I wasn’t prepared.

I hadn’t slept well, having a horrible nightmare of some beast- a weird wolf-like insect (I know) - that broke into my bedroom and was trying to literally eat my foot.

I woke up at 4am, shaking, deep heart palpations, terrified. It was so visceral and real. I got up to use the bathroom and I couldn’t figure out where it was. My feet started cramping up and I felt dry and hollow, hot and lightheaded - it felt like a panic attack.

I quickly checked my blood sugar. It was 60. Dangerously low for a diabetic. I stumbled into my kitchen and slammed orange juice. I ate a chicken leg, cashews, random chips. The hunger was ferocious because I was crashing.

This was more dangerous than a bad dream.

Slowly, I rebounded. 72.

5 minutes later, 85.

10 minutes.

Got to about 100.

Finally.

I sat back on the bed gingerly. I was scared to go back to sleep. Afraid I’d crash out again. And I was terrified to possibly return to that nightmare.

Eventually, I drift back to sleep at 6 or so, thinking -thank bejesus!- that I am off today. Wake up later to use the bathroom. And because my circadian rhythm is supremely and unrecognizably out of whack, I have no idea the current time. I check my phone.

At that same exact moment, an email chimes in. It’s my trainer/coordinator, reminding us to be ready, promptly and memorized, for the meeting at 9am.

My phone says it’s 7:45.

I think that this is the first I knew of any of this. Until, I check my email and, nope! I knew of all of this.

I just never put it in my calendar. And if it’s not in there, it doesn’t even exit in my world. But in the real world, I have to be prepped and ready for a in-depth case at in about an hour and some change.

I jolt awake.

For the second time this morning.

A worse nightmare.

This will not be the day I was expecting.

Slam a shower, more food, iced coffee from my refrigerator and it’s 9:30. I zoom into the meeting and it’s ON.

In the meeting, though, I am confused. I am not connecting the dots. Dates and times tumble. Simple things that I have replicated, quite literally, thousands of times, become unwieldy; cumbersome. I look like a complete amateur.

Plus, I am being awkward. Awkward in passes of conversation. Even awkward in the way I am holding my body in front my laptop’s camera. A sudden alien on this earth.

I feel I am short with people. I am not following the case. I’m so very lost. I am asked a fairly direct answer and just…

Nothing comes. And because this is a goddamn zoom meeting, all eyes are literally on me. Just then, my downstairs neighbor is loudly playing some movie - crashes, incoherent rambles and screams. I mute myself for a second and, out of view of the camera, stomp the floor with three large thuds.

I click my mic back on. The volume downstairs deadens, then GOES UP.

In the mock exercise for the event, I just flat-out fail. I mess up facts and am noticeably not memorized. It’s easily seen and my tension is palpable.

Mercifully, the training ends. I am terribly embarrassed.

After a brief de-brief with my higher ups, I explain I’m off at bit, but I will be fine - studied, memorized and 100% coherent - on the day. No worries. It’s next week. Okay, Monday, but next week.

Leave Meeting.

I hear the downstairs door slam close. I guess it was a shit movie. It is finally, relatively, quiet. And I am just kinda frozen-in-place. The laptop shows an empty zoom prompt, but nothing is moving. Not on-screen, in the room, nothing. I just take in the screen, the hum of the nearby refrigerator, and the absolute stillness of me at the table in my living room.

I feel a sadness welling. I feel the urge - a growing need - to cry. It was a bad, bad morning, yet this feeling is now overwhelming me, startles me.

Why now?

I decide food is the answer and will fix something.

I am about to push away and stand up from the computer, from the table. I notice on my iCal the date. February 19th.

It’s February 19th.

12 years ago, today, roughly to this exact time in the morning, I had to make the choice to take my Mom off life support.

Surrounded by her world, and her being mine, she slipped away within minutes. It was an immediate emptiness I have never felt again or since. Dry and hollow.

How could I forget? How could I forget this day? A moment that never leaves the back of my eyes and perhaps defines every day that came after it. The decision in that day that simultaneously affirms and will forever haunts me.

How could I have forgotten this day?

I guess that is what time is supposed to do. Let your psyche trick itself into the monotony of days, of the work that years lay upon you.

But I had never not remembered this day.

I sat back down. And I just cried. Wept, actually.

I miss her so. Mom. I’d do anything to see her at this stage in our lives. She should have been retired and me, with a teenager. I would like to compare parental notes, battle scars.

I wish-upon-wish that she could just sit with Evangeline for a conversation, some iced tea (though Eve hates it), see them split their beloved jellybeans. To hear them laugh with the same easy little hiccup and drawl they both share.

Outside, it started shifting a little snow - some call it “spitting” - just gentle flakes, unhurried, making their way down from their journey way up.

Then, the sun broke through, gleamed over the top of the building next door, and directly into my face.

The snow still fell. Though now, with this little sun, it glistened in its’ little cascades.

I felt my shoulders release and fall. Relief just rushed over me.

Warm.

I had forgotten about the day.

But I had remembered Mom.

[judefan844-blog]

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[deniscollins]

Do Not Disturb: How I Ditched My Phone and Unbroke My Brain

Do you or your coworkers look at your smartphone more than 52 times a day (which is the national average)? Do you or your co-workers need to unhook your brain from the harmful routines it has adopted around cell phone use? If yes, how can this problem be addressed to improve the relationship they have with their cell phones?

My name is Kevin, and I have a phone problem.

And if you’re anything like me — and the statistics suggest you probably are, at least where smartphones are concerned — you have one, too.

I don’t love referring to what we have as an “addiction.” That seems too sterile and clinical to describe what’s happening to our brains in the smartphone era. Unlike alcohol or opioids, phones aren’t an addictive substance so much as a species-level environmental shock. We might someday evolve the correct biological hardware to live in harmony with portable supercomputers that satisfy our every need and connect us to infinite amounts of stimulation. But for most of us, it hasn’t happened yet.

I’ve been a heavy phone user for my entire adult life. But sometime last year, I crossed the invisible line into problem territory. My symptoms were all the typical ones: I found myself incapable of reading books, watching full-length movies or having long uninterrupted conversations. Social media made me angry and anxious, and even the digital spaces I once found soothing (group texts, podcasts, YouTube k-holes) weren’t helping. I tried various tricks to curb my usage, like deleting Twitter every weekend, turning my screen grayscale and installing app-blockers. But I always relapsed.

Eventually, in late December, I decided that enough was enough. I called Catherine Price, a science journalist and the author of “How to Break Up With Your Phone,” a 30-day guide to eliminating bad phone habits. And I begged her for help.

Mercifully, she agreed to be my phone coach for the month of January, and walk me through her plan, step by step. Together, we would build a healthy relationship with my phone, and try to unbreak my brain.

‘A Bit Horrifying’

I confess that entering phone rehab feels clichéd, like getting really into healing crystals or Peloton. Digital wellness is a budding industry these days, with loads of self-help gurus offering miracle cures for screen addiction. Some of those solutions involve new devices — such as the “Light Phone,” a device with an extremely limited feature set that is meant to wean users off time-sucking apps. Others focus on cutting out screens entirely for weeks on end. You can now buy $299 “digital detox” packages at luxury hotels or join the “digital sabbath”movement, whose adherents vow to spend one day a week using no technology at all.

Thankfully, Catherine’s plan is more practical. I’m a tech columnist, and while I don’t begrudge anyone for trying more extreme forms of disconnection, my job prevents me from going cold turkey.

Instead, her program focuses on addressing the root causes of phone addiction, including the emotional triggers that cause you to reach for your phone in the first place. The point isn’t to get you off the internet, or even off social media — you’re still allowed to use Facebook, Twitter and other social platforms on a desktop or laptop, and there’s no hard-and-fast time limit. It’s simply about unhooking your brain from the harmful routines it has adopted around this particular device, and hooking it to better things.

When we started, I sent her my screen time statistics, which showed that I had spent 5 hours and 37 minutes on my phone that day, and picked it up 101 times — roughly twice as many as the average American.

“That is frankly insane and makes me want to die,” I wrote to her.

“I will admit that those numbers are a bit horrifying,” she replied.

Catherine encouraged me to set up mental speed bumps so that I would be forced to think for a second before engaging with my phone. I put a rubber band around the device, for example, and changed my lock screen to one that showed three questions to ask myself every time I unlocked my phone: “What for? Why now? What else?”

For the rest of the week, I became acutely aware of the bizarre phone habits I’d developed. I noticed that I reach for my phone every time I brush my teeth or step outside the front door of my apartment building, and that, for some pathological reason, I always check my email during the three-second window between when I insert my credit card into a chip reader at a store and when the card is accepted.

Mostly, I became aware of how profoundly uncomfortable I am with stillness. For years, I’ve used my phone every time I’ve had a spare moment in an elevator or a boring meeting. I listen to podcasts and write emails on the subway. I watch YouTube videos while folding laundry. I even use an app to pretend to meditate.

If I was going to repair my brain, I needed to practice doing nothing. So during my morning walk to the office, I looked up at the buildings around me, spotting architectural details I’d never noticed before. On the subway, I kept my phone in my pocket and people-watched — noticing the nattily dressed man in the yellow hat, the teens eating hot Takis and laughing, the kid with Velcro shoes. When a friend ran late for our lunch, I sat still and stared out the window instead of checking Twitter.

It’s an unnerving sensation, being alone with your thoughts in the year 2019. Catherine had warned me that I might feel existential malaise when I wasn’t distracting myself with my phone. She also said paying more attention to my surroundings would make me realize how many other people used their phones to cope with boredom and anxiety.

“I compare it to seeing a family member naked,” she said. “Once you look around the elevator and see the zombies checking their phones, you can’t unsee it.”

Withdrawal Sets In

Next, I gave my phone the Marie Kondo treatment — looking at all my apps and keeping the ones that sparked joy and contributed to healthy habits and tossing those that didn’t.

For me, that meant deleting Twitter, Facebook and all other social media apps, along with news apps and games. I kept messaging services like WhatsApp and Signal, and non-distracting utilities like cooking and navigation apps. I pruned my home screen to just the essentials: calendar, email and password manager. And I disabled push notifications for everything other than phone calls and messages from a preset list of people that included my editor, my wife and a handful of close friends.

Where you keep your phone is also important. Studies have shownthat people who don’t charge their phones in their bedrooms are significantly happier than those who do. Catherine charges her phone in a closet; for me, she recommended a locking mini-safe. I bought one and started storing my phone inside, which simultaneously reduced my nighttime usage and made me feel like I was guarding the queen’s jewels.

And I pursued activities that could replace my phone habit. On the recommendation of my colleague Farhad Manjoo, I signed up for pottery classes. As it turned out, pottery makes a perfect phone substitute. It’s manually challenging and demands concentration for hours on end. It gets your hands dirty, too, which is a good deterrent to fiddling with expensive electronics.

After a pottery class, I updated my wife on my progress. I told her that while it felt great to disconnect, I still worried that I was missing something important. I liked having a constant stream of news at my fingertips, and I wanted to do more of the things I actually like about social media, like keeping tabs on my friends’ babies and maintaining ambient Kardashian awareness.

“I’m sad that you’re having trouble with this,” she said, “because it’s been great for me.”

She explained that since my phone detox started, I’d been more present and attentive at home. I spent more time listening to her, and less time distractedly nodding and mumbling while checking my inbox or tapping out tweets.

Psychologists have a name for this: “phubbing,” or snubbing a person in favor of your phone. Studies have shown that excessive phubbing decreases relationship satisfaction and contributes to feelings of depression and alienation.

For years, I’ve justified my phubbing by treating it as a professional necessity. Isn’t it my job to know when news happens? Won’t I be neglecting my duties if it takes me an extra hour to learn that Jeff Bezos is getting divorced, or another YouTuber did something racist?

I put this question to Catherine, who reassured me that I wasn’t jeopardizing my career by being slightly later to the news. She reminded me that I’d been happier since I dialed down my screen time, and she gently encouraged me to focus on the other side of the cost-benefit analysis.

“Think of the bigger picture of what you’re getting by not being on Twitter all the time.”

A Thoreau Cleansing

The biggest test came with a “trial separation” — a 48-hour period during which I wasn’t allowed to use my phone or any other digital device. (Catherine’s program calls for a 24-hour separation, but I decided to try a more hard-core version.)

I had dreaded this idea at the outset, but when the weekend actually arrived, I got giddy with excitement. I rented an off-the-grid Airbnb in the Catskills, warned my editor that I’d be offline for the weekend and took off.

A phone-free weekend involved some complications. Without Google Maps, I got lost and had to pull over for directions. Without Yelp, I had trouble finding open restaurants.

But mostly, it was great. For two solid days, I basked in 19th-century leisure, feeling my nerves softening and my attention span stretching back out. I read books. I did the crossword puzzle. I lit a fire and looked at the stars. I felt like Thoreau, if Thoreau periodically wondered what was happening on Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s Instagram story.

I also felt twinges of anger — at myself, for missing out on this feeling of restorative boredom for so many years; at the engineers in Silicon Valley who spend their days profitably exploiting our cognitive weaknesses; at the entire phone-industrial complex that has convinced us that a six-inch glass-and-steel rectangle is the ideal conduit for worldly experiences.

Sadly, there is no way to talk about the benefits of digital disconnection without sounding like a Goop subscriber or a neo-Luddite. Performative wellness is obnoxious, as is reflexive technophobia.

But I cannot stress enough that under the right conditions, spending an entire weekend without a phone in your immediate vicinity is incredible. You have to try it.

Rewired and Renewed

Allow me a bit of bragging: Over the course of 30 days, my average daily phone time, as measured by the iPhone’s built-in screen time tracker, has dwindled from around five hours to just over an hour. I now pick up my phone only about 20 times a day, down from more than 100. I still use my phone for email and texting — and I’m still using my laptop plenty — but I don’t itch for social media, and I often go hours without so much as a peek at any screen.

In one of our conversations, I asked Catherine if she worried that I would relapse. She said it was possible, given the addictive properties of phones and the likelihood that they’ll only keep getting more essential. But she said that as long as I remained aware of my relationship with my phone, and continued to notice when and how I used it, I’d have gotten something valuable.

“Your life is what you pay attention to,” she said. “If you want to spend it on video games or Twitter, that’s your business. But it should be a conscious choice.”

One of the most unexpected benefits of this program is that by getting some emotional distance from my phone, I’ve started to appreciate it again. I keep thinking: Right here, in my pocket, is a device that can summon food, cars and millions of other consumer goods to my door. I can talk with everyone I’ve ever met, create and store a photographic record of my entire life, and tap into the entire corpus of human knowledge with a few swipes.

Steve Jobs wasn’t exaggerating when he described the iPhone as a kind of magical object, and it’s truly wild that in the span of a few years, we’ve managed to turn these amazing talismanic tools into stress-inducing albatrosses. It’s as if scientists had invented a pill that gave us the ability to fly, only to find out that it also gave us dementia.

But there is a way out. I haven’t taken an M.R.I. or undergone a psychiatric evaluation, but I’d bet that something fundamental has shifted inside my brain in the past month. A few weeks ago, the world on my phone seemed more compelling than the offline world — more colorful, faster-moving and with a bigger scope of rewards.

I still love that world, and probably always will. But now, the physical world excites me, too — the one that has room for boredom, idle hands and space for thinking. I no longer feel phantom buzzes in my pocket or have dreams about checking my Twitter replies. I look people in the eye and listen when they talk. I ride the elevator empty-handed. And when I get sucked into my phone, I notice and self-correct.

It’s not a full recovery, and I’ll have to stay vigilant. But for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to feel like a human again.

[rozonelayer-blog]

Saturday 19th May

Royal wedding today. Who actually cares? Evidently I do, because my blog is suppose to be a *Sunday* summary, yet here I am...

Today I found out that my flatmate Lucy and her boyfriend Hudson broke up. My first instinct was to tell Ro but I have held off for now.

Lucy got together with Hudson at around the same time I got together with Ro. This was a year or so ago, before we lived together - the flatshare started in mid-October. We were chatting at Svetla's birthday drinks and she told me about the guy she was seeing, said it was a bit intense for her at first because he's 31 and seemed to consider it a relationship from the beginning. I said I sympathised, said I'd just got together with a 28 year old (I was 24 at the time). When we woke up together the first time, the first thing he wanted to know was "What is this?" My heart sank because I thought, why does it have to be a thing - something with a label? Why can't it be our secret little something for now? And I told her how the first time he stayed over at mine, I woke in the middle of the night, and Ro took my face in his hands and said "I love you" - italics because that was his tone of voice.

Since moving in with Lucy and Svetla, I've felt uncomfortable about their attitude to Ro. It seems clear that they don't approve of how much time I spend with him. And there's the comparison that no one wants to make - that Lucy sees Hudson once every two months, if that. That's partly because they both work shifts, and partly because a few months into their relationship, he decided to move back in with his parents - in Orpington. If Greater London is the solar system, Orpington is Pluto/Planet X, i.e. further away than Neptune. He's saving up for a house, supposedly, so he is taking on as many shifts as he can, and living rent-free with his parents. Lucy couldn't stay over at his ever because he never told his parents about her. He said that she'd meet his parents at his father's retirement party, which she duly put in her calendar, and she bought a new dress and had her outfit planned a good month in advance. This was in November. The retirement party was supposed to be on a Friday night; on the Friday morning, he texted her to tell her he'd made a terrible mistake, and the party had actually been the previous night, on the Thursday.

Another time, he was supposed to come round one Sunday night. I knew he must be coming round because Lucy cleaned her room. (Sidenote: it peeves me a little that Lucy is the messiest one in the house, yet makes her room beautiful every time Hudson is supposed to come round: he must think that she's the tidy one, and Svetla and I are the messy ones.) But he never showed up; at eleven, Lucy gave up and shut herself in her room for the night. The next day, Horace told her that at the last minute he'd been called and offered an extra shift, so he took it. Why didn't he let Lucy know? Because his phone ran out of battery so he couldn't call her. The same phone that his boss called him on to offer him an extra shift...

Whenever I hear something new about Hudson, I tell Ro, and if I haven't mentioned Lucy-and-Hudson for a while, Ro asks. It's juicy gossip for us. Our fascination with them is maybe something to do with the frosty welcome Lucy and Svetla tend to give Ro - for reasons I still can't work out. But I think we'd be curious anyway. Other couples are always a curiosity, also when you're single, but I think especially when you're in one yourself. Before Ro I've always hated the business of letting mutual friends know I'm with a boyfriend because it opens the floodgates of Judginess. This is really why my heart sank when Ro asked "What is this?" I don't want it to be a thing because I don't want to tell people. Once you've told people, the gossip and judging begin: what does she see in him? Why did/didn't he do X, Y and Z? Do they really love each other? That's never going to last...

I think there's a there-but-for-the-grace-of-god-go-I aspect to it as well. For example, when my pal Pete tells me that his girlfriend gets huffy if he wants to read his book - "But why don't you want to spend time with me?" - I think, thank God Ro likes reading and lets me do my own thing on a Sunday afternoon.

Conversely, there have been times when friends who I thought would be with their other halves forever have split up, and it really rocks your world. My friend Dan broke up with his girlfriend Susie when we were 17. Within a month, he was with a girl I'd never even heard him mention before, called Phoebe. "That'll never last," I thought contemptuously. Seven years later they're still an item - shows what I knew. And when Luke and Marcella broke up...

Today's the royal wedding. Today is an occasion for either celebrating or despairing at what has become of the United Kingdom. There are a million pertinent issues to be discussed here (a few of them mentioned in this article that my grumpy father sent me this morning). And yet somehow, my friend Precious updates her instagram story celebrating the gospel choir and the sermon delivered by a Black priest, and what do I text her saying? "What do you think though? Personally I don't really get what Meghan Markle sees in prince harry but I am aware that it's not for me to judge"

So I’m not telling Ro about Lucy and Hudson - because do unto others.