#like in order to cook one must first put on the apron goddamn

[rainbow-crane]

Piping hot take apparently but. Maybe if you're going to criticize a thing for poor writing you should actually watch it first

[eliza-writes-stuff]

Our Sweet Guardian Demon: Pilot Episode

Hey, guys! I have been working on this pilot for a few weeks now.

Now, for the fanfic, it will take me a few months. Our Sweet Guardian Demon will be released somewhere in the fall or early winter.

It’s strange that this idea came from “Imagine Your OT3″ XD

And as always, I hope ye enjoy!

Dogs barking, cats meowing, and parakeets tweeting their away. The pet store can be busy either way with people or animals in general. The phone vibrates in a man's pocket. His hand reaches for it and accepts the call. His other hand is scratching the dog's fur.

“Brian, do you need something?” The man in green apron asked. “I'm at work right now.”

“Yes, I know Brock, but can you stay over for the night?”

Brock hummed, “Why?”

“I know yer scared of this shit and don't want to get involved because my magick can hurt ye.” Brian ramble. There was some rustling in the background. “So, do ye, I don't focking know summon a demon with me?"

A demon? That is dangerous even for Brian's standard of black magick. Does he need to curse Evan again for coming over at his place without permission, but Brian isn't really angry at him. Did he got dared again on his group chat again? Brock thought he told him not to interact with them.

"Why do you need me?" Brock questioned. The dog barked next to him with curious puppy eyes. It laid down its head on Brock's lap.

"Yer the only one I can trust. Evan might touch me things without my goddamn permission and Nogla's a bit of a dumb-ass figure this shit out." Brian sighed. "I'm sorry ye don't want to do this and-"

"I'll join." Brock giggled at the stutters and 'whats' Brian said. "Just buy me lunch after this okay? Also, we better get out of this alive or I'll be stuck with you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Maybe."

Brian chuckled on the line, "I'll see you tonight Brocky."

When Brock's shift is over and he told Maxi watch over the shop tomorrow because he might be dead. Well, he left out the dead part. He says he has personal reasons. Maxi didn't pressure him and they were nice about it. They say that their sister and his two dogs, Oli and Nico  is coming over. Brock took an uber and tell the driver for the locations to the apartment.

The urban life is always bustling and chattering among the citizens. If he rolled down his window, there could be the smell of cooked processed fast food or baked chocolate chip cookies. At least the shops has a nice smell.

The uber driver came to an abrupt stop. There's the apartment building. Brock gave some money to the driver and gave him 5 stars since he didn't care about the rating. He got out of the car and hoisted up his backpack. This is it. His stomach sink, but his heart lighten up at the thought of Brian. He could protect him, right? Only one way to find out is to go in.

Brock pushed the glass door opened. The manager with pink hair is sitting down with his eyes seem to be always closed. The manager's expression light up and eyes slightly opened. When the glass door light out a creak. He gave a small wave to him and continue writing down. How can he see without his eyes opened? Never mind that. Brock has a date-hangout with Brian.

Both of them has to come out alive.

He stepped into the elevator and took a shaky breath. Maybe the ritual is a fluke. His trembling fingers pressed the buttons to go up on the fourth floor. The lobby was his view before it closes on him. Don’t chicken out now.

-

The candles are set up, the sigil is draw on the floor, and his other magic items are there. His hand wiped off the remaining sweat on his forehead. Thank god, Brian read the instructions. It has to work or it will be not worth it. He got out of the side room of his bedroom, which you should never have. Brian pulled out his phone and checks the text again.

~

Teh Terroriser: are u sure this would work?

Sarah: yes

Sarah: he’ll give you a special item that will reveal brock’s s/o

Sarah: but it’s for a price

Sarah: good luck :)

~

Brian knows he shouldn’t do this to reveal his friend’s secrets, but his friends tells him that Brock likes him back. No matter what they say, his brain denies, but his heart yearns. For years, he has considered practicing black magick as a hobby and finds it especially when it comes to pranking Nogla.

His hands gripped around his phone. Brian sighed and put his back in his pocket. A loud two time thud from his front door. It must be Brock. He ran from the bedroom to the front door and opened to see a small smile from a man.

“I thought you weren’t gonna join.” Brian said in disbelief.

Brock’s erupt into small, cute giggles, “Can’t let my friend die.” Brian lets him and hangs up his coat. “So, when we are summoning?”

“Either 2 or 3 in the morning.” He nervously laughed as Brock crossed his arms. “But in the meantime, wanna play Mario Kart 8?”

-

You had plenty of money in 1922.

A song from the jukebox softly plays throughout the tavern. Fairy lights almost covering the ceiling. A few folks chatting among themselves, either about rumors or sweet-talk. People had strange taste when it comes to alcohol. Vodka with orange juice? Now, you’re a true drunk toddler. At least there’s mineral water. A distinct smell came through the noses. Smoke. People aren’t allowed to smoke in the bar, so they had to take it outside. Strange.

You let other women make a fool of you.

Luke Patterson is the owner of Mystic Drinks. With his charming nature and sultry voice, it pleases the women and men. He’ll throw a smile, it swoons the ladies in the back. However, despite his seductive personality, you don’t want to leash the beast out of him. Well, he did in bed, but if someone ticked his long beard off. They’re either kick out or never be seen again. When Luke found the source of the smoking problem, he grabbed them by the collar. Kicking and yelling, people stared at the two. Finally, the door slams shut as the person got kicked. Luke’s eyes order to ignore it.

Why don’t you do right, like some other men do?

“That’s the third time you kicked out someone.” The man in glasses giggled.

Luke sighed and ruffled the man’s tied up bun. “Look I want to make a safe place for y’all and this is the thanks I get? People treat this like a dumpster fire Ohm.” Luke’s shoulders tensed, but calm when another bartender put his hands on it.

Get out of here and get me some money too?

“Don’t let that asshole get to you. He can take that nasty cigar and shove it up his ass.” The jiggly man retorted.

“Thanks Anthony.” 

Ohm enjoy his friends. Hearing Anthony laughed every time he makes a dumb, somewhat sexualised jokes. He knows Luke longer than Anthony. Some say they were friends with benefits, which it is true, but it’s over when Luke found a special someone, or two. They all became a couple, and they own a bar called Mystic Drinks. It’s a safe place for humans and creatures as well. Creatures, such as demons, wendigos, avains, lizard-folk, and dragons. Luke is a Lust demon, he and Anthony are Wrath demons, and Mini is an Envy demon.

“Hey, where’s Mini?”

“He got summoned.” Luke explained. “He said there’s this bitch who got jealous of this other bitch.” He let a breathy laugh, “Humans are so dumb.”

“Yep. I got summoned one time by this guy. He said ‘hey uh I want you to kill this asshole’ and I thought ‘you kill himself!” Anthony complained as he grabbed the mixer and shakes it. “Does it look like I’m your bitch?”

Ohm and Luke laughed at his story, “Sorry, but you and Mini are my bitches.” Luke put his arms around Anthony, but he shoved him off.

“Treat me first, you bottom bitch.” Then he pours the drinks in the blonde woman’s glass. Ohm laughed and takes a sip from his mineral water.

Humans meant nothing to demons. Just an object to toy around and maybe take souls from. At least a few souls because there’s an overpopulation going in the Nine Circles of Hell and they can’t handle more new souls coming to hell. What about humans who are satanist? They’re wannabes who thinks they know their emotions and what they’re going through. Some demons think it’s funny and plays along or can be their friend.

Why would Ohm be friends with a disgusting human? He gets a tug on his wrists, and he rolled down to see his sigil flashing.

“I have to go,” He sighed as he got up from his chair. “It was chatting with you guys.” Ohm walks away from the two and went outside. The guy who got kicked out because he was smoking. The man grumbled, but Ohm quickly snaps his fingers and the man is now in the trash can. He struggled while Ohm chuckles silently. He disappears from sight.

-

The red candles lit up and surrounds the circle. Inside of the circle is a sigil. The room faintly smells of raspberries. Brock and Brian sit crossed legged. The room doesn’t have any windows or one of those air vents. Not to mention it’s quite small. The phone glowed out the locked screen with the time of 3 in the morning.

“We got this set up, now what?” Brock asked. His eyes darting around the room.

“Now, we get to say the magic words.” Brian wiggled his fingers out, his friend giggle at the actions. He gives him a piece of paper. “This is what I’ll be saying and it’s not focking Latin. Thank god.”

“Wait, you’re doing this alone?”

“Well, yeah.” As much he wants Brock around, but he can’t join in because the demon might want something from him as well. He can’t risk it. “But ye get to drag me out in case shit backfires.”

“So basically I’m dragging your ass out of hell.”

“Yep.” He laughed. Then stares at the circle. It’s time. Brian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“Lord Satan, by your grace, grant me, I pray thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain by thy help, O Mighty Satan, the one True God who livest and reignest forever and ever. I entreat thee to inspire Ohmwrecker to manifest before me that she may give me true and faithful answer, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is proper to his/her office. This I respectfully and humbly ask in Your Name, Lord Satan, may you deem me worthy, Father.” 

A few minutes and still is in the air. Brian took a shaky breath and opened his eyes. This has to work because all that black magick he learn has gone to waste in the dirt.

Within the circle, the sigil glows bright red. Little red candles fire up more and sways. Then spreads in the circle. Brock gasped while Brian is shocked in disbelief. It’s supposed to glow pink, not red. Did he mess up the sigil? Oh god, what kind of demon would it be?

Fire and smoke rose from the ground, causing the two to scoot back. Brian wrapped his arm around Brock. Smoke fades when a man wearing a white t-shirt. Red marks on his arms when he crossed. His eyes are covered by a blindfold with an omega symbol on it. The demon scowled on the cowering men. If you look at another angle, you could see a small bun near his neck.

“Jeez, you humans are so irresponsible. Don’t you know I can end you?” Despite his tense aura and vexation, his appearance alone is heating up the room. Literally, Brian cheeks rushed with flushed and it appears that Brock’s cheeks has become too. “Just tell me what is the problem?”

Be respectful and welcoming, “Ye see, I accidentally summoned ye-”

“Accidentally?” His voice booms and the room almost shakes. A small desk in the corner almost felled.

“I wasn’t supposed to summon ye! I was trying to summon another demon. I must’ve got the sigil wrong or said the name wrong.” Brian explained. His sweat soaked his forehead and armpits. Surprised, it didn’t stink.

The demon clenched his nose before pointing fingers at Brian, “At least I know you waste my precious time and pissed me off even more.” He gives a low chuckle. “I supposed you deserve to be perish.” He raised his hand as Brian stands up to floating above his toes. Before the demon could grab his collar, Brock stands between them. “Mortal human get away or you’ll end up like your pathetic friend.”

“I could do that, but aren’t we supposed to make a deal?” Brian could almost hear his friend’s heart beat getting louder. “How about we find something you greatly desire: money, food, or heck even animals. Just don’t kill Brian please.” Brock begged, his voice wavering. Before you know it, Brian dropped onto the ground. He scrambled up to his feet and quickly hold his hand.

“Anything?” The demon rubbed his imaginary beard. “Fine. In order to save your soul, you must find a certain group of people and when you do. Kill them.” a shiver ran through their spine. “No matter depending on your morals or alignment, you still have to kill them. Including you cutie.” he points at Brock.

“You can’t do that! Don’t involve Brock into this bullshit. This is between me and you, ye cu-”

“Brian.” Brock gave a soft smile, “Please, you created this mess and I’m always the one who has to clean it up. You did promise to buy me lunch.”

 “Enough with the sappy talk. I have to make sure the both of you won’t try and escape.” With the snap of his fingers, visible chains on Brian’s right wrist and Brock’s left wrist. It’s connected to the demon’s wrist. “It’s better that way.”

“Sorry, but can you please tell us your name?”

“I’m quite sure ‘Brian’ knows who I am, but I let it pass since you do have a good soul.” Before he could introduce himself, he kinda stop. He seems to be his thoughts while glancing at two, but shake his head. “I am known as Ohmwrecker, but my companions call me Ohm.”

[kpopscenarihos]

coffee shop - chapter three (hui - pentagon)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

a/n: well guys we made it to the end! as my first kpop fic i didn’t expect this to receive as much love as it did so sincerely, thank you, i appreciate it so much! i hope you all enjoy the ending as much as i enjoyed writing it! -admin tae

summary: barista!reader x up-and-coming artist!hui

genre: fluff/smut sort of??

word count: ~4.9k

warnings: mild language, suggestive content/smut maybe i guess???

People often came through the coffee shop doors expecting you to remember everything about them after they had visited one time. You’d had your fair share of people who asked you for their ‘usual’, not realizing that to you, they looked like any other person who had walked into the shop that day, and you had no semblance of an idea as to what their ‘usual’ could be. You could count the number of customers you regularly recognized on one hand – Hui included. Those were the people who if they had not visited in a while, you would actually notice.

One week. It had been an entire week since you had seen Hui in the coffee shop. There could have been many reasons as to why he hadn’t been there. For one, it could have been because after his first recording day, he didn’t need to really stop by and work on his songs as much as he did before. Or he could hate you after that day you spent with him – that’s what your brain wanted to settle on.

Of course, you had his number, and of course if you wanted to, you could text him and ask. But you were stubborn. As much as you craved to talk to him, you couldn’t bring yourself to bother him. You knew how busy he must be now that he was nearing the end of album preparations.

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, and you grabbed it instinctively.

Hui: Working today? 8:52 am

You smiled to yourself. Maybe he didn’t hate you after all.

You: Yep. Working a double shift because I offered to cover, please kill me 8:53 am

Hui: No thanks, moon princess, I need you alive. What do you say you come over to my place when you get off? I need some opinions on a few songs we recorded last week. 8:56 am Hui: Oh, by the way, sorry for not talking to you or stopping by. I’ve been busy working on these songs and haven’t slept much lately 8:57 am

See? A perfectly normal reason for him to not talk to you. You sighed in relief as you typed out a response.

You: Sure, but it probably will be around 6:30 when I get there. Is that okay? 8:58 am

Hui: Perfectly fine. See you then, moon princess. 8:59 am

You sighed, placing the phone back in your back pocket. 9 and a half more hours. You could do this.

The work day had been long and relatively quiet, but your shift had finally neared its end. Jisoo walked in to pick up the shift after you. “Greetings, Y/N, I have come to rescue you,” she announced as she walked through the front door.

You clutched your hands together, placing them over your chest. “My hero! What ever would I do without you?”

“Die, probably,” she said in a deadpan tone, walking up behind the counter.

You took your apron off and walked around the other side of the counter to face her. “I mean, yeah. Probably. Well, have fun!”

“I won’t, love you!” she called as you walked out the door, and you blew a kiss at her just before the door shut behind you.

You made the decision to go home and change before you went to Hui’s. You wanted to look cute and not make him find you some of his clothes to change into once again. When you got home, you settled on a pair of black high-waisted shorts – the pair that made your ass look amazing – and a simple black lace bralette with a kimono over top. You admired yourself in the mirror, proud of yourself for putting together such a look in a short amount of time.

You texted Hui for his address, and then you were off. You felt like you couldn’t possibly drive any faster to see Hui. Sure, you were excited to hear the new versions of the songs, but you were far more excited just to see him for the first time after the day you had spent together. You wondered how you would act around each other now. Would things go back to the way they were before, or would he treat you differently now that you had explored a new side of your relationship? You weren’t sure what you’d call what you and him had going on between each other. Regardless, your body was buzzing in anticipation of being next to him once again.

You knocked on his door, and you could feel your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. The sight you were greeted with was certainly different from what you were expecting. He looked exhausted; you had never seen him this way before. “I’m sorry,” he said as he directed you to walk in.

“For what?”

“For not talking to you.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, turning to face him as he closed the door behind you. “It’s okay.” Your last words came out in a whisper, though you didn’t mean for them to. The expression on his face had silenced you. You could tell he wasn’t in the best headspace right now. “How are you? Honestly.”

“Tired. Stressed. A bit overwhelmed.” He ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. “But I think I’ll be better now that you’re here.”

“You should have called, or texted, or something, if you needed someone. You know I’m here for you.”

“I know, but I didn’t want you to see the way I get when I’m overwhelmed. I’m mostly better now, really. It’s fine.”

You grabbed his hand and led him to the couch. “You took care of me last week, let me take care of you, okay?”

He obliged and you pushed him down onto the couch, settling yourself into his lap, facing him. You weren’t sure what had made you so bold, but you went with it.

Your pressed your forehead to his and sat there for a little while, drinking him in. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he responded, placing a hand behind your head to push you even closer to him.

“Impossible.”

He shifted you slightly, his hands on your hips, to position you more comfortably in his lap. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Me too.”

You two stayed in that position for a while, eyes closed and just reveling in the heat of your bodies pressed together. His admiration for you grew too much, and you were caught by surprise as you felt his lips crash into yours. You gave every ounce of passion he was giving to you back to him, times two. You ran a hand through his hair, and you felt his hand make its way under your kimono, trailing its way across the bare skin of your back.

Adrenaline was racing through your veins as he stopped pressing himself into you, suddenly pulling away. “Are you hungry?”

You didn’t know how to respond to the abrupt change in tone, so you sat there in his lap, a confused expression spreading across your face. “I…I mean sort of? I guess I could go for some food, I haven’t really eaten much today…why now though?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.” He seemed completely unfazed by the fact that you two were just about to take your relationship one step further, and now he was offering to make you food. “Here,” he said, smacking your bare thigh playfully, signaling for you to get up. “I can make you ramen if you want.”

You pulled yourself up off of the couch and made your way to the kitchen, Hui following behind. “I’d love that.”

“Great.” He grabbed you by the waist, catching you completely off guard as he hoisted you onto the counter next to the stove. “You can just watch there if you want. Besides, I need something pretty to look at while I’m cooking.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Well I’m happy to be of assistance.”

He grabbed the packets of noodles from a cabinet above the stove and walked around the kitchen, trying to find a pot. “Shit, where did I put those…” he trailed off, opening basically every cabinet in his kitchen before he finally found what he was looking for.

“Don’t cook much, huh?” you teased.

He turned around to face you. “Hey, don’t tease me, princess. I’m trying my best here.” He filled the pot up with water, and then made his way back over to the stove, turning the heat on high. It would take a while to boil, so in the meantime, he decided to give his attention to you. He placed his hands on your bare thighs, making circles with his thumbs. “Goddamn, your outfit today…” he said, biting his lip.

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

You smirked in satisfaction. You could get used to watching him watching you with lust in his eyes. “Good. I mean, to be fair, you’ve only seen me in my work uniform and in your clothes.”

“That’s true. But you make everything look pretty.”

“Well thank you.” 

“Of course,” he said, and then placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Scoot over a bit?”

You followed his orders, and he hoisted himself onto the counter next to you. You placed your head on his shoulder, and he snaked his arm around your back. He began to play with your hair, and the two of you sat like that for a while, completely relaxed. “Do you work tomorrow?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“No, I’m off this weekend.”

“Good. You should stay here tonight.”

You felt your heart do a flip at his suggestion. You hadn’t even contemplated doing that, but you knew after all the time you two would inevitably be spending together tonight, it would be very late when you would finally decide to leave. “Sure. That sounds nice.” He went back to playing with your hair in silence.

You stirred from your position when you heard the water begin to boil. “Hui?”

“Yes, princess?”

“The water.”

“Oh. Right.” He hopped off the counter and opened the noodle packets, dumping the contents in at once.  “You’re just too distracting,” he joked.

“Oh, of course,” you responded. “It’s nice to know I have such an effect on you.”

“Yeah,” he said, standing in front of you and trailing a hand across your thigh once again. “More than you know.”

The two of you sat across the kitchen table from each other, eating your noodles from your respective bowls until Hui got an idea. You were just enjoying your ramen in peace when he interrupted. “You know those two dogs from that one Disney movie? With the spaghetti?”

“Uh…Lady and the Tramp?” you asked, a concerned look spreading across your face. You knew what dumb idea was about to come out of his mouth next.

“Yeah. That thing…we should try that thing but with ramen.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment. “Hui, why?”

“What, it would be fun! Please?” He pouted at you, and it was the most adorable shit you had ever seen. Goddamn, this man was all over the place tonight, lusting over you one minute and then acting like an innocent child the next.

“Fine,” you exasperated, scooting closer to him as he held out a noodle. You took it in your mouth, and the two of you inched closer to each other until you bit it just before he could kiss you.

“Hey!” he shouted, clearly displeased that you had ruined his moment. You laughed, proud of yourself for teasing him like that. “You’re mean.”

“I’ll give you kisses later to make up for it. Just let me finish my ramen in peace, please.”

He sighed, pretending to be more upset than he actually was, and the two of you finished your bowls of ramen without any more interruptions. He took your empty bowl from you and began to clean them in the sink. “Such a gentleman,” you noted, and he just smiled over at you as he finished.

When he finished, he walked over to you, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours. “Now can we go back to doing what we were doing on the couch a few minutes ago?”

“What, you liked that?” he teased, playing with your fingers.

“A little bit more than I’d like to admit,” you answered. He pulled you up from your chair and led you over to the couch. He sat down, and then patted his lap, signaling for you to settle into him once more. You obliged, and he immediately began to kiss you, more aggressively this time. You felt like you couldn’t possibly get enough. His kisses began to trail their way towards your neck, where he settled, covering you in kisses relentlessly. “Hui,” you let out.

“This…is…for teasing me,” he said between kisses. You let out a moan at the pleasure you were feeling, letting him know you were into this more than you wanted to verbally admit to him. You could feel him smirk against your neck as he continued, loving the effect he had on you.

You placed a finger under his chin and tilted his head back up, placing a kiss on his lips. You just wanted to feel the warmth of his lips against yours once more. He placed his hands on either side of your waist as he scooted you off of his lap, laying you horizontally on the couch. His lips didn’t leave yours even for a moment as he positioned you there, proceeding to position himself on top of you.

You could tell from the way he acted that he was the type that needed complete control. Little did he know, you did too, so once he had been comfortable, making out with you while being on top, you pushed him off and crawled on top of him, letting him know you wanted to be in control now. You needed the validation of knowing that the things you did to him drove him wild.

You took either sides of his shirt in both hands and lifted it up over his head, throwing it across the living room haphazardly. You sat up a little bit to admire his body, biting your lip.

“Like what you see, princess?” he smirked back at you.

You nodded in response and used one hand to explore its way across his chest, the other gripping the back of his head as you kissed his neck. He stirred under your control, and you had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to hold back a moan. Instead, he lifted you off of him in one swift movement and positioned himself back on top of you, pinning your hands above your head.

“If you want to be on top, you have to earn it, princess.” You melted under his touch as his hands explored every bare inch of skin he could find. He took his time, regardless of the fact that he was clearly needy and eager to have you at once.

He sat up from the couch and took one of your hands in his. “Come on, princess. Let’s do this properly.” He led you back to his room, and if what you had just experienced was merely a taste of what was to come, you were eager to see what was next.

Hui insisted that the two of you shower together after you had finished. He was the type of man to make sure your every need was attended to, and you appreciated it more than he would ever know.

He let the water run, holding a hand under the stream until it was warm enough. “Okay, hop in,” he instructed, and you followed, the warmth of the water instantly relaxing your tense muscles. He followed you in, pushing the shower curtain closed behind him.

He refused to let you do anything for yourself, even shampooing your hair and rinsing it out for you. When the two of you were done, you hopped out and looked over at the side of the sink to see the same dark grey sweatshirt and sweatpants you had borrowed the week before. “I figured you should change into something clean,” he suggested.

“Or you just want to see me in your clothes again,” you teased.

“That too,” he responded, and you began to get dressed as he cleaned up the bathroom floor from the water you had dripped onto it.

You pushed yourself up onto the countertop, where you sat, watching him finish putting his clothes on. When he finished, he stood in front of you, pushing a strand of your hair back behind your ear. “You look sleepy, princess.”

“I am,” you replied, grabbing his wrist and lacing your fingers into his. “That took a lot out of me.”

“But did you like it?”

“Of course I did,” you smiled.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and then opened the bathroom door. “Good. I did too.” He smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling so overwhelmed with adoration for him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“When you smile,” you said, trailing a finger across the space next to his eye, “the sides of your eyes curl up and it looks like cat-eye wings. And it’s really fucking adorable.”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, smiling at the compliment. “Thank you,” was all he managed. “And you know what I love about you?”

“What’s that?”

“The fact that you look at me in the same adoring way you look at pizza.”

You sat there on the counter, giggling uncontrollably at his comment as you held onto his shoulder for balance. He just watched you adoringly until the giggles ceased, and you sighed. “What can I say? You and pizza are probably my two favorite things right now.”

“Well I’m glad I manage to have as much of an effect on you as pizza.”

“That you do,” you said, placing your head on his shoulder as he stood in front of you, stroking the back of your head. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to show me your songs tonight?” You sat up and looked at him, and his eyes grew wide as he realized he completely forgot the entire reason you had come over tonight.

“I was. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to get…distracted tonight.”

“Yeah, well me either,” you giggled.

“Well, if it makes it up to you, I’m supposed to record for the album tomorrow. Do you want to go to the studio with me?”

“And meet your friends?” you asked, clearly concerned about that notion. Of course, Hui had talked about them many times before, but you had never really thought about the fact that one day you might actually meet them. What would they think of you?

“Sure. They’ll love you, I promise.”

You sighed. “Alright. Okay. I’ll go.”

“Good,” he said, booping you on the nose with one finger. You couldn’t help but grin at how cute it was. “Now let’s go to sleep.”

You woke up to the smell of breakfast wafting across the house. Bacon, for sure. Maybe pancakes?, you decided as you sniffed at the air. You stood up from the bed and stretched, grabbing your clothes off the floor. They were strewn all around the room from the events that took place last night, but you managed to find it all and changed into the clothes right there. You yawned, stretching, and then made your way to the kitchen.

There you found Hui in front of the stove. You tiptoed quietly over to him and snaked your arms around him from behind. Instead of jumping, he just relaxed into your embrace. “Good morning, sunshine,” you cooed.

He laughed a bit at your pet name. “Good morning, beautiful.” He turned himself around in your arms to face you, pressing a kiss to your lips ever so gently. “I’m almost done with breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said, looking at all of the food that was now sitting on the counter. A whole stack of pancakes, bacon, and the eggs that he was finishing up laid in front of you, and you felt your stomach growl. Well, maybe you needed it more than you thought.

“But I wanted to. Besides, it’s probably going to be a long day at the studio.” He worked on cooking the eggs as you searched the cabinets, looking for the cups. When you stumbled upon the right cabinet, you pulled down two cups, shutting the cabinet back carefully.

“What do you want to drink?” you asked, opening the refrigerator.

“I think I have some orange juice in there,” he responded. You pulled it out from the back of the refrigerator and poured it into both of your cups. You placed his cup of orange juice next to the stove and went to take a sip of yours, but as you did, you managed to pour it all down the front of your outfit. You narrowed your eyes in annoyance, and Hui looked over you, laughing at the sight. “Babe…” he trailed off, grabbing a paper towel.

“I’m an idiot, it’s fine,” you said, trying to grab the paper towel from him, but he insisted on cleaning you up himself.

“It’s endearing though,” he said when he finished, smiling at you.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” you said with a laugh, and you sat down at the kitchen table, waiting for him to finish.

As you sat there, you watched him cook, admiring every little movement he made. He was adorable when he was concentrating on something, and it was made especially adorable that he was doing all of this for you. You couldn’t help but feel that you had found the most perfect man in the world as you sighed contentedly, watching him finish.

“I’m nervous,” you said as you sat in the car, about to head into the studio with Hui.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise. You have nothing to be worried about.”

You sighed. “That’s false. But I’ll pretend I agree with you,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Good,” he laughed, “as long as we can go in now. We’re about to be late.”

You followed him into the studio and were pleasantly surprised to see that it was empty for now. It would give you a few minutes to collect yourself before you met all of his friends. The two of you sat down in chairs on opposite sides of the room as you insisted on holing yourself into a corner for the day.

The wait was going to be long, you imagined, as Hui told you his friends tended to be even later than him. You decided to text Hui.

You: *ahem* 12:02 pm

Hui: …I’m sitting right across from you if you want to talk? 12:02 pm

You: I’m aware, but it’s super quiet in here and your friends could walk in at any second 12:03 pm You: But anyways umm I can’t help but think that it looks blatantly obvious that we had sex last night and they don’t know me so what kind of first impression is this going to give them?? 12:04 pm

Hui: What makes you think it’s blatantly obvious? 12:04 pm You: Oh, I don’t know, Hui… 12:04 pm You: Maybe the fact that I’m wearing one of your sweatshirts because I spilled orange juice on my outfit this morning and I couldn’t go home to change because I spent the night at yours 12:05 pm

You: Or that I’m wearing no makeup right now and I have an after-sex glow 12:05 pm

Hui: Hmmm 12:06 pm Hui: Well the after-sex glow looks good on you 12:06 pm Hui: You should wear it more often 12:06 pm

You: HUI 12:06 pm You: I HOPE YOU SEE THIS GLARE I’M GIVING YOU 12:06 pm

You looked up from your phone and glared at him until he looked over at you; he held back a laugh at how ridiculous you were being.

Hui: I see, nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about, moon princess 12:07 pm

You: ….anyways 12:07 pm You: Don’t you think they’re gonna assume I’m your girlfriend or something? And that’s gonna be kind of out of the blue because they’ve never met me? 12:07 pm You: I DON’T KNOW, HUI, I’M NERVOUS 12:08 pm

Hui: You say that like I don’t talk about you to them all of the time 12:08 pm Hui: Besides, they wouldn’t have to assume if you just agree to be my girlfriend 12:08 pm

Your eyes widened as you stared down at your phone, trying to take in what you just read. You read the sentence over a few times before you typed out a response.

You: Wait what 12:09 pm You: Are we really doing this over text right now 12:09 pm

Hui: Well you said you didn’t want to talk out loud so… 12:09 pm

You: Yeah but I’d prefer to agree to being your girlfriend not over text 12:10 pm

Hui: Agree, huh? 12:10 pm

Your heart skipped when you realized what you’d just said. “Goddammit,” you said aloud, and he laughed, turning off his phone screen.

“Well, would you like to be my girlfriend, moon princess?” He bit his lip in anticipation for the next words to leave your mouth.

“Unfortunately, I’d love nothing more.”

As Hui had warned you, the day at the studio was long, but it went smoother than you anticipated. His friends loved you, and your sense of humor went well with theirs, especially Yuto’s, who you had struck up a conversation with for a while as you waited for Hui to finish recording his parts.

It was especially late when you left, however, and almost every restaurant was closed, so you two decided to grab fast food and eat it on the drive home. It took everything in you not to fall asleep in the car.

“Thank you for going with me,” Hui said, breaking the silence.

“Of course. I mean, I got to hear the entire album, essentially, so that was pretty cool.”

“Yeah. Hopefully you won’t be sick of the songs by the time they finally come out,” he laughed.

When you arrived at his apartment, you hopped out of the car, and Hui made his way over to your side. You leaned up against the car door as he hovered over you. “So are you planning on going home tonight? You can stay here again if you want, you know, since it’s really late…”

You looked at your phone screen to check the time: 12:05 am. You really hated driving at night, because your vision was already terrible during the day, but when the sun went down, you were hopeless at seeing anything. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be a bother?” you asked carefully.

“Babe,” he said, grabbing your waist, “You could never be a bother to me.”

You smiled, looking down at the ground so that he wouldn’t see how flustered his comment had made you. “Well then, yeah, I think I’ll just stay here tonight.”

As you two stood there, you heard thunder in the distance, and you felt tiny water droplets begin to hit your skin; it was about to storm.

“Alright, well we better head in quick,” Hui said, grabbing your hand, and you two made it into cover before it began to pour.

By the time you had made it into his apartment, it had become a full-fledged storm outside. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t choose to drive,” you whispered, looking out the window.

“I wouldn’t have let you,” he responded, standing next to you. The two of you watched it storm for a while before he grabbed you by the waist and said, “Come on, let’s go lay down. I know you’re tired.”

The two of you pulled the sheets back and snuggled into the bed, just wanting to feel warmth. He pulled you closer to him, and you sighed in contentment. As you relaxed into his arms, you noted the warm-tone lights and the silence, besides the sound of rain hitting the roof and the occasional thunder in the distance. You thought that if it was going to storm, there wasn’t any place you’d rather be than here.

You felt his breathing begin to slow as he started to fall asleep, and you pressed two fingers to his lips, causing him to open his eyes. “Hmm?” he let out.

You then placed your fingers to your lips, and he picked up on the cue, smiling. He cupped your face with his hand and pressed his lips to yours; it was the slowest, softest kiss he had ever given you – and it was perfect.

The sound of thunder resonated around you, and you huddled in closer to him. You weren’t a fan of storms, you admitted, but with Hui, you felt safe.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured as he drew circles with his thumb on the bare skin of your back.

“Used to what?” you asked.

“This. Just being here. With you.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I think I could too.”

[bluegrasshole]

Adam Birkholtz’s Foolproof Guide to the Perfect Birthday

because i never posted it on tumblr in full and i’m craving that sweet validation. holsom fluff ???? two words i never thought i’d say. there are dick jokes tho so don’t worry i haven’t been kidnapped. 6k and rated T for “total drama holster”. content warning: ABBA

ao3

As far back as he can remember, people have told Adam Birkholtz that he is too dramatic. It’s usually said in an exasperated tone, by his parents and schoolteachers and coaches -- that Birkholtz boy is quite the character, or Adam, do you have to be so loud? they say, and then sigh. Sometimes it’s said with amusement, often when he first meets new teammates or people at parties -- is he always like this? And someone -- ok, usually Jack or Dex -- nods and rolls their eyes and says you have no idea. Point is, people say it all the time, even though it’s definitely not true. And now he’ll never, ever get the chance to prove them wrong, because on March 28th, 2016, Holster’s going to die.

March 28th, 2016, Justin Oluransi, co-captain of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team and love of Holster’s life, is turning 23, and Holster doesn’t know what to do about it. It’s in a week, and he’s got nothing.

They’ve long since had a rule for holidays and birthdays and anniversaries to forego gift-giving in favour of less stressful things like dates and hat tricks, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about that. It’s just, he’s been busy – being co-captain and co-Haus-supervisor is a lot of work, and his fourth year classes have been kicking his ass, and they’ve been practicing more than ever trying to rebuild the team post-Jack, and playing too, and he and Ransom been having like, a lot of sex, and – fuck. So he hasn’t had much time to plan anything for Ransom. And it’s kind of freaking Holster out.

The thing is, he wants it to be perfect. Because, well, he loves Ransom. Duh. They’ve only been together for 152 days (and 3 hours) but really, they’re both on the same page about the whole together-forever thing. Even when they weren’t dating, being apart for any length of time was never going to be an option. They’re like, soulmates or something. Swolemates, if you will. They put the romance in bromance. And the sex is swawesome. Double duh. So Holster just wants this birthday to be unforgettable, because it’s a first out of many firsts and also their last year as students in the place they met, and just – he needs it to be good. Alright?

On the 20th, Holster does what any desperate man in his position would do: he turns to sitcoms for help.

It only takes four episodes of Full House, six of Modern Family, and a whole season and a half of Friends to conclude that really, Ross never deserved Rachel at all, and that this plan is a totally inefficient use of his time. He’s still exactly where he started, with his heart rate sitting between light jog and Chowder touching a puck off the ice, and getting closer to that time Nursey spilled some vodka-cran on Dex’s laptop by the minute.

He walks into the Haus after his afternoon class on the 22nd to find Bitty struggling through some French grammar with Jack on Skype, as has become a normal sight in the past few months.

“Hey guys,” he says, properly dejected, and throws his bag down and thumps into a chair. It creaks ominously but he ignores it to lean his chin on his arms and sigh.

“Holster?” Jack says. Bitty nods and turns the screen so it captures half of each of them. Jack waggles his fingers at him and Holster can only muster up the will to show his teeth and nothing more.

“Everything alright?” Bitty says.

“No,” he says, and then, like a stroke of brilliance, it comes to him. Why does he have to do all the thinking and planning? He’s surrounded by people who know Ransom nearly as well he does, isn’t he? He sits up fast, and both Jack and Bitty blink at him, frowning.

“It isn’t?” says Bitty slowly.

“Uh, not yet, but it’s fine, I think. Hey,” Holster says, “what is like, your ideal date? Hypothetically.”

Bitty reddens instantly and glances at Jack, whose frown has turned into a confused smile.

“Oh,” Bitty says, “um. Hypothetically? Maybe, uh, cooking together, then bringing what we made to have a picnic in the sun. You know. Bring a few beers, some sandwiches, pie. There’s a nice river by my house with a clearing that’s kind of hidden from -- oh. Um. Hypothetically, that kind of thing.”

In Providence, Jack coughs. “We did that this summer,” he says.

“And wasn’t it nice?”

“It was,” Jack says. They share a heated glance, which is impressive given that Jack’s face is on a computer screen. Sounds like it was probably nice and naked, Holster thinks, which honestly sounds like right up his and Ransom’s alley. Except, well, they don’t cook much, and it’s March. There’s snow on the ground. So. That’s out of the question.

Bitty’s phone trills and he jumps up. “Alarm for my laundry. I’ll be right back.” He pats Holsters shoulder quickly and leaves.

“Nothing planned for Rans’ birthday, huh,” Jack says, leaning closer to the screen. Holster knows for a fact that Jack has all his friends’ birthdays in his phone and the alarms are set to ring a week in advance, the day before, and the morning of. Goddamn organized bastard.

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Holster grumbles, crossing his arms. “What’s your answer?”

“Okay, okay. Don’t tell Bittle but,” Jack says, lowering his voice, “I’ve rented out the rink at the Rockefeller for a private hour-long session for us around midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

Holster isn’t able to describe the sound that comes out of his mouth -- half laughter, half squeak, half snort. Oh, whatever. So he’s never been that great at fractions.

“How much did that cost you?” he says, his voice sounding strangled even to his ears. “That’s in nine months!”

Jack just shrugs. “Think it’ll top a picnic?”

Holster gapes. “I -- Jesus, Jack. I can’t do that for Rans.”

Just then, Bitty walks back into the kitchen with a laundry basket full of hot clothes and sets it down with a clatter next to the table. He cracks open a can of beer he must have brought from downstairs, and takes another from the top of the basket and waves it at Holster. A drink sounds nice right about now, actually. He takes it gratefully.

“Hm? Can’t do what?” Bitty asks.

“Hiking,” Jack says rapidly.

“It’s true. I hate hiking,” Holster says. “And nature. Fuck trees.”

Bitty frowns. “You and Ransom went on a camping trip in August. You said, and I quote, that you are the Kings of the Forest, Sires of the Squirrels, and Lords of the Leaves, and that if you could take the earth’s hand in marriage, you would, and you’d ask the rivers to marry all three of you as Justice of the Peace. Actually, I think I have a screenshot. Here, look--”

“Uh, I developed an allergy to dirt over the winter. Gives me this rash, like, down there. Super painful.” Ignoring once more the creak of the chair under his weight, Holster slides it back. “Gotta go. Thanks for the help!”

He drains the can of beer in thirty seconds -- not quite a record but fast enough that he’ll have to tell Rans about it later -- and runs out to the tinny sound of Jack’s laughter before Bitty can ask any more questions.

The next day finds him following the frogs to Annie’s after practice, because Dex has a shift and Chowder and Nursey need to study, and Holster still has a capital-P-Problem.

“Oh! I’m so excited you’re going to study with us,” Chowder says as he pushes the door open to the sound of the tinkling bell. The warmth and the scent of coffee wraps around them and Holster breathes in deep. “I’ve been meaning to pick your brain actually, about this stats project I think you did last year? With that cool prof, Daigle?”

“Hm?” Holster’s momentarily distracted by the sweets display, but shakes his head to clear his head of chocolate chips and turns back to Chowder and Nursey. Dex goes behind the counter. “Oh, yeah, I’ve still got it on my computer. Yo, uh, I’ve got a question.”

“So do I,” Dex says, tying his apron around his waist and making his way to the register. “What do you want?”

Nursey leans on the counter and winks. “Surprise me.”

“You’re getting black coffee,” Dex says without pause. He types it into the POS quickly and doesn’t look up.

“With a surprise?”

“No.”

“A surprise shot of hazelnut?”

“I guess you’ll find out,” Dex says. “What about you two? Nursey’s treat.”

Holster orders something sweet as Nursey splutters a half-hearted protest and Chowder gets something that has a colour vaguely reminiscent of milky tub juice (never again, he reminds himself), and they stand at the counter watching Dex make their drinks with the same agility and confidence that makes him a great player on the ice. For a second, Holster is envious of that calm, because he himself hasn’t felt very calm lately, and then remembers that this is Dex, and calm is the opposite of his natural state of being anywhere else.

Five days, he repeats over and over in his mind. Five days left to plan something for Ransom.

“What is like,” Holster starts, readjusting his laptop bag on his shoulder, “your ideal date.”

“Sharks game!” Chowder says immediately, to no one’s surprise. “Or, huh, maybe bowling. Bowling’s fun. Cait and I love bowling.”

“Mm, nothing says romance quite like putting your feet in stinky shoes worn by hundreds of other people,” Dex says. He hands Nursey his drink -- decidedly not just black coffee -- and starts in on whatever grassy thing Chowder wants. It probably has kale or something in it. Ew.

“What do you know about romance?” Nursey asks.

Dex ignores him. “Look, Holster. It’s easy. Go to Jerry’s. You can sit for a while, it’s cheap, there’s food, good beer, a pool table for when the conversation gets awkward, and if you’re lucky there’s live music. Dinner and entertainment, all in one place,” he says.

“Hm. A truly optimal bird-to-stone ratio,” Holster says. “And I do appreciate efficiency. I’m just looking for something a bit more, uh, special? Rans and I go to Jerry’s all the time.”

“You asked, bro,” Dex says, shrugging. He scoops something neon green into a cup of ice and Holster barely holds back a grimace, choosing instead to turn to Nursey with what he hopes is a beseeching look on his face. It’s one thing practicing your most convincing expressions in the comfort of your own shared bathroom in a frathaus, but it’s another to actually use them.

“Derek Malik Nurse. My favourite, most fanciest man. What about you?”

Nursey barely has the time to open his mouth before Dex and Chowder answer at the same time: “Poetry reading.”

“Hey! That’s not -- it’s -- okay, yeah, probably.” Nursey takes a sip from his mug and comes away with a whipped cream mustache on top of his regular facial hair. “But in my defence, it’s a nice relaxing environment and a great opportunity to move past small talk and delve into the deeper questions of essentialism and our purpose in life and what comes after death.”

“In reality nothing gets him hot like a poem with a good rhyme scheme,” Chowder fake-whispers into Holster’s ear.

“Second only to one without a rhyme scheme at all,” Dex says.

“Aw, fuck you guys. Who paid for your drinks again?”

“And left me a nice tip. Twenty-five percent, Nursey? Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” Dex says. “By the way, you’ve got a little -- yeah -- oh, no, you made it worse. Oh well. Tough luck.”

“Goddamn it!”

Chowder laughs all the way to their table, and Holster, well, Holster still has nothing.

He corners Ollie and Wicks behind the cafeteria salad bar at suppertime when he tells Ransom he’s going to get more tartar sauce for his fish sticks, and asks them his question. They hesitate for a second, nod simultaneously, then fist bump without even looking at each other. A level of synchronicity he and Ransom strive to achieve, but probably never will.

“Paris,” they say together.

Holster snorts. “For real, come on.”

“Bro,” Wicks says, “you said ideal, not realistic.”

“Yeah. That Eiffel tower shit is like, wicked ideal. The ultimate.”

They fist-bump again, of course. In his amusement and slight confusion (amusion, he decides in his head -- or, confusement, maybe), Holster forgets the tartar sauce completely, but distracts Ransom with a well-timed kiss and the whispered promise of a backrub when they get back to the Haus. Across the table Bitty rolls his eyes at the sight and opens his mouth to say something that will most definitely start with F and rhyme with Chris Pine, and in his haste to stick his tongue out at him, Holster accidentally puts it in Ransom’s ear. Instead of the expected indignant squawking he gets a half-shiver which is like, ok, weird, definitely getting filed in his head for... later.

“You doing okay?” Ransom asks that night, after later. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other much these past few days.”

They’re naked and sweat-sticky but warm and wrapped up in each other and blankets in the bottom bunk, Holster’s feet hanging off the edge through the hole they cut in the frame for this specific purpose. He feels like he’s the sleepiest he’s ever been, probably, so he burrows his face deeper into Ransom’s neck and sighs.

“M’just busy,” he mumbles, unwilling to put the effort into making himself more understandable than he has to. Ransom will get him. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Ransom says. Holster doesn’t remember answering -- the next thing he knows, it’s morning, and Ransom is scrambling to turn off their alarm as George Michael asks them to wake him up before he go-goes. After a second of relative silence -- there’s the shower squealing below them and a few loud thumps of someone coming up the stairs and Bitty singing Ariana Grande somewhere -- Ransom groans, leans over to kiss Holster on the cheek, then rolls out of bed to get ready for the day.

Holster’s walking to class an hour later with March and one of their other econ friends, regretting mostly every decision in his life that has led him to this point. He’s only got a few days left and is no closer to finding anything worthy of Justin-Love-of-Holster’s-Life-Oluransi. Actually, he’s less and less sure that anything worthy exists.

“--and then the prof said… Adam! Holster?” March says, and Holster shakes himself.

“Huh?”

“What’s up with you, bro?” says Jimmy Jeffers. Nice guy, but what else would you expect from a guy named Jimmy? It’s a good name. There’s a shortage of Jimmys in the world, Holster thinks.

“Adam!” March repeats.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I’ve been distracted lately, I guess,” he says.

March squints up at him then nods decisively. “Justin’s birthday,” she says, though it seems to be mostly for Jimmy’s benefit. “Next week. He’s got nothing.”

“Who’s Justin?” Jimmy asks.

Holster gasps and brings his hand to his heart. “Bro, how can you not know who Justin is? Everyone knows who Justin is. I can’t believe this.”

“Check your Facebook, he’s on there,” March says, rolling her eyes and waving a hand in dismissal at Jimmy, who immediately takes out his phone. “Talk to me, Birkholtz.”

“You dated him. What do you think I should do?” Holster asks, recognizing the desperation in his tone and unable to stop it.

“Weird,” Jimmy mutters.

“Dated is a strong word for what we did,” she says, “which, by the way, you were there for most of.”

“Weirder,” says Jimmy again, jumping over what looks to be a fallen snowcorgi and twisting to avoid someone on a bicycle riding by. The sidewalk is filling with people making their way to and from class, kicking their way through the slush and salt that’s built up on the ground.

“Don’t bring the fact that we’ve seen each other naked on multiple occasions into this. I need help!” Holster cries. He buries his face in his hands. “If I don’t find something to do for Ransom’s birthday, I’m going to die, plain and simple!”

“Adam, watch--”

March’s voice cuts off abruptly as Holster, still hiding behind his fingers, collides with another body -- a man’s, slightly past middle-aged, in a well-fitted navy suit and fluffy green earmuffs. The man blinks up at him, rubbing his forehead -- he’s very short, even by Holster’s standards, and vaguely familiar in the way that a man you’d seen on a Febreze commercial a couple times might be familiar if you walked by him in the street -- and smiles.

“Laser tag,” the man says.

Holster’s hands fly to his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Excellent,” the stranger says, reaching up to pat Holster on the shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Holster can see March hit Jimmy’s arm repeatedly, gaping, and Jimmy whispers something furiously and pulls out his phone. “Laser tag!”

“What?” Holster asks. Because, well, what?

“There’s a great place in the north end of town that rents out a room for birthday parties. I’m a regular there -- I go every weekend. Here, do you want their card?” The man is beaming, adjusting his suit and hitching his leather messenger bag back into position, the reaches into his breast pocket to pull out a stack of business cards, every one the same. He hands one to all three of them. “Gotta run. Good luck!”

The man dashes off into the snow and Holster is left with his mouth open, brow furrowed in confusion, unsure whether or not that was just a fluffy green hallucination. Except, well, he is holding a business card, and March and Jimmy are too.

“Oh my god,” March breathes, then bursts into laughter.

“That -- that was the president. Samwell University’s president,” Jimmy says, turning his phone around for Holster to see. Sure enough, there he is, with his own Wikipedia page and everything. “Weirdest.”

“You know,” March says later, once they’ve finally slipped into the back of their lecture hall only two minutes later, “it’s not such a bad idea. Want me to send a message?” She points to her laptop, where the laser tag place’s Facebook page is open, and Holster shrugs, because what else can he do?

Concentrating on class isn’t happening, so instead he texts Ransom a dirty limerick which could probably give Nursey a run for his money in the poetry department (There once was a d-man named Ransom / Who Holster thought very handsome / He had a big dick / Enjoyed a good lick / One half of the sexiest twosome), and doodles aimlessly in the margins of his notebook. Laser tag could work, he thinks, as long as they’re not like, in a game with a bunch of kids… but maybe he could bring the others along for some surprise team bonding, which could be fun. Ransom would enjoy the couple hours of distraction from his homework and it’s competitive enough that it would hold everyone else’s attention. Also, like, shooting shit is fun as fuck. Maybe it’s not romantic or anything, but --

“Aw hell,” March whispers. She points to her computer screen. “It’s booked up until Tuesday.”

Holster all but collapses onto the desk.

“Well, there’s always dinner and a movie,” Jimmy says, patting Holster’s arm gently.

It’s time, Holster thinks, to haul in the big guns.

Lardo’s studio space is on the other end of campus, in an old convent repurposed in the 70s as first the building for Samwell’s secretarial sciences then later as the art department. General consensus is that it sees as many if not more portraits of Jesus and Mary now as it did as a convent, because, well, art students. When Holster knocks on the door of Lardo’s designated space, he’s totally unsurprised that Shitty is the one who opens it, dressed only in what looks to be a fuschia jock strap. That probably wasn’t a very common sight for the old nuns, anyway.

“Holster! The man, the myth, the -- are you still growing, dude? I swear to fuck you weren’t this tall last time I saw you. Hey, Lards, Holtzy’s here. Seriously, brah. What’s Bitty putting in his pies?” Shitty says, mostly all in one breath. He steps aside to let Holster in, who enters to see Lardo lying on a paint-splattered tarp, an arm thrown over her eyes, a googly eye stuck to her wrist and a bag of two-bite brownies half-empty beside her. There are crumbs on her mouth, and three cans of Redbull on a table in the corner.

“You alright?” Holster asks, poking her with his toes. He plops down next to her and crosses his legs, really hoping the paint on the tarp is dry. It makes a crinkly, plasticky sound as he arranges himself.

“Just brought a piece down to the kilns,” Shitty says, falling too, more gracefully than is generally expected from a man of his aesthetic. He lays his head on Lardo’s stomach. “She worked on it for weeks.”

“Tired,” Lardo says. Her voice is hoarse. “Art. Hard.”

“Believe me, I know,” Holster says.

Lardo’s arm lifts slightly so she can squint at him. “How,” she says. “You’re not an artist.”

Holster pffts. “Just because you don’t appreciate my Abba fanfiction doesn’t mean no one does.”

“I’m more of a One Direction guy myself,” Shitty mumbles. Lardo begins petting his mustache with her thumb which would be sweet if Shitty didn’t moan softly with each downstroke (and if he wasn’t ninety five percent naked).

“Right. Okay. Well.” Holster clears his throat. “What is your ideal date?”

“Are you propositioning us? I swear I had a recurring dream of this exact situation in two different languages last year, neither of which were English. Do you speak Dutch, by any chance?” Shitty says, and Holster doesn’t quite know how to answer. Luckily, Shitty has never needed a response to continue his ramblings. “Nevermind. Stoned stargazing, definitely. Looking up at the universe, feeling small, but like, connected. Because you’re together. You feel me, brah? Like you’re part of a community. More than the sum of your parts. God, that’s beautiful. Should I write that down? Remind me to write that down.”

There’s a pause, a silence filled only by the steady drip-drip of the sink in the corner of the room and the noise of the tarp moving with each breath Lardo and Shitty take.

“Is he well?” Holster eventually asks Lardo. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“The doctors say there’s nothing we can do,” Lardo says. Her hands move up to scratch at his hair. “So, there’s this park uptown, right? Across the street from this laser tag place, I think. D’you know it?”

“I’m... familiar, yes.”

She pushes Shitty’s head down to her thighs and sits up sleepily, like a mummy awoken from her slumber. “Okay, well, it’s super gorgeous in the summer, with this river running through it,” she says. “You can rent a swan boat and shit. They have little food dispensers so you can feed the ducks. And in the winter they have an outdoor rink run by the town, and a bunch of snow tunnels at one end of the park, and like, snowman-making competitions. There’s a hot chocolate vendor too. So I always thought… No, no. It’s stupid.”

“What! What!” Holster straightens his back. This could be it.

“Well, alright… Uh, there’s this bridge at one end of the park. Beautiful wrought iron, overlooks these ice sculptures that light up when the sun sets. Super pretty.”

Of course Lardo would figure it out for him. Why did he ever ask anyone else? “Oh my god, is it one of those bridges you can put a love lock on?” he asks, incredibly excited. It might be the answer to his desperate calls for advice to the universe.

She frowns. “What? No. I’ve just always wanted to spraypaint a dick on it.”

“Nice,” Shitty says with emphasis.

“You know, bring some rum to keep you warm, go at like two in the morning, and just fucking paint it on there. It would represent how the bourgeoisie --”

Alright, so Lardo isn’t any help. Why was he kidding himself that it would be so simple? He doesn’t bother listening to the rest, choosing instead to turn and fall face forward onto the tarp. His nose lands in a splotch of paint that is definitely not dry. Just his fucking luck.

He texts his family group chat that night, because sitting across from Ransom at the library and watching the fucking adorable way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating hard isn’t accomplishing anything. In fact, with every lip-bite, Holster feels his soul hurtle towards death even faster.

Me [7:43]: Friends, family and acquaintances, what would be, in your opinion, the most romantic date ever? This is by far the most important question I have ever asked you.

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [7:43]: dibs on being an acquaintance

Mama B [7:43]: Ooohhh!!!!

Mama B [7:46]: Maybe a fancy homemade supper, some good wine, then a walk downtown

Mama B [7:47]: That’s how your father proposed, twenty-five years ago last January!!! :-)

Ransom barely looks up when Holster snorts, only furrows his brows deeper and bends so close to his paper his nose is almost touching. Which is so cute. God, his boyfriend is fucking gorgeous. Ugh. Holster feels like he’s going to explode.

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [7:49]: yikes lol

Rebecky with the good hair [7:52]: going to a fair. winning stuffies for each other. funnel cakes. kissing him at the top of the ferris wheel

Me [7:53]: It’s March

Mama B [7:54]: I thought you were dating Justin, not March????

Holster sometimes regrets telling his mother everything about his life (or, like, almost everything). This is one of those times.

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [7:55]: what’s this for anyway

Me [7:56]: It’s for Ransom’s BIRTHDAY. You should KNOW THIS. I THOUGHT I told you to put his birthday on the family calendar MOM

Rebecky with the good hair [7:58]: she just got up from the couch to go check it

Rebecky with the good hair [8:00]: ok she’s back, she says it’s not there. whoops

Rebecky with the good hair [8:01]: we’re going to the mall to get him something before it closes. anna you coming

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [8:02]: only if u buy me a pretzel. extra mustard

Rebecky with the good hair [8:03]: fine. come downstairs. i’ll go get dad in the garage

Me [8:03]: what about me!!!

Me [8:06]: UGH I’M DISOWNING YOU ALL. YOU WERE MY LAST HOPE

Me [8:07]: goodbye

Me [8:07]: f o r e v e r

“Holster?”

Holster nearly drops his phone at the sound of Ransom’s voice, and scrambles to catch it, fumbling a few times.

“Babe! It’s not time to stop yet, is it?” he says, smiling widely with his phone precariously caught between his pinky and ring finger.

“You’re. You’re humming that song,” Ransom says. His voice sounds strained. “The sad Abba one. Slipping Through My Fingers.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, Rans,” Holster says, wincing. Abba has betrayed him again. “The Winner Takes It All would maybe be more appropriate thematically in this situation. Or Knowing Me, Knowing You? Actually, no, I got it. SOS. A classic. Wait, who am I kidding? They’re all classics.”

Ransom looks pained. “Babe.”

Right. Time to go be distracting somewhere else. Holster kisses Ransom on the cheek with a gentle reminder to text him when he needs a few minutes break before moping off to the Haus, determinedly in silence.

Friday they have practice again, and Saturday is spent on a bus to Connecticut, then playing, then sleeping, then driving back the next morning. Everyone’s exhausted, even on the trip up, and Holster caught the bus driver’s questioning eyes in the mirror when they first climbed aboard.

“Long season,” he said, shrugging. “And midterms.”

That’s not really the reason he’s struggling now. He’s just, well, tired, mostly. Frustrated with himself. He’s the worst boyfriend in the world probably, and should just go curl up into that weird crawl-space behind the washer and dryer in the basement that Ransom swears is where the ghosts go during the day. It’s true that it often smells like berry Lip Smackers down in that general area, though Holster’s not sure that isn’t just Chowder’s laundry detergent.

Whatever. Point is, Holster should know what to do for his boyfriend’s birthday, shouldn’t he? He knows Ransom better than anyone in the world (he knows this for a fact because he once sent Ransom’s family a questionnaire about Ransom, so he could compare answers -- none of them got Ransom’s favourite Yankee Candle scent, which is Honey Clementine, and only Dami, the eldest Oluransi sister, knew that number three on Ransom’s bucket list is to touch Serena Williams’ right bicep).

When Holster wakes from his nap on the bus, his forehead wet and cold from where he was leaning on the rattling window and a funny feeling in his stomach, he realizes there’s only one thing left to do: give up.

The bus driver drops them off at the rink, and it’s Nursey and Ransom’s turn to bring the equipment in. Normally Holster would stay and help, but it’s snowing hard and Tango looks like a puppy left out in a storm, so Holster rolls his eyes and asks if he and Whiskey would like a drive back to their rez. He can come get Ransom later. One of the only things he can do for him, apparently.

“How are you doing, Holster?” the unfailingly polite Tango asks as soon as he climbs in the back seat of Holster’s old-ass maroon Sunfire.

“Why? Does it look like I’m doing bad?” Holster says. In the rear-view mirror, Tango’s eyes go wide and concerned. Whiskey, of course, only snorts.

“Well, it does now,” he says in that drawling, bored, monotone voice of his. Though his eyebrow twitching does indicate slight interest, maybe.

“Oh no!” Tango gasps, then scoots up in the middle seat as far as his seat belt allows him so his head is nearly level with Holster and Whiskey’s. “What’s wrong, Captain?”

“I don’t deserve to be called that right now,” Holster grumbles.

“But we won yesterday,” Tango says. He sounds confused, but Holster can’t confirm if his face matches it, because it really is snowing pretty hard and he has to focus on not hitting any students or university presidents that might be out for a stroll. It probably does, though. Perpetual confusion is like, most of Tango’s personality. Sweet kid, though.

“I’m no longer captain of my own life and relationship, so I’m demoting myself. Well, metaphorically-speaking.”

“Holy fuck,” Whiskey whispers, and hits his head on the back of the seat a couple times.

Since he’s got nothing left to lose, Holster decides to ask one last time. It’s not like he’s going to get a good answer, not from a couple eighteen-year-olds, but fuck it. Right? All in.

“Um. Hey. Okay, first of all, if you tell anyone I asked you this I will, uh, turn you both upside down and pour Pepsi up your nose,” he begins, to cover his bases.

“I prefer Coke,” Tango says promptly.

“I know. So, it’s Ransom’s birthday tomorrow, and I don’t have anything planned yet, so… what sounds like the perfect date to you? I’m pretty fucking desperate.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Tango’s practically vibrating in his seat. “I love the aquarium. There’s one in Boston! Oh my god. If you go, can I come?”

Whiskey twists in his seat and rolls his eyes. “This is stupid,” he says.

“Aquariums aren’t stupid,” Tango says.

“Not that,” Whiskey says. “I mean, you’re asking the wrong question. Why does it matter what we think is the best date?”

“I don’t think I understand,” Holster says. He pulls into a parking space near the residence.

“I know I don’t understand,” Tango says.

It’s only later, when he’s picked up Ransom and Nursey from Faber and brought them back to the Haus, and he’s in the kitchen watching Ransom talk to Bitty about the moisturizing benefits of coconut oil versus shea butter, that he thinks he finally gets it.

The chair creaks one last time as he leans back to enjoy the image, and gives out under his weight with a crack! and followed by the heavy thump! of his tailbone hitting the hard floor.

“Oh my god!” Bitty cries. Ransom looks like he’s torn between laughter and concern, and the giggles are winning out. “Are you alright?”

“You know, Bitty?” Holster says, sprawled out on his back with shards of wood poking his ass and back, and Ransom’s eyes crinkling in mirth and something even warmer. “I really think I am.”

In the end, it takes a couple hours of work, some very important phone calls, and much begging and chore-switching with the other Haus-mates, but when Ransom comes home from afternoon class on March 28th, 2016, the attic has become a giant, structurally-sound blanket fort, the Haus TV has been moved upstairs along with all game consoles, there’s four different kinds of takeout on the desk, a grocery bag full of snacks, a variety of condoms laid out on the bed, and Holster, sitting in the nest he made of pillows, waiting with a birthday cupcake and a party hat, beaming.

Ransom drops his bag and immediately crawls up next to Holster. The cupcake barely makes it out of the way before Ransom attacks Holster’s mouth with his mouth.

“Babe!” he says between kisses. “This! Is! Amazing!”

“You think?” Holster says. He’s so, so happy.

“Yeah. Look at all this! Is that green curry and chicken wings? And you got me a cupcake instead of regular cake? God, you know me so well.”

Because he can, Holster kisses him again. “I know you like how tiny they look in your big hands,” he says. “Oh, and everybody cleared out for the night, so it’s just us.”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Ransom says, collapsing onto the bed of fluffy pillows and smiling up at the polar-fleece ceiling. “How long have you been planning?”

“Oh, a little while,” Holster says, which is not even a lie. “You wanna play a round of Super Smash Bros? Winner gets to pick the sex playlist later.”

Ransom sighs happily and holds out his arms, and Holster goes easily. “Not yet. Come here and bask with me.”

“Happy birthday,” Holster says. He snuggles closer.

Everything is right in the world once more: Ransom is happy, Holster has accomplished something great, and no one died. Only one chair was harmed in the making of this birthday gift. Why did he think he needed a grand, romantic date or a fancy night out or any of those things the others suggested? This is what Ransom wants, this is what he wants, and this is just… them. Together.

As far back as he can remember, people have told Adam Birkholtz that he is too dramatic. Which actually, is kind of fine, as long as he’s still got Ransom.

“Best birthday ever,” Ransom says.

That’s all Holster ever wanted to hear.