#listen it’s really funny to me to just imagine him getting stuck in Hidden City customs

[last-hourglass]

Doylist explanation for why Draxum is not in the planned majority of Last Hourglass: I don’t have a good grasp on writing him and he would’ve figured out what’s going on FAR too quickly

Watsonian explanation: total gridlock in the Hidden City, my guy is gonna be stuck in traffic for the next month

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[byunbhyunz]

Hold Me Down

Pairing: Doyoung/Reader

Genre: fluff, runningawayfromresponsibilities!Doyoung

Word count:

Inspiration: Halsey – Hold Me Down

Part 6 of the Badlands Series

Running away was never the kind of thing Doyoung would do. Not until his responsibilities started to eat him alive, and the only thing on his mind was a night free from anything and everything.

“But it’s the devil that’s tryna Hold me down, hold me down Sneaking out the back door, Make no sound”

Driving around after sunset wasn’t unusual for you. Most of the time you found yourself hopping into your car before you could think of anything else, and drove until you felt sleepy enough to finally go to bed.

Insomnia was a nasty little thing like that. It made falling asleep hard, sometimes you couldn’t even sleep for a day or two, and you would be like a zombie at work.

It only started after your brother’s death. A car crash with him dying and two other people severely injured. You drove around for the memory of him. You drove around, because he wanted to see the world and with your limited resources you could only discover the secret places of Seoul. You looked for tourist hotspots, famous historical places, hidden restaurants and cafes, really anything that caught your eye. Sometimes you would wander around on foot, but driving was the best. It silenced your mind and you could imagine your brother sitting on the passenger seat, joking around, eager to go to places.

Some places you knew by heart, visiting them again and again.

Tonight wasn’t any different. You planned to go to the City Wall, looking around the Namdaemun market, buying something delicious to eat, then go and look at the Namdaemun Gate while eating.

Soft wind caressed your face as you rolled the windows down and stopped at a red light. You half-heartedly listened to the song playing on the radio; an old ballad about love. The lyrics went unnoticed by your mind, but the soulful melody made your heart clench in pain. It made you remember your parents’ face after the burial of your brother. It was the only time you saw your father cry.

Movement caught your eye. On the pavement, a young man around your age was running. He had a desperate look on his face, like he was running from something, but you didn’t see anything chasing him. Maybe he had this funny way for exercising. Only, he wasn’t wearing clothes made for running and it seemed like he was running straight to your car.

With a lump settling in your throat, you considered rolling the windows back up, but decided against it. Sure, he wasn’t running to a stranger’s car at night. You still activated the safety lock. Who knows, Seoul was just like any city at night: with the wrong step you could be in danger.

And oh, boy, you were wrong! The guy ran right up to you, popping his head in above the window, and said:

“Please, take me somewhere, anywhere before they find out I ran away!”

Not even in the future could you explain what made you unlock the car, and let him climb in. Maybe it was the haunted look in his eyes or how he was breathing heavily.

So you let him get in just in time for the red light changing to green. He fastened the seat belt without you having to asking him, which was a bonus point in your mind. He looked unharmed and didn’t seem like he would attack you in any moment.

You let out the air stuck in your lungs, and cleared your throat.

“So, do you have anywhere specific in your mind?” you asked after a long silence.

You were still driving in the direction of the Namdaemun Gate, the stranger’s presence not diverting you from your original plans.

“It doesn’t matter where you take me. I just need time to clear my mind.” You glanced at him for a moment, and he was scrunching his nose as if he just remembered something important. “I can pay you for the gas and the trouble, of course. Or you can drop me off…”

You interrupted him with a small smile.

“Are you wearing comfortable shoes?”

“Yes. What for?”

“Walking. ‘Cause I might just know the perfect place to turn your mind off for a few hours, if that’s what you want.”

He hummed in agreement as you made a left turn. You still had time before you would get to the gate. He didn’t ask where you were going and you didn’t tell him.

Despite a stranger sitting in your passenger seat, you were still calm and collected, as if you were alone. Not to say you were not aware of him. God, you were more than aware. Every few minutes you looked at him from the corner of your eye. He had dark hair, strands of it falling onto his forehead. Combined with dark, alluring eyes and lips that seemed to be constantly pouting.

“May I?” He asked, and pointed at the radio. You nodded.

Another red light. Looking at your surroundings, you realized you were getting closer to your destination.

The man next to you kept switching between stations, until he found a song he was satisfied with. It was a Beatles song, one your mother listened to a lot when you were younger. You hummed with the singer, never really singing along.

“My name is Doyoung, by the way. I mean… I just realized how weird this situation is.” He sounded defeated and apologetic. You heard his clothes rubbing against the seat, probably moving around a little. “I can’t believe I jumped into a stranger’s car. I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

“And I have let a stranger get into my car. Worst case scenario: you kill me and we’ll be on the morning news.”

He softly laughed at that. You took a moment to enjoy the sound.

“What’s your name?”

“You can call me Jude,” you told him. If he recognized your obvious lie with ‘Hey Jude’ still playing on the radio, he didn’t mention it. “There, we are not strangers anymore.”

Arriving to your destination, you made a little sound effect as you waved your hand around.

“And we are here.”

“Really? Namdaemun market?” He asked skeptically, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“And the gate. I originally planned to buy some food and drink, go to the gate and have a nice meal. It’s much more relaxing than you would think.”

Getting out of the car, Doyoung followed suit. You watched him pull a mask out from his pocket, putting it on carefully. He noticed the curious look you gave him.

“People might recognize me.”

“Are you an influencer or something?” Your question made him laugh, the sound rich and low, but a little muffled by the fabrics against his mouth.

“Or something.”

Your curiosity haven’t got fulfilled with his answer, but you didn’t pry further. Despite your words, you were just two strangers sharing some time of calmness together.

You still watched his face, trying to will your mind to remember where you could have seen him, but came up with nothing. The dark hair and eyes could belong to any citizen of Seoul, only his clear skin and clothes whispered something about wealth to you. Maybe he was a son of a politician. It would explain his words of getting into trouble for jumping into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night.

Despite the time, the Namdaemun market was buzzing with life. Bright lights lead your way through the stalls of vendors. It looked more like a shopping street rather than a market, but you enjoyed spending time here. Some vendors recognized you, because you usually bought your food from them. You really liked the stalls with the old vibe, where you could know your money was going for a family business rather than a big company.

You lead Doyoung around the market carefully, letting him look around and sometimes stop for window-shopping. He never asked to go here or there, but you always noticed when he stopped in his tracks behind you. Thinking about how he wanted to protect his identity even here, your eyes automatically scanned the crowd for people with recognition on their faces, but you didn’t find anything suspicious. No one here cared about who you were.

At last, you reached your favorite place. It was a little hole in the wall shop with the most delicious tteokbokki. And it was a plus that the old couple running the restaurant were kind people, who liked to give you free drinks, very insistent about not letting you pay for them. You usually left a big enough tip to make up for the drinks anyway.

“Ah, my sweet girl! Good to see you again! Do you want the usual?” Upon your nod, the owner turned to Doyoung. “And what about your partner? A simple, mild tteokbokki will do for you, too?”

“I would like it spicy. Thank you, mister!”

“I’ll make it immediately. My old Yoona will be with you in a moment. She just made a fresh batch of coffee, too.” He gave you a wink, then went to the back and called for his wife.

“It’s cozy.” Looking around, Doyoung hummed in satisfaction, then his attention was on the menu, written on a little black board above the counter. “But I don’t see any coffee mentioned. Only water, juices and soju.”

“I come here often,” you said it like it would explain the under-the-counter coffee. In reality, you couldn’t explain it well without sounding too cheesy.

The old couple, Yoona and Minsu became fond of you along your many visits here. Some nights, you wouldn’t even go to the City Wall, just sitting here and eating tteokbokki was enough to make your soul calm down. They were the first people you talked to about your true feelings regarding the loss of your brother. They listened with open hearts, while their handmade food filled you with warmth. They gave you coffee or chocolate milk and you brought them small gifts on occasions.

They liked to show you pictures of their grandchildren, keeping you up to date about their lives as well. You also enjoyed listening to their stories and little arguments that ended up in Minsu calling his wife “my fierce, old Yoona”.

Looking at them, you sometimes believed that true, lasting love existed.

“Oh, my! Our girl brought a boy with her!” And here she was. The starter of the couple’s arguments, Yoona. She liked to tease the customers, especially you, but her heart was made of gold, you were sure of it.

“Miss Yoona!” Her name left your lips in a whine, a pout already forming on your lips. Regardless, you took a seat at the counter, instead of at the tables. She had two mugs in her hands. His husband must have told her you didn’t come alone for once.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You are young. When’s better time to live your life as you wish?” You shyly glanced at Doyoung as he sat down on another stool next to you. The mask helped to cover his expression, but you saw a light red tint painting the top of his ears.

“Are you going to the wall again? Or planning to stay here?” Your lack of response from earlier didn’t scare her, she was more than aware how she made you embarrassed for a moment. Maybe even enjoyed it a little, too. She sat the two mugs down in front of you, slipping milk and sugar along with it.

“We aren’t staying this time. Just grabbing your husband’s famous tteokbokki, then go for the wall.”

“Don’t tell him that. He will brag about it for days if he hears you calling it famous,” Yoona said in a hushed tone, leaning closer to you over the counter. Doyoung chuckled at that a little, putting two sugars and a little milk in his coffee. Watching him pull his mask down to drink made you wonder about his identity again, but your mind came up with nothing. Again. Maybe you should look him up on the internet later.

You drowned your coffee in milk with little to no sugar, and sighed contentedly after the first sip. It smelled earthy and tasted divine.

Yoona went to the back and returned with your orders. They were a more than generous amount and carefully packaged. You payed and thanked them for everything, leaving a tip like usual. Doyoung watched you with curious eyes, but haven’t said a word until you left.

“Are you relatives?”

“No. I told you, I come here often. They are always treating me nicely. Just some really kind people.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. But how could you tell someone you just met that an old couple from the market knew about the deepest parts of your heart? How could you tell him that you lost your brother and was struggling with grief, that Yoona and Minsu seemed to be the only people to understand your pain? You couldn’t, so you just kept it to yourself, not even talking about it with your parents. Sometimes, you visited them more than your own parents.

“So, we are really going to climb up the wall?” He pulled you out of your thoughts.

A half smile played on Doyoung’s lips before he hid it behind his mask. He was holding your tteokbokkis, insistent on carrying them after you payed for it.

“That’s the plan, kinda. Except it’s not open at night, so we can’t really climb it. If you’re not up for it, we can go back. I take you back whenever you want.”

“No. I like the idea.”

“Good.”

Walking in silence, you wandered around the thickening crowd. Nearing midnight, more vendors came out, also locals and tourists started to flood the streets. Fearing of getting lost in the sea of people, you quietly grabbed the seam of his jacket’s sleeve with two fingers. Doyoung halted for a moment, dark eyes meeting yours. You could see in them that he was smiling, then continued to navigate around.

Time after time you muttered a few words to take a turn here or there, and about an hour later you were out of the market.

The Namdaemun Gate could be seen from afar, but it almost got lost around the modern buildings, all of them larger than this piece of history. It was lit up with lights, towering beautifully and anciently.

Doyoung’s eyes widened a little, and you smiled to yourself. He could definitely understand now why you liked to come here.

“I’ve never been here at night. It looks…”

“Old?”

“Wonderful.”

You found a little place to sit down across the street from the gate. Once everything was in place, Doyoung handed you one of the tteokbokkis and chopsticks.

“What are you running from, Doyoung?” You broke the silence with your out of place question, fidgeting with your chopstick before taking the first bite. The rice cakes were soggy and the sauce was a little spicy, just how you liked it.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw him following your movements, chewing sounds filling the night. It was like a little bubble of comfort formed around you, only filled with small noises and the contentment from eating a delicious meal. You were almost too scared to pop it, but your curiosity took the best of you. You pried further, wanting to understand why a men like him would run away from his life even for a night without looking back. Maybe he had a heavy weight on his soul, just like you.

“You know, sometimes it’s easier to pour our heart out to a stranger than a friend. Talking about our problems… It might not solve it, but it helps. And we probably won’t meet again after tonight.”

“You said it yourself: we are not strangers anymore.”

“Then a one-night-companionship.”

“I don’t think there is a word like that.”

“There is now.”

The food disappeared fast. You didn’t even knew you were that hungry, until you started to eat. You let Doyoung think about your offer. You might have seemed a little pushy, but you had nothing to lose or gain from listening to his story and struggles.

Setting aside the leftovers from your meal, Doyoung sighed, and said:

“You might be right. But beforehand, you have to promise to never tell anyone about what I will tell you. I don’t want to see it back on news tabloids.”

“And I don’t want to break down your confidence, but I honestly have no idea who you are. I only know your first name and that you ran away from home.”

He smiled sadly at that. You noticed how he didn’t pull his mask back up.

“I’m an idol in a boy group. We are quite popular domestically and inernationally.”

An idol. Thinking that he was an influencer or the son of a politician seemed ridiculous now.

Doyoung was dissecting your expression, and when he didn’t find anything he disliked in it, he went on.

“We have a lot of members… and a really tight schedule. I have an older brother, but I was always taking care of him, so I like to do the same with my dongsaengs. They can be a handful, but they are good kids, really. Lately, it’s just getting too much. I have to show a perfect image to our fans, a good example for my dongsaengs, while barely sleeping. My life became monotonous, and it just peaked tonight. One of my members broke something precious to me, and I suddenly had this unnerving feeling that if I don’t get away from the dorm right away, I might… I don’t really know what I might have done. It was too overwhelming.”

“I understand it,” you said quietly, grief gripping your throat.

And you did. You knew that feeling so well, like the back of your hand. The urge that made you jump into your car, making you drive for hours on end because you were too scared to find out what would happen if you let that feeling get a steady hold of you. A panic attack would be the most plausible, but who knew what it would make you do.

Self-harm was never something you though about. Fortunately, you never slipped that far into the rabbit hole. But you were scared you might hurt others. You might lash out at your parents for never being there for you when your brother died, drowning in their own grief and never thinking about yours for a moment. So you coped. You coped with visiting places he might have gone to, you coped with imagining your brother next to you while you drove around Seoul.

“It’s too much.” Doyoung’s voice was low and defeated. When your eyes met, it was like you were looking in the mirror. The haunted and lost sparkle in them resonated with your soul, pulling at strings in your heart that no one could ever touched.

You wanted to hug him, but placing your hand over his was enough for now. Even that little gesture seemed far too intimate in the moment. You both let the other look into your own souls, see the pain gathering in there.

You took a deep breath, deciding to dive into your pain, trusting him and sharing your story with him.

“I had an older brother once, too. He was my world growing up. Then he died in a car accident and I was left alone with my feelings. My parents… they were so lost in grieving their dead son, that they forgot about their other kid. They never talk about it with me, and the pain gets unbearable sometimes. Making me want to run away… But I’m too much of a coward for that, so I just keep driving around, visiting places I find in the city, so I don’t have to be at home, alone or with my parents.”

Doyoung squeezed your hand with his own, then laced your fingers together. A silent sign of support.

“So trust me when I say: it gets better. You learn to cope with things with time. You learn to forgive and that overwhelming feeling will get lighter. I don’t know if it will ever disappear, but it will get better.”

You kept sitting there in silence, looking at the City Gate. You felt you two were like that piece of history over there. It stood stable and unmovable in the middle of this modern jungle. Time kept chipping away at its edges, but it couldn’t be broken just like that.

You were like that, too. Feelings tormented your soul, but you steeled yourself and kept going, not letting it make you any less of what you truly were.

The car ride back was peaceful. A weight have been lifted from both of your souls. And for once, you weren’t imagining your brother sitting in the passenger seat. Doyoung sat there, and he kept singing with the radio in the most ridiculous voices, making you laugh and happy. His dark eyes lost that haunted look from them. They sparkled with lightness in the city lights.

You felt like you could get used to it – driving around with him next to you.

You didn’t even notice when started to sing along. With windows rolled down, your voices flew with the wind in the soft summer night. At a red light, you watched Doyoung. His eyes crinkled at the edges, constantly smiling as he was heaving for air between two songs. You felt happy.

Parking near the place where he jumped into your car, you looked at him again. The uplift mood calmed down, but the air still held onto the lightness of it.

“Do you feel better?” You asked, wanting to make the night last a little longer.

“Yes. Thank you. For everything.”

Another silent moment passed. Doyoung haven’t moved to get out of the car. His eyebrows furrowed as he got lost in his thoughts before he finally voiced them.

“You know, you never told me your name. You told me to call you Jude, but I bet it was a lie.”

“For tonight, it was the truth.”

“It’s still not fair. You know my name, and you never really told me yours.”

“I’ll tell you, if we ever meet again, Doyoung,” you smiled softly at him, a hint of sadness washing over you. You knew that you probably will never meet him again.

Doyoung grabbed your hand, squeezed it once, twice before getting out of your car. The horizon started to turn orange with the sun coming up as you watched Doyoung walk away, his mask back on his face.

And so the night ended.

You wandered around Namdaemun market. It was earlier than usual, the sun only started to set.

You spent your day off walking around in the city, even visited your parents for lunch and suggested to them that you should go to your brother’s grave together for the anniversary of his death. Things were getting better, you dared to say. You still had bad days, where only driving around would help you, but escaping your depressing thoughts weren’t that easy.

For the last three years you always took this day off. It wasn’t a special day or anything, but you felt like you should. For three years you spent this day going anywhere but the Namdaemun market or the City Gate. You didn’t need a harsh reminder of that one particular night you spent in the company of Doyoung. That night you felt you were with someone who you understood on the deepest level and you missed that feeling. And you missed him. Which was weird because you only knew him for a night and never met him again. Day by day it seemed more likely to never see him again.

But this year, you gathered your strength and decided to go to the night market.

As more people started to crowd the streets, you went to Yoona and Minsu’s place for your usual fill of tteokbokki. You also found a nice teacup set at an antic shop on the other side of the city, which you wanted to gift to Yoona. It was packaged well and securely, so she couldn’t find out from one look what it was.

“My sweet girl! How good to see you again!” You smiled at the familiar words which you were greeted with upon your every visit. Yoona looked more tired than usually, but her eyes shined with warmth and strength.

You took a seat at the counter; it slowly became your spot at the restaurant. You already had a cup of warm tea placed in front of you, as if she was anticipating your visit already.

“I knew you would come. I told that boy to come back later, you might just be running late,” Yoona’s words made you frown. Your heart leaped into your throat at the possibilities of who she was thinking about. You swallowed back all your feelings, and tried to look nonchalant.

“What boy?”

“The one you came here with once,” she rewarded you with a look which said you should know about it better than her. “He keeps coming back every year, but you keep missing each other. Tragic, if you ask me. Not to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but you shouldn’t treat him like this. Leaving people hanging is not a nice thing to do!”

Time has stopped for a moment. You didn’t even notice the mug burning your fingers as you held it, you could only think about Yoona’s words.

The boy you came here with once… Doyoung. It only could be Doyoung. He was here. He came here every year, looking for you at the only place where he knew he might find you.

“I… I never knew he came back. I only met him that one time.” You tried to defend yourself, and Yoona’s expression softened, then a mischievous smile took over her features.

“It must be fate, then.”

“You never told me he kept coming back here.”

“Well, I thought you were trying to avoid him for some reasons. Young love can be unpredictable even for an old soul like me.”

Dismissing that anticipating feeling in your chest, you willed yourself to change the subject. Yoona almost cried while opening your gift, even called Minsu out for a moment, so he could admire it too. The little restaurant was busier than it used to be, so you could only exchange a few words with the old man before he had to return to the kitchen. Talking with them filled your soul to the fullest, yet you were missing something.

Knowing that Doyoung was at the Namdaemun market looking for you made you do silly things. Like gazing at the door every time it opened, hoping it was Doyoung arriving. You barely had any luck, but you still kept doing it. You told yourself you would only stay an hour, but you kept staying until you finally confessed to yourself: you wouldn’t leave until he would finally came back here.

After eating a plate of tteokbokki, you switched your tea with coffee. You were sipping the second cup already. There were fewer people, most of them went out to discover the market and Yoona went to the kitchen to help Minsu clean up a bit.

Someone came in again, and you looked at them for a second, then turned back to your coffee. Then back to the newcomer.

It was Doyoung. He had a mask on, but the same dark hair and eyes from three years ago greeted you like a wave of fresh air. You unknowingly held your breath, only exhaled when the corner of his eyes crinkled, indicating a smile. You returned it without thinking, slipping out of your seat.

Standing there awkwardly, Doyoung was the first one to move. He walked to you, pulling out a bouquet of pink camellias from behind his back. You felt your face heating up as he held out the flowers for you. The tip of his ears were red, too, you noticed.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said in a soothing tone, and you chuckled at his words. Yes, for three years, he was looking and waiting for you.

“I know,” you answered. You could see it in his eyes that he understood exactly what you were feeling. He was feeling it, too.

Your fingers brushed his when you took the bouquet, smelling the flowers. They were sweet, just as the gesture of giving them to you.

“I wanted to tell you; you were right. It got better. And also, you owe me your name.”

He pulled his mask down as you sat back to the counter and didn’t answer him immediately, Yoona brought out another cup of coffee for him, and smiled knowingly as she disappeared again.

You couldn’t stop smiling, and it seemed Doyoung felt the same.

“I told you to call me Jude once.” Hearing your answer a pout formed on his lips.

“And you also said that you will tell me your name if we meet again. And we did.” He drummed with his fingers on the wooden counter, eyes avoiding yours for a moment. “It would be weird to ask you on a date without knowing your name, wouldn’t it?”

You blushed at his words. Your heart fluttered dangerously in your chest. Gulping down a sip of coffee, your gaze left his eyes. He was still not looking at you as he waited for your reaction. You played with the shanks of the camellias as you muttered your name and looked back at him again.

His dark eyes finally locked on yours, shining with a warm light in them. He smiled as he placed his hand on yours.

“Hello, Y/N! I’m Doyoung, and I think I’m three years late with asking you to a second date.”

“Second?” You questioned him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yes. Don’t tell me you don’t remember the first one. It would make things a little awkward.”

“Then remind me, please.”

“Well, I jumped into your car and you took me here. We ate tteokbokki and talked until dawn. I believe you stole my heart that night, but you refused to even tell me your name.”

He took away your breath with his easy confession. He said it so freely as if it was common knowledge. Maybe to him it was, since you both had three years to mull over your feelings.

“You will hold a grudge over it forever, huh?” You teased him.

“Maybe. But a smart woman once told me that time can solve a lot of things, so who knows?”

You laughed at his words, basking in the light atmosphere of a slowly budding love.

You felt happy as you ordered a second plate of tteokbokki, and officially started your second date with Doyoung.

[fruitcoops]

I was watching this video w Megan Rapinoe & Sue Bird (tumblr won’t let me link but it’s from 2 days ago on GQ- they ask each other questions but it’s like quiz style?) and didn’t know if you would want to do something similar for coops? Some of the stuff they said/how they acted reminded me of coops’ dynamic

Anon, this video was the perfect way to spend an evening. Both these women are my role models and they’re unbelievably cute together--go check out the video here if you have the chance! Their dynamic is a lot like how I imagine Coops, too! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hey, Lions, we’re back!” Sirius waved at the camera and tapped a short stack on notecards on his thighs. “I’m Captain Sirius Black of the Gryffindor Lions and I’m here with my fiancé, Remus Lupin, to do another couple game.”

“The response to our last few interviews was incredible and we had a great time,” Remus continued. “Miss Marlene McKinnon was kind enough to drag us back in here to answer even more questions!”

“Do you want to go first?”

“Sure.” Remus cleared his throat and pulled the first card. “What are my parents’ first names?”

“Hope and Lyall.”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. What’s my hidden talent?”

“You can sing.”

“Does that count? I feel like most people know that now.”

“Hmm.” Sirius thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees. “You can cook really well.”

“Thank you, baby. What’s my favorite accessory?”

Sirius brightened. “Your watch!”

“Yes!” Remus held it up to the camera—it was simple and elegant, with a leather band and a small face. He wore it with the clock against the inside of his wrist, just above his pulse point. “What is my dream travel destination or vacation?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Sirius bit his lip in thought. “Seattle? Paris?”

“I do want to go to Seattle, but I’ve always wanted to go to Montreal,” Remus said. “You’ve seen my hometown, but I’ve never been to yours.”

Sirius frowned. “Really?”

“Really. What am I most afraid of?”

“I think…I think you’re most afraid of not being useful,” Sirius said after a moment. “For six years, your job was all about helping people, and it’s not now.”

Remus raised his eyebrows at the camera. “I was going to say the dentist’s office. Goddamn.”

“Sorry,” Sirius laughed. “Yeah, you don’t like medical facilities.”

“I mean, you weren’t wrong about the useful thing,” Remus said. “You still get a point for that. What’s my favorite music, song, or artist to listen to before a game?”

“You don’t have one.”

“That was quick. Half a bonus point for speed. When was our first date and what did we do?”

“Our first official date was just after All-Stars and we went to Sid’s, but we had been together for about three months at that point and just hung out at each other’s houses.”

Remus grinned. “Do you remember what day it was?”

“January 28th.” Sirius gave him a look. “I know for a fact you don’t know what day it was.”

“January 28th.”

“You only know that because I just said it!” Sirius smacked him playfully with his cards. “Next question.”

“What’s my favorite movie and TV show?”

“Jurassic Park and Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

He whistled the first part of the theme song as Sirius did the hand motions. “What’s my shoe size?”

“Oh, god,” Sirius muttered, staring down at the floor. “Eleven? Eleven and a half? You have smaller feet than I do, but not by much.”

“I’m a size ten.”

“Are you really?”

Remus pulled one sneaker off and handed it to him with a laugh. “Check for yourself. Oh, I’d love to know the answer to this one. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Sirius tossed his shoe back with a snort. “You make faces.”

Remus seemed surprised. “Do I?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a very expressive face and the second you’re pissed, it’s written all over it. It’s like—” Sirius pursed his lips and scrunched his nose slightly. “I can’t really do it, but anytime I see that I’m like, ‘oh, shit, what did I do?’ Also, you stop calling me baby.”

“That’s what I was going to say. What’s my favorite city to play in?”

“Not Florida.”

“Not fucking Florida,” Remus agreed with a grin.

“Gryffindor for sure.”

“Where was I born?” He gave Sirius a teasing look. “Do you know this time, or should I get my mom on the line?”

Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Madison, Wisconsin.”

Remus glanced at the camera. “We got asked this question in an interview a few months ago and he had to call my mom afterward because he forgot.”

“She made fun of me the whole time,” Sirius pouted.

“What is my favorite food? Oh, you’ll get this one for sure.” Sirius hesitated and Remus’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“I’m a little torn. It’s either my grilled cheese or your dad’s turkey-cranberry thing. Actually, I don’t think you know what your favorite food is.”

Remus nodded slowly. “That’s a really good point. My first thought was grilled cheese, but my dad makes the best postgame sandwiches. I’ll give you that. What’s my favorite hobby?”

“Reading.”

“What did I want to be when I was a kid?”

“A librarian, until you started playing hockey.”

Remus leaned over and high-fived him. “You’re on a roll, baby. What was my jersey number in college?”

“Number six.”

“The transition was so fucking easy,” Remus laughed. “Coach literally came up to me a month before practices started and went ‘hey, what was your old number?’ and I told him, and he looked down at his clipboard and went, ‘cool.’. I got my jersey two weeks later.”

“Is this your last question?”

“It is, indeed. What’s my full birth name?”

“Remus Jehosephat Lupin.”

“That is incorrect.”

“Close enough. It’s Remus John Lupin, which I find endlessly funny.”

“Why is it funny?” Marlene asked off-screen. Remus hid his face behind his notecards as Sirius laughed.

“Because it’s such a basic middle name! I love Hope and Lyall with my entire heart and they’re wonderful people, but they named their sons Remus and Julian and then I think they got stuck. Like, you’ve got these two very uncommon first names and they sort of went ‘fuck it. John and Michael. We’re done.’ It’s just so funny.”

“Whereas your parents went the extra mile and gave you and Reg goddamn supervillain names,” Remus snorted. “The drama of it all, my god.”

“Alright, alright, my turn.” Sirius leaned his elbows on his knees. “What is my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“How do I like my coffee?”

Remus hissed between his teeth. “Ah, shit, you always make the coffee. With a lot of sugar, right? It’s black with sugar?”

“It can’t be black if it has sugar in it,” Sirius laughed. “But yes, I do put sugar in my coffee. What are three things I never leave the house without?”

“Keys, wallet, phone.”

“My favorite TV show?”

“Why are you going through these so fast? Uh, Avatar.”

“Did I ever have a job that wasn’t playing hockey?”

“Nope.” Remus frowned. “Were you allowed to get a job as a kid?”

“I was not. What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Cookies and cream.”

Sirius made a buzzer noise. “Incorrect.”

“Is it chocolate?”

“Yep. You get half a point for that. What’s the first meal I ever cooked for you?”

Remus gave him a look. “You don’t remember what you cooked for me, do you?”

“Refresh my memory?”

“No way!” He punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m not falling for my own tricks. Next question.”

“It’s kind of a repeat from earlier. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Remus fiddled with the edges of his cards. “You act all weird and Captain-y, and then you get quiet. Just cranky vibes all around.”

“Cranky vibes,” Sirius laughed. “Good to know. What are my favorite movie-watching snacks?”

“Popcorn and…Sweet Tarts?”

“Yes!” Sirius gave him a high-five. “Do you know what I like on my popcorn?”

“Butter and enough salt to kill a Victorian child.”

“Bonus point! What is—oh, shit!” He nearly fumbled the cards onto the floor. “What is my favorite movie of all time?”

“Indiana Jones.”

“Which one?”

“The one with Marian, because she reminds you of me.” Remus looked over at the camera. “I really don’t like snakes.”

“What is the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning?”

“Oh, I think this requires a demonstration. C’mere.”

“Does it really?” Sirius sighed as he laid down next to him.

“For sure.” Remus cuddled into his side and laid his head on his shoulder. “Alright, the key to a true Sirius Black wake-up is getting all four limbs wrapped around the other person like you’re trying to suffocate them with affection.”

“Okay—”

“And then,” Remus continued with a grin. “I go, ‘honey, wake up’—”

“You absolutely do not.”

“In my head, that’s what I say. It’s very sweet. To answer the question, the first thing Sirius does is this.” He buried his face in Sirius’ chest and groaned loudly, then dissolved into snickering as Sirius’ chest began to shake with suppressed laughter. “Stop it, you’re ruining the demonstration!”

“You forgot the part where I have to peel you off me with pliers and grease,” Sirius teased as they stood up, dusting themselves off. The camera crew applauded and they both bowed. “Alright, where were we? What am I most scared of?”

“Losing your friends and family,” Remus said. “Also, spiders and most bugs.”

“You forgot one.”

“Which one? The dish soap bubbles?”

“Losing you.”

A vibrant blush tinted Remus’ cheeks and ears, and he floundered for words. “Oh.”

“You still get the points, though,” Sirius said mildly. “What city do I like playing in the most?”

Remus paused for a moment longer, then shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Uh, Gryffindor. You like the crowd.”

“I do.” Sirius smiled at the camera. “To all the fans out there: you are incredible and there is nothing like skating out with everybody roaring so loud the windows shake. Who is my biggest hockey influence?”

“Now, or when you were younger?”

“Now.”

“It’s Dumo, right?”

Sirius nodded. “On and off the ice. What’s my proudest career moment?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Remus said sarcastically. “Could it possibly be winning the Stanley Cup?”

“Just maybe,” Sirius laughed. “What’s my most famous celly, and which one’s my favorite?”

Remus grinned. “Lightning McQueen.”

“I hate it when you call it that.” Despite his words, Sirius was smiling. “It’s supposed to be cool!”

“Can you elaborate?” Marlene asked.

“I mean, most people who have seen him play know what I’m talking about,” Remus said, gesturing to the camera. “But Sirius’ famous celly is a double fist pump, and I call it the Lightning McQueen because it’s like ka-chow! It’s also his favorite one, though he dances when we’re skating alone or with a couple of the guys.”

“Shhh, they aren’t supposed to know that!” Sirius covered Remus’ mouth with his notecard. “This is the very last one. What is my biggest pet peeve?”

“When I leave my socks laying around the house.”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! That drives me fucking bonkers. Marley, who won?”

“It wasn’t a competition,” she said off-screen. “Just a Q & A.”

“Who got the most right?” Remus asked.

“You two are hopeless,” she muttered. There were a few beats of silence. “Remus won, with sixteen and a half out of seventeen. Sirius, you had fifteen and a half.”

“No.” Sirius groaned and dropped his head into his hands as Remus whooped.

“Hell yes!”

“My bonus points let you win.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.”

Remus faced the camera with a victorious smile. “Thanks for joining us to witness my landslide victory—”

“It was one point.”

“And make sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content! See you around, Lions.” They both mock-saluted, and the video ended.

[silentfangirlwritings]

01. indigo elevators

exes cross paths at a gathering and share an elevator ride.

pairing: unnamed - (zion kuwonu & reader)

word count: 3.6k

~~~

blue and white fairy lights lined the hallway from the elevator to the main room. he’d seen photos of his friends apartment before but in person, he couldn’t help but marvel. he could imagine her scooting a step ladder up and down the hallway in an attempt to do it all alone. it was a funny thought, though her short frame and fiery independence made a lot of his thoughts about her funny.

it was only supposed to be a chill night with a mixture of her high school and university friends to celebrate her half birthday, a tradition that was once confusing was now the norm. he hadn’t wished her a 'happy birthday' since they’d first met and he’d never met someone to be so happy and okay with it.  

the main area was filtered with the same white and blue lights as her hallway. they illuminated her white furniture and created the illusion that they were floating. the smoke that hung above encouraged his mind in that direction as did the quiet sounds of sabrina claudio.  

he joined the crowd after placing his gift on her kitchen counter and was handed a blunt while his friend introduced him to those he didn’t know. he greeted everyone with his stunning smile and took a hit after saying his name. conversation picked up straight where it left off and he half listened as he scanned over those who were crowded around him. he knew most from high school, all were familiar, kind faces and he guessed he was the last to arrive.

how he wished that was true.

she came in silently, not announcing her presence in the room till she was kissing the friend they were all there to celebrate. people were excited to see her, like him, they hadn’t seen her since high school. but he just sat and stared at her, his gaze hidden by his blond curtains.  

all the warmth in his body had suddenly disappeared and he was numb to touch and the laughter that ran around. he’d been warned she’d been invited just as he had but it’d been so long since they were in the same city, let alone country, at the same time, he guessed she wouldn’t show up. last he’d seen she was in europe, sipping on a glass of red wine.

truthfully, he’d hoped she’d be there. he was the only one she hadn’t had contact with since high school came to an end. he knew she was talking to everyone else, sharing tales of her time abroad with them, but never had she reached out to him. he didn’t want to quiz her on why, he knew why, but he just wanted to know if she was good. if she was happy.  

all his stalking on social media couldn’t have prepared him for the woman that was sat across from him. she’d changed over the years and had evolved into the woman she’d spend her days reading about. her wardrobe had gone from someone who wanted to be hidden, to someone who didn’t mind attention.  

from her instagram he knew she was no stranger to showing off the parts of her that were once only known to him. the curves of her body had matured as had her face. he’d always joked she’d look like a baby till she had one of her own and it seemed he’d been very wrong while she’d been spot on. the girl he’d once known inside and out had morphed into someone he knew nothing about and only when his vision clouded did he move to tear his gaze away from her.

the night went on with talk of their past and dancing. it was easy to compare it to old times. the only difference was that they didn’t have to keep it a secret from their parents.  

she’d yet to acknowledge his presence, somehow never once turning in his direction no matter where he moved. from the kitchen, he watched her dance on their friend they were celebrating. he’d always loved the control she had over her hips and he could see she still had it. if anything, her control had only gotten better. why that made him mad, he was unsure.

“maybe you should talk to her instead of just staring at her?”

his friend, the only one who knew everything that had happened between them, joined him in the kitchen.  he grabbed a handful of chips from the bowl he was hovering over and followed his gaze to her.  

“don’t have anything to say.”

or was it that he had too much to say?

he had no trust in himself. would he actually be able to say anything if he got a moment alone with her? or would he just stand there staring at her, his mouth dry like the desert?

he didn’t want to think what it would be like if it went the opposite way. word vomit wasn’t pretty on him and if he were to spill his guts to her, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.  

either way, he’d just end up embarrassing himself which was why he decided it was best he avoided her for the night. he could stare from afar, admire the beautiful woman she’d become but he couldn’t get too close.  

2:47 am rolled around rather quickly and he was getting ready to leave. things had settled and he wished his friend a happy half birthday one last time, hugging her tight as if he wasn’t going to see her again. she whispered words of love and appreciation, thanking him for being consistent in her life, even when things got hard. he left her with a kiss on the head and a promise to be safe, saying one last time that he loved her.  

the elevator dinged as it opened and he pulled his jacket on over his hoodie as he stepped inside. he pushed the ground floor with his elbow, still not trusting the cleanliness of the buttons despite his friend’s promises.  

the indigo haze of the mirrored walls was just as relaxing as those in her apartment.  he leant his body against the back wall and let his head fall back with his eyes closed.  he’d made it through, he realized with a sigh of relief. the doors were closing and if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to face her again.  he didn’t want to feel the way he felt when he looked at her again. he’d made it.

“fuck.”

one swear word and the reopening of the doors brought him back to the real world. his luck had never been that good, why would he trust it to be when she was so close? he should have known better.

her gaze avoided his as she stepped into the elevator. she positioned herself on the opposite wall, leaning against it as she began to put her jacket on. he watched her and studied her side profile. her perfume surrounded him as the doors closed. she smelled sweet. notes of vanilla relaxing his tensed shoulders like her hands used to.

he hadn’t felt her touch in many moons but being stuck in a small space with her for 24 floors had him craving it. why did their friend have to live so high up? and was the elevator moving exceptionally slow? he failed every attempt to look away from her. she looked far too pretty in the odd lighting and her head tilted towards the wall left her neck vulnerable. he wanted to kiss her, to taste her, to see what else had changed over the years. could she still take him to cloud 9 with a single touch?

“do you ever think about me?”

he spoke before he could stop himself, his voice coming out strained and weak. they’d just passed the 20th floor.  

she turned to face him, leaning back against the wall, much like he was. for the first time since they were 17, their eyes met. she still reminded him of honey and her eyelashes were still dark and long, framing her eyes in the most perfect way. 

she didn’t speak as she stared up at him. he could see she was tired and he guessed that she hadn’t been back in the country long. the sadness in her eyes came through in a flash and once he’d noticed it, his eyes mirrored it.

“i still think about you. all the time.”

she forced a smile, her lips tight but nothing reached her eyes.

“i seen you’ve been overseas too. living like you always talked about.”

he rubbed the back of his neck when he spoke, his eyes following her arms as they crossed over her chest. he was talking now, even if he was the only one to speak. there were things he’d spent years wishing he’d said to her and he knew he wasn’t going to get an opportunity this perfect again. so, he cleared his throat and made sure to keep eye contact. clear head, open heart, can’t go wrong.

“i know things ended weirdly between us but i just wanna say that i’m sorry, for real, no bullshit. what i did was immature and wrong and i don’t think like that any more. i really am sorry.”

he paused, hoping she’d say something. but still she stood with her eyebrows raised, her lips softened in a thoughtless pout though he knew she had her tongue between her teeth. she always did when she was listening, thinking about what to say next. too many times he’d caught her off guard with his lips on hers and found how she was.

“i’ve been missin’ you a lot, even more being back home and i was- i was wondering if you wanted to catch up sometime.”

his voice cracked, he wasn’t expecting it to but it did. she drew in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly. he was beginning to feel the heat of her gaze, thoughts that he hadn’t said the right thing echoed throughout his mind.

some years ago, he would’ve known how she’d react. they were close friends long before they were intimate with one another. he could guess the next sentence out of her mouth before she even thought it and she was the same for him. joined at the hip, teachers and parents would always say. one night, he’d overheard his mom tell his dad that they seemed to be two people who were always destined to find one another as there was no way they hadn’t known each other in a previous life.

he’d believed those words, even after he made the mistake that tore them apart. he always knew one day he’d find his way back to her and he’d thought that she’d accept his apology and wish to rekindle what they had spent years building.

his life was just a little bit less without her. it didn’t take a grown man to realize that. he’d known it from the first day the truth had been brought to light. in many ways, he felt like he was merely wandering through life till their paths crossed again. he wanted to give her space, everyone said it would be best.  

he needed that space too. his 'sorry' meant something this time, unlike the last. she’d heard the paper in his voice, the sour feeling that he was only saying it because that was what you did when you hurt someone not because he was actually sorry. he hoped she heard the sorrow in his words. felt the importance of them, that he really meant them. not a day had passed by without regret of what he did. surely, she could hear it. she knew him so well.

“well.”

she began, her voice quiet and unfamiliar. she wasn’t warm as she used to be. her voice was still sweet but icy with an edge that spun his head. but then she laughed and everything truly felt wrong.

“after all these years.”

she shook her head and laughed again, looking down at her shoes before turning back to him. he rocked his body weight back and forth between his feet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable under her gaze. her voice wasn’t what it had always been or at least not how he remembered it. he was facing the deafening thought that he’d forgotten how she sounded after only a few years apart.

“i told myself i wasn’t gonna talk to you, fuck.”

she cut herself off with a shake of her head, clearly thinking out loud. she checked what level they were at, not even bothering to hide her gaze from him. he looked too. floor 17, how was time moving so slow?

she looked back at him again, their eyes meeting and she leant back against the wall. she unfolded her arms from across her chest to shift her hair from her left shoulder to her right. a heavy sigh fell from her lips when she turned back to him. with a single nod of her head, he knew she was ready to speak again.

“a year ago i would’ve been in tears to see you again. even a couple months ago i would’ve been a mess to come face to face with you. but i’m not crying, not yet anyway.”

she glanced again at the light above the door that told them what level they were on. they still had a long way to go and she wanted it to go faster. she didn’t like being this close to him again.  

“i want you to know that i forgave you long ago, even though i knew you didn’t mean it. dwelling on something like that doesn’t make someone better, it just makes them bitter. i forgave you then, and i forgive you now.”

he nodded his head to her, his breathing uneven as he broke out in a sad smile. his vision was beginning to blur and his bottom lip jutted out slightly. he was so happy to realise again that he did know her still, that some things didn’t change. but at the same time, his chest was tight and his knees felt weak at the thought of what was to come next. he wasn’t so sure he was going to cope with it.

“but i can’t welcome you back into my life. i can’t speak with you or look at you without feeling sick. i don’t know you anymore caleb and i don’t feel the need to either.”  

but he did. he needed to. what was she up to now? did she have someone to love? was she happy?

did she miss him?  

“we were-we”

he stuttered over his words, unable to stop himself from stepping closer to her. his chest was swelling and his eyes were burning but he was determined to speak.

“we were so good together. we were meant to walk this earth together.”

she dragged her thumb over his cheekbone, ridding him of the silver droplets he’d let fall. her smile was sympathetic and encouraged a choked sob to escape his heart.

“we were.”

she agreed with a short nod of her head. he could feel it coming again and it took everything in him to not reach out and hold her, to embrace her.

“were is the keyword in all you’re saying. we were but we’re not anymore.”

it was her that brought him closer. her left hand fell to his waist and ushered his body forward.  his forehead fell to meet hers, just as he’d done many times before and her soft hand held the back of his neck.

“we could be again, i know we could. you loved me once, you can again.”

he hated how he sounded, hated that he was crying but he would only for her. with the lasso of hestia wrapped tightly around him, he couldn’t stop himself.  he wanted her, needed her. he missed her in a way that hadn’t been so obvious til he’d laid eyes on her again. he wasn’t even sure he’d ever actually stopped loving her.

“i don’t think i can love you again.”

she spoke clearly, but quietly. each word stabbing directly into his heart.

i. don’t. think. i. can. love. you. again.

his arms wrapped around her and his head fell to her shoulder. she let him cry and rubbed soft circles into the much taller man’s back. he’d never felt smaller. his pleas fell on deaf ears and he knew without her saying anything that if he were ever to see her again he’d be lucky. he held her tight, if it were to be the last time, he wanted to know he held her like she was his world.  

“look at me”

she gently brought his head back up to hers and made sure she had his full attention. his sobs weren’t so violent anymore, he was trying to stop himself and she let him breathe for a moment.

floor 7, she saw out of the corner of her eye and knew what she needed to do.  

she tilted her chin up and all too slowly, their lips met.

it was like a breath of fresh air, being wrapped up in her, connected in the purest sense. he’d always loved her lips, so perfectly sculpted to fit his. she evened his breathing with each passing moment and gifted him with something he hadn’t felt in years. he’d been searching for it, but deep in his heart he knew he would only ever feel it with her.

she parted their lips and almost pushed him off of her to stop his head from leaning against hers. it was something they would always do after they kissed. it presented the perfect opportunity to kiss again and again. as love drunk teenagers, they could never seem to get enough. they were the oxygen the other needed to survive and one kiss was never enough to get through the day.

“why did you-”

“tell me, did you feel something?”

he nodded his head, and she looked away from him. he noticed the look of panic on her face almost instantly. everyone had always said she was the best at hiding how she felt, but he never understood that. sure, her tells were small but anyone who knew her should’ve been able to see them instantly. or was it just another sign to say they were always meant to be?

“well, i didn’t.”

her voice was slightly raised and stern, cold again.

“kissing you used to feel like the universe lived inside me. like i was safe. now, it just feels… nice.”

she smiled sadly up at him again and he nodded his head, unsure of what else to say.  

“maybe it just felt nice too.”

he was lying, he knew it too. but for her, he’d pretend, what if it helped him?

“i know we were always kind of told that we were supposed to be together, that we were destined for one another. but the more i’ve thought about it, i don’t think we were ever supposed to do more than teach each other something. i don’t think you’re the person i’m meant to walk this earth with. i almost know it.”

he just nodded his head again and watched her glance turn to the light that told them what floor they were on. he turned to look too, knowing if he looked at her any longer, he’d end up crying again.  

floor 2. thank the gods above, they were almost there.

“do you want a tissue?”

she was fishing one out of her pocket before he could answer. he took it with a mumble of thanks and moved so they were both facing the door.

the ding of the elevator doors opening felt other worldly and oddly full circle. he’d asked her out in an elevator, he came to realise as he watched the doors open. they’d already kissed a few times but he wanted to take her on a proper date, which at the time was chinese food and a movie at the cinema.  

“wait.”

he said suddenly as she went to leave, his hand grabbing her wrist to stall her movements.

“one last kiss”

he said when she turned back to look at him with concern.

“just one more.”

she nodded her head and stepped back to him. gently, he cupped her face in his large hand, just as he had a million times before and caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. she held his wrists in her hands and their lips met in a burning sensation.

why one last time? he wanted to feel her one last time. he needed to check again to make sure he wasn’t kidding himself, that he actually felt something. he had hope for closure, that he’d finally stop looking at her as the one who got away.

alas, more butterflies awoke inside him, and he burned everywhere she touched. he was in the same place he’d always run off to with her and when she separated from him, he knew it was wrong to go there.

“take care.”

with a wave, she exited the elevator and began her journey in the opposite direction of him. she was gone so quickly while he took his time to gather himself to leave.

in the moonlight, her tears glowed on her cheeks. she needed to get away from him before he could say something else. she was so close to folding. lying through her teeth to him was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. walking away from him again was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do.

for the first time in the longest time, she’d felt something she craved deep within her. through the cracks of her heart, flower buds began to sprout. she’d mended as much of her heart as she could, but only his love could fill the cracks he’d left behind. he’d planted his seed and with love and kindness, they’d surely blossom and invite the universe back inside her.

but that would only be if she let him back and for now she had no plans to do so.  

[imaginesmai]

Tom Holland - Back Home (1/2)

There will be a second part, don’t worry! Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you want to be tagged

Plot: Five months ago, you broke up. Five months ago, you walked out of Tom’s house because it was all too much. Five months ago, Tom left his home without you. And now he’s back, realizing you shouldn’t have never broke up.

The city was busy. It was Saturday night, so that was a given, and he was trying really, really hard to get into the spirit of the night out. It was Harrison’s birthday and he was finally home, with Tessa lighting up the house and his brothers supporting him as always. It should have been a great time, because after a five months break from them, he had missed them enough to cry.

But as he sat in the pub, beer in hand, the problem was that the last time he had been home you were sitting in the stool next to him. He had had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, had pulled you closer and kissed your cheek, that later had grown into a full make out session in the bathroom. If he looked to the right, he could see the pool table where you had taught him to play, and the darts where you had first met, when he had almost killed you by accident.

The good memories mixed with the bad ones, and he was no longer in the pub, but in his house. Small bags of the belongings you had been accumulating there, tears running down your cheeks and countless of arguments that preceded your decision.

Tom had very little to say, in reality. He couldn’t argue with your reasons; he was away a lot and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. While he came back as much as he could, his life wasn’t a steady one, and the tension, the distance and the jealousy overpowered both of you.

He had cried, begged and screamed. A week passed locked in his room, ignoring his family and friends; and then, he had to leave, to go back to the busy life he had achieved in between films. And now, he was back, and the feelings and memories he had fought so hard with occupying every second of his day were back. He wasn’t ready to face them, it seemed.

“Dude” the sympathetic voice of his friend to his left brought him back to the present. “Get out of your head. We’re here to have a good time, remember? Come on, it’s on me today. Finish that already and have something else, maybe check the potentials around?”

Both males knew that was out of option. It wasn’t as if there weren’t pretty girls around; Tom had seen thousands of them. But they weren’t as funny, as witty, as kind or as humble as you, or didn’t have the same eyes, smile, laugh or hands. They weren’t you, and Tom couldn’t think about anyone else.

“Yeah, I’ll try” Tom made a grimace that intended to be a smile, and Harrison responded with a pity smile.

The blonde raised his bottle towards Tom and Tom lifted his own to clink the glass in cheers as his friend turned to face out from the bar and scan the room. He felt the supporting hand of Harry on his shoulder, and he knew that the whole group was looking at him. There was no denying that he wasn’t the same man.

But how could I be, after meeting a woman like her?

For nearly thirty minutes, he was able to fake so. He cracked a few jokes, told his friends how the new experience had been, and actually listened to some of what he had to say. But then, Sam went to stand up and go to the bathroom when he stopped abruptly and paled.

“Shit” he swore under his breath on instinct and everyone in the table turned to look towards that place.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake” Jacob said; and still, Tom could only frown confused. He couldn’t see a thing. “What were the odds?”

“Of all the fucking pubs…” Harrison agreed, and Tom was becoming impatient.

“She lives here, after all” Harry added.

And then Tom saw you. Your hair was longer than what he remembered, falling free over your shoulder as you played with the end of a strand. From where he was, he could see the ripped jeans and the soft-pink blouse you were wearing, and the familiar handbag resting on the tool on your side. You were smiling, cradling the drink in your hand and looking happy, beautiful and like home.

Tom felt his stomach turn and be filled with nausea, his throat closing around the lump that he had kept hidden for five months. In the background, he could hear the boys talking between themselves and trying to get his attention, but he didn’t mind them. He was too busy looking at the other guy.

There was a man, sitting in front of you. He seemed older than him, broad and tanned, and with the begging of a tamed beard showing. His eyes were fixed in you and his hand was stretching over the desk in a, in his opinion, pathetic attempt to grab yours. It was obviously a date, and suddenly his vision was blurry; not so blurry to not see the way you were smiling at him.

“Tom” Harry shook his shoulder so hard that he almost fell over. “Tom, come on. Finish up, we’ll grab our things and get out of here. There are –“

“No, no” He surprised himself shaking his head repeatedly, a huge contrast to his glassy eyes. “We can – we can stay. It was bound to happen, eventually. I mean, we live in the same place”

“But it doesn’t have to be today”

“She hasn’t noticed me yet, mate” Tom looked at Jacob, and attempted to be reassuring. “Really, it’s okay. It’s not like we’re in the same group, we don’t have to talk”

“You sure?” Sam asked, and Tom nodded.

“Who’s she with, by the way?” Harry asked, and earned himself two kicks and one side-elbow. “Oh, okay! Okay, I’m sorry!”

The boys turned back to the business, and Harrison flagged down a bartender for a round of tequila. He wanted to do the same, to lessen the chance of you spotting him from across the room, but he got stuck watching. Watching how the love of his life let the man finally touch your hand, and actually linked your fingers together. Before he could see anything else that made his heart shatter to no repair, he looked away and smiled to his friends.

-

There had been three more rounds of tequila shots and Harrison was apparently having an awesome time. He was laughing, shouting and enjoying his birthday; and in the end, Tom had decided to step a little to side to allow him to do so. Because even if he was there with them, his head was far away and his heart a few meters back.

Every now and then, Tom looked back, to where you were focused on your date. Thankfully, you hadn’t made any more contact than the hand-grabbing, He stole what he thought were cautious glances at you, and looked away when he heard you laughing or smiling. Eventually, Harrison caught on his game and scooted closer to talk to his friend. He clasped a hand on his shoulder and sighed.

“Why don’t you just go and talk to her?” he suggested.

“She’s with a date” Tom sounded horrified, imagining the humiliation. “I can’t go over there!”

“If you keep doing that, then she will come over. With her date, both pissed and probably someone will call the police on a stalker” Harrison tried to joke. “Just be casual, say hi and show Y/N that you’re over it”

“You know I’m not over it” Tom quoted him in the air. “If I so much as hear her voice once more I’m gonna drown this place in tears”

“You’ve  been watching her all night, it’d be weird to not even acknowledge that you’ve seen – look, there is your chance, he’s gone”

Tom looked back to where, as Harrison had said, you were alone sitting in the stool. Flicking at your phone screen, you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, waiting for your date to come back. Straining his neck, Tom could see said man walking through the crowd to where the bathrooms were; and he had been in that pub enough times to know it would take a while.

The idea of facing you after five long months wasn’t appealing at all, but he didn’t want to boil things further. He needed to talk to you, to tell you he was a douchebag for letting you go and that he was so sorry of ever doing so.

Harrison nudged his shoulder softly again, and Tom bit his lip. In the worst scenario, he could just burst into sobs and make a fool of himself. Or your date could go back and see him make a food of himself. When he thought about it, the whole place could just watch him make a fool of himself. But you weren’t a random girl, and something in Harrison’s encouraging words made him get up and start winding his way through the crowd towards where you were sitting.

“Where is he going?” Harry asked, loud enough so that he could still hear him.

“I swear, one more fuck-up remark and I’m kicking you out” Sam whispered. “You better let him handle this”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Tom kept hoping you’d look up and see him before he reached your table, so that he wouldn’t have to speak to get your attention. Your gaze was steadfastly fixed to your phone, and Tom idly wondered if you had been doing that all along. Too busy looking the smiles you had shared with your date, he didn’t notice if you were truly happy or just faking it, as you did with so many social interactions you didn’t like.

Another reason to kick himself, and to prove that maybe you were better that way; maybe, he was a social interaction you didn’t like anymore. Dread filled his stomach and he stopped so abruptly that the girl who was walking behind him collided with his back.

“What the fuck, man?!” a high pitched voice squealed, and Tom looked back to see a girl half of his size. “You can’t stop like that!”

“Sorry, I didn’t …” he cut himself before saying that he hadn’t seen her, and swallowed the lump. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to”

“Yeah, sorry doesn’t cut it. Do you know how hard it is to find someone to buy me a drink? Most men don’t even see me!” she stumped her foot on the ground, and Tom walked backwards a little. “You almost made me spill it! Watch where you’re going”

“Will do” Tom muttered, and watched as she walked away angrily.

Blinked confused, he was more sure than ever that talking to you was the worst idea he had had. It had been five months, you had clearly moved on and he was going to make a fool of himself, definitely. He hid his hands on his pockets and turned around once more, just wanting to make sure you were still there.

Instead, he found you looking at him in surprise, your phone forgotten on the desk and your mouth hanging open.

“Hi”

Your voice sounded exactly the same as the last time; more confused, and a bit less wet, because there weren’t tears running down your cheeks. Tom didn’t know what he expected to hear, but it made him relived. In a way, you were the same girl he had let walk away five months ago. The surprise had been replaced by an emotion Tom couldn’t understand, so uncomfortable, he shifted the weight between his feet.

He looked back to the bathrooms, just to be sure he didn’t have your date standing behind him, ready to kick him out of the place. In his line of sight stood Harrison, with a small encouraging smile while the rest of the boys tried to pretend they were busy. But he could see Sam and Harry talking in hushed whispers and Jacob sipping on an already finished drink.

“I didn’t know you were back” you talked again, and Tom kicked himself for not saying anything. He was the one who had approached you, and yet couldn’t make any sounds without spilling the tears. “What are – um, a-are you okay?”

“Yes” Tom croaked out, and you jumped a little with the sudden outburst. He coughed awkwardly and tried to fix his line of thought. “Care if I sit for a second?”

“I don’t –“

“It will be a moment” Tom hurried, and walked to the free stool. “I promise, Y/N. I know – I know you’re with someone. Just a second”

Tom didn’t miss how you picked up your handbag from the table and put it on your lap, and his heart clenched. Because that was something you used to do when you were uncomfortable, a way of creating a safety barrier between the feeling and you. He tried to ignore the action and occupied the place your date had before going to the bathroom.

However, once he was sitting there, inches away from you, he couldn’t say anything more than open his mouth and let a pathetic whine. He raised his hand to run it through his short hair, and watched as your eyes went wide when you noticed the lack of his curls.

“What did you do?” you asked, and for a moment, the smile he loved so much was back. “God, I hope that’s not because of a stupid dare”

“No, no. It’s – no, it’s for a new film” Tom chuckled and used the few seconds you stared at his new haircut to admire you from up close. “I wasn’t too sure about it, but I really like it now. Shorter is easier, you know”

“I bet. Less knots. Your mom must be loving it. No more hairs in the shower” you gave him the full smile, and he almost melted in the stool.

Hearing you talk about his mom so easily made him want to cry, and scream. You had been a huge part of the family when you were together, and everyone loved you as much as him. Board-game nights, Christmas together, lazy Sundays with Tessa; you spent every day on his mom’s house, before you moved in together.  

And every day, at night, you two would cuddle together, him laying his head on your chest as you worked through his knots. He scrolled through his phone while to massaged his skull, sometimes talking and sometimes in silence; either way, he was glad he had been forced to cut it short, because he couldn’t imagine doing something as simple as brushing his hair without you.

Tom swallowed the tears and did his best to seem happy.

“I haven’t been around since… I left” Tom answered, not wanting to say the words ‘break up’. “But she’s sure glad. I heard she’s trying to do the same to the other’s three”

“Good luck with that” you said, and shifted in your seat so that you were no longer in a tense stance but more relaxed. “Maybe you can put on a jumble sale with Harry’s nest. There must be enough things there to support a whole family”

“Oh, not even she dares to go around his hair”

You chuckled, and the conversations of the people around you came back. The white noise surrounded you; the band playing on the back, the loud boys cheering for the game on the screen, and the groups playing on the pool’s tables. There was an awkward silence, and Tom understood it was the moment of saying something, or leaving.

“I miss you” he blurted out.

“Tom…”

“And I’m sorry about what happened” Tom continued. “Maybe – and I’m not, I’m not saying you weren’t right – but we could, uh, we didn’t – didn’t have to break up. We could, we could have talked. I just – it was so sudden. I had to leave, and –“

“It wasn’t sudden!” you interrupted him. It was quiet, but the words cut through him. “You weren’t about to change your whole life for me. You’re building your life out there, and I’m here. Things were falling apart for a long time, and you know it”

“But I loved you” Tom whined, and his vision actually got blurry. He leaned forwards into the table. “I still love you, Y/N. And I’m willing – we can change”

“We had been together for eleven months, Tom, and it didn’t change” you sighed, the handbag back on your lap. “I can count on one hand the days we have spent together in the last months of our relationship.”

“I was –“

“Yeah, busy with filming, I know” you cut him off, and Tom got the impression he had opened a fresh wound. “But that isn’t the problem. You didn’t have to come here, I could have gone there! But – But I’ve been there once, Tom once! You loved me so much that you kept a whole, huge section of your life completely separate from me”

Tom gaped at your words, and actually felt himself getting angrier. He thought he knew the reason of your break up; because you could no longer stand the distance, because you were becoming too dependent on him when he wasn’t with you, because you were no longer yourself. He had understood everything you had said, and tried to support your decision; but that wasn’t what you told him.

“You told me to go and live there!” Tom almost screamed, his eyebrows furrowed. “I asked – I asked you to come with me, because I wanted to start something with you.”

“Yeah, and you asked me to keep myself hidden, always in the apartment and careful with the pictures on my social media” you replayed. “It’s like you’re ashamed of me, Tom, and I couldn’t keep up with that”

“I wanted to protect you” Tom said, the anger draining. There was such a deep hurt on his voice that you flinched. “I wanted – media are vultures, you were still finishing your degree and, if you came with me, they were going to make your life impossible. I just wanted the best for you, Y/N. Because I loved you”

Your bottom lip quivered, and you had to bit your lip to avoid bursting into tears. For five months, you had been locked in your room crying and screaming, thinking what did you do wrong so that Tom didn’t want you with him. The decision had been yours, but the events that preceded were his; and you thought you had done the right thing. But seeing him again, and hearing what he had to say, made you wonder if things would had been different if you had just listened.

Tom wasn’t the type of guy who did that things, you realized then, and you heart fell to the floor. Before you had time to say anything else, he talked once more.

“And you could have talked to me, Y/N. If you had talked to me sooner, I would have moved back here permanently. We could have gone public, I wanted nothing more than to brag of you on social media – but I understand I’m not an easy person to date, and I wanted to make it easy for you” Tom kept going, until he had to stop to take a shaky breath. “I would have done anything for you, Y/N, because I loved – love you more than anything else. I’m sorry if I didn’t –“

“Tom, I –“

“Am I interrupting something?”

Three different persons talked at the same time, and two of them looked to the new person in the table. Your date was back, with arms crossed and lips turned into a grimace; that quickly dissolved when he saw who Tom was.

“No, no. It’s okay, Derek” you talked quickly, and blinked away the tears. “This is Tom, he’s –“

“Leaving” Tom finished for you, and got up to shake Derek’s hand. The other guy’s face was priceless; instead of looking jealous or annoyed, looked ready to burst into rainbows and love. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”

“It’s okay. Fine. Perfect” Derek squealed out, and let out a particularly low giggle. “I’m – I’m Derek. Big fan of your work. Everything. So, so nice to meet you. Do you – do you want to stay? We can – god, don’t worry, you can stay. I’m –“

“Sorry, uh, Derek” Tom interrupted the babbling of your date, and with a quick pat on his shoulder started walking away. “See you around, Y/N”

It was you then who had your mouth hang open, watching Tom’s slumped shoulders as he walked away. Derek kept talking about Tom, about how happy he was and asking you questions you didn’t want to answer. But you weren’t paying attention to him, or to anything else for the matter.

You kept looking at how your whole world walked away from you.

Tom Holland taglist:

@delicately-important-trash​​

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@aikaterrina​​

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[noocturnalchild]

Of Thieves and Poets

Warning : Mention of abuse, light depiction of wounds, hurt

Well, that was a hard chapter to write, mainly cause I’m still strugling with my English, and sometimes, ideas are here but I find no words to describe them as I want to !

Many thanks to a great friend who’s always been there to beta read my fics and correct the MANY language mistakes I’m still making,it’s a shame that I can’t tag her here !

Sara maybe you’ll never read this but I LOVE YOU ( this is me talking to myself lol)

Also many thanks to all who are sharing and liking my fics, I love you guys, you are the best !

All the poetry in this chapter is William Carlos Williams’ ! 

Chapter one here ! 

Chapter 2 

* 

Give me something to eat! Let me take you to the hospital, I said and after you are well you can do as you please. She smiled, Yes you do what you please first then I can do what I please

“Who’s she?”

The day Laura died, he wrote his most accomplished poem. It rested between her cold fingers, folded in a small sheet of damp paper and he briefly wondered if the dead could read. Heavy rain washed the sleepy city that day, and everyone said that they’d never seen so many white peonies in the same place before. He buried all his other poem books with her, tucked between her curls and the black and white satin.

He never made a copy.

Paterson didn’t write love poems anymore. But never were his fingers as ink stained, bruised and abused by so many hours spent writing as they were now, and never was his desk inundated by so many notebooks. They piled up in complete disorder, competing with books and tools, making the old wood squeak uncomfortably.

“Who’s she”

Only now he saw her fiddling with the framed photo he kept on his living room table, so that it was always the first thing he saw as he woke up.

“Wife?”

Paterson didn’t answer.

Mina had her back turned to him. She couldn’t see the man’s eyes watering, or the frown of his brows, nor could she feel his struggle with his breath, repressing the tides of anguish that menaced to crash on him again.

“Gorgeous, dude! bet she gives great head” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, winked suggestively.

Beaming and smug at the same time, Mina looked like one who’s sure just dropped something so smart and funny, completely oblivious of the hands clutching on the cold marble of the kitchen counter. White knuckles, white pain…

“No complaints.“

Paterson’s reply of choice. Life was going on for everybody, for him too. Doc got a TV in his bar after all. Marie went to New York and Everett to LA. And he was still a bus driver, eating cereals every morning, writing in his yellow pages and sitting on the wet benches of Paterson’s waterfalls, so why would he complain?

“Go and freshen up, bathroom first door to the left”

“You’re no fun” She stuck out her tongue and left. Paterson couldn’t be mad.

Laura was laughing, straddling the arm of the sofa and eyeing him with mischief in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Won’t ya help me with my clothes?”

“I can’t do much with a broken wrist”

“It hurts”

(…)

“Dude, come on, so prudish!”

Laura had a hand on her mouth now, in mock shock, her eyes were still laughing, and Paterson was confused, a pretty blush rising to his cheeks. He remembered now that the only clothes he had that might fit Mina were Laura’s, and even those were big for the bony creature waiting for his help in his bathroom.

“Hold… hold on a second”

Paterson drew in a shaky breath, fetched one of his sleep shirts from his bed drawers, strode to open the bathroom door and… oh God.

A trembling dry leaf stood before him. Only in her white crop top and equally white panties; Paterson imagined her cracking under the passers-by’s soles, giving in under their rough stumpings, each one leaving a stain on her weak frame. Paterson’s eyes descended to her bare thighs, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

“Jesus… Who… who did this to you?”

Her thighs were a hideous map, little red and yellowish scabbed dots and circles on tarnished, discolored skin.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding his. Why would he care, why was he so insistent, why couldn’t he just be like the others, why won’t he try something with her, on her, like she deserves… she would let him, this one, she would.

“Just help me with my top” a wobbly voice replied, but Paterson was already looking for something in his medicine cabinet.

“Sit on the stool there” His hands were shaking as he put the ointment and the bandages on the side and proceeded to wet a washcloth.

“Can… I?” He kneeled, and their eyes met. She kept silent and nodded and he thought the sparkle in her eyes was gratitude.

With infinite gentle touches, Paterson washed her thighs and legs, dried them carefully, applied the ointment and wrapped them in clean bandages.

Laura was watching in reverence. The scene exuded something religious; the saint washing the sinner’s faults. And none spoke a word.

Afterwards, Mina laid in white clean sheets, but for all the comfort she had, she couldn’t sleep the few hours separating the night from dawn. She counted the hours, watching the bus driver as he slept peaceful and soft; not so far from her spot on the sofa.

The domestic rituals, the warm clothes, the vanilla soap smell lingering, the nice buzzing of the fridge in a quiet space, and the dim light he kept on just for her… His… his kindness coiled her like sticky ropes. Mina was suffocating.

She got up, slid in her dirty jeans, but kept his shirt on, and with a final brush of his hair, she took his watch and slipped out of the quiet house, and the monsters took her in their arms again.

***

Recycled air and synthetic notes, shopping carts rolling and low, lustful giggles.

With his favorite brand of cereal in hand, Paterson’s food shopping was almost done for the day. He was just strolling, verses starting to form in the fog of his mind as he saw two forms melting in each other, just against one of the snack vending machines. A smile began to tug on his lips. Life was simple, young lovers making out in malls and supermarkets, in the streets and gardens; the boy handsy, in baggy jeans and a loose jumper, fake golden chains around black collar, the girl…the girl.

Paterson’s mind went blank, and verses fled away like frightened pigeons.

“Oi man, whatcha lookin’ at!”

The guy addressed a dazed Paterson, and the girl turned her head from off her lover’s chest.

In all the scenarios she imagined at night, curled up in the corners of the streets and between the brushwood of the parks , meeting him again while in the arms of another man was never on the list. It shouldn’t be like that, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He shouldn’t think that she… but what was she anyway? She was everything he might think of her now.

He was so beautiful she wanted to bury her pain in his chest, between the threads of his regal hair. Curl all the hurt in a bundle and he would take it, in his large warm palm. He would know how to make it disappear, like by magic, vanish in thin air. With a touch of his finger pads, he could wash away scars; wipe away the purples and the blues and the burns. He was so clean she feared to touch him. He was so wholesome and she felt so queasy, so sickening she wanted to puke. Her hand skimmed the hidden pocket in her rat nibbled jean vest; the watch was still there, burning a hole in its worn fabric. She didn’t pass it on to Ian. It earned her new cigarette burns and a slap that made her nose bleed a little, but she had survived worse treatments.

“Who’s that, you know that guy? You do boring now?”

Carlos giggled, showcasing many missed teeth. He pinched her sides playfully, slapped her cheek playfully, squeezed her tits playfully, and she wished to die.

“Yo dude, wanna suck my dick? Ow no? Maybe a threesome? My chick here gives amazing head”

Oh, that again.

“See, not interested”

Carlos giggles sounded like gallows bells.

“I’m not your chick, for fuck’s sake!”

Mina screamed in frustration, pushed a stunned Carlos away, wriggled free from his sloppy hold, hand reaching out for salvation.

“I’m… I’m sorry!”

What she meant to be loud and clear, came out as a choked whisper.

But Paterson was already turning his back to her. This time he didn’t wait for her, not even a hum or a discarding hand, his long silhouette drawing away, swallowed by the light.

Life was going on, no complaints.

***

Mina was out, really out.

Even when she told him she wouldn’t play “pretend” with him anymore, Carlos still hung around for some time, and the money she could get from him she saved with scrutiny, starving herself to death. She never came back to the “pack”; her steps always took her to the quiet small house at the end of the stairs. She lurked there, watching when the lights went on, and stayed hunched behind shrubs and bushes, clutching the watch to her heart, listening to their combined tic tic tic… the mechanics soothed her, and she slept there every night.

Whatever happens, never sell the watch.

She started doing windshield scrubbing too, helped some nice grocery shop owners with their crates for some dollars, and by the end of the month she could buy a dozen cigarette packs and tissue boxes to sell in the streets. She was always hungry, but at least she could picture him in the back of her mind smiling, not disappointed in her anymore. He might not know, for now, but the thought was comforting. The thought was like a pier, supporting the bridge she was building towards him and she was sure she would reach him again, one day.

***

Sun benches at the curb bespeak another season, truncated poplars that having served for shade served also later for the fire.

It was Saturday morning. The rainy clouds of the day before blew over for a shiny crystal sun to come out. Excitement and expectations wired the air with buzzing electricity around Hinchliff Stadium. Kids and teens, middle aged and old people formed noisy groups, stomping on empty chips bags and placing bets.

Mina thought herself lucky when she laid hands on second hand baseball game tickets. Her wrist completely healed now, she roamed the area around the stadium, surfed the crowd, hands full, voice rusty from a cold she was nursing, over exploited vocal chords, yelling, trying to convince hurried passers-by to buy, by means of jokes and charms.

That’s when she saw him.

“Fuckin’ Carlos” a livid Mina stumbled a few steps backward, eyes seeking a gap between the crowds, quickly calculating her way out.

Fuck!

She could recognize Ian’s red sneakers anywhere. She thanked the heavens for his poor cover-up skills, giving her the high ground for a moment. She knew he could see her, but she took her chance. One group blocked his vision for a moment, and Mina took off her oversized leather jacket, let her hair down and started to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

She mentally counted to ten, chewing furiously on an overused gum, her hands started sweating. She knew that if caught this time, it wouldn’t just be cigarette burns on her thighs.

So Mina ran.

She ran aimlessly, not looking back, eyes closed and breath shagged. She could feel the adrenaline rush shot through her bones, just like every time she plunged her skillful hands inside the pockets of an oblivious passer-by, but this time there would be no euphoria of the gain waiting at the end of the road, just a sliced head.

Five minutes of sprinting and she couldn’t take it anymore, were her lungs that damaged? Fuck you Carlos, couldn’t keep his trap shut! Fuck! She was losing speed, she could hear Ian’s red sneakers batting the asphalt, tap tap tap, just behind. It was common belief that, at moments like these, the film of your whole life would flash back before your eyes, that the spool of all your wrongs would unfurl the threads that would wind around your legs and throat, choke you to death, drag you to hell. But Mina only saw two amber gems, Mina saw warmth and large, strong arms wrapping her in endless depths of comfort, and she felt peace descend upon her, Mina saw the future so she ran faster, and this time, with one destination in mind.

[doodle-zombie]

Lamia Bonding #15: That Happened

Warning: Mentions of scars and abuse.

---

It was, once again, time for a shopping day. Valerie didn’t like to go shopping once a week, since it took so long to drive into the nearest town, so she put it off to once a month. Unlike last time, she was much more knowledgeable on how to handle her boys when it came to being gone for a long time. They knew she would be going out the next day when she cleaned out the fridge and cabinets, tossing out what none of them ate and making a list of what everyone wanted. Sangria and Marmalade didn’t seem anxious about her leaving but she had known that Currant was basically dying inside over her possibly leaving him behind again.

“Make sure you’re ready to go tomorrow, Currant,” she told him, knowing he had trouble asking still. Valerie pretended not to see the way that he perked up. “The sooner we leave the quicker we can get back home.”

“don’ need ta tell me twice,” Currant grumbled.

Her decision to bring him along while leaving the larger boys to guard the house proved to be a wise one because Currant was more than enough to keep anyone else at bay. She’d gotten so used to having such sweet boys in her life that she often forgot Currant and Sangria were venomous in the first place. And Lapis was so small that he didn’t come off as very threatening to people who saw him, being that Corny were pretty common and the only type she saw more than them were Papythons. Valerie had initially thought Corals wouldn’t raise many eyebrows but she was given an immediate wide berth for just having Currant at her side.

Sure, he was venomous and could deliver a nasty bite if he wanted but he was her sweet boy before all that.

“People are so dumb,” Valerie told the two of them, flopping on a bench. It was early enough that she was able to get in some exercise for the lazier boys before they got down to the shopping. Anyone who thought Currant didn’t sit in the cart obviously didn’t know him well, he’d even made sure a blanket was brought so he wouldn’t get cold.

“fuck people,” Currant agreed, delighted when his cursing earned the scandalized glare from a couple of old ladies walking by.

Honestly, Valerie imagined having Currant with her is how mothers must feel when they had more than one kid. He would insist on sitting in the cart, which meant she wouldn’t have as much room in it for whatever she needed at the store, so she would be carting around two carts instead of one. It wasn’t a deal-breaker or anything that would make her consider rehoming him but she sometimes wished there were other monsters that she could adopt that would be able to push a cart alongside her. You know, without having five feet of tail trailing along behind them. Because Val refused to get a human roommate and she definitely didn’t want a child or anything in that vein.

“ya got an audience, val.”

Lapis’s voice in her ear pulled Valerie from her musings. She looked in the direction his hands pulled a lock of her hair towards. Indeed, she didn't have an audience. A little boy that couldn’t have been past 13 (she had trouble judging the ages of kids but he was pretty small) and hidden half behind him was the first full-sized Pygmy she’d ever seen. But her SOUL damn near cracked at the sorry state of the little guy. Sangria and Marmalade both had cracks in their skulls from running off predators around the house but this was the first time she’d seen a city-dwelling lamia have any hint of injury. And it was a huge crack that ran straight through his left socket, an injury that must have been so traumatic at some point the light had never returned to his socket after he healed.

Her first instinct was to get angry at the kid but it was obvious that wouldn’t go over very well.

“Hey lil’ guy,” she crooned, paying no mind to the human child and focusing on the Pygmy. He was nothing like the ones she’d seen at the adoption center, timid and quiet, and even Currant seemed at a loss.

“Uh… hi,” the kid squeaked, nervously wringing his hands and looking around. Warning bells were going off in Valerie’s head, along with the feeling she should have been looking for cameras. This stuff only happened in movies, right? “So, so I saw you have a couple lamia. And… and I wondered if you wanted another one?”

Did she hear alarm bells or a whole alarm siren blaring in her ears? Sure, you could adopt a lamia for free from a center and, if you appeared nice enough, there wasn’t really a process to see who would take the best care of them once they left the center but this was a stretch. Not a lot of parents wanted to get a lamia for their kid so when you saw a child that did have a lamia they tended to be best buddies. These two did not look like buddies.

Closer inspection revealed that the Pygmy had a leash on, hidden beneath a tattered bandana that looked like he’d never gotten a new one. He looked incredibly underweight too. Pygmy weren’t the largest lamia (they were, in fact, the smallest) but they usually didn’t look like a stiff breeze would dust them either. Known for their energy, they didn’t get chubby but they at least kept their magic health up. Valerie was looking at one sick little Pygmy, face flushed under her scrutiny and scales dull from lack of proper care.

Stars above, did he have old scales stuck on him?

“Listen, kid,” Valerie huffed, unable to contain the frown. “You don’t just beg your mommy and daddy to adopt for you and then decide you don’t want them anymore.”

“I didn’t ask them to get him,” the kid blurted, his loud voice making the Pygmy flinch and shuffle towards Currant. As if the little lamia needed protection from a child. “Mom needed to work more and she didn’t want to pay a babysitter… so, she… she…”

“Are you shitting me?”

Under different circumstances, Valerie might have felt bad about swearing in front of a child but that, that was a disgusting reason to get a lamia! A free babysitter? In a sick way, it made some kind of sense. Pygmy had an overabundance of energy that would be useful in keeping up with children and they had a high drive to complete tasks, they were very good at playing with kids and other pets. But they were small. And nothing could force a child to respect a Pygmy the same way they would a human babysitter, who would have the authority needed to put them in line. The sweet nature of a Pygmy would be too easy for them to run roughshod over, which would get the Pygmy in trouble with whatever demons acted as parents.

The scar the lamia had suddenly seemed a lot worse.

“Who hurt him, then?” She was determined she would learn who had done damage to the lamia if nothing else. “Because I may not be able to punch a child but if it was your mom or dad I will punch someone in the kidney.”

“badass.”

“heh.”

Currant and Lapis already knew that Valerie would gladly throw hands to protect any of them but she was threatening a good bite more harm.

“Um, it was my kid brother. He tried to put a hand in Pygmy’s socket and then smacked him with a toy truck…”

“OK, kid, what the fuck?!”

Currant and Lapis did not find this funny. She couldn’t see the way their eye lights went out and how they stared at the kid. The poor Pygmy knew they were talking about him and attempted to cover his face with a whine. Val didn’t have a maternal bone in her body when it came to humans but she absolutely would fight a bitch over a small skeleton being sad.

“Oh, baby, I’m not mad at you,” she soothed. “Who could be mad at such a cute boy?”

Her experience with Pygmy was an absolute zero but Valerie did have some idea of what might ease an anxious lamia. Currant could be anxious as well and she’d gotten pretty good at helping him feel at ease.

“Can you repeat after me, sweetie?” Valerie asked, getting down to her knees beside Currant. She waited until the Pygmy nodded, but Currant and Lapis were both watching her as well. “Say, ‘Nobody is mad at me.’”

The Pygmy didn’t say anything, looking at the kid who was willing to hand him off without a second thought. Well now, that wouldn’t do.

Apparently, her boys could suddenly read minds.

“nobody ‘s mad at me.”

“no body to be mad at.”

Leave it to Lapis to get the reaction, even if it wasn’t what she had hoped for. The Pygmy in question huffed in a very disapproving way but he was smiling now, showing off his little fangs. His one good eye light seemed to focus with laser intensity and suddenly he realized that neither of the boys she had with her looked at all anxious or unhealthy. In fact, bringing Currant and Lapis worked in her favor because they both had a healthy amount of chub on their tails and scales that glittered in the light. They were perfectly happy individuals.

He may not have vocalized what she said but he zoomed into her belly, bowling her over. She hit her back on the grass with a little ‘oomph’. When she looked up, the kid was gone.

Well, looks like she would have a lot of explaining to do when she got home.

--

Despite what Valerie wanted to do, she couldn’t just drop her planned day of shopping to go home empty-handed when she was supposed to be appeasing her boys. And rewarding all the good behavior. So she simply resigned herself to dealing with Currant and the new addition while she tried to convince herself that she shouldn’t name the Pygmy. Once she named him she just knew that he wouldn’t be leaving her, no matter how any of her boys reacted to the news. In typical fashion, he was an absolute darling who made himself incredibly useful as soon as he’d realized they were going to the store.

It was adorable to have such a tiny helper.

He couldn’t push a cart by himself but he was perfectly willing to grab things on the lower shelves so she could add them to the basket. It was too cute, how eager he was to shop with her, but Val didn’t blame him one bit. After who knows how long as a live-in babysitter he needed the change of pace, and he was an amazing assistant. His energy was similar to a shrunken down, much sweeter tempered version of Sangria. The little guy was still incredibly nervous around children, she noticed, but Val avoided children herself so it didn’t become an issue.

The nonfood shopping was done first because she could put a lot of those items in with Currant, but as they were going towards the food she spotted the most adorable little scarf. It wasn’t meant for lamia, clearly meant for a child, but it was a very pretty shade of blue and she was weak to the way the Pygmy’s eyes had zeroed in on it. His bandana was ruined and he would look just adorable with a little scarf done up properly.

And it matched a pair of gloves she’d seen online that would make him the cutest little thing ever.

Being an adult with no self-control, she bought the scarf and a new shirt, very aware of the dilated eye lights staring up at her.

She was going to keep him, it was an inevitable fact she’d been foolishly lying to herself about.

“Admiral,” she murmured, getting his attention by pointing towards the candy on the lower shelves. “Warheads, please. And a bag of your favorite.”

The poor Pygmy looked confused. His previous family hadn’t even given him a name, choosing to just call him his lamia type instead, so she maintained her patience and repeated his new name. Admiral beamed at her, zipping around in delighted circles, and she finally got to hear the excited babble she’d been looking for. His name on repeat. When it came to the Warheads he had no trouble grabbing a bag but after that, he seemed to just… freeze?

Oh the poor baby, had he never been given candy before?

“Clearly I should find your previous abusers and have some strong words,” she muttered darkly. “We’ll get you one of the multi-packs, so you can try a little of everything.”

She was finally treated to the way he buzzed in place from excitement and it was cute. Sure, getting a Pygmy hadn’t been her original plan because they were a lot higher energy than she was and she had worried that it wouldn’t provide a good environment to live in. Not to mention her property was massive and a Pygmy would be easy pickings for some things that had lived in the woods. She wasn’t worried now because Sangria and Marmalade made sure that the woods were safe. And Sangria wouldn’t have to share his toys, she had a collection of stuff that was saved in a wishlist that she would finally have an excuse to buy.

The moment the second cart was filled to bursting she knew it was time to skedaddle on out of there. Valerie picked Admiral up off the ground and perched him upon her hip until he grabbed on, not wanting him to get lost or trampled on. Lifting him off the ground had the added benefit of allowing him to help move things out of the cart and onto the conveyer.

“My hero,” she told him when he beamed at her.

“Uh… your Coral won’t bite, will it?”

Valerie sighed, the weight of ignorance weighing upon her shoulders. Her day had been so stressful already that she had absolutely zero patience for discrimination of any sort.

“Listen, Linda,” she snarked, “just because he’s venomous does not mean he’s going to leap across the counter and rip your jugular out. He’s an absolute gem. So please, continue to just do your job and leave Currant alone.”

The poor (probably barely 19) cashier was quick to keep any other comments to herself. The rest of their interaction went by in silence and then she was left with trying to figure out how to get all this stuff to the car. What had been two carts was now three, obviously because nobody could figure out the same puzzle she’d done to pack the carts in the first place. That, and the cashier had avoided putting anything in the cart with Currant.

“Stars help me.”

With all the maturity of someone twice her age, Valerie looked the cashier in the eye and encouraged her Coral (who had been so well behaved the whole time) to coil around her. She looked like a lunatic with three lamia weighing her down but nothing would prevent her from making idiots look like idiots.

“Be glad I’m not venomous,” she deadpanned as she turned on her heel to walk out.

Apparently, it was sass day.

Walking with Currant and Admiral clinging to her was a unique challenge. They weren’t heavy to carry around so she wasn’t straining under excess weight but they were incredibly awkward to have on her when she was attempting to push one cart and pull another. She managed but it was quite the struggle.

Currant had gotten his exercise slithering around the park but it was nice that he would help put the bags into the back of the van. And Admiral was an awesome helper. Between the three of them, it was easy to get all the bags out of the cart and into the van. Such assistance couldn’t go without reward so she pulled out some candy for Admiral to try and gave Currant his favorite chips to munch on.

Lapis woke up for a snack, delightfully getting crumbs all over her neck and shoulder.

Valerie hadn’t been anxious in the store but as soon as she started the drive home she found her nerves were completely shot. Marmalade would accept her decision but she worried how Sangria might react. On one hand, he would have someone to play with but she didn’t know if he would see it that way. He still had a ways to go before he could be comfortable asking for things without having to seem enraged that she hadn’t read his mind.

Her worries weren’t unfounded. Sangria went still the moment he saw the new lamia, a warning hiss rattling from his ribs. Admiral was small but he didn’t seem to cower in the face of a Mamba’s ire. It was a tense stand-off until Valerie finally had enough and shooed the irate Mamba away.

“If you’re not gonna help you can go.”

“Rude,” Sangria barked back, swatting at her hands when she tried to grab some bags for herself. “We will be talking about this.”

Well, it was tame as far as Mamba threats went.

[kunishirou]

happy early xmas for me, since I really love WinterIron concept so much lately so why not?

Rating: General/Teen Characters: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Relationship(s): James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes & Steve Rogers Other Tags: Single parent!Bucky, kid!Steve, Family, pre-relationship, alternate universe - modern/no power, Christmas themed

                                                 ・。・゜★・。・。☆・゜・。

“Stevie, take it easy, pal. We still have some time before dinner time. You can choose whichever slowly,” Bucky huffed, shaking his head as he looked at his little spitfire fondly, who seemed so unsure which toy he wanted to get. It had been a long while since they managed to shop together like this, especially as it was getting closer to Christmas holiday. Last year was a lonely one for both of them, as Bucky couldn’t go home from his tour and Steve stuck with his Poppa and Nana. It broke his heart so much when he tried to video call his family, only to see Steve wailed really hard for his Dadda until the boy fell asleep, still crying. But now he came home for real and could spend all time he had with his beloved son. Taking the little guy to the toys store to pick up what Steve wanted for his Christmas gift seemed like a great idea a few hours ago.

And it didn’t even take more than 30 minutes until Bucky completely lost him.

                                        ・。・゜★・。・。☆・゜・。

He knew he shouldn’t go to the store alone without any supervisions or guarding. Even Happy didn’t know that his employer just gone from the office, wearing the best civilian, cheap clothes he got and simply dashed into the said best toys shop in the city. Tony Stark probably could just get whatever he needed right now by ordering online. Heck, maybe even bought five the exact things. Maybe even the most expensive one in the world with just a single click from his tablet.

But no, Pepper would be so pissed if Tony tried to spoil her daughter, Gwen, by buying yet another expensive toy for the lovely baby girl’s Christmas present. But then again, Tony just wanted to be the coolest uncle ever (besides Rhodey, maybe, they could share the honorable title with him) for her. Also, again, Pepper would notice if Tony bought anything suspicious like the last time he bought the $300,000 Barbie doll for Gwen. Or that one time when he bought a dollhouse worth at least $250,000. Partially, it was his fault for just bought whatever caught his eyes in the first place.

It was just a present, Gwen shouldn’t care about how much they worth and simply played with the gifts!

Alas, the parents knew and Pepper banned him to buy anything online or way too expensive anymore. So here he was, at the suburban area that somehow had the best and apparently also the largest toy store in the whole city. Fair enough, since the said store was more like a renovated warehouse anyway. Thus, the adventure began from the time Tony entered the place, which rather packed with families right now because the Winter holiday was approaching fast.

Lucky for him, no one seemed to notice his face yet. So he could quietly slipped deeper into the store while looking around.

What he didn’t expect was that there was a little boy who was sleeping alone. On top of a big teddy bear’s belly. And no one else seemed to see it as a strange scene. Some questions had been inside Tony’s head already: who’s this boy? Why is he alone? How old is he, Jesus Christ, he’s so tiny and very skinny but adorable with those Captain America onesie getup hidden briefly under another layer of warm clothes awww - but where’s the parents? Tony didn’t hear any announcements or a voice of distress parents calling names for their child yet. But there was no way this boy was walking alone, right? Despite how much he didn’t want to get involved and only wanted to look for the presents, Tony could imagine how the parents would feel when they knew they just lost their kids inside the store. It wasn’t like the little boy was equipped with any kind of gadgets for the parents to call as well.

Groaning internally, Tony walked closer to the boy who started to stir awake. Let’s just hope he won’t cry or even wail enough for other people to accuse him as a kidnapper, geez.

“Heya, little dude. Sleep well? I assume you’re not walking around the shop alone, since you look really small and I don’t think any parents should allow you to do that yet.” Welp, that earned the man some sleepy glare, which should look a bit scary, but somehow made the boy looked even cuter. “Not that I think you’re small small, I mean uh - anyway, where’s you parents? Are you here with them, right? You got separated?”

And the little kid - Tony noticed how blue his eyes were - only stared at him, looking unconvinced. Slowly, the boy wiped his eyes with one hand before stepping down from the teddy bear. Blue eyes still looked up at Tony.

“...Dadda said not to talk to a stranger if I’m alone. And I don’t know you.” Oh good, the boy was speaking, yay. Tony was afraid what if the boy wasn’t old enough to even speak proper English yet, but it seemed he underestimated how fast children could grow nowadays. The man grinned, giving his best, mostly not - well, hopefully not that kind of awkward, smile and crouching down to the boy’s level.

“Your Dadda is a good man and you’re such a good kid for listening to him. So I suppose a proper introduction is in order, you know, so we can get to know to each other and we’re no longer strangers. Well, technically still strangers, but at least there’s a progress. So? I’m Tony, what’s your name, little guy?”

Another glare, before the boy said, “I’m not little, I’m 3,” well it’s still too little for Tony, but he won’t argue with that, “....’m Steve.”

Honestly, Tony’s heart melted a little when he saw how brave and yet still so shy this Steve boy acted towards the man. Now he really wanted to make sure the boy returned safely to his parents, almost instantly forgetting his own mission to the store. Well, it was a big store, he could still find something proper later on. Now, back to Steve.

“Oh, wow okay Steve, you’re a big boy then. My bad. Nice to meet you, glad we’re already on first name basis at our first meeting or we had to go through boring and awkward situation before getting where we are,” okay, no more rambling to the poor kid. Tony would just confuse him even more. “So, Steve, Stevie, can you tell me where the last time you see your Dadda? Or Momma? You go together with them, right?”

Tony swore the kid’s expression changed for a brief seconds there before he looked down at the floor, two small hands played with the hem of his sleeve. “Don’t have mommy. Only with Dadda,” Steve mumbled, which made a wonder, and another ton of questions but Tony kept them to himself.

“With your Dadda, then.” the man nodded, “What do you say if we go to the help center and wait for your Dadda there? I’m pretty sure it’ll be kinda pointless to search for him by ourselves in this big place, so we should go and make sure he can find you at one place. What do you say?”

“And how can I be sure that you won’t trick and kidnap me?” Wow, this kid was really perceptive and fully aware his situation could go wrong if he wasn’t careful to who he should trust. Tony absolutely underestimated this little guy so much. Quick, think of something.

“Because,” Tony shushed, looking around before beckoning the kid to come closer. He pulled his right sleeve a bit to reveal a rather gaudy toy watch with Iron Man design on it - courtesy of his lovely niece Gwen, and she insisted Tony to keep wearing it and somehow it became his habit now. Even if he had some proper watches collection. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually Iron Man, Cap. I know you’re actually Captain America, right? I can see through you with those kind of red-white-blue outfit you hid inside that jacket, you know.”

“You’re silly,” Steve giggled, and Tony grinned again.

“Oh, am I now? I’m hurt, Cap, I thought you’ll be less judgmental in person.” He faked a gasp, one hand clenching his chest before grinning again, “Us Avengers have to watch each other’s back, no? So why don’t you let me help you for this once? Pinky promise no funny business, I can swear it by my Arc Reactor. I’d say my heart, but I guess my Arc Reactor is one and another my second heart and even more important to keep me alive anyway, so there’s that.”

“You’re still silly, but alright, Mister Tony. My Dadda likes Iron Man too and I think I can trust you not going to do anything funny to me.”

“I probably already said this, but your Dadda is a good man with a good taste,” he laughed, “Now I can’t wait to see what your Dadda looks like, I have a hunch that me and your Dadda can get along just fine with our similarity, then.”

                                       ・。・゜★・。・。☆・゜・。

Turned out Steve’s father had a pair blue eyes as well. Very blue eyes and Tony was entrapped. He probably lost a few first words here and there, okay, maybe a lot of words when they finally met at the customer help desk. The very first part that he was aware was those gorgeous blue eyes and  deep, raspy voice probably roughed up because he shouted too much for his son, and -

“Mr. Tony?”

Oh, oh. Shit. How long he had been staring, again? “Yes? Yeah, uhm, I’m still listening. Got a bit distracted a bit just now. Too much noises around here, don’t you think - what was it that you said again?”

Tony thought the man would be offended at least, but he just gave Tony an understanding smile. “I can sympathize. Not quite a fan of crowded places with too much noises myself, but I’m trying. What I wanted to say was thank you for finding and bringing Steve here for me.” Bucky smiled at the little boy, who curled himself up on Bucky’s arms and wrapped his tiny arms around the man’s neck, looking ready to sleep again. “I was panicking and probably running around the store just to find him until I got back my common sense and went to the customer desk before I started crying myself.”

Oh, dear God, those laughter. Tony was pretty sure that it should be so illegal to laugh or even chuckle so beautifully like that. The father himself in overall had been already illegal. Not only just because of those blue eyes, but that strong jaw, those impressive cheekbones that probably could cut, rather long hair that look quite silky that he tied into a messy bun that suited the man so much, how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed - 

Wait, why was the father still laughing at him?

“Believe me, my hair usually ain’t as silky as you think. Maybe because I took the wrong shampoo rather than my usual one for a whole month and didn’t realize it. Who knows a baby shampoo can do such a thing.”

Tony smacked his face as hard as he could. “Oh, my God. Did I say it out loud in front of you? I said it out loud in front of you and your kid. Oh God. I swear I’m not a creep, I just have a tendency to say whatever came out in my mind and it’s not helping since I have a very big mouth - no other intention intended. I’m so sorry about this. I hope you won’t sue me. Please don’t sue me. I still have to attend the Christmas party with all my friends - which probably can be counted with one hand - and spend more time with my lovely little niece. What would she think if she knew his cool uncle just got into prison because he just accidentally compliments his sudden crush - I’m going to shut up now before you really want to sue me.”

To his surprise, the father didn’t seem to annoyed to the very least. He just simply...blushed and scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “Uhm, thank you? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that if you want. And no, I won’t sue you. You just saved my Stevie from getting lost too far. Besides, he said you’re, like, Iron Man?” he teased, starting to sound more confident, “No way I’m going to sue Iron Man who just saved my son, he’s way too cool for being taken into prison for that. And I’m a big fan of Iron Man myself. Isn’t that right, Stevie?” The said boy looked up at both Tony and Bucky, smiled sleepily and continued burying his face to the man’s shoulder.

Tony blinked stupidly, “Really?” he cleaned his throat before smirking at the man, “Really, now. Glad to hear that then, Steve’s father.”

“Bucky.”

“Bless you.”

“No, not that,” the man - Bucky - snorted. “That’s my name. Well, James, actually. But no one calls me that unless you’re my Ma.”

“Bucky, eh? Nice to meet you. I like the sound of it, suits you. I was gonna ask where you got ‘Bucky’ out of James, but I guess you got other people asking you that a lot and it seems like a question for a first date thing - I mean. Shi - shoot, sorry. No, not that I want to pressure you with such a thing. I just like talking whatever came out of my mind, again. This sounds awkward already, sorry about that.”

“No, that’s okay. Well, Mr. Iron Man,” Bucky bit his lower lip, considering, “I was hoping maybe you can join us for tonight’s dinner as a thank you, it’s the least I can do to repay you. Maybe by then we can get to know each other fairly well, don’t you think? Unless if you already had a plan.”

Again, Tony blinked, “Dinner? With you and Steve? You sure I won’t interrupting your family bonding time?”

“Absolutely sure. And I’m sure Steve will be so thrilled anyway. I can see he already likes you enough. He doesn’t trust people so easily like he does to you. Most of the time he will run away as fast as he can if he doesn’t feel safe around strangers, Stevie is intuitive like that.“

Tony was pretty sure his heart just swelled in pride. “S-Sure, yeah. I’d like that very much. So, like, numbers exchange? So you can send me your address and time? Promise I’ll be there on time.”

“Smooth, but alright,” Bucky chuckled, fishing out his phone to exchange his number with Tony.

“It’s a date, then,” Tony said casually when he pressed save button for Bucky’s number on his phone, but froze when he saw Bucky raised his eyebrow, realization of what he just said. “I mean, like, with family. So it’s a family date? Dinner? No? Alright, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.”

“Tony, calm down. You look like you’re about to burst into fire like that,” the brunet chuckled, shifting Steve on his arm. Cheeks flushed red a little. “It can be a family date if you want. We - well, I - I’d like to know more about you.”

“...really?”

Bucky nodded, and it was Tony’s turn to blush as he gave his charming smile.

“It’s a family date, then.”

[thegravitythatdrewus]

champagne brains.

- thin-skinned and blue, we break into a random apartment pool, to drown our problems in chlorine for just a little while. the water is freezing and i imagine the veins around my mouth are starting to show.

- we mix vodka and something of a radioctive neon green. i don’t even ask what it is, but wonder if it could possibly look more toxic.

- we pass one glass around, laughing & slurring, lips grazing the rim, teeth clacking. i’ve had a cough and some lump stuck in my throat ever since.

- i notice i pull my stubborn friend’s beard when we’re drunk cause it’s the only way i can get him to look me in the eye when i talk to him.  he is often too distracted with his own thoughts to really listen to anyone else’s, and alcohol sets his mind on a circular train-track, like the kind children in movies get for christmas. turns him into a business with a “gone to lunch” sign, only he never seems to clock back in.

- earlier in the night, after some alcohol and before the pool, my friends spider-monkey climbed and shimmied up to the top of a building downtown, but i said no. sweaty hands, a tipsy body, and ladder rungs don’t mix.

- my tall, quiet friend is uncharacteristically firm when he refuses to leave me by myself at the base of the ladder. he is thirteen years my senior and i know he is drawn to me in some way. he watches me from afar. and tonight he is watching out for me. for all of us actually. I sense a deep and tumultuous sea underneath the quiet exterior. i don’t really know him that well yet, but he seems familiar to me and comforting somehow. like a safe, familiar bed with a heartbeat. someone you could see yourself falling into, exhausted, at the end of a long day for rest. i wonder what his story is. so we sit, just us at the top of the stairs, me quite touched, and talk about the lights and how much prettier the city looks from far away. listening to my friends’ laughter up above me, i wonder if maybe that’s the case for everything. i always felt it was the case for me. i can tell he finds me interesting but i wonder if i, like the city, will always be more fascinating from far away. i feel suddenly just how high up i am. yet i feel a profound connection to my surroundings. for the first time in awhile.

- my best friend forgot to eat before all of this. she’s so drunk after the pool that she can’t walk by herself. i have to pull her and say “step here, step there, stairs coming up” and later keep her from cracking her cute bubbling brain on a claw foot tub.

- in the car, i sloppily try to cram her shoe onto her foot so she can go into a gas station to pee. i fail. give up, and tell her she’ll just have to wait.

- our new friend gives her her first cigarette in a long time, despite my protests. she drops it in the backseat three times, and ashes it on the floorboard.

- we blast “the great escape” and in the dark, i think about the lyrics “make peace with an empty town.” it feels like what we’re doing.

- me and my stubborn friend drag my best friend, miserable, up the stairs. he puts us to bed and almost too excitedly puts on a disney movie for us to fall asleep to and goes to get us food to settle our stomachs. half-dozing, i think, this little flame loves nothing more than to have someone to take care of. hidden under layers of feigned apathy is a heat that burns so bright and hot he doesn’t even know what to do with it. i think when he reaches inside, too close to it, it burns him. so he covers it. 

- i drunkenly think of the words to that little kid’s church song: “hide it under a bushel? no! i’m gonna let it shine.” amused with myself, my dry lips mouth the words and i want to say to him “little light, it’s ok. just shine.” but i’m coherent enough to know i make no sense to anyone but me. but i resolve to let him know he’s not alone somehow.

- i note that intoxication is supposed to make everything hazy, but i seem to be seeing things clearer than ever somehow. like the alcohol content in my veins has slowed my motor skills, but given me a razor-sharp focus. it feels like i can see my friends’ souls. everything else disappears. slurring or sleeping. all these little gods of misadventure. i love them more than i know how to deal with. i feel the love of them swimming with the alcohol in my blood, each thud of a heavy heart sending more of it coursing through my body. 

- my sleepy, stubborn friend gets into bed and puts his arm over me. and eventually the air in the room is nothing but the quiet, steady breathing of friends. little humans at their most vulnerable. i note the curvy, shadowy outline of my best friend and our new friend, cuddled up on an air mattress. turn over to face my stubborn friend and see his chest rising and falling, chest tattoo creeping out from the top of his shirt. he smells simultaneously sweet and also like cigarette smoke. he once told me i smell like raspberries and freshly-cracked pepper. he was likely joking, but those are really the things i take note of, without even trying. i can’t help but soak deeply in everything i experience. this night and these people have soaked into me like i am a sponge. and i never want it all to leak out. these are my people, i think, and i want to keep them forever. everyone that i know. i have pieces of them wedged into me like shrapnel i’ll never be able to remove. i never want to be this close to people. for fear of abandonment. i hate the feeling of a person ripping away from me like a slow stinging bandage. so i prefer it if they never stick to me at all. but tonight, taking in all i’ve seen, i know it’s too late. 

- his hand somehow makes its way to bare skin. still. quiet, boozy breath. i leave it. give the gift of innocent touch to a suffering friend who spends too much time pouring himself into the wrong cups. measuring nothing. he is empty but doesn’t know how to be. maybe none of us do. thinks if he runs out of things to pour then everyone will leave him.  i know his brain burns and fizzes worse than his throat. to just be here is the greatest gift any of us could give. and so we are.

- normally, i want nothing more than to leave this place. i spend most of my time mapping out an escape route, stabbing possible destinations like pushpins into my thick head. but for the first time in a long time i feel content in my space. giving and receiving little gifts, with the people i’ve come to love.

- before i doze, i remember how my tall quiet friend smiled and helped me help my best friend to the pool steps, when she was too drunk to find them on her own. how he laughed so kindly and told her to stop apologizing for being drunk. and i remember watching my stubborn friend grin and kiss her head, through glazed eyes from the backseat, whenever she would slur something funny and dumb. in the dark i smile so hard i think my cheekbones will crack, and suddenly realize that maybe we are all a little pop-fizzle, a little bit champagne-brained, and bloody red-wine hearted. and maybe there is no shame in admitting what we lack, with open hands. 

- maybe it’s ok. 

- this being poured into, and this pouring back.

[chimchimschooo-blog]

The Adventures of Spider-kook

This is my first fanfic. I’ve been rusty writing, so sorry for the cobwebs. Anyway I hope you enjoy this little AU oneshot. Please do not steal. if you see this elsewhere please let me know.

Sirens blared in the distance, the sound echoing off every building an surface in the massive steel jungle. Where there was the beckoning call of sirens there was incoming trouble within the city Jungkook called home. Trouble that he was there to stop. All in a night’s work, a secret hidden even from those he was closest.

The scream was a dim blip in the evening air, but it was enough for him to pinpoint. Distress offered an extra tinge to it’s sound that made every hair on Jungkook’s body stand to attention. Whatever caused that scream was something he could help with.

He only had three blocks to travel. The sirens, though loud to him, were still too distant for any assistance. Jungkook knew all too well what a few unfortunate seconds could mean when it came to those he cared about. Pulling down his silk mask to cover his face, he propelled himself forward.

Launch. Fire. Swing. Repeat.

Within a minute he reached the source of the screaming, a woman with long dark hair inched back into a corner her bag gripped tightly in her hand as she covered her eyes. A man held something under his jacket. From Jungkook’s place leaning off a building, he couldn’t tell what it was. It didn’t matter anyway.

Jungkook landed on the ground right behind the man, his feet padded so silently on the ground the culprit didn’t even turn, but the woman noticed.

“I said give me your purse,” the thief rasped out. “What is so funny?”

Jungkook grinned as the thief turned around. His webbing shot from his wrist, before he got out his first words, knocking the man back. “I think she just realized how silly your hair looks.”

A knife tumbled from the thief’s grasp as he landed square on his ass. Jungkook fired another blast of webbing this time sticking the man’s shoulder to the cement wall of the building behind him.

“You should probably just shave it all off.” He kept shooting webbing until the man was locked into place against the wall. The thief struggled, but not much, eyes having gone wide.

“Spider-man?”

“The one and only.”

His attention faded fast from the thief, the sirens had grown faint in the distance, meaning they hadn’t been heading for this woman, meaning his job for the night wasn’t done. The woman’s expression had shifted from terror to amazement, but no words came from her mouth any longer.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook added, though he was already listening for the real source of the sirens.

The woman nodded. It would be have to be good enough for now.

“Stay safe. Buy a Daily Bugle.”

Jungkook launched. The soaring feeling the second his feet left the ground and the only thing keeping him in the air was the motion of swinging through the air never ceased to be a rush. The shift in his stomach wasn’t a source of fear, but thrill.

Despacito rang through the night air, high in the sky, where no one other than people relaxing on nearby rooftops would be able to hear. He’d finally pinpointed what he thought was the source of the sirens when the call came through. The call could easily be about nothing, but someone’s life could be in danger.

There are times when you need to make a calculated choice. There are also times when your indecision makes that choice for you. Jungkook let out a sigh when his ringtone abruptly cut off. Back to protect his city.

Loud shots were being fired off the closer he got. Bang. Silence. Bang. Bang. An inconsistent pattern meaning there was fighting. Meaning there were already police there. Police who had made it very clear that they did not like Jungkook, well Spider-man, there. He was trouble, he made a mess of things. Villains liked to appear and destroy property, that sort of thing.

Just as he was ready to make his grand entrance, his ringtone sounded again. Despacito. Meaning it was one of his hyungs. With a deep sigh, Jungkook answered the phone.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Where are you?” Namjoon’s voice sounded distant on the other side.

“Not at the dorm.”

“No shit. I thought you wanted me to help you with your mix.”

Jungkook sighed. He had asked Namjoon for help with the new song he’d been working on that just wasn’t coming together right. Of course Namjoon would chose now to suddenly find the time to be helpful.

“Uh.”

“So I guess you don’t need help then.”

“Give me a half hour. I’ll be back.”

He could hair Namjoon shuffling around through the phone. “Fine don’t be late. I got other things to do too.” Knowing Namjoon he’d probably just end up working on his own tracks in his studio until Jungkook returned. It’s what he almost always did.

“Thanks hyung.”

Jungkook didn’t wait for an answer as he hung up and launched toward the the building that separated him from whatever was going on.

Banging shook the building as he swung. Whatever was being fired wasn’t some normal gun.

For just a moment, Jungkook soared over his destination, taking in the city lights that shone like stars in the dark night. The large blast from below of bright blue light extending out like lightning stole his attention back. He dove. No time to waste.

Police officers fired round after round at a man in a yellow and red suit. Not a single bullet managed to pierce him, instead they deflected with a flash of electricity. The man laughed at the cops attempts. Deep and rich as if this was nothing more than a game to him.

The man in the suit turned from the cops allowing them to shoot freely at his back. His focus had returned to the reason he came in the first place. The bank vault. A dark line had been sculpted into the vault, but hadn’t been completed, not like the large hole that now stood at the front of the building.

Jungkook slid up beside the cops, silently so as to not attract their attention. This man might have been bulletproof, but Jungkook was not, not as Spider-man at least. He jumped to the side of the building, and walked up the wall using his fingers and toes to stick to the wall. He dangled upside down to the high ceiling. It seemed to be out of the way enough that the cops hadn’t yet noticed him.

He was in. Stealth games were never his forte, but now was not the time. Within moments he hung above the man in the yellow suit.

The blast of webbing took everyone by surprise. The cops stopped shooting and the suited man looked up toward him.

“Hi,” Jungkook said as brightly as possible.

“You dare attack the Shocker.”

Jungkook laughed. He laughed so hard he couldn’t hold on to the ceiling anymore and dropped with cat-like grace to the floor.

“The shocker.” Jungkook paced around the man who’s hand was now stuck to the vault door unmoving. “You’re really going with that one. Seems a bit on the nose don’t you think.”

The Shocker snarled. Sparks flew from his hands melting the webbing Jungkook spent so much time making. The yellow suited man yanked his hand free and stalked toward Jungkook hands raised like he was some sort of Iron-man wannabe.

“Woah there buddy,” he said, raising his hands.

“I’m going to kill you.”

If Jungkook imagined The Shocker’s face under the yellow mask twisted as if he were constipated and that only made him laugh.

“Stop laughing.”

Jungkook gasped and stood up straight, trying to hold in his laughter. He couldn’t help that when he got nervous he laughed. This guy was new territory. No one had ever melted his webbing before. And electricity. He didn’t need to be a toasted Spidey. All of this was like nothing he’d handled before. It was a good thing he liked a challenge.

“Okay okay. I’ll relax.” Instead he just laughed again.

“What is so funny?”

With a slight grin, Jungkook tilted his head to the side as he achieved a slight satisfactory pop. He was ready.

The shocker fired. Blue light flared outward in every direction.

Jungkook jumped, his muscles tightening and loosening as he flipped through the air. The electricity barely missed him as he landed back down on his feet just in time to see another propelling toward him. This time he couldn’t dodge it completely. Energy coursed through his body and he slumped forward.

Laughter filled the air. This time it wasn’t his own.

“Why do bad guys always laugh,” Jungkook said as he righted himself. “I mean I don’t laugh when I get you guys.”

“But you haven’t got me.”

His webbing burst from his wrist and landed around The Shocker’s wrist. The moment it made contact it started to melt. He’d need to modify his recipe. Jungkook fired a continuous web this time.

The Shocker struggled to pull himself free as webbing nailed him down more, cementing him in place. Jungkook didn’t stop. Not until the only thing anyone could see of The Shocker was his head amid a giant white ball.

“Nice meeting you, hope I don’t see you again,” Jungkook said.

With a lazy swagger he turned to toward the cops just as his phone rang. Not now.

At least he was done and from the way the police were charging toward him they probably weren’t too thrilled about his help. One day they’d realize how valuable he was to them. He hadn’t even broken anything today. All that damage The Shocker had done before he’d even arrived. Still having a gun pointed at his face was not the way he liked being greeted.

Jungkook fired his webbing, swinging out of the decimated bank. “You should probably hurry because he melts that webbing.” He saluted as he swung out of their reach, radios coming to life filled with chatter on the situation.

His phone rang again. Out of police reach he took a glance. Taehyung.

“Jungkookah, where are you? We were supposed to play Overwatch.”

Shit. He was right.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Awesome. Oh and Namjoon says he’s going to kill you.”

Jungkook sighed. “What else is new?” One day he’d nail this whole Spider-man, idol lifestyle. He just needed a little more time.

[coeurdastronaute]

Giant: Ch. 3

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear Pack yourself a favorite blouse Take a withdrawal slip Take all of your savings out 'Cause if we don't leave this town We might never make it out.

Previously on Giant

There were still visits. Still calls, texts at all hours, weekends spent at home, weekends spent visiting. It was not as much as they’d like, but still, the friends kept in touch as much as they could, or hope. Kara didn’t regret her decision as much as she thought she would, only realizing into their first holiday without her father that she needed the time at home to fix herself and grieve properly that she wouldn’t have gotten if she’d gone away to school.

A new, simple routine developed that kept her sane, until she only felt the gentle tug of sadness on her leg every so often instead of the overbearing weight of sorrow upon her shoulders. She had more dinners with her mom, took her to movies and gets her to hang out with her friends. Kara split her time between studying and working as an assistant for one of the doctor’s offices in town, her sunny demeanor an instant hit with the kids that have to come in for shots. At night, she spent more time prowling, and hoping to help. Her sister, radio silent and upset, felt like she abandoned her, and Kara tried to hide behind her side job.

Lena didn’t regret her choice either. Her father’s alma mater became a safe haven for her, one she never knew she needed, surrounded by walls made of nothing but books and learning, with paths that stretched in millions of directions, that she could pursue to her heart’s content. She works hard and toward the second half of the season, even manages to start a few games for the soccer team. Her father and mother, even Lex make a few appearances at the games, decked out in all manner of red plaid and face paint to support her.

A new picture takes a spot next to her favorite of them when she was a kid, one where they are all dressed in the best cheering attire and she is muddy from a rather tough match. Beside it on her desk in her dorm sits one she tries not to look at too often, of Kara and herself at the beach, Lena on Kara’s shoulders, somehow able to be held up as the waves come down around them.

It’s almost holiday break, the end of the first semester, before Lena tells Kara about Bree, the pretty sophomore art student who kisses a little sloppy and smokes too much weed, but is kind and gentle. Kara takes a few extra moments to respond to the text, asking a million questions and trying to be happy for her friend.

Winter break was spent doing all of their favorite things, spent locked in Lena’s living room watching the snow fall and catch up with each other, spent with Kara dragging Lena into the snow and sledding or to look at lights as she pedals on her bike with the Luthor on her handlebars, relishing in the cold and quiet.

They exchanged gifts before Lena disappeared for a few days with her family to the cabin. She promises to wear the sweater Kara bought her, and she felt like her chest would explode when she gave Kara the new sketchbook and expensive pencils. She accepted the hug eagerly, soaked it up as best she could to hold away for when things were hard.

On New Years’ Eve, Lena looked away when Kara kissed someone else, her gut turning over into knots at the sight.

By second semester, not long after her return to school, Bree was gone, and Kara smiled when she saw the text. Lena was not as upset about it as Kara would have imagined, but she puts on her supportive face, and cheered her up anyway, promising to be there that weekend for junk food and movies.

The first sighting of Superman came just before spring break. Kara couldn’t help but stare at the blurry picture on the front page, the same one carried around the country, even the world. She called her cousin as soon as she saw it. Pacing through her room, she picked up the paper again and shook her head.

“Hey,” he coughed, his voice still tainted with sleep.

“Superman!” Kara shouted, unable to keep her voice down.

“Kara, listen--”

“Keep your powers secret, Kara,” she repeated the boring and tired lines she’d been told her entire life on earth. “Don’t you dare show yourself. Be human, forget about what you are capable of being. Those are what you told me my entire life and now you’re… you’re… you’re in a cape!”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” Clarke murmured, sitting up in his bed and stretching slightly.

“That you had an outfit laying around waiting, just in case of these circumstances?”

“The rules still apply,” he warned her. “You’re just a kid, Kara. I know what I’m doing, and I’ve seen what can happen if I sit back--”

“If you can do this, why can’t I? Why can’t we team up? I can help!” she jumped up and down, her eagerness betraying her own point.

“You have a chance at a normal life, Kara. I had to… I had to save someone. That plane held… Just. Be a kid, okay? You were supposed to protect me, but let me be the big cousin that protects you.”

“Clarke, this is ridiculous. A double standard!”

“There are bad things out there, and I’m not going to subject you to them--”

“Just yourself? So you can get killed and leave me behind.”

“I’ve never heard you yell so much. Not since I took you to that unlimited ice cream bar,” he chuckled.

“This isn’t funny, Clarke. I’m being serious. You just… you went back on everything. And then I’m not allowed to do anything at all, when I’m just as strong as you, just as fast.”

“I’m twenty-nine, Kara. I know a few more things. And I’ve been investigating some--”

“Kal! This is not about--”

“Don’t think I don’t know about what you’ve been doing at night. Fires, accidents, robberies, I bet you even rescued a kitten from a tree. We agreed that you wouldn’t jeopardize yourself.”

“But you can?”

“Kara,” he sighed and hung his head. Kara slumped onto her bed in much the same position. “You have a family and a life. Please, just be normal, for me? Let me be the one who gives it all up to keep everything turning.”

“What if I don’t want normal?”

“Please. I don’t think Alex and Eliza could handle another loss. I don’t think I could,” he confessed. “We tell you these things to protect you.”

For a long second, Kara was quiet, feels the guilt, knew how cheap it was, that it was his last resort. It worked and she hated it. With a groan, she lays back in the bed and covers her eyes with her arm.

“What was it like?”

“Carrying a plane?”

“Yeah.”

“I smell like fuel and my shoulders hurt. Would not recommend it.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

In Metropolis, Clark stood and stretched, surveying the new world. He smiled slightly, glad to have won, at least for the moment.

“I know it feels like you’ve stuck out your whole life, but I swear, Kara, there will be a place that makes you feel completely comfortable, and like yourself, and when you find it, you won’t want to lose it for anything. You won’t want to have this responsibility getting in the way.”

“I always thought if I just… did that, came out to the world, I could live, at least as myself, even if it was short. Hiding feels.... wrong. Like I’m lying.”

“You don’t expose yourself just because you’re sick of things. You are safest when you’re hidden.”

“I want to be normal, and not act like it.”

“You’ll find it.”

“And if not, I can help you.”

“We’ll discuss that much, much, much later.”

Part of her knew that her cousin was right, that she wanted to help just to get rid of this secret. Not long after her call, Kara threw the mask away, electing to embrace herself, as Clarke told her to try. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it should have been, but it was well worth it.

By the time the summer came in, she was yearning for adventure, yearning to be… something, eager for it to end so she could start over in school, in a new city. Of course, summer itself was a gift and an escape.

“Finally!” Kara yelped, hugging her best friend tightly as she appeared at the front door. The dog barked and danced around the reunion. “I’ve been waiting for hours. I’m starving. Did you know that?”

“You’re always starving,” Lena laughed and hugged her back. “Mom wanted to go shopping to welcome me back, and I saw you two weeks ago anyway.”

“But now you’re back for twelve weeks. It’s going to be great.”

Lena shook her head and rubbed the belly of the other, actual, puppy who welcomed her as well.

“Let her in the house before you threaten her with fun,” Eliza chided from somewhere in the house.

Like they were still seniors, Lena made her way into the house that welcomed her eagerly. After a year away, Kara felt different, Lena felt different.

As they ate pizza and relaxed on the couch, Lena caught Kara’s face, how her cheeks changed, how her jaw looked different, how her shoulders were wider, how her legs seemed longer. Kara caught herself gazing at Lena as the movie flashed across her face. Hair up, shorts betraying soccer muscles, hips curving as she bent over to rub Boomer. It was different, they were different. They felt older.

Long after Eliza bids them goodnight, and lets them have the living room to reconnect, long after the movie is nothing but a faint murmur, Lena drapes her legs over Kara’s lap and yawns, lazy and content and almost feeling that perfect kind of feeling she often chased, but never found.

“So you and QB didn’t make it?” she observed.

“We just got really bland, really quick,” Kara shrugged. “It’s only been a few days. I think I’m sad?”

“Sounds like it.”

“It wasn’t a surprise, if that makes sense.”

“Definitely.”

“What about you? You working at LuthorCorp this summer again? Or breaking hearts like the softball team at college?” Kara teased, earning almost a blush, a rarity from a Luthor.

“I’m interning in the lab this year,” Lena smiled. “Dad was so excited when I told him I was going to go engineering for a major. Mom told me I’ll never find a husband, but I told her those were overrated anyway.”

“Which she appreciated.”

“Naturally.”

“I can’t believe you’re graduating next year. You’re going to be the youngest one of us with a degree.”

“Lex beat me by a semester, but I chalk it up to the move.”

Her hands roamed along the sleeping dogs head just below her on the floor. Lena stretched and Kara adjusted with her, both sinking deeper in the the couch.

“Any word from Alex?” It was a delicate subject, but they never shied away from each other before, and they weren’t about to start.

“She got recruited for some government agency. She’s been really busy, but she sounds a bit better. She calls more,” Kara said, happy at the small victory. “We’re… the past few weeks, we’ve been trying.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s something.”

“At least you don’t have to work with your sibling,” Lena yawned. “Lex has been my dad’s shadow lately. It’s crazy. He’s been pushing for alien research.”

“Alien?”

“Superman, to be more precise.”

“Oh?” Kara gulped and tensed.

“A creature… who looks like us, blends in, but can shoot lasers out of his eyes, fly at the speed of sound, freeze things with his breath, lift entire jumbo jets, survive buildings crumbling…” Kara found herself smiling at the list. “Take being shot, and for all we know, has no natural weakness. It’s a terrifying entity.”

“You think Superman is… could be… bad?” she asked, adjusting her glasses and sitting up straighter.

“I think he’s not human, and as good as he seems now, who is to say that he won’t decide to level a city tomorrow or next week,” Lena reasoned. “Lex just wants a contingency plan, a safeguard.”

“I don’t know, he seems to stand for hope, and righteousness, and justice. That has to be good, right?”

“I agree. It’s nice to have someone to help someone getting mugged, or a crashing plane, but I didn’t vote, did you? No one entrusted him to enact our justice.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to help.”

“He’s going to make my brother go crazy. He’s obsessed with his powers,” Lena yawned again and rolled over. “And Dad’s obsessed with fat government contracts for defense. They’re flying to DC every other day it seems like.”

Kara made a note to call Clarke as soon as she could. She furrowed and wondered what Lena would think of her, a question she never thought to ask herself, seeing as Lena had never been anything but madly supportive.

“What about aliens though? Think he’s the only one?”

“Weird things have happened forever in human history. I mean, look at that thing Superman fought a few months ago, and the things Batman catches. There has to be more. The universe is too huge to be just us.”

“That’d be kind of cool though.”

“Dangerous, but so much information. It’d be interesting.”

“So you like Superman.”

“I’d like to be able to fly,” Lena smiled and closed her eyes, the long day finally catch up with her. “That must feel…”

“Incredible,” Kara supplied, making them as cozy as possible.

While Lena dozed, the alien twisted her words around in her head and wondered if it would be possible for the girl she told all of her secrets to, to hate her and think she was a monster. It made her bones hurt at the very notion.

High atop the water tower, the two friends look out at the ocean, at the world, at the blinking lights and moving beams of the world happening below, and with little regard for their eyes at all.

Lena made sure not to even bring her flask; she wanted to be sober for it. She wanted to be the person Kara thought she could be. And so she didn’t drink and she sighed and felt her stomach flip as she attempted to build some kind of courage.

“This is my favorite night of the year,” Kara finally whispered. “You and me, and I just feel... I feel... I feel very normal.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe this year will be a good one,” she reasoned, as much for Lena as it was a wish for herself.

“Maybe,” Lena nodded, inching closer.

“Maybe things will work out.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe we’re allowed to--”

Before she could finish the thought, lips touched her own, and Kara didn’t care about anything else in the world, let the meteor crash down and wipe out the entire concept of civilization, let the floods come, let it all just go to heck, and none of it would matter.

Lena didn’t stop when she pulled away to catch her breath. She kissed her harder just a second later.

“Maybe,” Lena nodded with a smile before Kara kissed her back.

Even though they lived in the same city, real life made them busier than ever. Kara embraced her new chance at life, her new mission, and she had a small job and classes. She rode with the chance she had, and took every opportunity to do anything new.

Being busy helped distract her from the last night back home, the annual drink atop the water tower. The night Kara kissed Lena so hard she thought she’d rip the entire tower down herself. Her friend patted her cheek after and smiled, whispering the word perfect before she laughed and laid back, to look at the stars.

Busy meant accepting every blind date she could find in hopes of not ruining the one relationship in her life that was stable and good and honest. Lena was Lena, was so far out of reach, was too… too important to lose over something as trivial as a crush.

Busy meant casually avoiding Lena, which proved easy, since she seemed set on avoiding Kara just as much.

It was the reason the news was so surprising, came from out of nowhere. Eliza casually mentioned what a shame it was that Lillian would come down with such an aggressive cancer, and Kara finds herself agreeing with half an ear as she juggles a bag of groceries up the steps, until the words make sense, and she pauses.

Not even the donation Lionel made to Tora and Eliza’s research could rush it, could make it arrive quicker. Kara sits at her desk as if she’d been sucker punched, and calls Lena as soon as she hangs up with her mother.

When no answer comes, she decides these are desperate times. Sneaking into a back alley, Kara took off and searched for a familiar smell, a familiar heartbeat, a familiar voice. It wasn’t until she was over their home, that she caught wind of Lena Luthor once again.

Suddenly, she found herself standing on a familiar balcony, staring at a familiar sight just beyond the window. Lena Luthor with a book in her lap. Lena Luthor, staring at the page and not reading a single word. Kara didn’t realize she was holding her breath until it came out in a fog of ice. Once, twice, by the fourth time Lena picked up her phone, Kara was curious. She watched her scroll and hover over her own name before shaking her head and throwing the phone on the coffee table. It felt like a semi right to the chest.

Kara took a step, raised her hand to knock but stopped, unable to really do it, unsure as to why. Right there sat the one person who made her feel human, normal. It was a very violent thing to confront, for anyone.

Just inside the familiar room, the one she spent the past few years getting to know, making herself at home it, it felt foreign, unwelcoming. They were fast friends, things just clicked. Now, she couldn’t find the proper station.

There, just inside, there sat Lena, the girl who flirted with her the first time she met her, who held her hand when she broke up with her first boyfriend, who threatened to beat up one of Jack’s friends if he didn’t watch his mouth. There, just inside, book in her lap and ignored, sat the girl who was a grouch in the mornings, passionate about everything, smart as hell, and just plain quiet, when the world was so very, very loud.

And Kara ruined it with a stupid kiss.

Her cousin was a hero, who put bad guys in jail and saved busloads of kids. Kara could knock on her friends door when she was in need. That was the talk she gave herself as she squared her shoulders and knocked.

Green eyes snapped to her own, and Kara thought about her mother’s earrings back on Krypton. At first worry, then surprise, then almost resolve appears on Lena’s face as she finally sets down the book and opens the door quietly.

Kara smiled at the old high school hoodie she wore for comfort, at the Kingsmont sweats she wore to feel safe.

“How did you get here?”

“My mom told me about your mom,” Kara offered, fidgeting with her hands before she gave up and decided to be a hero. She took the few steps and wrapped Lena in a hug.

The moment it happened, Lena tensed before melting into Kara’s chest. If, in the history of the world, they offered awards for hugs, for comfort, Lena would bribe every judge to give the award to the girl that squeezed her just enough to make her feel real.

“I’m so sorry, Lee,” she whispered.

“I didn’t have time to call...  It just... “

“Three months you’ve been doing this, since before Christmas.” Kara hadn’t meant it to be so accusatory, but she was hurt and not the perfect hero just yet. “You could have said something.”

“How? When? Your dad died, and your sister is barely around. You just went off to school and were so damn happy… I. I could have a not perfect little while so you could have perfection a little longer.”

“You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that a few times.”

Kara finally decided she could let go after a few more minutes, though Lena suddenly clung to her tighter, hiding her head in Kara’s neck, hiding completely so she couldn’t be heard. Her hands were claws, digging into the muscle there, clinging as deep as they could. She inhaled that smell, that Kara smell, that honey and sunlight and dew and dirt and stars that slumbered in her shirt and skin. It was a salve for the wounds of the past few months.

“I’m so sorry,” Kara whispered again, cradling Lena’s head to her, resting her cheek on the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay.”

“She’s real sick, Kara.”

“Yeah.”

Neither moved.

“Dad is flying all over the world… but, I don’t think there’s a cure.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s the person I want to be when I grow up,” Lena confessed. “Everyone thinks it’s my dad, just because I like what our family does. But Mom… she’s. She picked up an ugly little kid and decided to love her. She made people with money give it away to people who needed it, and she smirked and wore heels and no one knew she did it.”

“Yeah.”

“She can’t go. I need her to show me so many things.”

“Yeah.”

“Stop saying that,” Lena growled, pushing against Kara’s chest, her anger finally coming. Kara didn’t budge, just held her tighter. “Stop!”

“It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be terrible for a while. But you will survive. I know it. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

There, with the door open and the not quite spring air breezing through, they stood and Lena did her best not to cry. Instead she just stood there and tried to get her brain to catch up with the world. Eyes wide and very tiny, she hid.

She cried once. No one saw it, but Lena allowed herself that. Tears setting her cheeks, blotches underneath, eyes red and throat raw, she stared at herself in the mirror, putting the image of weakness to memory before running the water and letting the cold splash wash it all away.

Head held high, she clasped her mother’s pearls around her neck and smoothed the slender black dress across her hips. Her skin looked pale against the dark color.

In the end, she was almost grateful it happened so quickly. Her mother suffered long enough, and Lena couldn’t stand another day. But her mother kissed her cheeks and told her how special and good and important she was, how Lena was the best decision of her life, how she was grateful the world brought them together, how she was certain her daughter would do big things, how she should promise to fall in love every day, and that a smile was the best armor. In the last few weeks, Lillian imparted everything she could upon Lena, attempting to make up for missing so much. It was a kind of apology, the attention and advice and promises she made Lena swear to adhere. It was exhausting.

Every night that Lena listened to her mother breath in her sleep, that she’d sneak a few minutes and curl against her side and breathe in the perfume and soap, she was caught praying for two distinct and vastly different things. Either take her quick and stop the suffering, or heal her now and give her back. Lena knew which one was coming. She didn’t sleep for weeks.

The house filled with people, and even more than every other time, she hated it. The conversations were worse, now. The drinking was lonelier. The world felt empty with memories of her mother lurking around every corner. Lena half waited for her to pop out and scold a waiter with a crooked tie before fixing it for him and making him blush.

“That was a really nice speech,” Kara offered as Lena finally found her gazing at pictures, sipping her wine gently. She smiled warmly and Lena felt a heavy thud of a heart in her chest. “Eulogy, I mean. You know. At the… It was nice.”

“Thank you for coming. I thought you would miss exams or something.”

“I took them early.”

“Seems we’re even in the funeral department,” Lena sighed, looking around at the room.

“Yeah, isn’t that a shame?”

“It is,” she nodded. “Let’s not do this again.”

Somewhere upstairs, her father locked himself in a room and refused to leave. He would be pacing, she knew. He would be feral, and she didn’t know what to do to help him. Across the room, her brother emptied another scotch glass, and she didn’t know how to help him either. Lena could barely help herself, and yet she felt the weight of her blood to help them, to become the matriarch.

“You carry yourself like her, you know?” Kara observed. “Shoulders back, chin up. The first time I saw Lillian, she had this natural grace that me… well.. You know me…” she chuckled and earned a small smile from her friend. “I envied it. And then I saw you walk in, and it was… beauty and grace and just like your mother.”

“Thank you,” Lena sighed and swallowed a lump. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, but sometimes that is the worst kind of pain one can inflict upon themselves.

Before Kara could try something else, a voice rang out, attached to the lanky body that stood atop the baby grand in the corner. She felt Lena tense and flinch beside her, knowing full well it was nothing good to come.

“Thank you all for coming,” he lifts his overfilled tumbler of carmel brown liquid that sloshed slightly until he slurped and hissed. “I can think of no better way for you to honor my mother than by enjoying one more party thrown by the Luthors.” His smile was sardonic, angry and wrathful and pained. “Always good for a party, huh?” he asked no one in particular. “My mother was the kindest, best person, and you all just sucked her dry, took what you could, were nowhere to be seen when tumors gnawed on her organs.”

“Lex,” Lena moved through the crowd and tried to reach him. “Lex!”

Obediently, without an invitation, Kara followed.

“And my sister. My mom wanted a piece of living proof of her superhuman good will,” he sneered. “Like a shelter cat, we picked one up. And for what? For her to be killed? Do you know what killed her?” he accused the air, drinking another large gulp. “Superman. The aliens. Their alien rocks. Kryptonite exposure at the hands of my dear, old, dad’s research.”

“Lex. Come down.”

“Isn’t that great, Sis?” he shook his head and hopped down onto the bench. “Government contracts to protect us from Superman, researching weapons, it killed our mother. The first casualty of that demon from space.”

“Please, Lex, let’s go upstairs and talk.”

“I didn’t mean that shelter stuff,” he smiled, a genuine, good, smile before patting her cheek and leaning his forehead against her own. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. He took our mother, Lena. I’m going to kill him.”

“Let’s get some food, okay?” she begged, fake smile and all. “I’m sorry. The day,” she gestured toward the house guests who politely pretended to ignore it.

“Nonsense. I’m fine,” he smiled brightly. “Never been better, actually.” With a flourish, he sat at the piano and ran his hands along it. “What do you say we have ourselves a real party?”

The noise that came was an off beat medley of whatever Lex could remember from his distant education in the instrument. When no one moved, he played harder and louder before slamming his fists down in a loud bang. He picked up his glass and threw it across the room, flipped the bench against the wall.

Instinctively, Kara put herself in front of Lena, not completely, but enough to help if she had to, though she didn’t know what that might mean.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” he repeated, jamming his finger in the air. “Get the fuck out of my house!” Lex yelled, tossing his head back and bellowing it at the ceiling.

“Mom would be embarrassed by you right now,” Lena sneered as she watched her brother. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I’m going to kill him, Lena,” he repeated, laughing and grabbing the decanter.

Kara stood beside her friend as the crowds cleared out. Her brother sat in the chair in the study beside the almost broken piano, as if it were a regular day, and he was simply pondering life and literature in front of the fire.

The only other soul left, once the door shut, was the patriarch, standing in the doorway with his hands behind his back, face grim and eyes weighed down by bags.

“Lena, will you excuse your brother and I?” he asked politely. “Kara, thank you for coming. I apologize for this outburst.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Mr. Luthor,” Kara nodded. “I’m very sorry for your lost. Your wife was very kind to me.” He nodded curtly as she walked by toward the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Lena whispered, pausing beside him, ducking her head. He tilted her chin up and gave her a small smile.

“Your mother always said you would be one of her brightest, lasting legacies. Remember that.”

Kara watched him kiss his daughter’s forehead before she hugged him tightly, and pulled herself away just as quick.

By the time they made it to the top of the steps, the yelling began, and Lena shook her head, stomping practically toward her room, tossing her heels in the hall as she went, as they were not conducive to how she was feeling.

Kara worked in double time to keep up with the ball of rage.

“Fucking idiot,” she flared. “He thinks… It’s. It’s all about him! He’s the one hurting! I had to do all of it. I planned it all for them because that is what we do. We keep going. I didn’t get to… feel! I had to pick out the fucking casket and hor d'oeuvres.”

Kara didn’t have time to add anything, just tried to stay out of her way. She let her rant for as long as possible, wondering to herself if she were ever going tire herself out. Her brain worked in overtime to find a solution. Lena knew how to help Kara. Kara had no idea how to calm this ball of rage and grief, at least she couldn’t come up with one quick enough, until she realized she didn’t have to.

“Let’s go,” Kara decided, stopping her mid sentence in some language Kara was not too certain about its origins.

“What?”

“Let’s go,” she repeated with a smile, walking toward the door. “Let’s just go.”

“We can’t-- What are you talking about?”

Hands on her hips, jaw tight and pointed, Kara knew she would have fallen in love with her if she wasn’t the most important person in her life.

“Shut up, Luthor, and let’s go,” she laughed, opening the door to the balcony.

The summer was coming, the spring was raging, and despite the fact that it was the day of a sad funeral, the sun was shining and happy to do so. Kara kicked off her heels as well and tilted her face like a flower towards the brightness of the afternoon.

“Unless you’re scared.”

“I’m not afraid,” Lena challenged, following quickly.

Kara climbed up on the railing and stood there for a moment, hands on her hips and confident. She knew how to tame a Luthor; misdirection.

“You wanted to know how I get in here, right?”

In an instant, she dropped, hands grabbing the marble before slipping off to the next. Lena yelped and sprinted toward the edge, leaning over to find a cheesy grinned girl standing in the same position as a minute ago, but on the ground.

“Come on, Lena. We’re making a break for it.”

From atop her little world, Lena looked over the edge and took a deep breath, willing to follow that voice farther than she was willing to admit.

“If I break my neck, you’ll be in trouble, Danvers,” she called as she saddled the railing, carefully working her footing to try to figure out how this kept happening.

“I can see your underwear,” Kara giggled.

“Not helping,” she huffed, moving slowly. “I don’t habitually trespass.”

“It’s only trespassing if it’s unwanted.”

“Clever thing you are.”

It takes a little longer, but Lena makes it down, and Kara is beyond impressed. It was easy when all she had to do was hover. She could barely imagine it as a human.

“Enjoy the view?”

“No… I mean… I was kidding,” Kara’s ears burned bright as she adjusted her glasses and looked away.

“Well, now what?” she asked, brushing clean her hands and smoothing her dress, adjusting her pearls.

Even after scaling a house, she was a Luthor, and it was endearing.

Barefoot and all, they start walking, out the backside of the property, through a large, ten foot hole in the wall that never got fixed. They stole bikes outside of a playground, and carelessly wove down hills toward the beach, each racing and veering as best they could.

They stole apples from the stand on the corner. They stole sandwiches from the deli. They stole a bottle of wine from a table at a restaurant as they zoomed by on their bikes, the baskets full of contraband and two women who were too old for pegs and such, in black dressed and mourning torn stockings. Kara dropped the money from her pocket at each location, apologizing as Lena rolled away with a laugh that was as carefree as she could have remembered.

By the time they made it to the sea, they were exhausted and the sun began to set. They tossed their new bikes down and loaded up their arms before finding a spot to enjoy the spoils of their heists.

Gone was the earlier morning, gone was Lex, gone was the funeral, gone was her father, gone was the idea of evil aliens and hunting them. Both ran from the world.

“Did you see that guy's face when I swiped this bottle?” Lena laughed, popping the cork after tugging it loose with her teeth.

“You are a master thief, Lena Luthor.”

“That was… so much fun,” she decided, laughing as the sunglasses in the shape of hearts she stole from the drugstore fell back onto her face from her hair with the pop of the cork. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you, girl scout.”

“You knew what I needed. I knew what you needed,” Kara shrugged and unwrapped a sandwich.

“What do you mean?”

“When my dad… you helped. Not much, but more than anything else. I know this won’t fix anything--”

“For a minute, I forgot,” Lena smiled sadly. More and more those were her go-to smiles, and it broke Kara’s heart. “I had a thought, that I couldn’t wait to tell my mom about this afternoon, how she’d get a kick out of it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“No, no. It’s… reality now.”

“Not for tonight,” Kara handed food to Lena. “Tonight we’re in a parallel world. Perfect World.”

“My kind of place,��� she smiled, adjusting her sunglasses like a movie star before drinking the wine straight from the bottle. “We wont’ fit in well. We’re far too imperfect, far too often.”

“We’ll fake it.”

They watched the sunset and created an entire world full of perfect moments. Milk that never expired. Pizza that never burned. Technology that never failed. Parents who never died. Nights that never ended. Days that could be paused and stretched apart like the cotton candy clouds they watched over the waves.

Lena pulled her knees up and rested her chin on it while Kara stretched out, the wind rustling her sandy blond curls. Lena sighed and watched the night appear on her face.

“Let’s run, Kara,” she whispered, earning a golly kind of smile. “I mean it. Let’s just go. I have some money saved up, get on my plane, wake up in Argentina, or Dubai, or Kenya, or Nepal. Let’s just go.”

It was an earnest request, an honest wish, and Kara yearned to say yes, to hop up and take her up on the offer. It would be so simple to escape with Lena, keep running whenever someone caught a whiff of them.

“Your dad needs you. My mom… Boomer.”

“Bring Boomer, of course.”

“Of course,” Kara laughed and laid back in the sand.

“I mean it, Kara. Think about it. We don’t need it, all this, all them. You can walk dogs in Paris, and I’ll work in a café.”

“Can I scoop gelato in Venice?” Kara played along.

“I’ll be one of those boat rower people, who wears those hats and sings,” she offered, drinking again.

“In London, you can be a star on the stage, Ophelia and Cleopatra and whatever else up and coming playwrights decide you’d be perfect for.”

“And you can work in a florist, and bring home fresh flowers every day.”

“My favorite would be Buenos Aires,” Kara whispered, enjoying the cool sand on her warm skin. “You’d be a poet. Write poems on the walls and roof, fill up the world with poems. Steal my hand and write poems on it when we’re out having coffee.”

“And you’d work in a daycare, and come home exhausted from the kids climbing on you, and with flowers knit like a crown in your hair.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Kara laughed.

“I’m being serious, Kara,” Lena muttered, her voice quite stern. She earned a smile and deep breath from the girl who looked as if she really was dreaming right there in the sand.

Instead of answering, Kara squinted and reached up, stealing the sunglasses and slipping them on herself.

“We can’t, Lena.”

“Why can’t we? We just did. Jumped the wall, sprinted like the dogs were on us, stole some bikes. It’s that simple sometimes.”

“You know we can’t,” Kara whispered, running her hand along Lena’s forearm. “I’d give my right arm to have the ability to leave everyone, my life, and do that. You have to know that.”

Once more, Lena looked out at the ocean, at the gentle waves, at the sun and the colors that came as the night welcomed itself again with stars and a great display. She inhaled the smell and held her breath, closing her eyes, willing herself to be the person who could run, who could just go, take the easy way out of her future. A tear slid down her cheek and she let it hang there before it fell to her knee.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Lee. I swear.”

Lena smiled despite it all and slid beside her friend, lying against her side, stealing her warmth and comfort. She wrapped her arm around Kara’s ribs and rested her forehead against her cheek.

“I have a feeling, that if we don’t leave now, tonight, this minute,” Lena shook her head. “We’ll never escape it all. It’s just going to get harder.”

“Never escape?”

“If we were really brave, we’d do it.”

“Yeah,” Kara swallowed, eyes open as she stared hard at the sky. For reasons unbeknownst to her, she felt a tear fall down her temple, into her hair, gone as quick as it came.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

“I really do,” Lena sighed and closed her eyes tightly.

NEXT

[rhina988]

Indecent Proposal - Chapter 1

I got an amazing request from @legolasothranduilion to start writing this story, and the idea was so incredible that I couldn’t deny it. I honestly hope you’ll like my interpretation of your vision, and that you (and the rest of you guys) will enjoy reading it. 

By the title itself you may figure out what the story is going to be about, but I won’t reveal anything juicy. :)

Feel free to comment, and leave feedback, and thanks for reading.

Melody’s POV

“These fucking reporters will seriously drive me crazy one day”, Jared said and tossed the tabloid across the yard.

“I told you not to go to that after party, but you just had to, didn’t you?” Emma bickered at Jared not looking away from her iPad. I swear this woman was a robot. And one of my idols for sure. She’s working 24/7, and Jared doesn’t even try to make it easy on her. 

“Don’t I deserve some fun? Can’t I relax the way I want to? No, because being a rock star and an actor, director and everything else I do just puts me under the spotlight that I don’t even want to be a part of” Jared was frustrated and started pacing across the yard. 

“Melody, would you please take care of the next week’s flights and hotels? I have to take care of this weeks errands” Emma asked me, still being all in her iPad.

“Of course, no problem” I said and immediately started browsing through available flights. Jared had to travel to New York, and later to Milan so I was helping Emma arrange everything. She hired me as her assistant almost a year ago, since she was too wrapped up with planning her wedding, and of course dealing with Jared’s job and life. She needed all the help she could get at the time. And now she got used to having me around, so I stuck around. Hopefully for a long time.

Jared wasn’t so pleased with that decision of hers at first, but since she really had too much stuff going on, he decided she could hire someone, but the final decision had to be unanimous. Which basically meant that he’s the one deciding who’s in and who’s out - as always. That man always had his way with everything. It’s either Jared’s way or the highway. 

“Melody...? What do you mean... Emma, are you even listening to what I’m saying? ” Jared started to freak out and raised his voice at Emma.

“I can’t take your drama right now Jared. I’m in over my head with work, and you are wining like a little girl. You made this mess, and I’ll fix it as always, just stop the drama. Please!” Emma said seriously and gave him a stern look.

“I’m not making any drama. I’m pissed for a reason. This is the third damn news this week, and they’re turning me into a freaking playboy. And I didn’t even kiss any of those girls, let alone something else. You know I hate these kind of shit.” Jared started hissing at Emma.

“If I said I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it” Emma raised her eyebrows and pointed her finger at him letting him know she’s serious.

“Fine. But why is Melody doing your work? She’s supposed to be doing small stuff you can’t do, not something so big as my flight. Do you want me to end up in Michigan instead of Milan?” Jared was determined to insult my competence, which he used every opportunity to do. 

He did like my resume, and he approved Emma’s choice to hire me, but he was never fond of me. I could tell. I just didn't know why. I was always quite and inconspicuous, I never gave him any reason to dislike me. Still, he was never pleased when I was around.

“Stop being an ass. She does her job flawlessly, and I completely trust her. You should start doing that too.” Emma defended me as every time before. She was wonderful and I loved working for her, even though technically I was working for Jared. Still, he never gave me any orders, so I just pretended I worked just for Emma.

“Whatever. How do you plan on fixing this?” Jared rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Come with me” Emma said and started going inside “Melody, you can stay here. Finish the job and you’re free for today.”

“OK” I said and continued to look through flights.

Jared’s POV

“So, what do have up your sleeve Em?” I asked her and sat on the couch.

“You’re gonna get married, that’s what” Emma said with a straight face.

“Ha ha ha ha, that’s a good one. ” I said and laughed like crazy “Now, seriously. What’s the plan to get me out of this paparazzi, tabloid, mess?” I expected a serious answer this time.

“Did I stutter the first time? You’re going to get married.“ Emma said and raised her eyebrows at me. Not making any funny face. She was dead on serious.

“You’re joking right?” I started looking around “Did Shannon put you up to this? You’re pulling a practical joke on me, aren’t you? ” I said and looked at Emma still looking at me without a single frown on her face.”OK, you’re serious”.

I stood up and started walking through the living room.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be till death due you part. It can be a temporary solution. You’ll announce that you’ve actually been engaged for quite some time, and that these last reports were really hurting her so you decided to make it public. Even though you wanted to keep her as hidden as possible, this was the final drop and you decided to tell everyone you’ll marry her soon” Emma had this all figured out apparently. But I was still a bit dizzy from the whole idea.

I didn’t say a word, since I was trying to think this through, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine that solution of Emma’s.

“So? What do you think?” Emma asked and looked at me pacing through the room.

I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair, putting my hand on my mouth and closing my eyes.

“I’m not sure... I guess it could be a good fix up... The rumors would stop for some time.” 

“They’d stop for good. Especially if you start going everywhere with your wife, instead with the guys. This way they couldn’t have anything on you.” Emma was trying to convince me to do it. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right” I said and set next to Emma on the couch “But who should I ask to marry me... Well, fake marry me”

“No, no... the marriage will be legit. The city hall, party, everything.. It has to be real, otherwise nobody would believe you”

“I know that, but the two of us wouldn’t really be married at home, or anywhere else. For the public is one thing, but everything else would all be fake” I said and covered my eyes with my hands, taking a deep breath.

“Right.” Emma said and tapped my back trying to make me feel less stressed.

“So, we still have to find the bride. I can’t think of anyone that would actually do it.” I said and looked at Emma expecting her to have the solution, as always.

“I can” she said and wiggled her eyebrows “Melody.”

I immediately started laughing “Good one, Em“ I said and nodded, still smiling a bit “Seriously, who did you have in mind?” She didn’t say a word just smiled at me and leaned her head to the left. “You’re serious right now? Melody? Your assistant, and the last girl on Earth I would even consider dating, let alone marrying. Have you completely lost your mind?” I was baffled by her choice.

“Think about it, she’s the perfect pick. Quiet, nice, smart, hardworking, trustworthy, pretty, knows everything about you and your world, handles everything around here... Plus, she has no family, so she wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone, which makes this plan even better and easier to work out. Who knows, you might even end up falling for her” Emma said and nudged me. 

“Yeah, right, like that would ever happen” I said and couldn’t believe what she just said “Wait, what do you mean has no family? I didn’t know that...” I said in shock.

“That’s because you were too busy trying to find her a flaw. And she doesn’t have any.”

“But, how do you even know she’ll accept the proposal. I mean, she clearly knows I’m not her biggest fan, so we’ll have to tell her everything, right?”

“Yes. We’ll keep her in the loop, that’s the only way you can execute the plan without a mistake. And if she doesn’t accept it just for the sake of helping you, we’ll offer her money. That she definitely won’t refuse.” Emma’s really a pro. I couldn’t believe she had everything thought through.

“Wow... This is just... ” I sighed and started to think about everything.

Was I really ready to make my first, and possibly only marriage, with someone I barely knew, let alone cared about? Were all those headlines worth this trouble? What if they figure out everything, and on top of that, I turn out to be a liar, which I am actually ready to be just by accepting Emma’s suggestion. But if the public finds out everything was a lie, my entire carrier could go down the drain. Not to mention my family, the band and my friends. What would they think of me? There’s simply too much at stake. But then again, Melody is kind of a real sweetheart sometimes, even though I don’t really like her that much. She does have the cutest smile, and that innocent look that sometimes makes me think that there are still pure, kind and honest people in this world. This is gonna be a tough decision to make.

Read Chapter 2 

Feel free to comment and leave feedback.

Let me know if you’d like me to tag you in the next chapters.

Hope you enjoyed it.

[sapphyrelily]

Shallow Aspirations

Happy (late) SemiShira day!

Based on Ed Sheeran’s Shape of You.

He’s cold and tired and exasperated, drained from a day at work, drained from dealing with too many people he doesn’t like, and even more who grate on his nerves and make him want to strangle them.

He flashes his ID at the bouncer and slips inside, bypassing the dance floor that he normally loves and tossing himself atop a stool, raising a finger to order his usual.

The longer he sits, the more people join him. Except now, these are people he knows; faces, acquaintances, almost friends – people he meets in this club, people whom he knows can help him relax and have a good time.

He’s on his – fourth? Fifth? – drink, talking too loud, and laughing even louder, when someone sidles up to him, squeezing between him and another to order a drink.

His eyes are drawn to the person – a young man, with oddly sheared bangs and a voice laced with quiet steel – and he drifts into silence, mind oddly quelled by the hidden strength he carries.

The man’s drink arrives, and he picks it up, turning to face him with a look like he knows he’s been staring.

He thinks he flushes, he’s not sure – he’s had too many drinks to feel any warmer – but raises an eyebrow, challenging him to say something, anything.

(Too many people have picked fights with him, but he knows how to defend himself, and if a young punk wants to try – well. He’d like to see how that would end.)

But the other only lifts his drink to his lips, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving his. And when he finally sets the drink down, his tongue traces his bottom lip slowly – too slowly to be really catching any stray drops, too deliberately to have any other meaning.

His lips are plush, stained slightly red by his drink, and he can’t help it – he swallows.

The other tilts his head in obvious triumph, eyelids sliding to half-mast, a dark look in his eyes and in the smirk twisting his lips.

He hates him.

He hates him, but oh gosh, he looks so good.

He leans in, far enough that he hopes the other is uncomfortable, and asks for his name.

The man’s smirk grows a little wider and he moves, shifting just enough that they are eye to eye, a deep humour glinting in their depths.

“Dance with me, and I’ll tell you.”

He must be possessed, because he does.

He stands and lets him lead him to the overcrowded dance floor, wild music pounding in his head and his blood, feeling slim hands slide across his hips, thumbs hooking through belt loops.

He’s shorter than him.

It’s a belated realisation, a late observation, probably caused by his copious alcohol consumption. He opens his mouth to say something, only to have a finger set on his lips.

A shake of his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, the tiniest curl of his lips into a mocking grin.

He’s infuriating, but the lights lilting across his face and reflecting in his eyes heighten the emotion boiling under his skin, so he leans in, lips barely brushing his ear.

He has to shout to be heard, and that kills the mood a little, but he can hear him – the short laugh at his question, the whisper of hot breath over untouched cartilage.

And then he spins away, the shortest daring glance over his shoulder before he disappears into the crowd.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. This man is short and annoying, and plays games that are too suggestive, too teasing for his liking – but gosh, if he’s not enamoured by it all.

He chases him into the sea of bodies, pushing, shoving, until he catches a glimpse of copper-tinged hair and reaches out.

They turn and spin, and then his hands are beneath his jacket, resting on slim hips that fit perfectly in his palms.

He’s already tired, hot and irritated. He wants to pull away, wants to say I quit, because what was the point of the chase? But the other’s eyes are dark and smouldering, his expression too pleased, and he can’t help but demand an answer.

Instead he gets a yank on his tie, dragging him down, breath fanning across his cheek and a whisper of I like you. Yours or mine?

-----

Clashing teeth, ferocious tugs, lips blazing across skin. Hands are everywhere, touching, laving, worshipping the unmarked canvas, ready for him to take.

When he reaches his peak, he cries out. Stars paint vibrant streaks, colours splatter across his imagination, the shape of an idea, the body of inspiration opening up and pouring onto him.

He has fallen over the precipice, but the darkness is a wonderful, loving thing, rising up to welcome him.

-----

He is gone the next day when he wakes, but there is still a dip in the mattress where he laid, and copper strands across the pillow.

He reaches a hand out – the bedsheets are cold.

But there is a lingering fragrance – camellia and fresh laundry – and he breathes it in, letting the flavours sit on his tongue, remembering the shape and mould of supple flesh under his hands.

He throws the covers off, rushing for his workshop.

A slab of clay is propped on the table, a dish of water beside him. He wets his palms, dipping his hands into the malleable coolness, pulling, shaping – pressing curves and angles and letting emotion flow from his hands.

The sun rises past the peak in the sky, and has begun its descent when he finally stops, inspiration exhausted, a masterpiece before him.

-----

He walks by him, side by side, hands nearly brushing, fingers almost touching, sparks of static jumping between them at every accidental collision.

He almost wonders how he got here, but the soft steps beside him are a constant reminder that things can work out, sometimes.

A slip of paper fluttering out from beneath his phone, a number printed in neat, almost calligraphic script.

And beneath those numbers – a name.

They stop in front of a small café, and he holds the door open. His partner looks up from beneath a slanted fringe, the smallest smile lifting his lips, and thanks him, softly.

A crisp voice, a measured tone. “This is Shirabu. How can I help you?”

He nibbles on his lip, throwing caution to the wind when he replies, “Hi. This is Semi.”

They sit and order small dishes – too many to finish, but they chat and tease and joke, stealing bits off each other’s plates until the food is gone.

(They realise how incompatible they are – it’s almost comical, how much they oppose each other. But each word that falls from his lips sounds like it’s gilded in gold, glittering with saccharine sweetness, spiked with bitter undertones. He holds every syllable close, collecting them in a rapidly filling jar, wondering, wondering, how anyone could be so different, but still so similar at the core.)

(He never wants to stop hearing him speak, never wants to stop listening.)

(He is so far gone, it’s crazy.)

When they stand to leave, they brush against each other, fingers linking briefly, eyes meeting in a fleeting glance, unspoken feeling traversing the span of a second.

The sun is halfway down the horizon, but they walk and talk, neither ready to go home. They must walk about half the span of the city, but neither admits the soreness in his feet, neither highlights the dryness in his mouth from talking and laughing about everything under the sun.

(Shirabu Kenjirou. Twenty-seven, works in a law firm, climbing the ranks quickly. Likes shirasu and yuzu juice, finds painting a bore but always carries a book with him.)

They come to an intersection, cars flying past them, their occupants in a rush to get home, to get to their shift, to beat the crowd so they have more time to themselves. He trails off, watching the fading taillights, the faintest idea coagulating in his mind.

(From a family of artists, but broke away from them because he wanted to do something more.)

A tug on his hand, and suddenly there’s a taxi door open, his partner shooing him inside.

He doesn’t catch their destination, but it doesn’t matter when there are slim fingers intertwining with his, thumb brushing across his skin, and the secret of a promise between the press of their palms.

He sees the hidden smirk in the streetlights flashing across his features, and he wants to lean in, ask what’s so funny, and maybe bite the smugness out of his mouth.

(But more than anything, he wants to confirm if they have the same idea, the same train of thought.)

He doesn’t get to do anything, because it’s Shirabu who leans in, whispering into his ear, breath hot and words teasing.

He throws caution to the wind then, uncaring about the driver who can see them, shifting so that he can press their mouths together, teeth scraping and tugging.

In the background, he can hear the radio playing; he doesn’t recognise the song, but that’s okay.

He doesn’t need music when the all the melody he needs is coiled in the body beneath him.

-----

He doesn’t think that they could keep on doing this – but it seems that they do.

Every other day they meet up, exchange a few words, but ultimately fall into bed, clothes shucked in some far corner, hands on unmapped skin – exploring, remarking, traversing a space where time seems to slow.

He doesn’t know what it really is between them – the obvious chemistry where they fit together perfectly, or the attraction-repulsion game that makes them like a pair of magnets. But what he does know is in the silence of the after – with bodies tired and blissed-out, hair sweaty and stuck to foreheads.

What he does know is the secrets swapped in the post-haze – quiet, vicious bitterness for their lot in life, dreamy contentment for the bubble of the moment, laughingly made wishes that will never come true.

Fingers walking up sides, tracing patterns into skin. The quiet curve of cupid’s-bow-lips, the glitter of eyes that have seen too much and want out.

The soft rise and fall of breath, hair and body backlit with the glow of streetlights, a tiny fire cupped in a palm, waiting for its time to blaze out of the darkness.

Sometimes, he leaves.

Sometimes, he leaves, and comes back with an easel and his paints. And in the darkness of his apartment, he throws colours across the canvas, recreating, reimagining, a life where they could be together for real.

He draws and he paints his muse, the one light in a seemingly endless night, until his eyes droop and he falls asleep, paintbrush clattering on the floor.

(And in the morning, he beholds his work, thinks about the other pieces hidden in his workshop, and wonders.)

(Does he perhaps, love him only for his body?)

-----

He’s not the only one thinking the way he does.

They’re lying together yet again, half-asleep, Shirabu’s hand tracing nonsense patterns on his chest, millimetres from where his head lies.

And into the comfortable silence, he speaks.

I think I love your body more than I do you. Is that weird?

He gapes for a moment – how did he steal those words from me – before he closes his mouth, taking back his answer, and ponders.

No, he says at last. No, because I feel the same way.

His partner laughs, a tiny chuckle, a self-deprecating choke, a sound as familiar to him as the way brushes sound against canvas. We must be idiots, then.

Maybe, he agrees. Or maybe we just understand better than others that this is what we want.

Are you sure?

It’s a quiet question, lilting with traces of fear, spiced with a pinch of panic. The hand on his chest has stilled, and he glances down to see him staring back up at him.

Are you sure? He repeats. Because– Because I feel that I might actually like you. Just a little.

He considers this, letting his head fall back against the pillow.

He thinks about their many escapades, their random lunch or dinner outings, the way they talk about everything and nothing, exchanging secrets that could ruin them if others knew.

He thinks about the perfect planes of his partner’s face, the way he is both monstrous and meek, and how he feels cradled in his arms, heartbeat thudding against his side.

He thinks about how he sees something in the middle of his day and wishes he could share it with him, only to realise that maybe, they’re not close enough for that.

He thinks about the many artworks hidden beneath a tarp in his studio, every single one inspired by him.

He is acutely aware of the stare boring into his jaw, and huffs out a laugh.

You know, if you think you like me, then I must be obsessed.

He hears a surprised sound, but Shirabu is no longer meeting his eyes, face hidden against his side, hair like a curtain.

He doesn’t press him, because his face is burning from his confession, his admission of unknown depths of affection. He is ready to become one with the bed, if only to escape his mortification, but wishes don’t come true that way, and he remains as he is, pressed up against his lover.

It must be an eternity before the younger speaks again, voice uncertain, fingers drawing some sort of pattern in nervousness.

(Isn’t it odd, that he knows this? How his nervousness manifests?)

Just how much do you like me?

He doesn’t want to answer, because that would solidify it and make it true. But on the other hand, not answering means that he could lose him.

A lot, he admits, and stares at the water stains on his ceiling. Go ahead and call me a sap. I wasn’t supposed to get attached.

No? The fingers on his skin are pressing, insistent, and he has to look, because it hurts. Then, We must really be idiots, because I thought the same thing.

He stares and stares, until his partner gets fed up and pokes him, brows furrowed. Answer me.

What is there to answer? He asks, and realises just then that they are true. What does he have to answer for?

If you like me and I like you, then there’s only one way to go, isn’t it?

You make it sound like we’re dying, his lover comments drily, and gets a cuff to the head for his efforts.

He lets his hand fall to the side, contemplating the idea. Would you go out with me?

You’re supposed to date before you have sex, isn’t it?

Another cuff to the head, another poke to his side, and suddenly they are in an all-out war, fighting to land the most blows on each other.

He wins eventually, if only by virtue that he is taller and heavier, and as Shirabu lies pinned beneath him, he leans in until their lips almost touch.

We’re not the conventional couple anyway. And who said we can’t do things backwards? Maybe we’ll last longer that way.

He raises a copper eyebrow, as if to question why they’d be together that long, but he leans the rest of the way in, sealing his lips so he can’t speak.

His lips are always plush, swollen, delectable and utterly delicious, and he can’t get enough – he’s not sure he’ll ever have enough.

But they do pull apart – eventually – only for him to be caught and pulled into his embrace.

Yes, is the whisper, the ghosting of breath over his ear.

Yes, I will.

[swipestream]

New Release Roundup, 24 Feb 2018: Fantasy and Adventure

This week’s roundup of the newest releases in fantasy and adventure features a pair of online litRPGs, a renegade angel trying to redeem himself, a magical academy torn apart by magical war, and the return of America’s foremost pulp spy, Secret Agent “X”.

Adventure Rising (Jack Dashing #2) – Jon Mollison

In just a few short weeks, the Planetary Romantic travels to a world not entirely unlike our own. A curious twist of fate strands him in a nightmarish version of New York City…or perhaps that should be a more nightmarish version of New York City. Pursued by wild beasts and sinister agents, Jack once again finds himself in a race to find the one man that can send him to his own version of home. But once Jack finds him, the brilliant Dr. Abduraxus reveals that the multi-verse doesn’t work quite the way anyone thought. And can this Jack even recognize his one true love, let alone win her heart? Find out in Adventure Rising.

“This book is outstanding, unbelievable fun, and feels like an older book, but one that is a slight bit self aware.” –The Injustice Gamer

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Bushido Online: Friends and Foes (Bushido Online #2) – Nikita Thorn

Now a Level 10 ronin, Seiki is slowly coming to terms with the death of Master Tsujihara and his new life in Shinshioka.

Spending his days in the Wilderness, he’s venting his remaining frustration while staying away from the city drama and those griefers, like the Rogami Clan, who had made his in-game experience so challenging thus far. He has even taken up a trade skill.

But when he’s presented with an offer he can’t refuse and accepts a simple mission to deliver a message to Kano Castle, he will quickly find his troubles are only just beginning. Caught in an imbroglio that will only get worse the more he tries to do well, Seiki will set off a series of events that will lead to chaos, death, and the eventual destruction of an entire territory.

Surrounded by betrayal, hidden agendas and people looking to take advantage of him, who can Seiki really trust?

When everything is not what it seems, it can be impossible to differentiate between friends and foes.

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Clockwork Planet #3 – Yuu Kamiya and Tsubaki Himana, illustrated by Sino

–I know this is sudden, but the world had already collapsed long ago. Earth had died, but the entire planet was reconstructed and reproduced using clockwork – “The Clockwork Planet.”

In the wake of rescuing the mind-controlled AnchoR, moments later, Naoto and Marie come to a rude awakening over a crucial element of the behemoth’s design: its natural ability to disrupt clockwork technology! Caught between a desperate Tokyo Military and a doomsday weapon stronger than even they anticipated, the two geniuses are facing their greatest crisis yet! The third volume of the gear fantasy by Yuu Kamiya x Tsubaki Himana x Sino!!

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Fire Storm (Zulu Virus Chronicles #3) – Steven Konkoly

Having narrowly survived the KILL BOX, HOT ZONE’s hardened survivors and their KILL BOX allies separate to pursue different objectives–outside of the Indianapolis quarantine zone.

For David Olson, that means bringing his son south, to the safe haven of his parents’ home–far away from the infected cities. Eric Larsen takes him up on the offer to rest and heal at the house, before departing on the long journey to find his family in Colorado.

For Rich and his secretive black ops team, that means transporting Dr. Chang and Dr. Hale to a secure facility out east, where they will join the nation’s few surviving bioweapons researchers–with the hopes of pinpointing the source of the virus and possibly developing a vaccine.

Neither group will get very far, before the true face of the evil controlling the Zulu Virus arrives–tempting them with irresistible opportunities.

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GOD HATES ME: The Diary of an Ex-Angel – Richard Cain

Demon is such an ugly word.

Malach prefers “angelically-challenged”. After all, it’s not his fault that he was kicked out of Heaven.

And if you’ll just listen, he can explain everything.

GOD HATES ME: The Diary of an Ex-Angel is a smart, funny, and surprisingly moving tale of a demon who means well and would really like to figure out how to get back to Heaven one day. But how do you make a case for yourself when no one seems to care enough to listen?

Despite what the cover looks like, this isn’t a supernatural romance novel. No, it’s something much better. This is a story of a fallen angel seeking redemption. Unfortunately for him, every good deed he tries to accomplish ends up going awry.–Amazon Reader Review

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Haven of Shadows (The Broken Crown #1) – Ken Lozito

The Free Nations of Safanar have spread throughout the lands bringing peace and prosperity to all who join them, but deep in the southern kingdoms, an old enemy gathers strength.

Two royal brothers find themselves in the midst of an ancient struggle. One brother is on the hunt of a dreaded order of assassins deep in the barbarian kingdoms of old. The other refuses to be a pawn and seeks to walk his own path. Both are the instruments of destiny.

An enemy that lurks in the shadows will strike out at the Free Nations threatening the very foundation holding them together and bringing them to the brink of war.

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Level Up – Craig Anderson

Virtual is Reality.

What would the world be like if video game rules suddenly applied?

Marcus is about to find out. After a freak accident he finds himself stuck between a game and the real world. He’ll need to fight his way through football hooligans, carnies and the dreaded RNG to get to the final boss and save the world. Anything less means it’s game over for good.

Along the way he’ll learn new skills, chase epic loot and most importantly of all, Level Up!

A parody novel that crosses Office Space with the Gamer. – The LitRPG Podcast

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Poisoned (The Book of Maladies #3) – D. K. Holmberg

No longer alone, Sam and Alec struggle to find time to continue their studies together. Sam knows that she is more than the lowborn she’d long believed, now living and training in the palace, but still doesn’t feel as if she quite fits in. Worse, it seems as if Alec has moved on without her, preferring his new life in the university.

Alec has quickly risen in rank, but that only draws attention to him. Learning from master physickers has its benefits, but there are dangers and he’s not certain whether he can trust the new friends he’s made. Evidence continues to mount of a conspiracy within the university, and it’s one he’ll need Sam’s help in understanding.

While Alec tries to reach out to Sam, she searches for Marin and answers that might unlock her full potential. What she finds instead is a threat to the safety in the city, protections that have long prevented the Thelns from reaching Verdholm, if they haven’t already breached them.

Together, they are the key to stopping Marin, but can they master their new places in the city in time?

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The Promised Lie (The Unwritten Words #1) – Christopher Nuttall

In The Unwritten Words, Christopher Nuttall’s story-telling mastery weaves a new epic which follows on from his bestselling Bookworm series and is set in that same world. In The Promised Lie, the first book of the new series, five years have passed since the earth-shattering events of Bookworm IV.

The Golden City has fallen. The Grand Sorcerer and Court Wizards are dead.

The Empire they ruled is nothing more than a memory, a golden age lost in the civil wars as kings and princes battle for supremacy. And only a handful of trained magicians remain alive.

Isabella Majuro, Lady Sorceress, is little more than a mercenary, fighting for money in a desperate bid to escape her past. But when Prince Reginald of Andalusia plots the invasion of the Summer Isle, Isabella finds herself dragged into a war against strange magics from before recorded history …

… And an ancient mystery that may spell the end of the human race.

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Secret Agent X #6 –  Fred Adams Jr., Kaushik Karforma and Frank Schildiner 

Pulpdom’s premier spy returns in three new pulse-pounding adventures.

The Man of a Thousand Faces is confronted with the most threatening challenges to America imaginable and only his incredible talents as a super spy can overcome each. From destroying a spreading world plague launched from a giant airship to stymieing Nazi subterfuge at a mountain enclave and then having to fight dead men under spell of an evil mystic. All in a days work for the Agent X.

Writers Fred Adams Jr., Kaushik Karforma and Frank Schildiner deliver three top-notch pulp thrillers that will have fans turning pages at break-neck speed. Learn why Nick Carter to James Bond and Matt Helm, and all the great heroes of espionage fiction owe their very existence to the character that created the mold, Secret Agent X.

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A Sellsword’s Compassion (The Seven Virtues #1) – Jacob Peppers

War sweeps the land as the sons and daughters of the late King Marcus battle over who will claim their father’s throne and able-bodied men and women flock to one cause or the other in the hopes of a better tomorrow. At least, most of them. If life has taught the jaded sellsword, Aaron Envelar, anything, it’s that hope is for fools and causes are a sure remedy for breathing. But when his latest job leads him to the corpse of a prince and a conspiracy that threatens to destroy the entire realm, Aaron is forced to choose sides in a war he doesn’t want, between forces he doesn’t understand.

Thrust into a world of mythical assassins, a madman with a superhuman strength, and a nagging ball of light with a superiority complex who claims to be the embodiment of compassion, Aaron takes on his hardest job yet—staying alive.

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The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma #3) – Christopher Nuttall

Caitlyn Aguirre is no magician …

… But she’s still at the centre of the storm.

Caitlyn and her friends have returned to Jude’s Sorcerous Academy, but all is not well in the school. The Great Houses of Shallot are on the verge of going to war and the conflict is spilling into the school, while – in the background – powerful and secretive forces prepare to finally reveal their plans to reshape the world. Caught in the middle, torn between her family and her friends – and burdened with a secret she dares not share – Cat must unlock the secret of the Zero Equation …

… Or watch helplessly as her family, friends and school are destroyed by war.

New Release Roundup, 24 Feb 2018: Fantasy and Adventure published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames