#sweet tomato heel is on my list to try though

[meadowyarns]

i’m sorry but i’m a shadow wrap heel enjoyer first and a human second

[kpophours]

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched. 

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse. 

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently. 

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards. 

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home. 

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad. 

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits. 

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you. 

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression. 

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy. 

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come. 

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan. 

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee. 

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing. 

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it. 

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins. 

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk. 

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now. 

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all. 

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right. 

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[ickle-ronniekins]

tongue tied

request from anon: Asgfaafhjlkfsdgj I loved your George x reader where they’re shy and flustered it’s so cute!!!! Could you write one with a similar shy reader but with Fred? Accept Fred’s just extra loud and funny when around her to impress her?

pairing: fred x gryffindor fem!reader

word count: 4.9k yikes

A/N: I LOVE FRED AND GEORGE WITH FLUSTERED READERS, GAAAAD, i’m sort of emotional, if you can’t already tell—also, i’m allowed to make fun of choir geeks because i, too, am a choir geek and know precisely just how dorky it is

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @bobduncanlover @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove | message me if you’d like to be added my loves

Fred Weasley normally doesn’t even try this hard to impress someone—or anyone, for that matter.

But as of late, he’s been racking his brain and planning some over-the-top prank only to catch your attention—the shy, sweet Gryffindor girl who seems to have caught his eye when he found you, late one evening, sneaking out of the portrait hole in the common room.

“Where’re you off too this late?” he asked cheekily. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You thought about this, not sure if you should respond, but then decided it’d be best to just tell him the truth—guys like him would do their best to find out, anyway. His heart soared when he realized that you already knew a bit about him, “You’re not the only one who sneaks to the kitchens to grab a late night snack.”

He’d always found you pretty; perhaps, maybe you were the prettiest girl Gryffindor had even seen. And now, knowing that the pretty girl in Gryffindor tower also tends to break the rules from time to time, he finds himself head over heels.

Since that moment, he’s been focused on one thing and one thing only—get you to notice him. Or, at least, get you two talking.

But why is it, he asks himself, that the one time he wants to impress you with some type of outrageous ordeal, it’s the one he gets caught doing? Although, he admits to his twin later that evening, replacing some classroom entrances with biting doorknobs in the hopes that Malfoy or one of his cronies gets their fingers sliced off was probably going a little bit too far—especially when Filch is on the receiving end of it. Even George can agree on that.

McGonagall grabs a fistful of Fred’s robes and pushes him toward the stairs with George on her other side. “You’ve given me no choice, Mr. Weasley. My office, Saturday morning—detention.”

“C’mon, Professor—” Fred says, craning his neck over the crowd to try and find you, “We were just having a laugh—we would’ve stopped someone anyway before it got too far, promise!”

The Headmistress cocks her head to the side and folds her arms across her chest. “Saturday, the both of you.”

The crowd begins to roar with raucous laughter as Fred and George bask in all their glory on the staircase, fellow Gryffindors and students from other houses cheering for them despite their upcoming weekend in detention. And then he sees you—pressed against the wall near the entrance of the Great Hall, standing beside some statue, trying not to be noticed, but watching the both of them with—is it admiration, or confusion, perhaps? He just hopes it isn’t disgust. Fred can’t read your expression over the crowd, and it’s killing him. The students begin to disperse, and when he finally makes his way through the sea of people to where you’re standing, you’re already gone.

He finds himself worried now, which is, to say the least, very unlike him. Fred Weasley? Worried? The word isn’t even in his day to day vernacular. But has this very funny—albeit, sort of stupid—prank gone over the top? Was it a bit too much? Has he scared away the shy girl he was trying so desperately to pursue, and he didn’t stop to think about his actions?

He follows his twin begrudgingly back to class.

“You two really could’ve caused severe damage,” Hermione tells them later at the feast, “people have gone to St. Mungo’s for treatment after being on the receiving end of a biting doorknob! You’re lucky McGonagall only gave you—”

“Oi, give it a rest, Hermione,” Ron says and she turns a bright shade of pink, “they were only having a laugh, weren’t they?”

Fred slumps back in his seat, picking at the food on his plate. “Who’s idea was this, anyway?” Ginny pipes up.

George, Ron, and Harry all turn to look at Fred, who grins at them cheekily and says, “Yeah, yeah—not one of my brighter ideas,”

Ginny smacks Fred playfully with her book. “What on earth—”

“He’s got a crush to impress.”

Fred shoots a look at his twin, who’s cackling in between bites of a cauldron cake, when Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione all peer at Fred quizzically. George nods in the direction of you, sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table with a few fellow friends, laughing slightly over something in someone’s notebook.

“No way,” Ron laughs haughtily, coughing a bit on a piece of half-chewed tart, “Y/N? She’s the exact complete opposite of you.”

Fred digests this. “Meaning?”

“Well, for starters, she’s not a complete git—”

When the boys fall into a fit, Fred flicks some food at the three of them, casually placing his hands behind his head, as if this is going to help relax him. It doesn’t. “Well opposites attract, don’t they, Ronniekins?”

Skittishly, Ron steals a glance at Hermione, who has seemingly chosen to ignore the conversation, as she is now immersed in her spellbook in front of her. Ron falls very silent and turns a bright shade of red, resembling that of a tomato, as he sinks into his seat.

“Besides,” Fred tells the group, taking a long sip of his pumpkin juice, “we’ve got more in common than you think.”

Harry laughs when George says, “Do tell us.”

“Y/N likes to cause a stir now and again. Bend the rules a bit.”

“And how,” Ginny begins inquiringly, trying her best to hide her interest, “d’you know this?”

Fred pauses and considers this for a moment. He reckons that you probably won’t be the most happy to know that there are other Gryffindors besides him that have learned of your late night sneak outs to the kitchens. He decides to keep it to himself. “I have my ways.”

“Well, good luck, mate,” Ron says, color flooding his face, “because the likeliness of you two snogging in a corner somewhere is about as likely as you and George becoming Prefects.”

The table roars with laughter, and Fred notices you turn your head, along with other students, to see, again, what all the ruckus is about. As his friends continue to cackle maniacally, Fred’s eyes meet yours, and he freezes. It’s a very fleeting moment before your eyes are darting toward the food in front of you, trying to avoid any and all eye contact. But when you look up again, Fred’s still peering at you. You furrow your brow slightly, and then send him a soft smile from across the way.

His heart is hammering in his chest, but he sends a smile back, as well.

Okay, so he hasn’t completely lost his chances—not yet, anyway. You’re not completely repulsed by the boy who lands himself in detention more often than not, even if his latest prank was one of the most reckless he’s ever pulled. Fred snaps back to reality when George is teasingly pinching his cheeks, and Harry’s shaking his shoulders. “Oh shove off, you lot,” he replies as the hysteria finally dies down. He swears he sees you glance over at him again.

The steps up to the Owlery are slippery because of the light snow dusting Hogwarts awoke too, but it doesn’t stop Fred from flying up there to send a letter to his brother in Romania.

To his surprise, though, he catches you at the top, hastily writing a name on a bit of parchment, and it’s probably the thickest letter he’s ever seen.

“Oh,” he says, taken aback by your presence, “sorry—didn’t realize anyone else was up here,”

“No worry,” you reply with a shy smile, handing the letter to your owl and patting him softly before he takes off, blending in with the snow covered grounds.

With the realization that his friends are far away in the castle and would have no chance to tease him about his flushed face when he sees you, Fred seizes this opportunity of alone time together. “Quite a long letter you’ve written.”

You turn to look at him as you swing your bag over your shoulder, kind of shocked that he’d noticed the length of a letter not meant for him. “Oh—erm—yes, I do tend to ramble on quite a bit when writing to loved ones,”

Fred feels his insides tighten, and why his mind immediately goes to boyfriend, he doesn’t know—but he hates it. You continue before he can ask anything, “I’m Muggleborn, you see.”

Fred did not know this. His eyes pop open in admiration, and he’s excited that he’s finally learning more about you.

“I’m sure your family has lots of questions.”

“My mum, yes,” you reply, nodding your head in agreement, “she just likes weekly updates, you know, to make sure classes are going well, I’m staying safe—that I haven’t been.. eaten by a dragon, or anything.”

Fred laughs at this, taking you by surprise. He runs a hand through his hair and tells you, “Something all Muggle parents should worry about, of course.”

“Of course,” you bite your lip, pausing to consider the conversation. After a moment, you continue, “However—if you’re going to go, getting eaten by a dragon is probably the most wicked, d’you reckon?”

When he wandered up to the Owlery that afternoon and spotted you, discussing being eaten alive by dragons was not exactly how he expected the conversation to go. But he took it. He was talking to you, anyway. He replies, “I mean—can’t be any less exciting than being pummeled by the Whomping Willow,”

A laugh escapes your lips, and it’s sweet as sugar, as far as Fred is concerned. He can feel his entire body go numb at the sound of it.

You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and say to him, “Hope McGonagall isn’t giving you and your brother that hard of a time in detention.”

Fred feels his face flush red, but—it’s not like the entire bloody school hadn’t seen them get scolded, right? But hearing you say it, recognize it—it makes his entire body tense up.

“Oh, you—you saw that, did you?”

“Think the entire school did, I’m afraid.” You both pause, taking this in, and Fred laughs nervously. “But, hey—it’s not like anyone got hurt, right?”

“Right,” he replies, finally remembering the letter he needs to send. He places it into the beak of a barn owl, who hoots appreciatively and flies off into the sky. “I suppose we’re used to it, and I reckon McGonagall is, too.”

You peer down at your shoes, doing your best to try and suppress quite a large grin, and Fred notices this. You both make your way down from the Owlery, not speaking, but the silence is comfortable, and Fred graciously offers you his hand when you nearly slip on the way down. Gratefully, you take it, and he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for a moment. When you both enter the castle, he has to stop himself from melting in front of you when you remove your hat and gloves, noticing the pinky-gold color of the tips of your ears and nose. He’s brought back to reality when he hears a cackle from the Great Hall.

“Well,” you tell him, removing your coat and slinging it over your shoulder, “was nice chatting with you,”

Fred is sad your time together for the day is coming to an end, but he reckons it’s enough to get him through until you undoubtedly bump into one another later in the common room, “Yeah, it was—maybe next time you can tell me some other things Muggle parents worry about when it comes to the Wizarding world.”

Without skipping a beat, you reply, “Like getting fingers bitten off by a biting doorknob,”

He furrows his brow and laughs slightly, unable to read your expression until you, too, giggle sweetly. He swallows thickly before you say, “Well—have a g’night, Fred.”

“You, too.”

He doesn’t even care if you catch him watching you—he can’t help but keep his eyes on you as you walk swiftly up the steps, until you disappear from his sight completely.

His heart is still hammering in his chest when he thinks of your hand wrapped inside of his, and he can hardly focus on all of the questions coming his way from his siblings. Physically, he’s seated in the Great Hall, his chin resting on his hand, a slight glaze over his eyes—but his heart and mind have followed you all the way back to the Gryffindor common room.

Fred is absolutely loving all of the free periods he’s getting this term as he watches all of the younger students speed off hurriedly to their next glasses. He and George stand together, nothing but free time in front of them, when Ron comes trudging down the corridor with a glazed look on his face, Harry and Hermione on either side of him. No doubt coming straight from Divination.

Hermione waves quickly before heading off in a different direction, when Ron and Harry bump into the twins and lean against the wall. “Bloody hell, that woman drains me,”

“Your choice to take Divination, mate,” George says and pats his younger brother on the shoulder, “could’ve told you you’re out of your bloody mind.”

“Where’re you two off to, then?” Harry asks.

“Free period,” the twins chorus together, and both Ron and Harry grunt miserably. Fred continues, “Have some plans up our sleeves—reckon a bit of mischief this afternoon would do us some good, eh, Georgie?”

But before George can answer, Harry elbows Fred a little bit harder than expected, and before Fred can yell out in pain, Ron nods toward the other end of the corridor. Fred turns around, and the pain in his ribcage is flooded by nerves—he’s not sure which he’d rather have, to be honest—but he spots you, chatting up a Ravenclaw, a pile of books in your hands. All pain seems to subside at the sight of your toothy smile.

“On second thought..” Fred says to nobody in particular, leaving the boys behind as he hastily makes his way through the crowd, running on not much other than coffee and adrenaline. “Hey, Y/N!”

You turn toward him, surprised to see him clambering his way through fellow students in order to get to you. “Hi, Fred,” you say brightly, reaching out to fix his askew tie, and he’s pretty sure that the entire world can hear his heart pounding. You realize what you’re doing, and quickly retreat, looking around the corridors as if the sheer fact of you brushing your hands against Fred Weasley’s clothes will kill you with embarrassment. He can’t help but grin goofily at your nervous state.

“How are you? No dragons today?”

You bite down a smile, and Fred knows he’s said the right thing. “No—not today. Though I daresay I narrowly escaped one in the girls lavatory before.”

“So that’s where they’re hidden,” he replies, elated beyond belief to hear that laugh of yours again. The unmistakable sound of mock laughter from his friends bounces off the walls as they walk past you both—albeit, rather lethargically.

Fred rolls his eyes before sticking a hand out, as if he’s displaying them, “My lovely brothers,”

George, Ron, and Harry all introduce themselves to you before George begins, much to Fred’s dismay, “Might I just say, Y/N, that the effect you have on him is wonderfully entertaining, if not comical—”

He’s cut off by a sharp blow to his shin, but he laughs through gritted teeth. You grin inquiringly, “And.. what kind of effect is this exactly?” you ask Fred, who opens his mouth to speak, but sputters.

“Oh—erm—nothing? I mean—they’re just having a bit of a.. a laugh,” he tells you, suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and this annoys him beyond belief. Maybe it’s because he’s worried his twin will spill his guts, or maybe it’s due to the fact that Ron and Harry are now admiring your beauty too, or maybe it’s because he’s afraid the mere expression on his face will tell you everything you need to know.

“Now you’ve got him tongue tied!” Ron calls to you from the end of the corridor, where the boys are now disappearing. “Fred Weasley.. tongue tied.. the bloke who can never shut the hell up, who’d’ve thought it?” Their voices float for a moment between you both, until the bustling sounds of other students drowns it out.

Fred kicks at the ground, nerves engulfing him, as you wait with baited breath for whatever he’s about to say. “Sorry about them,” he tells you as he slams his hands into his pockets, “they’re a bunch of gits..” Looking to change the subject as quickly as possible, he asks you, “So—you free for a stroll?”

Thankfully, it seems to Fred as though you’ve forgotten all about his brothers’ snide comments. To his dismay, however, you reply begrudgingly with a twinge of guilt to your voice, “Oh, I’m sorry, Fred, unfortunately—have got double Transfiguration—but I’m now second guessing my choices of why I signed up for this in the first place..” Your voice drifts off and Fred feels as though he’s forcing himself to hear more, he wants to hear your voice more, “See you soon? Stay out of trouble.”

You raise a hand to him and continue down the emptying corridor, and he watches you enter McGonagall’s classroom. The Deputy Head is standing on the opposite side of the hall, chatting animatedly with Professor Flitwick before heading inside to begin her lesson. Suddenly, a weird feeling floods through Fred’s body—is he actually thinking—? No, he couldn’t be, he has a free period now, and why would he give that up?

Yet, he finds his legs carrying him across the hall and his mouth is sputtering out words to McGonagall before he can barely even register what he’s doing.

“You look like death.”

Fred slumps into an armchair in the common room, barely able to keep his eyes open, and chucks a throw pillow at Ron. “Thanks, mate,”

George sits down beside his twin. “Where’ve you been? You ran off and we haven’t seen you since!”

“Double Transfiguration,” Fred says sleepily, resting his head on the side of the chair, and not opening his eyes.

“Double Transfiguration?” Harry and Ron say together. “Since when d’you take Double Transfiguration?”

When Fred opens his eyes, he can already tell they probably look incredibly bloodshot. Next to him, George is grinning at him cheekily.

“Look at you,” George begins mockingly, his eyes narrow slits due to his suppressed laughter, “taking up extra classes just to spend time with this girl.”

The unmistakable sound of Harry snorting bounces off of the walls. “Blimey, there’s not enough gold in the world—you’re off your rocker, Fred.”

“Have you two even kissed yet?”

“No, Ronald,” Fred replies a bit angrily, “we haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business, but—‘m taking my time. Don’t want to push her into anything. I’m still trying to feel it out. This isn’t something you can rush into, lads. Reckon I’ll get her in the end.”

“In your dreams,” Ron says quietly through gritted teeth, and he’s stunned when he receives a thick whack! to his head from his older brother.

But Fred doesn’t care what they think. Even in his delirious state, all he can remember is the twinkle in your eye when he slid in the seat next to yours after McGonagall gave him the go ahead to enroll in her afternoon classes. All he can think about is the confused, flustered smile you gave him when he said, ‘Hi there, darling,’ as he opened his textbook and McGonagall began her lesson. And all that’s flooding through his head, now, as you climb through the portrait hole looking incredibly elated, is the amount of times he caught you, not paying attention to the lesson in front of you, but instead peering at him with dazed eyes and a lazy grin.

It’s strange to see the Great Hall so empty, with the exception of just a few students. He’s going to be so easily caught if he’s found. Fred is already sort of regretting this plan.

Until he spots you, that is.

When you walk into the Great Hall, he’s thrown off by seeing you in jeans and a blouse instead of your school robes—something he’s never noticed before, since you normally spend your weekends in quiet sanctuaries, and he’s off creating some sort of chaotic mischief.

“Hey,” he says brightly, bumping gently into you.

You shoot glances in every direction. “Fred,” you whisper, confused, eyes shifty, “what are you doing here?”

“Just joining you for the afternoon.”

He’s feeling confident today. The norm. You fold your arms across your chest and ask him, “Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And what part do you sing?”

Fred hadn’t really thought this through. When he found out you were a member of the choir, his first thought was that choir is pretty much the dorkiest thing anyone could be a part of, and then he thought—if your singing voice is as beautiful as your laugh, he was in for quite an adventure.

“Erm—you know,” he trips over his words, slamming his hands into his pockets, “the—alto.. tenor—been singing since I was little.”

You nod sarcastically and bite your lip and make your way toward the front, where the rest of the choir is now congregating. The other members eye him conspicuously.

“Um, Y/N,” a Slytherin girl calls over to you, looking rather peeved off, “what’s he doing here?”

You fidget uncomfortably in your seat. “He’s—just—joking, it’s alright, Lena, lay off,”

Fred snorts embarrassingly and peers over your shoulder at your sheet music.

When Professor Flitwick walks in, Fred scrunches next to you, trying not to let his very tall frame and bright red hair stand out. So far, so good. He bites down a grin when he notices the nervous twitch of your eyes. It’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Then you turn toward him and whisper through gritted teeth, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Just want to spend some more time with you,”

“And Double Transfiguration isn���t enough of a fill for you?”

“Can’t help myself.”

“You’re ridiculous, you are.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love my company.”

“Well—you certainly don’t make it very bloody difficult, do you?”

You look back down at your sheet music, fighting a smile, and Fred notices your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

Professor Flitwick taps his baton on his music stand and fixes his glasses before raising his hands to conduct. His squeaky voice echoes throughout the nearly empty Great Hall, “Let’s start with some warmups, shall we?”

And Fred’s right—your soft soprano range nearly has him melting into a puddle right next to you. He opens his mouth to belt out some obnoxious, offkey note, but is taken fully by surprise—you’ve actually left him silent. He can’t seem to find the words.

You turn toward him, furrowing your brow and stopping your vocal runs at once. Tentatively, you ask him, “What?”

Fred can feel his insides tighten at your gaze; Flitwick is saying something, but he doesn’t listen—he’s drowning in your eyes, your soft silky voice washing over him like a cool tide. He blinks. “N-nothing,” he begins sheepishly, clearing his throat, “—you’re going to leave me speechless, you are.”

“Weasley!”

Both of you jump at the sound of his name; Fred’s hand immediately grabs at your knee, and before he can even process what’s happening, he’s standing up amidst the students, still silent and sort of, well, flustered.

“What’re you doing here? You’re not in the choir.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Fred says as he removes himself from the congregated group, bouncing toward Flitwick. He places a hand on the back of his neck and says awkwardly, “Just had to come and see the most beautiful girl.”

The choir coos, and Fred is delighted to see that you’re still grinning like mad despite all of the eyes on you. You shake your head slowly, peering up at him over the top of your sheet music. Professor Flitwick squeaks, “Ah—yes, yes, we all adore a good love story, Mr. Weasley, but if you don’t mind, we’ve got a rehearsal to get to!”

“Yes, sir,” Fred replies, saluting his professor before making his way toward the exit of the Great Hall. And then, in a loud, sing-songy proclamation, a “Yes, siiir!” escapes his lips in an off key, pitchy, albeit—weirdly adorable—note.

And once more before he leaves completely, he spins around, instantly spotting you in the mess of the choir, not at all able to focus on the vocal runs Professor Flitwick has asked you to practice as a warmup. You’re still trying your best not to meet his gaze, but the tension is rising and eventually you lift your head, your eyes meeting with his, and he winks before vanishing in the corridor.

Fred is very, very nervous. Not only is the team playing Slytherin today, but you’re also in the stands. Watching. Spectating. Expecting something great, he presumes.

He knows this because of your prior conversation the two of you held in Transfiguration the day before.

“We’ve got it in the bag.”

“Slytherin’s got a good lineup this year.”

“Yeah, but Gryffindor’s better.”

That smile. Your damn smile. “Okay—impress me, then.”

He’s feeling particularly less confident than he ever has before, and he’s busy bouncing his feet up and down on the carpet as he tosses his broomstick between his hands. He didn’t eat breakfast. He’s running purely on caffeine and nerves alone.

The rest of the team meets up in the common room before heading down to the pitch. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are all there, as well.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ginny asks him.

George slings an arm around his twin and answers for him, “Nerves.”

“Nerves?” Ron and Hermione chorus together. “Can you even properly feel nervous—you? Is that even.. possible?”

Fred shrugs his brother off of him as they begin to chuckle lightly. Then Ginny prods, “Cat got your tongue, Fred?”

He shrugs and kicks at the carpet.

It’s the first time in, well, forever, that Fred Weasley cannot seem to find the words to say.

“Merlin’s beard,” Ron says suddenly, a lightbulb going off in his head, “she’s left you.. speechless.”

“Has Freddie finally found a girl that actually makes him anxious?”

Their teasing and jokes don’t do anything to help him, and he’s finding it hard to sit still. Finally, Angelina leads the way to the pitch, and the cheers erupting from the stands send chills down Fred’s spine—you’re there, you have to be, right? Angelina elbows him curiously, “Dunno what’s going on with you and this girl—” she raises her eyebrows mockingly, “—but please, for Merlin’s sake, don’t let it affect your playing today, yeah?”

Great, thanks, no pressure at all, he thinks as he runs a hand nervously through his hair. To his left, he sees George, who rolls his eyes as if to say, Ignore her, and this helps Fred regain a little bit of his confidence.

During warmups, though, as the team flies aimlessly around the pitch and tosses the quaffle back and forth, Fred looks absolutely wrecked, and cannot seem to focus on anything except you—seated in between his sister and other fellow Gryffindors, your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck, your hands absentmindedly tapping against your knees, waiting for the match to begin.

All the players are hovering in the air, Fred can feel his teeth chittering, Malfoy is making some stupid joke about Harry, and Madam Hooch is walking out toward the middle of the pitch, just moments before the match is to finally begin.

But Fred, thoughts elsewhere, just needs to do it already, he reckons. He flies toward the Gryffindor section, his sister and teammates eyeing him suspiciously, and lands in the middle of the crowd—desperately searching the sea of eyes before him, but not finding the familiar pair he’s looking for.

And then he finds you.

And he’s fighting his way through spectators left and right, while the rest of his team calls to him from the pitch to hurry up, the match is about to begin, when he finally gets to you and places his hands on your shoulders.

It seems as though you’re saying this to him for the millionth time, but he doesn’t care. Your eyes flutter back and forth between him and the pitch, “Fred,” you begin softly, “what’re you doing?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” he replies breathlessly.

And he cups your chin in his hands and pulls you closer toward him, pressing his lips gently to yours. And there it is. Fireworks.

He can feel your shock against him, and he’s finding it hard to not smile completely against your lips. It’s slow and easy and warm, the way the tide feels after having swam all day—muscles de-tensing, body limp. He can feel your eyelashes brush against his cheekbones, your fingertips brush his hips. And slowly, very slowly, he pulls away, hovering for a moment before breaking completely.

This time, you’re the one who’s left speechless.

You know, the funny thing, Fred wants to tell everyone, is that when a kiss comes at the right time from the right girl, it can lighten the entire mood of the atmosphere, change your outlook on life—things of the like. It sounds dramatic in his mind, but he doesn’t care.

Interrupting the stillness between you both is a quick whack! to his head from the Quidditch referee, obviously annoyed at the delay in the beginning of the match. Fred rubs his head in the spot where it’s stinging and glances at you before erupting into laughter—there’s that nervousness again, the skittishness, your shy self shining through with rosy cheeks.

“Wait for me,” his lips brush against your ear.

You swallow thickly over a lump in your throat, listening intently. “What d’you mean?”

“Next time you sneak out,” he smiles at you, remembering that late night in the common room all those months ago, confidence now engulfing him yet again. “I reckon we’d have a bit of fun if I accompany you, yeah?”

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 3 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Good morning, Sensei.”

Long trails of pink hair fell just inches above Kakashi’s face. He opened his eyes from a short morning nap and found Sakura shielding him from the summer sun. The book he was reading was on his stomach, turned down and split on the page he stopped.

“Good morning, Sakura. You let your hair down.”

She grinned at him and took a few steps back as he stood up. “I didn’t have time to dry my hair. I didn’t want to be late on my first day of class.”

“You had time to wake me up though.”

Internal panic coursed through Sakura which intensified more when he yawned and smirked, obviously teasing her, but it emphasized the small mole above his chin – something she was always fascinated about. “It’s bad impression when freshmen students find their teacher littering on campus grounds, Sensei.” I’m so proud of my quick wit. She happily sauntered away from the speechless, heads-over-heels, oblivious student trap.

Kakashi walked with her until the main entrance of the building, easily avoiding Sakura’s inquisitions of his summer break shenanigans and pinning the lack of it on the endless teacher trainings and seminars. Just before he left her to go the faculty room, he took a rubber band from his wrist and gave it to her. “In case you’ll get conscious and want to tie your hair. Have a good day, Sakura.”

She wasn’t conscious at all; she let it down for him, the hair tie in her skirt’s pocket – her pink strands freed at will to demand for his undivided attention, but she opened her palm to receive his offer all the same. She sighed after his fading figure in the gathering crowd.

New class lists were pasted on the bulletin board, and she scanned for names. Two particular people caught her attention. Ironically, they also appeared within her field of sight.

“Oh, Sakura. Good morning!” Naruto’s loud voice was ringing even though he just entered the building. If she would describe him, he was the embodiment of sunshine. He just had that positive energy around him which she liked. Walking close behind him was Sasuke, the stoic genius of their batch, and the opposite of Naruto. “How was your summer, Sakura?”

“Hmm, nothing much.” She glanced ever so quickly at Sasuke and saw him pay no mind. She liked that about him because while he was so unlike his loud, chatty friend, his energy was warm and kind, just hiding behind a tall wall of vulnerability. “I heard you joined the baseball team. Congratulations!”

Naruto shyly scratched his head. “I’m still a rookie though. I’ve got ways to go.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Sakura heard through the vine that he got mad agility skills, and that every sports team wanted him to try out. So much has changed in a year.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late.” Sasuke said.

“I haven’t seen which class I’m in yet!”

He grabbed the blonde by the collar and led the way. “We’re classmates.”

“Yeah, we’re classmates.” Sakura fell in step with Sasuke, Naruto frozen in shock. What an odd trio they must have been.

------------------------------

Their seating arrangement was pasted on the board when they came in. Sasuke got the seat beside the window – a good position for daydreams and afternoon naps. Sakura was placed beside him with a nice center view of the room, and Naruto was in front of her.

“Hey, Sakura. I need to tell you something, but it’s quite embarrassing. You see, I tend to fall asleep in the middle of class and since I’m in front of you…..erm….uhhh.”

“What he meant to say is he drools,” Sasuke interrupted. This apparently irked Naruto who full on glared at him.

“Well, yes, I drool. I have short attention span and classes make me so sleepy, but I hope that won’t disturb you. Just please look over my head.”

“How can she when there’s a porcupine sitting on it?”

Sakura chuckled at their weird, friendly banter. “Yeah sure, whatever you say Naruto. I don’t get easily distracted anyway.” She forgot to ask earlier if Kakashi will still be teaching Math for second years or which section his homeroom will be. As if her thoughts conjured him, he walked in their room, his silver hair glinting against the sunlight, and his eyes wandering in search for a face. Hushed gushes of admiration spread through the students, awed by the silent imposition of his presence. Then, his eyes fell on her.

He bridged the gap between them in easy, wide strides. “Ms. Haruno, the student council is looking for you.”

“They really sent you on an errand, Sensei?” No one dared to look beyond their interactions. She was easy-going, casual without being disrespectful, the model cheerful student, and the teachers’ pet. Teasing him with her half-truths hanging in between words was not difficult to cover up.

“Of course, I’m the council’s adviser.” And of course, she was thankful for his obliviousness.

------------------------------

“What do you think could it be? Did Sakura get into a scuffle?” Naruto asked after Sakura left with Kakashi. “No, that’s not really possible.”

Sasuke shrugged. He just wanted the day, or rather, the term to end quickly. He purposely avoided visiting the café, going in the mornings rather than late nights, partly because he didn’t want to run into her and partly because he was scared. He was just safely keeping his distance.

Sakura returned just before the next class started with an exuberant expression. The next teacher basically confirmed the news. “Congrats, Ms. Haruno Sakura. Thanks for stepping up to be the next student council president.” The position was left vacant after the initial appointee decided to focus on preparations and review to move abroad for college. The council, with faculty approval, recommended her to take the rein.

Hmm. They trust her abilities to this extent, huh. Sasuke looked outside, uninterested with the unfolding event and the break of congratulations around her. He saw her reflection on the window, smiling widely at her classmates, but her hands told another story, her fingers just solely focused on the rubber tie around her wrist.

------------------------------

Naruto had to stay behind for baseball practice which Sasuke was thankful for, but his feet didn’t want to go back home so he hid in their spot, napped for a while, and waited for Naruto’s message. When the blonde finally finished, Sasuke went to the field to fetch him.

“Sasuke, they’ll be joining us for dinner!” Naruto said.

“Sure, invite another team more.” Just his luck, Sasuke hated company, but like all other instances, he kept being dragged within his friend’s orbit. The team waved at him silently, knowing for a fact now that he didn’t respond to anyone other than Naruto.

“Really?” Naruto’s eyes perked up then a moment later realized that Sasuke was being sarcastic. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led the way to their usual ramen house.

“Get your hands off me, you vermin.”

“Awww they told me this was probably your love language – friendly banter.”

“Naruto, that didn’t come from us. We don’t want to get killed!” his teammates collectively chimed behind him. “Sorry Sasuke.”

Sasuke released a heavy sigh, quickly glaring at the players, but also letting the remarks slide. At least, this was a better option than being early at home and alone. After dinner, Naruto badgered him for desserts.

“I think I need a sugar rush. All the sugar left my body during practice. I envy Team Captain Haru.”

“The one with the undercut? His hair looked boring.”

“He has a steady supply of sweetness in his life. His girlfriend, Hinata, always visited during summer break. Quiet but supportive of our practice games. She cheers for him on the side and brings us snacks. I want a girlfriend too.”

“That’s normal, considering you’re a hormonal teenager.”

“Aren’t you the same?”

“Nope, I’m just a teenager.” His feet unconsciously led him to the café where Sakura worked. Ah, shit. “Hey, let’s go to another place.”

“This looks okay, grumpy! Besides, my feet hurt. Please have mercy on your dear friend.”

“You’re not my friend.”

“That’s a part of your love language too. Ehe. Come on now.”

Despite internally wishing she wasn’t present this evening, he found himself face to face again with Sakura. She had the usual disguise, but her makeup was on the heavier side – cat-shaped eyeliner just made her eyes stood up more. When she saw them, the first thing she did was look at him, conveying a questioning look, possibly on whether Naruto knew who she was. Sasuke subtly shook his head once.

Ever the simple-minded, Naruto’s focus was on the sweets. “I’ll have strawberry milkshake and a slice of red velvet cheesecake please!” It was going so well until he saw her face. Leaning in to Sasuke, he whispered. “She kinda looks familiar, don’t you think?”

“Your order, Sir?” Unfazed, Sakura continued doing her job. Her eyes looked towards the last plate of cream puffs.

“One slice of tomato cake and a matcha latte.”

“What?” Sakura and Naruto said at the same time.

“Even the lady agrees that that dessert sound unappetizing!” Naruto stuck out his tongue for a more theatrical effect. “Get a brownie or a cream puff.”

“I’m treating you so let me eat my tomatoes in peace.” Sasuke held out his card to Sakura who was still weirded out by his selection. Did he really give off a strong impression of his cream puffs inclination?

“I feel like we have a vibe going on.” Naruto leaned towards the counter, seemingly flirting with Sakura-in-disguise. “Maybe it’s because you have the same eye color?”

Before he could embarrass himself any further and prematurely confess his yet half-hearted feelings, Sasuke dragged Naruto away from the counter and on the farthest table of the café. “You made her uncomfortable. Stop it.”

“She looked like Sakura! But of course, our student council president looks more ethereal. I bet she’s so busy with school and club activities, she won’t have time for this.”

He spent an hour or so listening to Naruto talk about his baseball practice, the expired ramen he accidentally cooked last night, and the difficulty of their classes. It somehow ended on a note, much more like an imposition from Naruto, that Sasuke will give him supplementary lessons in this café and with his allowance.

They were about to leave when Sakura beckoned them over. She had two paper bags in her hands, and Sasuke noticed the absence of cream puffs. Someone must have ordered it already.

“Here’s a treat on the house – one for each of you. We’re giving freebies if you order within this timeframe. Come again!”

“This is so great! Thank you!” Naruto beamed at her but remembered something. “Hey, I’m sorry if I felt like a creep earlier. It wasn’t my intention.”

“Uh, that’s all right. I get that a lot.” She beamed back at him.

“You have the same beautiful eye color with our classmate. She’s cheerful, assertive, and has this positive energy around her. We hope we could be friends with her. Thanks for this again!”

Sasuke was too late to stop Naruto’s ramble, but he guessed it turned out fine. She just continued smiling like a good ole polite employee. “Get going, Naruto. I want to rest.” The two of them stepped out on the street with the fresh evening breeze.

“I feel like I still creeped her out.”

“Maybe you did.” Sasuke smirked at the tortured expression on Naruto’s face.

When he came home, he opened the paper bag to place the contents inside the fridge. It didn’t occur to him to ask why that promo wasn’t offered to him when he came last time, but nonetheless, he was a bit glad that he had something to munch on aside from processed food. His thoughts halted when he saw the cream puffs inside. His hands fetched his phone and he quickly dialed Naruto’s number.

“Grumpy, you missed me already?”

“What did she give you?”

“Who? Oh? You mean the café lady? Brownies! Do you think I can share these with Sakura tomorrow?”

Sasuke hang up on him without answering his question. He just kept on staring at the cream puffs on his kitchen counter.

Yeah, I better keep my distance.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 4

[ohthatsviolet]

Miroctane Drabble

The boys spend a realxing evening together after a long day in the arena. (1,021 words. (Ao3 link in the RBs). 

"Ugh, fuck today," Elliott said, as he pushed the door to their apartment open, feeling the effort more this day. "Fuck it raw," Octavio echoed, kicking the door shut behind them both. The trickster collapsed onto the couch with a groan. "I am so tired. I don't wanna move. I don't wanna cook. I don't wanna exist." "I mean, if you didn't exist then at least I'd have room to sit down," Octavio quipped, laughing quietly at the displeased sound that came from his partner when he shuffled over to make space for him. "Man, we really blew that game today, babe." "Yup. It's all over my socials." Elliott let out a defeated sigh, letting his head fall back against the couch. "I just wanna curl up...eat, and ignore everyone but you." "Just the way I like it," the speedster replied, whipping out his phone. "Alright, mi amor. What are you in the mood for?" "Everything," his partner chuckled, dreamily. "Hmm...pizza...chicken...or...pasta. Burgers would be good. Oh, with a milkshake. Um...Chinese food. Doughnuts...chocolate covered doughnuts." The trickster opened his eyes, coming back to reality. "Okay, seriously though. Pizza's good." "What do you mean seriously?" Octavio asked, pointing at his phone screen, showing his receipt. "I just ordered everything you listed. I thought you were being serious!" "What?!" the trickster gasped, sitting up. "Oh, babe. What are we gonna do with all that food?!" "I dunno. Eat it?" the runner shrugged, with a laugh. "Now...race you to the shower? I reek."

The pair bundled into the shower together, the heat of the water quelling the aches in their tired muscles. They assisted each other in washing, until Octavio got a little over enthusiastic with the soap, causing both of them to almost slip and collapse into a pile on the shower floor. Elliott slid on one of his robes, after they'd dried off and offered a spare one to his partner, which he graciously took despite it being a size or two too big for him. Once they were both contentedly bundled up, they regrouped on the couch to wait for dinner to arrive. The trickster scraped his damp curls into a messy pile on the top of his head, as he lounged back among the cushions with a small yawn. "My feet hurt so bad," he announced, giving his toes an experimental wiggle. "I need to get some new boots asap." The runner set his phone to the side, and patted his lap as an invitation. "Gimme." Elliott raised his leg, settling his calf across his lover's knees. He relaxed further back into the couch, as Octavio began to rub along the base of his foot, rotating the pad of his thumb in slow circles. "That feels so good," he hummed, letting out a satisfied sound when the speedster applied more pressure. "Ay, maybe you can do mine after this?" Octavio asked, moving his hands to work at his heel. "Yeah, if you want I can…," Elliott began, pausing when he noticed the smirk painted all over his partner's features, causing him to laugh. "Shut up." Octavio looked like he was about to spout some witty reply, until there was a knock at the door and he was jumping out of his seat excitedly, sending his boyfriend's leg flying in the process. "Yepa! The food's here!"

"I...don't even know where to start," Elliott said, staring at the mountain of food that was now scattered across their coffee table. "I find the easiest way to most things in life is to just carelessly jump right in!" Octavio replied, tearing open a bag at random, beginning to wolf down handfuls of fries. The trickster decided to start with the pizza, since that's what he was really craving. He let out a satisfied groan as cheesy, tomato goodness surrounded his tongue with a flavoursome comfort. They ate in a comfortable silence, until every food container was opened with a sizable chunk of its contents missing. The trickster leaned back, patting his stomach. "I think...I can't eat anymore." Octavio looked him over, happily munching on a doughnut. "Really? You ate hardly anything." "Are you kidding me? I ate all of this!" the trickster replied, sweeping his arm over his end of the table. "I'm still kinda hungry," the runner admitted, licking chocolate off his fingers before reaching for another doughnut. "Actually, I have an idea." Elliott found himself wrinkling his nose in mild disgust as he watched his partner sandwich a piece of southern fried chicken between two doughnuts. Octavio gave it a curious look over, before holding it up to his mouth and taking a huge bite. "I cannot believe you're eating that," Elliott said, watching the younger legend's facial features for any sign of disappointment in his decision. The speedster continued to chew, nodding to himself. "Okay, honestly cariño?" he said, between chews. "This slaps." "Liar," the trickster replied, shaking his head. "There's no way that's good." Octavio held out his creation towards him, eyeing him expectedly. "Try it. I swear, it's good." Elliott looked between his partner and the bizarre food combination being offered to him before leaning over and taking a small, cautious bite. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, tasting spicy and sweet together; it wasn't terrible. "I hate that I actually kinda like that," he said, playfully rolling his eyes at his lover's triumphant whoop. "But if I eat anything else, I might burst."

Elliott lay himself back on the couch, while Octavio surfed through the channels on the TV, searching for something good to watch. Once he'd decided on something, he joined him, pulling a blanket over then both. Elliott settled down, enjoying the feeling of the warmth in his belly and the heat of his lover pressed against his chest. He drowned out the sound of whatever show Octavio had decided to watch, until it was nothing but a comforting hum in his ears as his eyes began to feel heavy. He let them fall closed, snuggling closer to his partner; the perfect end, to a shitty day.

[darknessisafriend]

I have a request if that's okay, for Joaquin and reader to smoke a joint together after Joaquin has a stressful day on set and he tries smoking for the first time (Signs era). I know he's smoked weed before but first time would be cute yo

I hope you’ll like it! enjoy ;)

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction inspired by what we see of these people, I do not claim to know them nor to establish this work as the truth about their personal lives, the realities might be completely different.

Let’s relax

“And cut!” announced the voice of the director.

Joaquin deeply sighed, he felt crushed by everything around him, he needed fresh air, out of all this, he looked around, trying to find a way of escape, among the crowd of people he finally saw a way out; quickly he walked out of the set and headed to the area where everyone’s caravans including his were placed, however he didn’t go to his caravan, someone will come for him and he didn’t feel like going back on set just yet, not after the shitty way he played, god he was so embarrassed, he headed to the farthest caravan, he will hide behind it, and think, he needed to think about his character and he needed a cigarette too. 

However, he didn’t expect to find someone behind the caravan; even though it was only you, his co-star, his friend with whom he had fallen in love since the day you first met. You were sitting in the grass, your back against the tire of the caravan.

“Oh sorry, I didn´t know you were here.” he apologized, scratching the back of his head, now he had to find another hiding spot, you had turned your head as you had seen him, a tender smile formed on your lips, he was really cute when he was acting shyly with you.  

“Probably because I didn´t tell anyone” you chuckled, a mischievous glow playing in your eyes. Joaquin was still dressed in his costume and by the look of distress on his face, he was close to an anxiety attack “you can stay here, I don´t mind” you offered him, patting the space on your left; he seemed to think for a bit and then he approached you and sat down not far from you, he took out a cigarette, taking an inhalation, then he leaned his head back against the wall of the caravan, looking at the sky.      

You directed your gaze in front of you, he needed calm, silence, looking at him would make him even more stressed; so, you stayed silent for several minutes minding your own business, until he would be ready to open himself. He started to throw you quick glances, it was his way of telling you he was ready to talk.

“Shitty day, right?” you finally asked him, rummaging through your pockets to find your lighter, it was a good moment to fully relax.

“I feel like I fucked it up...like.... I don´t know, there's so much I wanted to express...” he started with worry, he passed a hand through his hair, it always broke your heart to hear him speak so low about himself.

“C´mon Joaq, I know you´re always stressed about this but you´re always doing great, better than any others I can assure you and you’re only 27, just relax ” you replied on a soft tone, trying to reassure him, you finally found your lighter, now time for your spliff.

“That´s not true, I think you´re gr-…is that a joint?” he asked you dumbstruck, you released a smile, it’s true he had never seen you smoke one, he had always shared his cigarettes with you.  

“Yep, I call it my comfort joint; always nice after a day like this. Wanna try?” you offered him with a grin, it could only help him to feel better.  

“Is it legal?” you could tell he was tempted.

“Only for medical use, but relieving stress helps to improve your mental health so, to me, counts as medical use even if I didn’t get a prescription ” you explained with mischief in your eyes as you light up your joint, he laughed.

“Alright” he gave in, scooting closer to you, it will be easier to pass it to each other; his shoulder was brushing against yours now.  

“Hey, take it slow!” you exclaimed giggling as he took a deep inhalation, he handed you back the joint, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Wow...” he spoke after a bit, it was already doing effect, which was pretty logical considering how he had breathed in; on your side it was also starting to work, you could a sense of peace taking over your body, you turned your head to look at Joaquin.

“So, how do you feel?” you asked him even if you knew by the look on his face that he was feeling much better. He turned his head to look at you, he had one of those big dimpled grins.

“Gooood” you laughed, happy to see him smile.  You passed each other the joint a couple of times more, until you had fully used it. By then, you just didn’t care of where you were or if you had something planned, you were joking and laughing like the two dummies you were.  

“And then I turned and realized there was like 20 people in front of me! Like it was so embarrassing, my face was red like a tomato!” you explained, while Joaquin couldn’t stop laughing, falling on you as he did.  

You wrapped your arms around him, it was probably your favorite effect, with weed you felt so much braver to do things and apparently Joaquin too, he settled comfortably against you, sighing happily as you caressed his hair.

“Gosh, love your hair man, they’re so fluffy!” you simpered  

“Oh, you know, that’s what it is...” he replied before giggling at his own words “this shit feels so good!” he beamed as he gave you a big kiss on your cheek, you leaned in, closing your eyes at the sweet sensation of his lips on your skin.

“Damn, you're so touchy-feely now, I love it!” you squealed, tightening your embrace as he gave you another one.

“Shit, I’m so hungry I could eat tons, are you hungry?” he asked you excitedly before running somewhere, maybe his caravan and coming back with a bag of potato chips, taking a handful of them.

“Ooooh so good.” he hummed before offering some to you, it was really nice to be free and have fun like that, being on set could be quite harsh for the mind sometimes. You were the first one who had the effects dissipating, you sighed you had to go to makeup to shoot two hours or so.

“Alright I gotta go” you announced, gently pushing Joaquin off of you, you got back up, brushing away the dirt on your pants.

“What already?” muttered Joaquin, he had those sad puppy eyes that made you want to stay with him forever.  

“Th effects should dissipate for you soon, stay here a bit more” You bended over to kiss the top of his head. “I enjoyed spending more time with you, maybe we should do that more often?” you tempted finding courage in yourself. Joaquin blinked a few times, thinking about what you had suggested.

“Cool...I mean yeah I´d love too!” he answered with a grin “and thanks for the...I feel much better now” he added sweetly, you winked at him mischievously before turning on your heels and going to the makeup trailer, he was such sensitive and tender guy, and you had fallen for him.

Tag list: @arcticmonkais @amourtiara @sirianfromsixties @sweetness-doesnt-touch-my-face @live-love-loki @lyoongx @skaravile @jaylovesbats @niniitah-ah @cumberbitching @dirrtyginger @valentina15 @weirdflecksbutok

[moveslikebuckywrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Sergeant Shadwell (Good Omens), Newton Pulsifer Additional Tags: Established Relationship, witchfinder army, still not finding any witches Summary:

“So, the situation is, the angel, my angel, has somehow misplaced his halo,” the demon takes in the confused looks on the faces of present company, “He’s quite clever but he can be a bit of a ditz at times. He’s asked me to find it for him, somewhere we’ve been in the last week. We’re going to split up and canvas the neighborhood and find his halo. Simple enough, yeah?”

Crowley stops pacing and stares straight at them as Newt raises a very shaky hand. Crowley ignores it.

“I said,” he glares, “Simple. Enough. Yeah?”

---

It’s another prompt fill for the Ineffable Outliers discord channel!  This one was a real treat to write!  Click through to AO3 or read the whole thing under the cut!

Edit:  Helps if I remember to put the cut in the post; this is why you don’t post fic when you’re at work kids!

---

The year after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t had been very good to Crowley.

Hell was no longer breathing down his neck, he was free to do as he pleased.  So was his angel.

Yes, his angel.  It had taken all of five minutes after leaving the Ritz the day after the world almost ended for things to start rolling, and once they started, they just didn’t stop.

Walking to the bookshop that day, Aziraphale had reached for his hand.  That alone had been near enough to discorporate him on the spot. Aziraphale had lingered with him outside the bookshop, rocking back and forth on his heels while Crowley tried to get his face to stop being such a bright shade of tomato-red.  Aziraphale had finally huffed and said I think, dear boy, this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.

Crowley had finally found his footing and lurched forward to kiss him and they stumbled backwards into the bookshop together.

They didn’t come back out for a week.  (A lot to catch up on, one might say).

Things might have been too fast back in the sixties, but now they were going at a breakneck pace.  Crowley was almost afraid it was too fast for him.

Once Aziraphale was free to love as much and in every way that he wanted to, it was almost overwhelming.  Every day a new pet name, every night the softest kisses to the demon’s temple or wrist or palm or lips (most of the time, all of these).  There were long walks in St. James Park, holding hands like it was something they'd done forever.  Lingering kisses whenever they could get away with it.  Long evenings in the bookshop led to long nights sleeping in the flat upstairs, and after six months Crowley had realized he only visited his flat once a week at most to water scream at the plants.  The whole flat seemed a bit superfluous after that.

Within a few days of that realization, the plants had all been relocated to the bookshop.  Some were in the shop itself; most were in the upstairs flat (unused for the better part of two centuries, but now in use almost all of the time) collecting sunlight from the skylights in the bedroom or the bay windows in the kitchen.

The Mona Lisa sketch was in the living room, as was the lectern from the church.  The wrestling statue was nowhere to be found, but Crowley knew exactly where it was. He’d sneak it into the décor at some point.

He had tangible mornings now.  Mornings waking up next to Aziraphale, or mornings where he’d wander blearily into the kitchen only to be handed a cup of coffee made exactly the way he loved it.  There were dinners and dates and oh so much life to live. One would think, having been around for 6000 years, that one would’ve seen it all.  

It turns out there’s much more to see when you get to see it with someone you love.

Paris was different.  Venice was different. Hell, the entirety of London was different.  Crowley no longer had to hide the affection he had for his angel, and all of that time spent pining when they’d visited places before could now be spent holding his angel’s hand and stealing kisses at opportune moments.

Go- Sat- Somebody, Crowley was happy. He couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be better than what he had right here with his angel.  

He’d do anything for Aziraphale (which, in itself, wasn’t a change at all), so when his angel came to him with a problem, all he could do was try to solve it.

---

“Alright, you lot,” Crowley addressed the group assembled in the main area of the bookshop in much the same way he would address an unruly rhododendron, “We have a very important job to do, and as I want it done quickly, I decided to call you in.  You are still on my payroll after all.”

The assembled group consisted of the entirety of the Witchfinder Army.  

One Sergeant Shadwell, who was not currently voicing his disgust in working with a demon, but it was painted clearly on his face, nonetheless.

And one Newton Pulsifer, currently promoted to the rank of Lance Corporal.  This was almost fully against his will and had only happened because he and Anathema had run into Shadwell and Madame Tracy in Tesco’s a few months previous. The conversation meandered to the promotion when Newt tried to distract Shadwell from asking about Anathema’s nipples.

Neither of them particularly wanted to be there, but neither of them particularly had anything better to do.

Plus, the demon was right, they were on the payroll.

Crowley paced back and forth in front of them, not unlike a general getting ready to deploy his troops and no less intimidating.

“So, the situation is, the angel, my angel, has somehow misplaced his halo,” the demon takes in the confused looks on the faces of present company, “He’s quite clever but he can be a bit of a ditz at times. He’s asked me to find it for him, somewhere we’ve been in the last week.  We’re going to split up and canvas the neighborhood and find his halo. Simple enough, yeah?”

Crowley stops pacing and stares straight at them as Newt raises a very shaky hand.  Crowley ignores it.

“I said ,” he glares, “Simple.  Enough.  Yeah?”

“Well, um,” Newt manages to stammer, hand still shakily raised in the air in much the same way the shy third grader from the back of the class might, “It’s just, Mr. Crowley, sir, um.  Wouldn’t someone have noticed a glowing disk? Or maybe not, maybe that’s silly, but um, the better question is, um, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Nae, laddie,” Shadwell said with a huff, “The question is why we’re doin’ this in the first place.  We’re the Witchfinder Army, not some kinda detectives.” He looked to Newt, still with his hand in the air, and yanked his arm back down by his sleeve.

“Can’t really call yourself an army though, can you?” Crowley asked, lifting an eyebrow higher than should be humanly possible, taking on an air of condescension, “I mean, Major Milkbottle?  Really? ”

“Cannae say too much about it, laddie,” he said with a smug grin, “The southern pansy thought the Major was a fine fellow.”

“Unlike Aziraphale, Sergeant ,” Crowley pulled his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose, showing off his snake pupils, “I’m not so easily fooled.” He stared Shadwell down for a few seconds for good measure.  He didn’t like that there were humans that knew the truth, he liked it even less when those humans had been playing their own game for quite some time.

“Anyway, Lance Corporal Pulsifer,” Crowley continued, “to answer your question, it’s a signet ring.  Gold, looks like angel wings.  Dunno where the featherbrain might’ve taken it off at, but he definitely lost it and that makes him worry.  When he’s worried, he gets tetchy, and when he gets tetchy, I don’t get sleep.”

The demon paused to stare down his army, if one could even call it that.  But surely even these two could handle something simple.

“So I suggest you each take one of these lists, and start looking and asking questionssss,” he handed them each a sheet of paper, “Like the good little detectivessss you are.”

Newt and Shadwell crowded out of the door, each heading a separate way to start on their lists.  Crowley had a list of his own, and he was determined that the halo would be found by this evening.

He had a date with his angel, after all, and he wouldn’t be late.

---

“Angel, why are you so fidgety?”

Crowley had watched Aziraphale flutter and pace around his bookshop for the better part of the day, and now that they were in bed, supposedly relaxing the angel couldn’t seem to sit still.

“It’s nothing, dear,” he had that look on his face. The one that said he popped over the channel for crepes.  The one where he was hiding something.  

“Well, probably nothing.  More than likely nothing. Of course it’s nothing.” The angel was now wringing his hands together.

“Aziraphale, I haven’t seen you this wound up in months, it’s obviously not nothing,” Crowley had taken the angels hands in his, “What’s bothering you, Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed, “It’s just, I seem to have lost my ring.”

“Don’t see why you’d get so worked up about a ring, but we can find you another one, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh no, Crowley,” Aziraphale stuttered, “You don’t understand!  It’s not just a ring, it’s the manifestation of my halo!”

Crowley stared at him, stunned.  “So you’re telling me, somewhere along in the last day or so, you lost your entire bloody halo?”

Aziraphale looked at him sheepishly, “Yes, it would seem so.  Oh, I do worry about it. I know I’m not on Heaven’s side anymore, but an angel without a halo that’s just silly, and I did rather like it.”

There it is, the puppy dog eyes.  The most powerful weapon in Aziraphale’s considerable arsenal of weapons he could deploy to get Crowley to do absolutely anything he wanted.  Oh sure, the angel had a lot of new weapons for that. Sweet fond smiles and softly spoken pet names had been quickly becoming a favorite, as had kisses of all kinds.  But it was always that sad yet hopeful pout that the demon was powerless to resist any time it was aimed in his direction.

Just enough of a bastard, indeed.

“Angel, would you like me to look for it tomorrow?”

Aziraphale brightened instantly, eyes sparkling, “Oh, would you, dearest?  I have to meet with that rare book dealer about an original copy of William Blake and I’d hate to miss it.”

“Of course, Angel, I’ll find your halo.”

“Oh, thank you, darling,” Aziraphale said and kissed Crowley so quickly that the demon didn’t even have time to be annoyed at the task in front of him.

---

There were two mugs on the little coffee table, one of cocoa and one of a nice earl grey tea.

“Does he suspect anything yet?” asked the first voice, dark and feminine with more than a little mischief of its own.  One might even say witchy.

“Oh, you know how he is,” this voice was posh and southern, “Once he gets started on something, he’ll be at it until the end.  He doesn’t suspect anything.” Both the tea and cocoa had been, miraculously, the perfect temperature for going on an hour now.

A cup of something warm and friendly company were always a good thing, after all.  Especially when you were plotting.

“Yes, well, from what I’ve heard the search has been entertaining so far.”

“Ah, yes,” said the posh accent, “Your man on the inside, as it were.  I do hope mine isn’t being too cruel to them.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” said the witchy voice, “Now, you mentioned wanting my help picking out your outfit?”

“Ah, yes of course my dear, I don’t want to be late after all.”

---

This was an impossible task.

Crowley was starting to lose the faith he’d always had in humanity.  Who didn’t turn things into lost and founds anymore? He was sure whoever had found the ring had taken it to a pawnbroker by now.

Though it would be kind of funny to know how much a place like that would think a ring made of pure holy matter was worth.  Could be quite a laugh.

Newt had checked Kew Gardens and St. James Park, among other places, with no luck whatsoever.

Shadwell had, likewise, been to the British Museum and the opera house and anywhere else Crowley had been able to think of.  Likewise, he’d come up with nothing.

Crowley had been left with the extensive list of restaurants he and the angel had visited in the past week.  (“Seriously, Angel, it’s been missing a week?” “Well I didn’t want to worry you, dear.”)

This list included, but was not limited to, three different Italian bistros, the little sushi place down the street from the bookshop, two tapas bars, a hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant, and the Ritz.  Always the Ritz.

That had been his best bet, and he’d come up short.  Now he had less than thirty minutes until his date with Aziraphale and nothing to show for it.

He’d been so distracted about it he hadn’t even been able to properly yell at Newt and Shadwell, he’d just sent them on their way. Shadwell had still been grumbling, Newt was just happy to leave.

Now Crowley was back in the bookshop, in the backroom draped across his favorite chair with his head in his hands.  Headaches were so terribly human, yet he was pretty sure that’s what was happening now.

Nothing for it, he’d turned up empty handed.  They could check the pawnbrokers tomorrow and go from there.

Even though Aziraphale had wholeheartedly detached from his former employer, he was still an angel at the end of the day.  His halo would be the last thing he had of Heaven, and, even if Heaven wasn’t as good a place as it had ever been1, Crowley was sure the angel would be very sad without this one little reminder.

“Might as well face the music, then,” the demon said to no one in particular, because no one was in the bookshop with him.

Aziraphale had told him to meet at St. James at six o’clock on the dot.  No time to sit and brood.

---

He found Aziraphale with a full picnic spread out under one of the apple trees.

“Crowley, my dear! There you are,” Aziraphale’s entire face lit up as soon as he saw the demon, Crowley didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that.  Something was different though.

Aziraphale was actually wearing modern clothes.  

Not super modern, nor even vaguely modern by most standards.  He was wearing sensible khakis and a tartan sweater vest over a light blue button-up.  He’d forgone the bow tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

If it had been a year ago, Crowley might have thought it obscene .

“Y’look nice, Angel,” Crowley said as he caught up, giving the angel a quick kiss, “Finally decided to catch up with the times?”

“Oh, oh thank you,” Aziraphale said with a bit of a wiggle, “Just for today, thought I’d give it a go.  It’s a special occasion after all.” Crowley noticed the angel’s ears turning a very lovely shade of pink.

If he weren’t a demon, he might say it was cute.

“What’s all this then?  Evening picnic in the park is a bit different for us, yea?” Not that he minded, Aziraphale was constantly surprising him.

“Well,” the angel started, the pink creeping in on his face now, “I promised you a picnic, back in 1967, I figured I should make good on it eventually.”

Crowley felt the blush rising in his own cheeks as Aziraphale smiled at him fondly.  He’d never forgotten that night, his world had been reeling and it had been the first time he’d truly let himself hope that Aziraphale might truly love him back.

“After all,” the angel continued, starting to wring his hands together like he always did when he was anxious, “We’ve been to the Ritz so often, but never on a picnic, silly thing that.”

“You’re more nervous than usual,” Crowley said, raising an eyebrow, “’S just a picnic, Angel.”

“Yes, of course, just a picnic,” Aziraphale said quickly, taking a seat on the tartan blanket, “Any luck today finding my halo?”

Crowley felt a lump form in his throat as he leaned against the apple tree next to where Aziraphale was sitting, “Ah, about that, Angel. We looked everywhere and checked in at all the places we’d been.”  He couldn’t even look at Azirphale, he didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. Didn’t think he could handle it.  

“Tore the bookshop apart even – don’t even start, everything is in its proper place, perfectly disorganized just the way you left it – if anyone found it, they likely took it to the pawnbroker’s so we’ll have to start there tomorrow.  I’m sorry, Angel, I really tried to find it.”

It was at this point Crowley heard what sounded like snickering.  He chanced a look at the angel who was very, very clearly trying to hold in a bout of laughter.

“What’s so funny, Angel?”

Aziraphale stopped his giggling almost immediately and swallowed hard, “Well, dearest, truth be told I’m more than a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?  What the heaven have you got to be nervous about?”

“Well, my love, if you must know,” the angel took a deep breath, “I never actually lost my halo.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale open mouthed, his glasses sliding almost imperceptibly down the bridge of his nose.

“You what.”

“I never actually lost it.  I just had to do something with it, and I didn’t want you to ask where it was and-”

“So, you sent me on a wild goose chase?!  I called the Witchfinders!  I had to spend an entire day with those two lunatics!” Crowley was now stalking back and forth, gesticulating wildly.  So much so he didn’t notice Aziraphale moving from sitting on the blanket to being on one knee.

“Crowley-“

“And then I had to go to all of those restaurants,” he did not see the angel pull out a ring box from his pocket, as he was too busy stomping about, “Do you know how many bloody bistros there are near Soho?  Don’t even know if they were the right ones!”

“Dearest-“

“Not to mention I had to go to that Greek place,” nor did Crowley notice a very peculiar witch hiding in the bushes about 10 yards away with a video camera, “You know the one!  You know Yaya won’t let me leave without eating and I can’t disappoint her.2

“Crowley for Heaven’s sake will you just turn around and look at me?”

Crowley turned to the angel and his entire being stopped. He couldn’t form any more words, nor could he move at all.

Aziraphale was on one knee with a ring box in his hand; and, despite the fact that they were immortal celestial beings who definitely didn’t need to go in for that sort of thing, the very human implications were 100% clear.

“Dearest, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I worried you might suspect something was amiss if you noticed it missing, and it took a lot to disintegrate and reintegrate it in such a way.  So, I sent you on a bit of a red herring to buy time to get everything absolutely perfect.”

“Ngk,” was all Crowley could manage to say.  A bush about 10 yards away laughed.

“Crowley, my dear, I know it took me a long time to finally catch up to you, and the fact that it took the near end of the world was absolutely preposterous of me.  This past year has been, without a doubt, the happiest of my entire existence. If I had ever gotten my wits about me, I’d have known that on our own side, together, was right where we were supposed to be the entire time.”

Aziraphale opened the box, and inside were two gold rings. One of them was a golden Ouroboros with a tiny red stone for the eye.  The other looked very similar to Aziraphale’s signet ring, two angel wings, but much thinner and more modern. Crowley was still working on getting his brain moving again.  Aziraphale was here, for all intents and purposes proposing to him.  With his bloody halo.

Just enough of a bastard, indeed.

If he’d been in disbelief at the state of his life for the past year, that was nothing compared to the state of disbelief he was in now.

“This is the last piece of me that was still a part of Heaven.  I’m not on their side anymore, I’m on yours, forever if you’ll let me be.” Aziraphale paused, clearly waiting for some kind of answer, while all Crowley could do was open his mouth and then close it again.  

“While I know that it’s not in any traditional sense, and as celestial beings there’s no real need for it,” Aziraphale started to stammer, which meant he was backtracking, and that just wouldn’t do, “I still wanted to have some kind of symbol of all of this.  But if you don’t want to, that’s fine as well, I just-”

Having finally gotten his brain back online Crowley had answered in the only way he could think of, and had lunged full force into the angel, crashing their lips together desperately, knocking them both to the ground.

The bush 10 yards away heaved a sigh, stopped filming, and the occupant got up and walked away3

After what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours (time is relative, even more so to an immortal celestial being), they finally broke apart.

“Does that answer your question, Angel?”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said, beaming at him.

Crowley was sure that the dopey grin on his face was most unbecoming of a demon, but as they sat on the tartan blanket drinking champagne, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  

He glanced down at his hand, gold angel wings glinting in the fading light of the sunset, and sighed contentedly.

As he laced his fingers with Aziraphale’s and kissed the snake ring on his angel’s finger, he knew in that moment there was nowhere in any universe either one of them would rather be.

After all, they were on their own side now, and they always would be.

---

1 - As far as Crowley was concerned, Heaven had never been worth the capital letter that always got bestowed upon it.  One group of pricks that you could only trade for a different, smellier group of pricks. In the end, it didn’t matter, they were all a bunch of bastards.

2 - The little hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant was owned and operated by a small Greek family, who’d been running the restaurant for generations at this point.  ‘Yaya’, as Crowley (and most of the regulars) called her, was the family matriarch. She took one look at his skinny frame and immediately decided that no one had fed the poor boy a decent meal in his life, and therefore he was never allowed to leave without eating as much as she put in front of him.  Aziraphale always found this hilarious.

3 - It is a known trait of witches that they always know the precise moment to arrive and the precise moment to leave.  Whether or not this particular witch had any intervention on this conclusion from a different, much more particular witch from the 1600s was neither here nor there.

[artificialqueens]

Beauty in the Sheets - Chapter 2 - (Branjie) - Thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: YOU GUYYYYYS! All these comments and all the sweet words are making me blush. Thank you for engage with it, it really made the difference. So here you have 5k words of these messy little shits.

“I fucked someone from the floor,”

“Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes…” Nina buried her head in her hands, wishing that she could go ten minutes back before Brooke had barged into her room with a frantic look in her eyes.

“Though technically I fucked first and then she became part of the floor, so I didn’t actuall-“

“I hate that your ex is a lawyer.” She did. She really did.

LINK TO AO3

“Me?”

“You’re the bitch who always gets the last freshly baked croissant down at the Starbucks on Monday mornings. Hoe, I’ve been wanting to yell at you for three months,” Pointing her finger at her, she made an intimidating presence, despite her small size.

“Okay?” Brooke’s brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to process what Vanjie was saying.

Croissants?

“Bitch, you know how much I need a warm and flaky piece of french tastiness on a Monday morning? Do you?” The juxtaposition of the petite woman in front of her couple with the angry and loud tenor of her voice, made Brooke feel blindsided.

What the fuck, was she on about?

“From the way you’re acting, I am guessing a lot?”

“A fuck ton, Mary. I swear, you been on my shit list forever - always walking in front of me in yo’ perfect hair and yoga pants stealing my Monday morning pastry fantasy! What you got to say for yourself?” Vanessa slowly walked towards her as her voice got louder, ending right in front of her, her neck craned to keep eye contact.

There was something about those eyes. Where had she seen those eyes before?

“Uhm… Nothing?”

“Really hoe?”

“That croissant is the only carb I let myself eat during the week. So really, I won’t apologize.” Shrugging, she walked passed Vanjie, putting down her bags on the bed that wasn’t filled with half a Mac store of products and four dresses.

“You one of them hoes that don’t let themselves live? You for real?”

“Okay. This is quite simple. I go there every Monday at 8:45, get my coffee and croissants and go down to the counter. I am neither aiding or abetting in you not getting your “Monday morning pastry fantasy”, as you so aptly put it,” She really couldn’t see the problem. So she got that last croissant? There were other places to get one than that Starbucks - though Liam always made the best espresso.

“Aiding and abetting? What you on about?”

“If you are looking for a culprit, maybe you should talk to the guy working there? I am just an innocent bystander” She couldn’t believe that she was throwing Liam under the bus. But the angry and, quite frankly, beautiful woman in front of her made her want to be on her good side.

Not that she could do anything about it.

“Now why would I do my man Liam dirty? He always be remembering my name and drank?”

“And yet he never saves a croissant for you? You sure, he’s your man?” Her raised eyebrow challenged Vanessa to contradict her.

I am so sorry, Liam. But I just want this beautiful woman to stop yelling at me.

“Shit, you right. Goddammit, Liam, I thought we had something special,”

“Yeah well…” Brooke laughed a bit, as she saw Vanessa calming down. “So you want to try this again?” She put her hand out, hoping that they could restart.

Still. There was something about those eyes.

“Yeah, sorry girl, I take my Monday mornin’ rituals serious,” the sheepish smile she sent her way, was enough to make up for the angry poking she had done a few seconds ago.

“I get it, so uhm. Hi, I’m Brooke,” She did her best at not feeling the tingle that ran up her hand as Vanessa grabbed it with hers. Softly shaking it.

“And I’m Vanjie.”

She was cute.

Brooke was fucked.

She was still basking in the afterglow, her muscles sore and mind fussy.

Bella was sitting in the window smoking, still naked.

The moonlight was lighting up her body, showcasing her perfection. Vanjie took the moment to really look at her. She admired her athletic build. The way she was so unapologetic sexual, her long legs and perfect tits on display with no care for who saw them.

How the hell had she managed to seduce this glamazon of a woman?

As her eyes were tracing the lines of her body, she noticed something under one of Bella’s breasts, what that a tattoo?

“Bitch, you have a tattoo?” The words tumbled out of her mouth, her brain filter still fucked out of commission.

“Huh?” Bella looked over at her on the bed, looking confused, almost as if she had forgotten that Vanjie was still there.

“There?” It took effort to lift her hand and point, her body weak and exhausted.

“Oh, that… Yeah. Got it years ago. Went through a phase, wanted to do something stupid and thought, why not get the infinity sign tattooed underneath my boob… You know, as you do?” She sounded bored. Her whole demeanour changed, but maybe that was just Vanjie reading too much into it.

“Giiiiiiirl,” Vanjie was surprised, it seemed so out of character for someone like Bella to have such a dumb tattoo.

“I know.” She smiled wryly as she stubbed her cigarette and threw it out the window. “So, do you need money?” The change in subject and her business-like tone of voice caught her completely off guard.

“…What?”

“Money? For an Uber?” She slowly went over to a chair and picked up a black satin robe, instantly making Vanjie feel very naked and exposed.

What was going on?

“Why would I need that?”

“We’re on the upper east side and it’s 4 AM, are you really going to walk home in those heels?”

The bitch was kicking her out. Wow. Usually, it was Vanjie doing this to the women she brought home.

“You kicking me out?” She couldn’t help but laugh slightly, almost impressed that this was happening to her and not the other way around.

“Uhm, Yeah? So. You need any cash to get home?”

“Hoe, I got my own money,”

“Right, okay. Uhm… Bye?” And then she walked into the bathroom, clearly indicating that she expected her to be gone when she got back out.

This bitch.

Vanjie got up on shaky legs, chuckling a bit to herself, as she tried to find her clothes, already dreading the fact that she would have to go home with no underwear on.

Seeing her dress and shoes thrown carelessly at the dinner table made her thoughts drift to earlier in the evening, and how Bella had taken her apart right there.

Fuck. She could feel herself get wet all over again.

She heard the shower start, as she put on her clothes, realising that she would probably have to get a move on.

Seeing a notepad on the table, she quickly got an idea.

I had fun. Call me if you wanna try for eight. - V

202-555-0174

She quickly got out of the apartment, fishing her phone out of her bag and dialling a number that she knew all too well.

“Bitch, you best be getting ready to spend all you money on lipsticks, cause I just got laid by the lesbian club goddess!”

They were all sitting in groups. Nina realised that there were a time and place to make all her employees mingle, and tonight was not the night. So she let it slide, as she chose to sit next to the Khiel’s girl, knowing that she probably played favourite with them, seeing as her best friend worked there.

“So apparently, I have been stealing Vanjie’s Monday morning croissants for months?” Brooke looked confused at all of them, as she stabbed one of the tomatoes on her plate.

“Holy shit, that’s you?” Nina had dealt with Vanjie’s supposed croissant thief for a couple of months. A matter that wasn’t really her problem, but something she chose to deal with because she found the small woman hilarious, her outbursts so ridiculous, that they were like watching live comedy.

“Nina! See! I told you, it wasn’t me! I told you!” Katya knocked her hand loudly on the table, her eyes wide with indignation.

“Vanjie came and yelled in my office about a blonde bitch from Khiel’s and you seemed like the obvious choice.” Nina shrugged happily biting into a fry, as Katya gasped at her.

“Mama, I am offended and shocked that you would hear the words ‘blonde’ and ‘bitch’ and not think of Miss Hytes first.”

“Ob-fucking-jection!” Brooke’s indignant voice was paired with a surprised look on her face, as she turned and slapped Katya on the shoulder, the older blonde laughing at her.

“One, Katya… Really hon, are you? And Brooke, I’m going to deny that. I love you, but you’re a bitch.” Brooke placed a hand over her heart as she huffed, trying to play the victim even though she knew that Nina was right. She could be a bit of a bitch.

“Barbara please, I am an upstanding citizen, I would never steal someone’s croissant - now Miss Hytes over here, that’s a whole different matter,” The signature wheezing laughter followed, as Katya bumped her shoulder playfully into the other blonde’s shoulder  

“How can I steal someone’s croissant, if I am paying for it with my own money? I mean, where’s the proof? Where are the witnesses of this supposed crime?” She looked at both of them, and at Shuga, Chad and Detox who had all listened to their conversation in quiet amusement.

“Bitch…”

“Here we fucking go again…”

“I hate that you know so many lawyers”

As the whole table erupted into loud laughter, Brooke frowned down at her salad.

“No more than I do,” Nina heard Brooke’s muttering, the annoyed tone making her worried.

Two tables over all the Mac Girls were huddled together, comparing their rooms, trying to figure out who had gotten the sweeter deal

“So how’s it going with the Ice Queen?” A’keria cackled as she asked, still not over the fact that Vanjie had been the one to get the Icy blonde as her companion for the weekend. Just her luck.

“She the croissant stealer,” Vanjie muttered as she took a sip of the wine in front of her

“What?” Silky was almost yelling, not giving a damn that her mouth was full.

“I said, she the good damn croissant thief!” Vanjie’s voice was louder than a steam train, which was thankfully drowned out by the laughs over at Brooke’s table.

“You’re kiddin’!”

They had all had to deal with Vanjie’s yelling every Monday morning because some blonde woman always seemed to get the last fresh croissant at the corner Starbucks.

Vanjie didn’t care that she could buy them at literally any other coffee shop - she wanted it from that one.

“Nope… She that hoe,” she shook her head, as she gulped down the last of her wine. “But you know what, bitch said something that got me thinkin’. How come Liam ain’t ever save one for me? He there every Monday, he sees it happening. Why ain’t he helping a hoe out?”

“Oh, so she one of them clever bitches, since she got you to change your mind” Silky had to admire any person, that could manage to get an angry Vanjie to see reason, as she was more stubborn than a bull.

“Yeah, used all fancy words and shit.”

“She’s also hot,” A’keria’s waggling eyebrows and Silky’s smirk made Vanjie roll her eyes. Those two hoes, always trying to set her up ever since they found out that she was a lesbian.

“Sure, if you into that uptight lady thing, you know me, I like my women more down and dirty,” Though she had to admit that Brooke was hot in a suburb wine mom kinda way.

“You like them blondes tho,”

That she did. Especially if they had a dominating streak, stupid infinity tattoos and a love for the number seven.

She hadn’t called.

Not that she had expected her to. To be honest, it seemed like a long shot. But still, it had felt like they had something, a connection.

“Look happy, you workin’ bitch.” Vanjie quickly stuffed her phone down the drawer with all their makeup samples, putting on her best “Hi, I work in retail” smile.

“Yeah, I know, Silk.”

“You still sighin’ over that blonde? Honey, she was pretty, but you need to move on, it’s been weeks.” She bumped into her shoulder, on her way to restock their lipsticks.

Honestly, what was it with those white hoes and Russian Red?

“If someone gave you seven orgasms in one night, you would’ve been sighin’ too!”

“Seven?” Silky looked at her over her glasses, looking more shook than the day she learned that you could get twinkies fried in cookie dough.

“Se-ven, Mary. I swear I couldn’t feel my toes or fingers for like two hours after,” Vanjie wiggled her fingers at her while smirking.

“That just seems excessive, also you nasty!” Silky shook her head, laughing at her friend’s antics, as she sat on one of the makeup chairs swirling back and forth.

“You just jealous,”

“You’re fucking right I am. Ain’t no dick in the goddamn universe that could give me seven orgasms"

“So lemme get this straight, yo skinny white ass don’t eat carbs during the week?” Vanjie yelled from the bedroom as Brooke laid the finishing touches on her nightly skincare routine.

Brooke loved her routine. It was therapeutic and calming. Something she took great joy in doing, as it gave her time to really relax. A feeling she didn’t let herself experience that often.

“I’m 33-years-old, hon. This body won’t stay slim if I eat pastries every day,” Brooke needed to look her best. It was imperative to every single aspect of her life that she always presented herself as beautiful - something to be admired and something to aspire to.

Out on one of the single beds, Vanjie was scrolling through her phone, liking everything and anything that she came across on Instagram.

“I don’t think that’s gon’ be a problem, mama.” She muttered, hoping that the older woman wouldn’t hear, afraid that she would notice the way Vanjie had admired her after they came back to their room.

“What?”

“I said, I think you’re overreacting,”

Nice save, Vanj.

“Nope, I’m just realistic,” Brooke came out of the bathroom, her hair falling in soft waves down her shoulders, the large round glasses gone from their usual spot, as she was getting ready to go to bed.  

“You look mighty familiar, Mama,” There was just something about her that Vanjie recognised from somewhere else. Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“We work together?” Brooke shrugged as she walked towards her bed.

“No, it ain’t that. I just- Holy fuck,” Vanjie dropped her phone. Staring at Brooke with a mixture of surprise, awe and… Anger?

“What? Is there something on my face? I know that I look weird without glasses and makeup,” Brooke started touching her face to see if she had some leftover cream on her chin or something.

“You’re Bella.” The name made her heart stop.

“What?”

“You’re Bella. Holy Shit,” Brooke went pale, as she tried to figure out how she had fucked up that badly.

How hadn’t she seen it before? Looking closer at Vanjie, she could see it now. Maybe it was the absence of alcohol in her blood that had made it difficult to remember. But now she saw it.

Vanessa.

Fuck.

“What. The. Fuck? You been hiding right down at Khiel’s all this time?” Vanjie’s tiny fists were clenched as she looked ready to either bolt up and flee the room or fight Brooke with her bare hands.

“Vanessa… Oh. Shit.” She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to make it all fit inside her head. Vanessa had worked at the same place as her this whole time?

Nina was going to kill her.

“Shit is right, mama. Were you just not going to say anything?” Her steely glare created a knot in Brooke’s stomach, her hands fiddling with the strings of her sleeping shorts, trying to figure out a delicate way, to tell the truth.

“Uhm, I honestly didn’t recognise you?” Judging by the look of anger in Vanjie’s eyes, that hadn’t been it.

“Well, fuck you too, Brooke.” Shaking her head at her, she marched out of their room, the door slammed loudly behind her.

Leaving Brook alone in the room. Sighing as she sat down on the bed.

“Good job, Brooke. Perfect,”

The studio apartment was silent.

After Vanessa had left, Brooke had gone back to the window to smoke some more. Her body was sore and tired, while her mind was quiet.

It wasn’t often that she took anybody home with her, usually following their lead, not wanting to risk him seeing any evidence of her weekend activities.

But there had been something about the tiny brunette. The way she had fit in her arms, how her eyes almost shone in the light from the streetlamps.

She wanted to see her in her home.

Wanted her apartment to be tainted by her.

She wanted to remember the way those thighs had clench around her face as she came when she was sitting at her dinner table.

Wanted to remember the moans and her begging as she sat on her couch watching the news.

And most of all she wanted to remember the way her hair has been splayed all over her pillow as she took her apart on her very own bed.

So they went to her apartment.

A decision she would probably hate in the morning, together with the soreness of her limbs and the headache from the tequila.

But right now, she was happy with that decision.

She walked out into the kitchen to get a glass of water and some preemptive aspirin, before going to bed and that was when she saw it.

A note on her dinner table.

It made her smile

The frantic knocking woke her from her almost slumber on the bed. She wanted to ignore it, she had felt like a chaperone for 40 teenagers today, and she just needed to sleep.

“Nina, please!”

Except, when it’s your best friend who apparently decides that midnight is an appropriate time to need her.

She so wanted to ignore the door but knew she couldn’t. So she dragged her body from the bed, and opened the door, not caring that she was wearing her big Lion King nightshirt, Brooke had seen it countless of times anyway.

The moment she opened the door, Brooke stormed in not saying a word and immediately began pacing back and forth in her room.

Nina rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up a bit, knowing that breakdown from Brooke could take ages to solve - especially if it had anything to do with Patrick.

“She hates me,” Brooke muttered as she kept on walking the length of Nina’s hotel room, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.

“Who? Oh… Vanjie? Because of the croissants? Give her some credit, B,” Nina was tired, a tiny bit drunk on wine and really not in the mood to suffer one of her best friend’s neurotic breakdowns.

“She thinks I’m a total bitch.” She ran a hand over her face, her voice high pitched and worried.

“Honey, I hate to be the bearer of ill news. But you are a bitch.“ Nina shrugged.

It was one of the many reasons she loved Brooke - she was so unapologetic in everything she did. It often translated into bitchiness, but it was a breath of fresh air, to know a person that was always frank with you.

"I know, but it’s not all that I am. You don’t understand. Nina. Please just give me another room.” She was talking fast, her hands curled into fists as she walked back and forth, her nervous energy making her appear fragile.

“Why does she think that though, what could you possibly-” Nina added it all up in her head and knew.

She just knew.

“No… Brooke, please tell me that you didn’t…” She hoped that she was wrong. That her intuition was off just this once.

But the way Brooke stopped pacing and looked at her apologetic told her everything she needed to know.

“You fucked her?” The minuscule nod knocked the air out of her. “Brooke, what did I tell you? What was my one rule?”

Such an easy rule.

“Don’t fuck anyone from the floor,” She was looking down at the carpet, somehow managing to look like a child getting scolded by her mother.

“And what did you do?” Nina felt a bit like her mother, trying to make reprimand her. It wasn’t because there were actual rules against fraternising with your colleagues on the floor.

But Nina knew how Brooke worked.  

“I fucked someone from the floor,”

“Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes…” Nina buried her head in her hands, wishing that she could go ten minutes back before Brooke had barged into her room with a frantic look in her eyes.

“Though technically I fucked first and then she became part of the floor, so I didn’t actuall-“

“I hate that your ex is a lawyer.” She did. She really did.

Brooke was too good at finding technicalities and holes in any rule, agreement or pact. It was an advantage if she was on your team, but a pain in the ass if she was working against you.

“Will you just shut the fuck up about Patrick? Please, can I get one moment without him in my goddamn life?” Brooke’s voice cracked at the end of the sentence, her face pained.

The outburst stunned Nina. It had been ages since Brooke had last complained about the man that had once been a big part of their friendship.

Was that why she was so tense?

“Sorry, babe.” She got up from the bed and slowly walked towards her. Trying to gauge if this was a hugging moment or an “if you touch me I will hit you” situation - with Brooke those two were almost identical.

“No. I’m the one who’s sorry. Just… Can we get me a new room?” Her voice was low, pleading with her to forgive her and help her.

“Wish I could, but they are all booked,” Placing a hand on her shoulder Nina tried to send Brooke a reassuring smile. Hoping that she could calm her down.

“Well, shit.”

Knowing that it was probably a lost cause.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Miss Hytes is your lucky lady seven?” Vanjie was pacing up and down the hall on the 6th floor. Leaning against the wall was Silky. She looked tired, but also entirely too amused at Vanjie’s predicament.

“Silk, don’t talk so loud,” The brunette hissed, trying to make her understand that this information needed to be kept on the down-low.

“But… Didn’t you say her name was Bella?” Vanjie gave her a nod in confirmation before she turned to restart her pacing “Damn… Lil uptight white missy is a regular player. Gotta admit, didn’t think that skinny bitch had it in her.” Her laugh echoed through the hall, as she tried to make the glass wearing ice queen fit with

“Focus, Mary!!” She clapped at Silky, needing her advice right about now.

“Vanj, come on. Did you expect that a woman with those glasses and that perfect bun, would be your sex goddess from the club? Cause I sure as shit didn’t.” Neither had Vanjie. She was still in shock that the lady who stole her croissant was also the same woman who had sexually ruined her for anyone else.

“Well, no… But that ain’t important. What am I ‘sposed to do? We be rooming together,” she was almost vibrating with the nervous energy, her eyes wide as she looked almost pleadingly at Silky, hoping that her best friend could help her.

“You gonna fuck her?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know?” It was the only thing she had been able to think about. Her mind wasn’t sure, but her body had been tingling with anticipation ever since she had laid eyes on Bella.

Fuck. Brooke.

“Boo, she came back around, like a motherfucking doughnut! If you ain’t gonna pick that glazed bitch up and eat her, then you dumber than I thought.”

“I should have called Kiki,” she would’ve hit Vanjie over the head, told her to stop thinking with her pussy and then send her on her way.

“But you didn’t, which means…. you gonna fuck her?” Silky shimmied her shoulders, her eyes filled with mirth as she looked expectantly at her.

“I…”

She didn’t know.

She opened the door with trepidation, not sure if she wanted it to be empty or not.

As the room was blissfully silent, she felt a whiff of disappointment in her stomach, clearly having hoped subconsciously that Vanjie would’ve been there.

Brooke walked over to her bed. Almost collapsing onto it.

She felt idiotic that she hadn’t immediately recognised her. She remembered that night, no she cherished it. The thought Vanessa’s moans and screams were intoxicating and had helped her get off countless times in the last couple of weeks.

Maybe she just didn’t want to remember her? Afraid of what might happen.

She had seen the number that Vanessa had left on a scrap of paper that night. Had even programmed it into her phone with the fantastical notion of maybe texting her.

Flirting with the thought of seducing her once again, knowing that she never would.

Because she couldn’t.

She wasn’t in the position to start seeing someone regularly, not even if it was just for sex. That was why she had a whole routine, and why she had sent Vanessa on her way in the middle of the night.

It was easier to never get too close to anyone. It would only end in hurt when she inevitably had to break it off.

The door opened and in stepped Vanessa. She looked almost determined.

She closed the door behind her, locking it in the process. Her back rested against it.

She seemed filled to the brink with nervous energy. Her foot tapping against the carpet and her eyes never settling on a single spot for more than a few seconds at a time.

Oh.

She was horny.

Brooke had her rules, had her carefully planned routines, and boundaries. But really, when had it ever hurt anyone to fuck their way out of trouble? This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, so why not to do what she did best, and fuck the pain away?

Brooke felt herself grin, as she got up from her bed, sauntering towards Vanessa. Feeling like a lioness stalking its prey.

She knew they needed to talk, but they might as well do that after an orgasm.

Vanessa’s eyes were following her every move, her lips slightly parted, breath stuck somewhere in her throat.

No makeup, a pair of sleeping shorts and a white top, and yet, she was still the sexiest woman that Vanjie had ever laid her eyes on.

It wasn’t fair.

Knowing that Bella and Brooke were one and the same was intoxicating. As she came closer, she could feel herself getting wet, the excitement blooming low in her stomach.

She knew they needed to talk.

But she had masturbated to the thought of that night for weeks. Knowing that the woman who was capable of giving her seven orgasms in one night was within her reach made all thought of adult conversation leave her mind.

Stopping two inches from her, Brooke leaned down, her hair cascading over Vanjie, the soft locks lightly touching her chin.

“Eight?” The whisper made her knees weak, but at the same time also cautious.

“Bitch, you want me to die? Ain’t no way I could come that much, I nearly had permanent nerve damage after the last tim-“ a long pale finger was placed against her lips, effectively shutting her up, her eyes wide.

“I meant as in - you’ve had seven, ready for number eight?” The smirk on her lips coupled with the devious look in her eyes made her happy that she had a wall to lean against. “But I’m honoured you have such trust in my ability.”

Leaning down once more, her lips started trailing down her neck. The touch feather-light. Making it hard for Vanjie to think.

“Mama. You hot as motherfucking sin. You’re a-a walking glamazon with short nails, a lesbian dreamboat, how can I not?” Her fingers were inching their way under her shirt, making her gasp as they came in contact with her skin.

“Lesbian dreamboat, huh?” The word was whispered directly into her ear, as her fingers reached the underside of her breasts.

And stayed there.

Waiting for an answer.

“You know you sex on legs, don’t be playin’” Vanjie clenched her thighs together, leaning her head back. Wanting to beg, but the words lodged somewhere deep in her throat.

“Okay then. Here or on the bed?” A kiss was placed on the corner of her mouth, making her head spin. The softness of those lips something she had fantasised about for weeks.

“I-I…” the words just wouldn’t come out.

Brooke chuckled lightly at her.

“Here it is, then”.

And suddenly she was all over her.

Her hands pushed Vanjie’s sleeping shirt over her head, gasping as the colder air hit her nipples.

Vanjie’s lips were captured in a bruising kiss, not so much a fight for control, but rather her handing it over to Brooke.

Pinching one of Vanjie’s nipples, she drew a moan out of her, as her lips slowly trailed down her neck and then right down the middle of her cleavage.

Her knees softly hit the carpeted floor as her hands started pulling on the lacy underwear.

“Imma get real mad if you rip these, too.” The breathy voice made Brooke’s hands stop, the fabric caught on Vanjie’s hips.

“How mad?” The calculated look in Brooke’s eyes as she looked from the lace in the front of her and back up at her, made Vanjie realise that this woman was dangerous.

“Bitch…”

“I’ll be good,” the declaration was underlined with a sweet kiss on her hip.

Dangerous.

“Baby, you ain’t ever been good a whole day in your life,”

“You’re right” and then she ripped the lace, the room silent for a moment, as she looked challenging at Vanjie, daring her to get angry. Daring her to do anything. “I’ve been great every day of my life,”

“Bi-oh fuck,”

Before she even got the word out, her lips were on her. Licking, tasting and sucking. She hummed and moaned, the vibrations making Vanjie’s knees weak and unsteady.

Without taking a break, Brooke’s hands first slowly pushed one knee over her shoulder, which was quickly followed by the other.

So very dangerous.

Vanjie’s moans filled the room, Brooke’s tongue unrelenting as it thrust into her, while her hands were grabbing her thighs in a bruising hold.

She was close.

The sheer demonstration of power, the expertise of her tongue and the slight pain from her hands were sinful, Vanjie’s whole body floating on a cloud of ecstasy.

As Brooke lavished attention on her clit, Vanjie felt herself get closer. Her body building up to something that felt almost too big, too scary.

This fucking woman.

“Ah… Ah.” Her hands were holding onto Brooke’s locks, though she had difficulty in figuring out if she wanted her closer or further away.

She felt like she was getting ready to jump off a cliff without knowing how close the ground was.

“I’m- I’m-“ her moans were getting louder, probably waking their neighbours.

And then her teeth softly, almost like a feather, grazed that tight nub of nerves and she was gone.

Falling off that cliff, her heart seemed to beat in double time, her muscles all contracted as wave upon wave of agonising pleasure hit her.

For a moment the world seemed to turn white before it exploded into a firework of colours.

Without her really knowing how, Brooke slowly lowered her down to the floor, her legs gliding off her shoulders, as she peppered kisses all over Vanjie.

None of them cared that they left sticky marks behind, nor did they notice that Brooke’s lips tasted of Vanjie as she softly kissed her.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered, feeling a small smile against her lips. “Fuck babe, did you even come?”

“Oh, Vanessa. We’re not even close to being finished,”

So very fucking dangerous.  

[afjakwritesarchive]

usuk fic?? much angst??? soulmate au where everything you write on your wrist goes on your soulmates??????????? and maybe alfred is blind? so he cant see anything written there much less reply? so arthur thinks he aint got no soulmate? jgbshajhygvshuytb i love your writingg hhhhh i read all your usuk fanfics in like a day

Title: you were right here all the time (i was blind)Pairing: USUKWords: 3,114AU: Human/SoulmateGenre: Romance/AngstSummary: Arthur grows up believing he has no soulmate. Then he runs into him in a grocery store.A/N: Wow! I can’t believe it’s been over a month since my last post! I changed the prompt a little, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Title taken from OK GO’s Skyscrapers. !!! TW for mentions of self harm and alcoholism !!!

Arthur was six years old the first time he saw his father’s neat handwriting appear seemingly by magic upon the back of his mother’s pale, freckled hand.

“Mum, what’s that?” He asked, forest green eyes peering curiously at her hand.

Alice’s eyes–the same sparkling green as Arthur’s–flitted downward and a soft, fond smile stretched across her slim face. “Your father’s making a grocery list,” she said gently, watching as the words appeared letter-by-letter upon the milky white skin of her hand.

Milk, tomatoes, butter, tea, spaghetti noodles.

Alice smiled and reached into her pocket, extracting a pen. Don’t forget bread, she added in her loopy cursive script. Arthur watched in wide-eyed fascination as more words appeared below hers, again in his father’s handwriting. Right. Love you. 

I love you too, wrote Alice in return before raising her eyes to her son’s face and giggling at the starstruck expression he wore. 

“Mum, are you and dad magic?!” Asked Arthur excitedly. 

Alice’s giggle turned into a full-on laugh. She reached out, resting her ink-covered hand over Arthur’s shoulder and smiling broadly at him. “No, sweetheart, although I believe there’s a certain magic about your father and I share. We’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” Arthur echoed curiously. He’d heard the word more times than he could count, but he’d never fully understood its meaning.

“Yes. When people are meant to be together, they can communicate in a way they can’t with others. Whatever your soulmate writes on themselves will appear on you, and vice versa. Your father and I are soulmates, which is why we can write back and forth to each other.”

“When can you start writing to your soulmate?”

“Well, you have to know how to write first. Your father wrote to me for the first time when I was only two–he’s six years older than me, so it took me a while before I could write back. But once I could we wrote to each other every day.”

Arthur peered down at his mother’s other hand, which was empty of words, and then down to his own pale palm. “Do I have a soulmate?”

“Of course,” she said. “Everyone does, either platonic or romantic.”

“Can I write to them?”

“Yes, if you want,” she said, smiling gently. 

Arthur reached for the pen and put it to his arm, writing the words Hello soulmate in the messy script of a six-year-old. His mother grinned and moved her hand from his shoulder to his head, ruffling his pale blond hair affectionately. 

“We’ll have to wait for them to respond now.”

“How long will it take?” Arthur questioned. 

“That’s up to them,” Alice replied gently. 

Arthur never got a response. 

As the years wore on, Arthur wrote to his soulmate daily. When he was nine and still hadn’t received a response, his mother assured him that there was nothing to worry about. Perhaps he was older than his his soulmate, she suggested, like she and his father. His soulmate may not have been able to write back yet; or, perhaps, they weren’t even born yet. 

When Arthur was twelve and still hadn’t received a response, his father patted him on the back and told him that sometimes people got nervous about responding. He had felt strange about replying to Arthur’s mother at times, he said, because she was so much younger than him and wanted to talk about their relationship. Perhaps Arthur’s soulmate could tell that he was much younger and felt uncomfortable writing back, too. 

When Arthur was fourteen, Arthur shed the first of many tears over his absent soulmate. His best friend, Francis, rested his ink-covered palm over Arthur’s blank one and promised Arthur that his soulmate was out there. That night, Arthur put a pen to his arm and wrote please, please be out there. 

When Arthur was seventeen, he accepted the fact that he had no perfect match. That night he took something much sharper than a pen to his wrist. 

When Arthur was twenty-eight, he started writing to his soulmate again. He knew, realistically, that he didn’t have one; he’d long since come to terms with the fact that he was one of those extraordinarily rare individuals who had no ideally-suited match. In his teenage years, the knowledge that he was destined to be alone had resulted in more nights with his fingers clasped around a bottle or a blade than he could count, but he’d long since cleaned up his act. Knowing that he would never have something 99% of the population had–especially when that something was so beautiful–was painful, of course, but he wasn’t entirely alone. 

There were people with awful soulmates, people whose soulmates were abusers. There were people whose soulmates were dead or dying. There were people who disliked their soulmates or had fallen out of love with them; it wasn’t uncommon for married soulmates to get divorced and re-marry someone outside of their match these days, although some still considered it taboo. 

Arthur could accept that, he thought. He could be happy falling in love with someone outside of a match, if he ever found them. After all, love was what one made it; if two people really loved each other, they could make it work no matter the odds. At least, that was what his friends and family had told him. Arthur didn’t know if he was totally sold on the idea of “true love” yet. How could he be, when the universe was clearly trying to tell him that it couldn’t happen for him? 

Nonetheless, he’d started to write on himself again as a way to cope. It was nice to write to his soulmate, even if he knew that he was writing to a person who didn’t exist. He covered himself from elbow to wrist, thigh to ankle, in ink. He wrote about his hopes and dreams, his fears, his day, anything and everything that came to him. He liked the idea of his soulmate reading his words and being comforted by them, although he knew it was impossible. 

Today, Arthur jotted a grocery list down on the heel of his palm the way he’d seen his father do all those years ago. He even signed it with an I love you, and imagined his soulmate taking up a pen the way his mother had and writing a soft, I love you too in return.  

The walk to the supermarket was a calm and easy one. The sun was low in the sky, the world awash with its golden light. It was warm enough that Arthur didn’t even bother with a jacket, and he’d rolled his jumper up to the elbows. It used to embarrass him, having all of the ink he covered himself in on display, but now he rather enjoyed how normal it made him feel. People would walk by and smile, complimenting him on how sweet he and his soulmate were for writing so much to each other, and Arthur would get to pretend, if only for a moment, that there was someone out there writing back to him. 

Arthur entered the supermarket, scooping up a basket on his way in. He walked slowly through the aisles, taking his time to find what he needed. He’d stopped and was reaching out to grab some tea when an older woman approached with a smile, patting his shoulder. “You and your soulmate are so sweet, writing to each other like that,” she said, eyes glittering with sincere happiness.

Arthur smiled softly down at her, “thank you, miss.”

“It’s adorable that you write to each other even though you’re together now, too. People must compliment the two of you all the time!” 

Arthur’s thick brows furrowed and he blinked, confused. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure what you mean. I haven’t met my soulmate yet,” he lied, because it was easier than explaining that he was pathetic enough to write to someone who didn’t exist. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, dear. I saw a man with arms covered like yours in the next aisle over and assumed he was with you because the handwriting looked similar. I’m sorry to bother you, then!” She chuckled, patting his shoulder lightly before turning and walking off. 

Arthur paused, watching her leave with widened eyes. There couldn’t… She couldn’t have seen… No. It was impossible. Arthur didn’t have a soulmate; it was just a coincidence, surely. There were other people who wrote a lot to each other; it wasn’t as if he was the only one with ink-covered arms. There was no use getting his hopes over nothing. 

And yet, Arthur felt his heart beating faster in his chest, and a feeling eh couldn’t place had settled over him. It was something like longing, something urging him to investigate, to seek out this man. But why? Surely he had no soulmate, so why work himself up? His soulmate wouldn’t had gone all these years without ever writing back to him… Would they? 

Before Arthur could stop himself, he was turning on his heel and rushing into the next aisle. It was empty, aside from two tall, blond men standing side-by-side at the opposite end. They were nearly identical in appearance; twins, most likely. One had a pair of round glasses and was scanning the shelf while the other had his back to Arthur and was speaking animatedly, arms moving wildly as he spoke. Sure enough, in his sky blue t-shirt, his ink-covered arms were clearly visible. Arthur was standing too far away to make out any of the words or the handwriting, but something about the sight made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Self-conscious, Arthur rolled down the sleeves of his deep green jumper to hide his writing. His heart was racing and he didn’t know why. He tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter what was written on the man’s arms because he had no soulmate, but he couldn’t make himself walk away. In fact, his feet began to carry him forward, toward the two pair of men, until he was approaching the one with his back turned. 

“Excuse me,” he said. The man with his back turned jumped, startled, and whirled around. His twin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay, Al,” said the one with round glasses before meeting Arthur’s gaze over his brother’s shoulder and smiling politely. “Hello,” he greeted, obviously confused by the stranger who had approached. 

“Hi,” Arthur said, shifting his weight from foot to foot and feeling incredibly foolish. “I couldn’t help but to notice your arms. I-I just think it’s so sweet, how much you and your soulmate write to each other,” he said, parroting the words of the woman from before. He couldn’t bring himself to look down and scan the man’s arms, nor could he bring himself to look up into the man’s face, so instead he settled for looking past him to his twin. 

“Oh,” said the man–Al, as his twin had called him–sheepishly. “Thanks! I guess they write to me a lot. I think it’s sweet too!” 

“They sure write a lot,” his twin added with a smile, “Alfred already had words on him when he was born.”

Arthur still hadn’t brought himself to look into the man’s face or at his arms. “Is that so? That must have been quite the surprise for your parents. Would you mind if I…?” Arthur trailed off, freckled cheeks flushing awkwardly.

“Oh! Sure!” The man exclaimed, raising an arm slightly. “I’m Alfred, by the way, and that’s Matthew.”

Arthur barely had the sense to give Alfred his name in return, already reaching out to take Alfred’s arm in his hand. He’d hardly taken a glance at his the man’s arm when he paled, his familiar script unmistakable to him. He glanced down and caught sight of the shopping list he’d written less than an hour ago on Alfred’s palm. The sight of his “I love you” on Alfred’s tan hand made his heart ache. 

“What’s wrong?” Matthew asked, seeming to realize that something was off based on the ghost like paleness of Arthur’s face. 

“I-I…” Arthur trailed off and slowly released Alfred’s arm. He was still reeling from the shock of what was happening, but he managed to pull up one of his sleeves to reveal the identical writing along his arm. Not once had he looked into Alfred’s face, unable to meet the man’s eyes knowing what he knew. So he had a soulmate after all, and somehow it was still painful. Arthur had hoped and prayed for this for years, and yet now that it was happening all he could feel was pain. Obviously Alfred didn’t want him–why else would he have never responded? 

Matthew’s eyes flickered from Alfred’s arm to Arthur’s and back. His jaw fell open. “Oh my god,” he gasped. 

“What? Mattie, what’s wrong?” Alfred asked, as if he were entirely oblivious to the entire encounter. Arthur felt a bit of rage flare up within him at that; how could Alfred act so unaware? How could his soulmate be someone so cruel? 

“Al, you–This is–your arms match! This is your soulmate!” Matthew cried, still gaping.

“What?!” Alfred cried incredulously, his voice taking on a sweet, sing-song quality out of excitement. “Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you! You said it was Arthur, right? That’s such a cute name. I love your accent too! I-I can’t believe you’re here, oh my god, I wanna know everything! You’re from England, right? How old are you? What are your hobbies? What do you–”

“Al, give him a chance to breathe!” Matthew cut in hurriedly, seeming to note the distress written across Arthur’s handsome face. 

Despite Alfred’s obvious enthusiasm, Arthur was incredibly confused and more than a little angry. How could he act so excited and happy as if he hadn’t left Arthur alone and thinking he didn’t have a soulmate for most of his life? Rage was burning hot within him, forcing its way out of his body in the form of hot tears that gathered in the corner of his virescent eyes. Arthur finally gathered the courage to raise his head and look into his soulmate’s face for the first time, fixing him with a heated glare. 

Alfred was grinning widely, his smile by far the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen. His eyes were a gorgeous, striking blue with flecks of gold and his thick lashes made them look even larger than they were. Excitement was clear in his expression, and yet there was something slightly off. Alfred wasn’t looking into Arthur’s face and rather at the top of his head, perhaps a little past him. 

“Why did you never write back?” Arthur demanded, ignoring his soulmate’s confusing behavior. “I spent all this time thinking I had no one! I wrote to you every single night for years, begging you to respond to me! I-I thought I was destined to be alone forever, and you let me! How could you?!” He asked, immediately turning on his heel and making to run. 

“Wait!” Matthew cried, pushing past Alfred to grab Arthur by the wrist. Arthur stopped, astonished, and whipped around to glare at him. 

“Why the hell are you defending him?! Let go of me!” Arthur yanked his wrist out of Matthew’s strong hand, punctuating his action with a string of loud curse words.

“I’m blind!” Alfred suddenly shouted over Arthur, taking a few steps forward until his shoulder bumped against Matthew’s. “I’m so sorry, I-I know I must have hurt you, but I swear I didn’t mean to! Sometimes Mattie read them to me, but I could never respond because I don’t write very well. Please, please don’t go,” he begged, and Arthur noted with rapidly growing horror that tears had appeared in the corners of Alfred’s eyes too. 

“You’re blind,” Arthur said, a stab of guilt cutting through him as he spoke. “Oh my god, you’re blind.” 

Alfred’s cheeks were flushed red from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I promise I didn’t mean to make you feel alone, and I understand if you’re still angry, but… Please don’t go.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Arthur asked, shaking his head rapidly. Tears were springing to his eyes again, but this time they were from relief. “Oh my god, I’m such an arse. I can’t believe I just yelled at you for being blind.”

“It’s okay,” Alfred said, a bit of laughter escaping him, “you’re kind of a hothead, aren’t you?” 

Arthur’s cheeks flooded with heat, still feeling extremely guilty for his outburst. “Again, I apologize. If you’d give me a chance, I’d love to make a better second impression,” he said, and flashed a sheepishly apologetic smile at Matthew, who was watching the scene unfold.

Alfred beamed, his eyes still looking a little past Arthur. “Dude, I’m just glad you still want me,” he laughed. “You sounded pretty angry there for a second.”

Arthur couldn’t help but to laugh a little, years of hurt seeming to melt away within seconds when faced with Alfred’s carefree smile. “Of course I do.” 

“In that case, would you mind if I felt your face? Nothing creepy, it’s just to get a sense of what you look like.” 

“Of course,” Arthur said. Alfred raised his hands and Arthur took them gently in his own, guiding them to his face. 

“You’re short,” Alfred said with a startled laugh. “Have I been looking past you this whole time?” 

“It’s alright,” Arthur said, flushing when the American’s warm palms came to rest on his cheeks. Slowly, gently, Alfred’s hands moved across his face; when his thumb brushed along Arthur’s lips, he let out a little hum of appreciation that had Arthur going cherry red. 

“You have soft skin,” Alfred mused. “What color?”

Arthur was half-tempted to lie, if only to make himself seem more attractive, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair. “Pale as a ghost and covered in freckles,” he sighed, resigned to his fate. 

“Cute,” Alfred replied. “What color are your eyes?” He asked as he brushed his thumb gently along Arthur’s thick lashes.

“Green,” Arthur supplied. 

“You’re really handsome.”

Arthur flushed. “Thank you. You are, too.”

Alfred’s smile widened. “Really?”

“Of course,” Arthur said, and there wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his voice. “You’re gorgeous.”

Alfred’s cheeks went delightfully red and he opened his mouth to say something back, only to stall when his fingers ran across Arthur’s thick eyebrows. “Holy shit, your eyebrows are huge!” He exclaimed loudly, still with a happy smile stuck upon his face.

Arthur was so lovestruck, he couldn’t even find it in him to be mad.

[kashimos-hajime]

In the Woods Somewhere | l.l.

A/N: Hello!! This is my entry that’s 21 minutes late for the Hozier Writing Challenge hosted by @lokissoul. My song was In the Woods Somewhere but there are small mentions of Almost (Sweet Music) as well. I literally came back from the dead to write this so enjoy! GIF is not mine!

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CANCER, DEATH, BLOOD, THOUGHTS ON ANIMAL HARM. ANGST AHEAD!!! LOTS OF ANGST!! also side of medical jargon and cute romance but semi-sweet ending :)

Word Count: 10933 Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader, Pepperony

My head was war My skin was soaked I called your name 'til the fever broke

“You've been getting worse.” Starting awake, you blink the sleep you’ve managed to catch away before taking a quick glance at the clock. It’s nearly eleven, almost noon. Raising your head, you manage a smile as Loki crouches beside you with a cup of water. In his other hand, he cups a pill. Too weak to raise your arms, you open your mouth for him to put the pill in and chase it down with water.

“I’m doing great,” you mumble as he rises to wash his hands in your master bathroom. “I’m not kicking it yet.” He flashes you a weak smile from the bathroom and comes out with a damp towel. The light drains into the room from the open windows of your apartment, casting shadows onto his face as he comes to your bedside again. He cups your cheek, concern etched into his features. With the damp towel, he pats away the sweat that gathers at your brow and touches your forehead, feeling for a fever. You can see where it’s hollow around his nose and cheeks, dark bags beneath blue eyes. His hair, pulled back into a bun, shines with oil and you gently pat his head.

“Your fever’s broken. Rest, (Y/N).”

“I can’t. Too tired,” you whine and he chuckles as you dig your fingers beneath strands of his hair. “You’re oily.” He wrinkles his nose at you with what you think could’ve been offence if you two weren’t in the position you are in now. “You need to shower.”

“And you need to eat.”

“I can’t,” you protest as he takes your hand from his head and presses a gentle kiss to your wrist. “I’ll just throw it up.”

“All the same. I’d prefer it if you could benefit from a bit of it.” He helps you sit up and you groan when your bones bend. You always felt as if you were this close from snapping in half. “Alright?” You nod. He extends his hands to you, pulling you up gently until you press against him. His arms encircle your waist, gently hoisting you to your feet.

Your knees wobble but he keeps his arms around you, careful to never let you take on any weight but still feel the floor against your feet that go through the motions of walking.

“What are you in the mood for, my girl?” he whispers in your ear and you turn to him, eyes meeting his.

“Pasta.”

“Hmm. That can be arranged.” He slides you into one of the kitchen chairs and heads for the cabinets to pull out pots and ingredients. You watch him for a brief moment, admiring his form and cute little man-bun. You taught him that when you first started dating ages ago. He always wore it when you were feeling down. Guess it’s fitting he does it every morning now. “What’s the rating today?”

“A six.” The pain can be worse, you know. You’re thankful you can even get out of bed today. Turning to looking at your arms, you check if you’ve gotten any new bruises overnight or if petechiae has gathered at your legs or neck. “Three years and the best I can do is a six,” you whisper underneath your breath. You know he hears you by the way he pauses for a moment as he brings the pot of water to the stove to boil. But you can’t help the way you feel. Three years you’ve wasted his time when your condition has been unchanging. “I’m sorry.”

“It has never been your fault you got cancer,” he replies sharply and you sit there, staring into your hands. Your spindly fingers weave together as you ignore how thin you’ve become. Your eyes barely stay open, exhaustion pulling at your consciousness but you know sleep never truly comes. He dumps uncooked spaghetti unceremoniously into the pot. “Nor is it your fault your body simply refuses to respond to Imatinib or nilotinib and every other medication your doctors have prescribed.”

“Loki—”

“We must keep fighting, my girl.” He goes to another cabinet, withdrawing a can of tomato paste before going to the fridge.

You don’t know how to tell him that the only reason you hold on is because you cannot bear to break his heart. So, you say, “Well, we only have to find a match and I’ll be okay.” He turns to you, measuring you words with narrowed eyes. You’re making it to be simpler than it was; it’s almost a glimmer of your old self. You always did make mountainous tasks to be nothing more than anthills. Then, he gives you a tired grin, nods and turns back to pasta. “When is Thor coming over?”

“Soon. He’ll watch over you while I go to work.” You nod to yourself. Nothing more than a half-dead pet is what you are. “Would you like parmesan?”

“Yes, please.” He nods, bringing out the grater and you slouch against the table. Resting your head on your arms, you admire his fantastic backside that you haven’t had the luxury to explore in so long and sigh, mind drifting off to so long ago.

.

“This could not get exponentially worse,” the man mutters under his breath as he glances up at the lights for the five-hundredth time.

“Glaring at the ceiling won’t make Fire Department come faster,” you sigh, rubbing your temple. You’ve got no cell service so you have no idea how you’re going to tell your boss that you’re going to be late. Pacing around the elevator, your heels click and he glowers at the infernal shoes for a moment before crossing his arms and looking away. You spare him a glance — he’s well dressed, tall, and he’s got nice hair. You can’t say you’ve seen him before though.

“I’d like to get to work before midnight,” he replies snappily but his tone carries no bite. Instead, he tilts his head up again to stare at the lights. It catches his face in an extremely flattering way.

“You’re not the only one.” Your heels are chafing your ankles but they’re your best pair and your makeup is as on point as you can do it. You dressed to impress and now you’re late. Shifting weight from one foot to the other, you pull a face when you wobble.

“Take off your heels,” the man mutters and your eyes dart up to him. He waves a hand from where his arms are still crossed across his chest. “I don’t mind and you are certainly uncomfortable.” Relieved, you hold onto the rail of the elevator and take each heel off one at a time, cheeks burning. You can’t bare to look at this stranger in the eye and thank him so you mutter a short ‘thanks’ as you get your second shoe off and set them next to your handbag.

“I’ve never seen you before,” you start and he sends you an idle glance. “Are you a tenant?” His answer surprises you.

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh, really?” You’re surprised. You would’ve noticed Handsome Stranger from miles away. What with his fitted suits and tailored looks, this is not the place you expect a guy like him to live in. “This place isn’t exactly five-star. But it’s nice,” you offer and he manages a snarky grin. Rolling your eyes, you lean against the wall and enjoy the cold tile against your feet. “How come I’ve never seen you at the parties?”

“I don’t like parties.”

“I can tell.” He sends you an annoyed look and you smirk. “Where’re you from?”

“A palace, in a place called Asgard.” His pretentious tone isn’t lost on you.

“Okay... Guess there’s no opening up with you,” you sigh, sliding down the wall and sitting with your knees tucked to your chest. It’s gonna be a long day. He sweeps his glance around the elevator as if there’s someone else before slinking down as well. He sits against his wall, you against yours.

“I have a brother and I moved here two years ago from England.”

“That’s better than nothing,” you acknowledge with a small smile. He chuckles huskily, and you smile at the sound, small but genuine.

“I’m Loki.” Your smile grows and so does his.

“I’m (Y/N).”

.

“I don’t like this.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun!”

Thor’s right to some degree. You haven’t gotten outside in ages and even in your wheelchair, you can enjoy the sunlight on your face and the fresh air. Pushing you through the park, the blond chats about absolutely nothing, making pleasant talk about the birds or the sun.

“Loki’s worried about you,” Thor says softly as he parks you beside a bench and sits down. He cracks open his water and takes a sip. “I hadn’t realized you had reached the accelerated phase.”

“Chronic myelogenous leukemia is a bitch.” You raise your eyes to where some kids are playing chase or something down the hill. Another kid’s on his side, rolling down the hill, his shirt stained with green already. “I’ve been fighting this for three years, Thor. None of it works. It’s only a matter of time.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” he says and you turn to stare at the man with storm eyes. He’s your best friend and there are things you can say to him but not your boyfriend. It’s always been like this. You never wanted to see Loki the way you found him again.

“Why? It’s the truth.” The words come out bitter.

“Because if you say that, then Loki will start believing it.” Your legs use to be strong enough to run and walk, to jump into Loki’s arms and climb onto Thor’s back for a piggyback ride. You used to be strong enough to keep fighting. “Loki still believes in you.”

“The TKIs didn’t work.”

“But the stem cell transplant might.”

“It might kill me.” Fidgeting, you look into your lap. “Thor, an allogenic transplant — who knows if I’ll find a match.”

“You have to try,” he murmurs and takes your hand. He’s startling warm compared to your pale, frigid fingers and you clutch onto him. It’s nearing summer and you’re bundled up in scarves and jackets. You know if Loki saw you outside, he’d have a heart attack. Being outside is near suicide for you. But you needed this. Thor’s right. “They can put you on the list today.”

“Thor—”

“Loki loves you. He’s loved you for eight years. Don’t give up on him today.” You bite your lip as you think of every kiss you’ve shared, every night you’ve stayed up laughing and every morning he’s made you coffee. Every day he’s driven you to work and every day you’ve taken care of him when he was overworked. You close your eyes. “Let him care.”

“Fine. Fine. Put my name on the list.”

Thor smiles, then comments idly about the weather.

.

“Loki?” Your voice echoes down the parking lot but you’re sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Parked just across the way from where you stand is Loki, loading his bags into his own car. He stiffens at the sound of his name, raising his head tiredly as you walk over with a smile.

It’s been months since you’ve been stuck in that elevator and you sometimes caught Loki coming home from work or going.

You aren’t friends, more acquaintances, but you do know things about him. His brother, Thor, lives in the same city but doesn’t work an office job. He’s a construction worker for Stark Industries, if you recall. They’re close, but Loki hates their dad. He was adopted. Loki’s twenty-six, born in February. He wasn’t class president or valedictorian but he is an eloquent English and accounting major who went to Oxford. You know it counts for something that his silver tongue can make you believe anything.

Still, you never thought you’d see him here.

“(Y/N).” His smile is forced and his tone is pleasant in a fake way, but you take the fact that he hasn’t told you to fuck off yet a good thing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You work here?” Your smile turns incredulous because you can’t really believe this man with a double-major and a minor in philosophy from Oxford works in the same place as you who has a human resources degree tucked under your belt.

“Apparently so,” he says as he closes the door and turns to look at you full on.

“All this time, and you never told me?”

“All this time, and you never told me?” he fires back and you surrender to that. You’ve never seen him at work but you work in HR so, figures. He’s a decent guy — no reason for him to go down to HR. “Are you going home as well?”

“Yeah, I cut through the parking lot to get to the bus stop.” You jerk your head to the entrance on the other side where it’s pouring rain. He looks at you, from your dress jacket down to your pencil skirt and heels before staring at you. You stare back, accepting the dubious glint in his eyes. “I have an umbrella,” you say lamely.

For a moment, he continues to stare and then sighs, head ducking. When he raises his blue stare again, it’s blank and disbelieving as he pulls open the door to the front passenger seat.

“Get in.” Your eyebrows struggle to meet your hairline as you take a step back, head jerking back. He can’t be serious. You barely know the guy. “Get in or drown from pneumonia. It’s your choice.”

“You have a funny way of being nice,” you mutter. He takes it as your acceptance and walks around the car to the driver’s side as you duck into his car and buckle in. His tiny smile goes missed by you as you adjust the seat to your height, and he misses your blush as he tells you that the temperature controls are in your hands.

.

When I awoke The moon still hung The night so black That the darkness hums

“I signed up for the transplant list today,” you whisper, voice fading in and out of existence as Loki turns to you. You’ve only a few more days before you have to go to the hospital. It’s getting worse and it’s better for the doctors to keep you for observation they said. “Thor helped me get on the list.” Gently pressing himself against you, he cradles you in his warmth. Your eyes are closed. It’s easier on the pounding in your head if they’re closed. The gentle rumble of the AC accompanies Loki’s breath as he kisses the back of your bald head.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs. You feel cold, even in your robes and pajamas, burrowing against Loki even more to try and find enough heat. Turning around, your legs tangle in his as his arms wrap around you. “Cold?”

“Very,” you whisper and he frowns against your hair as you press your face against his t-shirt.

“Do you want me to turn off the AC?” He goes to move but your weak pulls at his shirt make him pause. A whining sound stems from your throat and he slinks back underneath the covers. The moment he’s back within your reach, you fist the fabric of his shirt in your hands and hold him close with all your might.

“Stay. Just stay with me.” Eyebrows knitting together, his lips press against your brow. He ignores the hot fever gathering between your temples as he places a hand on the small of your back, holding you to him until you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

.

You’d recognize that face anywhere. At your annual Christmas party, you spot him nursing a glass of wine and wade your way over. The venue they’ve rented is decorated nicely, all festive and bright with twinkling tinsel and a Christmas tree in the corner.

“What are you doing here?” you ask once you make it through the crowd and pick your treats from the table. “I thought you hated parties.”

“I do.” His eyes flicker down for a brief moment, scanning your festive outfit and offering a smile “But this one isn’t so terrible with present company. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“It’s always very boring unless someone does something to get themselves fired.” Chuckling, you tilt your head. “Do you volunteer?” He doesn’t reply, finishing his wine so you take that as your answer and your opportunity to admire his attire. He’s wearing an off-white suit compared to his usual all black but it still brings out his eyes all the same. One of your co-workers waves to you, having just arrived and you smile back before turning your attention to Loki.

“I’m sure one of our interns will do the honours.” You roll your eyes at his response, picking a glass of red from the table nearby. “You look ravishing tonight.” Again, you roll your eyes as you sip but you can’t help the way your breath rattles in your chest as you avert your eyes.

“Do I?” you quip with half a smirk. “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.”

“And they call me silver-tongued.” Scoffing, you nudge him gently. Finishing off your own wine, you sigh. “Would you like more?”

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Surrendering your empty wine glass, you wrap your arms around yourself and glance around. There isn’t much going on — just mingling and chatter. Boring. Perhaps exploring the venue would kill some time but you can’t just leave such pleasant company alone. He’d scoop his own eyes out with spoons should you leave him alone. You know him.

Once Loki’s returned, you propose exploring the venue and he agrees quickly. Anything to kill time before they are legally allowed to leave without their boss firing them, you joke. It brings out one of his rare smiles.

The two of you escape the stuffy room to explore the other venues the building housed. The one your company rented is relatively small and you admire the golden chandeliers of the main entrance hall, the way you came in. All of it is so glittering and golden, catching the light. From a distance away, you can hear classical music and realize it’s echoing from speakers high up in the ceiling.

“Loki, listen!” you exclaim, turning around to see if your companion’s gone the same way as you. There he is, bowed slightly and a hand offered to you.

“I learnt more than Rousseau at Oxford,” he murmurs and you blink, words failing. His dulcet tones weave into your ears, toying with you. Oh, how dependent you’ve grown on his voice to soothe your worries on the elevators ride to and from work. The few times he’s driven you to or from the office, he’s managed to soothe frazzled nerves and make you believe the most outrageous things much to your chagrin.

Placing your hand in his, you allow him to sweep you into a simple dance but in the arms of his, your feet barely whisper against the ground.

.

I raised myself My legs were weak I prayed my mind be good to me

“This isn’t how this was supposed to end,” Loki murmurs, brushing your forehead with a towel. Coughing, you manage a smile. The hospital monitors beeping is the only thing keeping him sane, letting him know you still breathe. The chemo’s been upped and the only thing it’s doing is keeping you alive at this point. “One more day. Please, one more.”

“Fine. One more,” you whisper, fingers bending over his. Nuzzling his face into your joint hands, he merely stares dolefully into your eyes. He looks so small that all you want is to cradle him close, tell him it’ll be okay. “You need to go home. You smell awful.”

“I’m not leaving your side.” Which he hasn’t since you’ve been admitted this morning. Leaning onto the edge of your bed, he sighs and rests his head against you. A warm feeling knots in your chest, making you warmer than you’ve felt in years as you gently shift to the side of your bed and pat the space beside you.

“Come on. Get on here.” He sends you skeptical look but when your sunken eyes glint with an untouched joy, he stands, shedding his suit jacket and kicking off his shoes. He turns on his side, an arm across your stomach as he follows the curve of your nose with his eyes, the hollowness of your cheeks. “I love you, so much,” you whisper.

“I know, my girl. I know.”

You lay awake for hours but he falls asleep at your side. Eventually, the need to pee has you squirming uncomfortably underneath Loki’s arm. Turning to him, you brush hair away from his forehead, kiss his temple, and remove his arm from your abdomen. You can make it to such a place as the bathroom. It’s a meager seven step journey and if you can do one thing, it’s not pee in the bed while your boyfriend sleeps.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you’re hit with a wave of nausea and your head spins. You clutch onto the end of the bed, trying to stop your vision from swimming. Your feet barely touch the floor and when you gently ease onto solid ground, your knees nearly give out. Collapsing, you catch yourself on the rail of the bed and push yourself up. Your breath rattles in your ribs as you tug your leads towards you. The monitor budges and then comes your I.V. It rolls and can be used as a rolling walking support so you wrap bony fingers around cold metal.

One, two, three steps.

You are close to passing out. Black dots flash in your eyes, eyelids sliding open and shut. Your hands are clammy and they slip on the metal pole. Catching yourself, you stumble into the wall and keen over, mouth open to retch.

Three, four, five steps.

“Oh, god,” you whimper under your breath, desperate to not wake him up. All that comes is globs of spit. You feel like you’re drowning, breath coming harder as you try to choke back the foul taste from your mouth. You haven’t eaten in nearly two days; nothing’s coming out. Wiping at your mouth, you scowl at your own pale hand and wipe it on your hospital gown. You’re strong enough for this. You can do this.

Six, seven steps.

“(Y/N)?” Stiffening, you raise your head to see Loki sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Once he sees you out of bed, he jumps out and takes hold of you. With a withering sigh, you lean against him. “I just wanted to go to the bathroom.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” he whispered, helping you in. You pull your underwear down and sit, the cold of the toilet seat causing you to shake. Crouching before you, Loki takes hold of one of your hands, the other on your knee. “You need to rest. If you need to move, tell me next time.” His eyes meet yours in the dark earnestly but in the night, you can barely see him. Using your free hand to feel his face, you nod and press your brow against his, thoroughly exhausted. “Be good to yourself. It’s all that you deserve and more.”

“I’m so tired,” you murmur and he kisses the spot between your eyebrows. You pull away to wipe and flush but refuse his help to stand so you can wash your hands. You do, however, allow him to carry you to bed.

.

“You’re an awful dancer,” Loki mutters as the music fades and the two of you break apart. Face flushed with wine and laughter, you stumble away from him and run your hand around a column, twirling around and smirking. “For someone so light on your feet, you’re awful.”

“Now, now. You hurt my feelings.” 

He laughs freely, following after you as you climb up the master staircase. Renewed vigor lifts your steps as you run your hand along the marble rail, running with a loud shriek when Loki starts chasing after you. It’s so strange to see such a playful side of him but you shove that thought in the back of your mind. What matters now is that he’s here, he’s chasing you, and you need to get away before his long legs catch up and his long arms catch you.

Your heels click like rapid little gun shots down the upper balcony as you fling open a door and go through another hall, surprised to see no one. The cameras are there though — surveillance is gonna have a field day. Glancing around, you see the rich red ceiling-to-floor curtains and, with a sly smile, set your shoes down the hall where he can barely see them underneath a curtain and shuffle behind one behind it, wrapping it tight around yourself.

“Where are you?” The growl comes accompanied by the gentle pat-pat of his dress shoes. “You can’t hide.” Chancing a peek, you see him just past you, heading for where your shoes are. Sliding out from your hiding spot, you try as hard as you can not to slip in your nylon stockings as you run up to him. “Where—”

“Boo!” Tackling into him, you beam up at him as he turns around with a horrendous shout. His flushed expression has you laughing uncontrollably, his chest heaving against yours from the fright. He quickly detaches you from him, hand to his chest and glaring at you in treachery.

“I hadn’t realized it was Halloween,” is all he says dryly. You can’t help the fits that still seize you as he straightens up, going for the heels you hid. Bending over, he hooks a finger on the straps and turns to you, eyebrow quirked and expression so completely done with you. “I assume these are yours.”

Heading over to him, you grab your heels from him and smile. “Thanks. Come on, I think the balcony is this way.” You two walk across the hall and when you open another set of doors, moonlight streams into the otherwise unlit hall. Silver light catches the marble in giant beams, separated by the shadows.

“‘Think’,” he repeats incredulously but follows all the same. “Put on your shoes.”

“No.”

“(Y/N),” he warns, “I didn’t suffer through you stepping on my toes for you not to wear them now.” Wrinkling your nose at him, you still refuse.

“I see no benefits to wearing them,” you argue and he sighs, turning to you for a brief moment. His tongue flickers out to wet his lips, eyes darting from your eyes to other parts of your face before he turns away. Your breath that had caught in your throat along with your heart when you thought he might kiss you flutters out. “Do you?” Your heart still rises into your head, blood roaring in your ears.

“I am only one in the opinion of many,” he brushes it off and you scowl petulantly. “Oh, wipe that pout off your face. You know I enjoy your legs in heels.” The heat returns to your face and stomach faster than you can comprehend, stunning you until you can’t do anything but follow him to the balcony doors. He glances around, then cracks them open gently. Snow, untouched and glistening, is pushed off the edge by the doors and you suppress a shiver. It chases away the flushing but not the feeling in your stomach.

“Cold?”

“A bit. But it’s fine.” You warily eye his arms clothed in a jacket, knowing any moment he’ll probably take it off. He’s done it a few times before when you’ve had to run in the rain but you don’t know what to think of it now. Instead, you turn your gaze out to view the city. The moon’s bathing everything in gentle white light, darkness hiding behind towering buildings. “It’s so pretty here,” you muse. “Imagine what it’s like in the woods somewhere. On a mountain, or something.”

“I can imagine,” he says and your eyes meet his. In the light, his eyes gleam like blue steel, half of his face shrouded in darkness, the other favoured by the moon. All at once, you’re aware of how close he stands and he smirks, reaching up and pointing at something above your heads. Eyes drifting up, you roll your eyes playfully.

“Was this your plan all along? Play along until you could get me alone?”

“Mmm, perhaps.” His fingers brush against your chin and you shiver for an entirely different reason this time.

“I thought you could woo someone without the use of mistletoe,” you comment, tilting your head up. His fingers explore the side of your neck, hand fitting just right against you. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth and you chew on your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. His soft smirk has your knees weak. “Loki—”

“Hush.” Your lips press together firmly, pouting and he chuckles to himself. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” He pulls you close and you forget all about the heels, letting them drop and flinging your arms around his neck. All thoughts swirling in your mind come to a halt as you just focus on the feel of his lips against yours.

.

An awful noise filled the air I heard a scream In the woods somewhere

The sound of a coffee cup crashing against the floor cracks the air. The caffeine beverage spreads across the floor, getting underneath his shoes but he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight behind the partially-closed blinds.

Thor can’t connect the sound coming from the room to the man he knows but somewhere in his mind, he knows. There’s a doctor in the room, his mouth moving but he can’t hear the words. A nurse is talking to him but Thor can’t hear as he steps towards the window, eyes darting to the monitors.

“Sir — Sir, I think he wants to be left alone.” The nurse’s voice is soft and quiet, going through one ear and out the other. Thor can hear someone call for a janitor really far away to wipe up his spilt coffee. His head’s dunked under water, everything sounding like bubbles popping.

“When?” he finally asks quietly. He’s not even sure the words slip past his lips or if the nurse can hear him. He doesn’t trust himself to raise his voice. He’d fall apart otherwise.

The nurse tilts her head, a soft glint to her eyes. “Only a few minutes ago.” She checks her watch. “Time of death was 6:38.” Thor swallows a hard lump. He had checked his phone at the coffee shop. He was getting his cappuccino at 6:38. He was there and not here and he didn’t even get to hear your last words or see your last smile. You, his sister in all but blood—

His hand reaches for the door, fingers meeting cold smooth metal when he hears it. The haunting, flat ring of the monitors sends ice crawling up his veins. Stumbling away from the room, he closes his eyes shut and turns away, hearing it rattle in his head. The awful noise, filled with the mechanical clicking of other rooms nearby drives him towards the elevator, desperate to escape the madness.

In the room, Loki cannot bring himself to want to escape. His hand hold onto yours, whispering promises as he stares at your peaceful face. With every blink comes a fresh round of tears and he lets out a gasping sob.

Forehead to your limp knuckles, he watches his tears fall to their deaths on the bed sheet. Part of him can’t comprehend it, that you aren’t sleeping. That part of him promises you’re just sleeping and you’ll wake up and give him that snarky smile he’d fallen in love with.

“I love you,” he says, voice hushed he can barely hear it over the chaos in his own mind. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Please don’t go.” His words are met with crisp silence. “Don’t go, don’t go.”

.

“Don’t go,” you whinge, pulling him back. Loki collapses against you, smiling against your mouth as you press a good morning kiss to his lips.

“The great outdoors await,” he whispers, leaning on his elbow. You chuckle, tossing an arm around his neck and kissing his jaw languidly. In your sleeping bag, you wiggle around to leech the warmth from his body. “Though, I’d rather much stay in here with you.”

“Camping was a stupid idea for a one year anniversary,” you bemoan, flopping back on your back. “I don’t know why I thought it’d be a good idea.” His throaty chuckle rumbles in your ear as he kisses the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He sits up and rolls out his neck, joints popping before smoothing a hand over his hair to gather it into a bun.

Jumping at the opportunity, you sit up and grab the hair tie from his wrist. “Let me.” You twist the hair into a practiced bun, sliding your hands to his shoulders and kissing his neck. “Good morning.”

“A pleasant way to start they day,” he agrees, pulling your jacket around your shoulders when you quiver. “Come on. Let’s get up and take a hike.”

“I don’t want to,” you mutter under your breath and he turns to you, arching an eyebrow as a delicate smile crosses his face for a second.

“Did you really think we’d stay in a tent and have sex all four days?” he asks incredulously and you smirk, winking. You stuff your feet into your boots and get out into the morning air that cools your insides and stings your eyes. “Next anniversary, I’m choosing where we’re going,” Loki comments crossly, sticking his head outside the tent. Turning around, you stretch your arms high above your head.

“Already thinking ahead,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, ducking back into the tent. Your heart thuds against your chest and you pull your jacket tighter around you to keep your ribs together. If your heart beats any harder, it’ll explode in your chest.

.

A woman's voice I quickly ran Into the trees With empty hands

The first few days after your death, Loki does not sleep. On times he tries, he sees the ring he’s stuffed in his drawer. It was supposed to be a surprise for your next birthday but you hadn’t even made it to that. Others, he sees the memories you’ve shared with him for so long, or that Christmas party of your first kiss. Or the child with the pure blue eyes.

Mostly, he hears you calling for him.

Wine dulls the edge, but he finds vodka does it faster. But it reminds him of the hospital, the smell of antiseptic too strong, so he abandons it after a night where he can’t remember anything he’s done. He can’t remember your face the morning after, and the notion of it makes his heart seize and crush in his chest. He pours what little he didn’t drink down the sink.

His life crumbles in his hands, and he runs out of excuses to drink. It used to be that you died, then his work and stress, and then the pain. But now the pain has disappeared to something numb poking at his fingers so he can’t even say he hurts.

When he sleeps — when he tries, at least — is when he can see you clearest. You smiling or laughing or crying or angry, every bit of you that he misses when he’s awake. He has photos of you, true, but nothing can ever hold a candle to you, the real you.

It’s a week of you screaming for him to save you when he finally even looks at wine again.

Is it worth it? He ponders to himself. To drink you away and forget your face, just to ease my pain? His mind, worn and stretched thin, pleads for him to take a pull, to drown in rich red and white and tequila and vodka. Anything at all—

His heart wins, as it did eight years ago when it told him to kiss you in the moonglow. Absolutely not.

So he goes outside for fresh air and starlight. He runs, the wind melting your lungs with its ice. The park is empty at this time of night but that’s what he likes. The moon draws his tears but the wind chases them away as soon as they fall, burning like fire down his red cheeks. The stars do not judge and the shadows protect him. He thinks he can feel you, the ghost of you holding him to your wisp of a body, and hear your voice, your lips against his cheek. He prays, for the first time in so long, that you’ll leave him alone and that you’ll stay — it changes every other moment.

Thor finds him asleep on the park bench the next morning, with a blanket and hot chocolate. He tells his brother he needs to sleep and that he shouldn’t drink coffee. Loki nearly collapses into tears when he realizes that the hot chocolate almost tastes like how you used to make yours.

.

A fox it was He shook afraid I spoke no words, no sound he made

The service was quiet. People from the office came, your family came. They said their words of condolence to Loki who has barely shown a flicker of life since your passing. His blue eyes drift emptily from one face to another, Thor responding in his stead as he stands beside him. The husk of a body Loki stays in goes through the motions the next few days, eating and sleeping as he should.

Two days later, Loki moves out of the apartment.

Thor welcomes his brother with open arms and lets him stay in the guest bedroom. Your clothes gather dust, your notebooks and laptop untouched and cold. He still goes to work but he knows they watch him, watch him work besides your empty cubicle where your pens still sit and your little post-its stick to the monitor.

It’s another week before Thor can convince Loki to go in to the apartment.

“There’s things that need to be donated. Things that can go to other people, I— Loki, come.” The man follows his brother, ghost-like and pale. He drifts in and out of this existence where you don’t exist and another where you do. The line’s getting blurry and he can’t really recall the last time he’s felt anything else but the freezing numbness of the night he spent in the park.

The clothes and blank notebooks, things that you never got the chance to use or the books you used to want to read but never got to, they’re donated to different charities. Your favourite books, your filled notebooks, your laptop and jewelry is what Loki keeps in a box that’s duct-taped shut. Everything else, your old worn uni hoodie, your bleached jeans with too many rips in them, the ratty tee you used to wear to sleep, everything else that held the spirit of you, it’s decided that it’ll be burnt.

Thor brings his brother to a clearing in the woods and builds a pyre, sending the embers and smoke up to the night sky. Loki watches the flames swallow the last bits of you, then looks around and thinks that living around here isn’t so bad.

He moves to a small house on the edge of the city and within driving distance of the woods. On weekends, he stays in a cabin instead of a tent and thinks you would like camping if it is here instead of out there.

Would have. You would have liked camping. He has to remind himself that you’re no longer more than an empty casket lowered in the ground and an urn of ashes hidden in the corner of his new closet. He hasn’t found anything to fill in the gigantic chasm where you had once fit. He wakes up with an ache all over and he doesn’t know if it’s the true heartache or if it’s just another symptom.

On his Saturdays, he takes a hike to the top of the mountain trail and back again. Atop the mountain, he drinks his coffee and talks about his week to the too-thin air, lungs heaving and legs weak, though they slowly gain the endurance for the trail. Sometimes, the sun shines on his face and he pretends it’s your hands cupping his cheeks. Mostly, he sits on the ledge, legs hanging off stone and looks down below. He reads to the air, or he looks at the clouds.

Mostly, he contemplates how far the drop would be from where he sits to the ground below and whether or not the pain will be enough to fill the gaping hole in his chest and force heat into his numbed body.

On his third Saturday on the mountain, he can hear the quick steps of something in the forest. He’s used to birds, but he’s never heard something up and about so early in the morning.

For a while, he ignores it, content with pulling out his homemade granola. It isn’t so bad, sweet just how he likes it and he spills it into his mouth. Besides, he tells himself, whatever it is could be just a deer or someone on a trail with their pets. Then the steps come quicker, lighter and he pauses. He’s heard of mountain lions in this area, other carnivores that can make his a quick death if he doesn’t get out.

Loki wonders for more time than a sane person should take if he should move or not.

Getting off the rock he’s sitting on, he stuffs the container into his pack before slinging it onto his shoulder. Buckling his pack around his chest and waist, he pauses mid-step to hear for it.

It’s coming from somewhere near the ledge. It doesn’t sound like a panther or a bear, or any animal with big claws that could macerate him in seconds. Staring blankly at the edge, he looks down to see how high up he is and then continues inland. The beginnings of the trail he’d walked coming up soon appears underfoot and he sees his own footprints in the mud on the trek up. There are another set of prints, a track that follows his and then split into the leaves.

There’s a soft thud and he steps towards a tree crowded by bushes. His boots crunch against the gravel and rock, dirt shifting underfoot. Pushing apart the brush, he grimaces when a stick stabs his palm but steps into nature. His boots shift in the dirt and a rotten stench hits his nose just as he parts the branches.

Dark amber eyes meet his and Loki freezes. A fox stands, midway through another step and he crouches down, getting a better look. He’s never seen one so up close. The fox lowers his black paw, limping farther towards the tree and Loki sees one of its paws mangled.

Moving forward, Loki goes to inspect the limb further. It’s broken, he’s sure of it. The best way would be to split it but he shouldn’t. A bone is poking out between the fur and it doesn’t even look like an old wound. Flies buzz around the wound and there’s a rotten stench. He read about splinting in one of the books he took with him last weekend. Still, he has not a clue on how to do it and the blood that wells where the fur broke as well as the pulsing red skin makes Loki think there is no time left for this creature.

He’s young. The fox has a pelt that shines in the morning light, russet and white and black melding seamlessly into one another. It’s muzzle is dark, whiskers glinting silver. Too young to die.

Loki finds that that is true for many things on this Earth.

.

His bone exposed His hind was lame I raised a stone to end his pain.

“No extraordinary measures,” you say, the minute the doctor leaves your room. You’ve caught the cancer in time and Loki’s holding your hand in a death grip. You’ve got good odds but even then, he can hear the tightness in your voice. “I don’t want them.”

“Think about it,” he says in a way to change the subject, or to stop you from talking, you’re not quite sure. What you are sure is that his world had been just flipped upside down. “In fact, let’s not think about it. Let’s just cherish what time we have—”

“Loki, don’t. Don’t make this harder—” Your words fade when he stands abruptly. His eyes flicker from you to the monitor reading your healthy heart as if he’s sure it’ll stop any second. Sitting up straighter, you reach for his hand. “Loki…”

“Excuse me for a moment.” The words are barely heard, hanging in the air and clicking into their imaginary space as the door closes softly.

.

You lay on your side, staring out the window listlessly. Ever since Loki’s left, you’ve stayed in your room and tried to sort out your thoughts.

Is that it? Are we over, just like that? Your eyes close and you swallow a knot, trying not to let the ache in your heart get to you. He deserves more than this. All of a sudden, everything hurts and you let out an ugly cry. Burying your face into the pillow, you curl into a ball and sob. Spit spreads to your cheeks, mixing with your tears in the pillowcase and an unbridled rage rears its disgusting head within you. It fuels you with such unspoken energy that you throw the pillow off the bed, screaming.

Hands wrap around your shoulders and you thrash, tears burning down your cheeks. A soft voice hushes, wrapping around you as you exhaust yourself. Everything is on fire and all anyone can do is add wood to it. Except—

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m sorry I left.” Loki is water, calm and cool. He quenches your fire, puts it out and you drown in his embrace. You feel smaller now than you did before but you fit into him as you always have. “I… I got the papers outside. When you’re ready, perhaps we could go through them together.” Your eyes meet his and you see the cracks in his heart deepen.

“Thank you,” you say. He never takes his eyes off of you again for the rest of the day. He burns a hole into the hand that signs your paper, stating that should anything go wrong, you’re to be pulled off life support. And though he tells you that he loves you, you know that some part of Loki hates you for signing what he sees as a death sentence.

.

Loki sits with the fox, his hand on a stone. He debates on whether or not to just end it now, glancing from the fox to the ledge. The creature’s on his stomach, eyes flickering shut. It’s leg is slick with dark blood, it’s fur matting with the dirt and Loki leans against the trunk of a tree, extending his legs before him. The fox still hasn’t made a sound, and neither has he.

All he’s thought about is you.

What you would’ve done, what you would’ve said. Loki wants to feel his legs snap beneath him before he dies, he decides. This is a nice place to die. Loki likes the thought of being brave enough to stare death in the eye.

.

What caused the wound How large the teeth? I saw new eyes were watching me

“What do you think of kids?” you ask meekly. Loki’s still kissing each knob of your spine down your back and you twist in his arms.

“We’re a bit young to think of kids, my girl,” he murmurs against your neck. You can admit that that’s true, but it’s been nearly five years you two have been together. “But, yes, some day.”

“Boy or girl?” you probe and he chuckles, nipping at your ear.

“Which would you like?”

“A girl,” you say confidently. He sighs, burrowing closer and you kiss his hands that rest on your chest. “And… and,” you trail off and Loki looks at you. Your back pressed against his chest, he kisses your shoulder.

“What?”

“Would you want to get married?”

“When the time comes,” says Loki, “yes, I’d like to marry you.” The thought alone warms you and you smile to yourself, pulling his arm tighter around you. His hair tickles your skin as he rests his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. “I always thought of adopting a child.”

“I’d like that.” Your eyes close and he whispers a goodnight to you before leaning over you to turn off the light. Loki sleeps easier when you’re in his arms and when you settle, he can’t help the smile that doesn’t cease to fall. For once, his life seems to be planned out before him, clear to see and mapped out.

A week later, Loki wakes you up with pancakes and tells you he loves you dearly before asking if you want to go to the nearby orphanage. You agree.

The orphanage is well-kept and organized, with classrooms and a nursery and rooms with other kids. One of the workers offers a tour and you go to follow.

“Loki? Do you not want to—”

“No, go ahead. I’ll meet you again later.” He pecks your lips chastely before sending you on your way. When you’re gone, he begins to wander on his own. The rooms are aligned straight down the hall, with personalized name tags and other such things. There are toys littering the hallway and Loki smiles when a boy darts out to grab his truck and runs down the hall and down the stairs. Most of the kids are in the play areas and rec rooms. He’s seen a few of the older kids lounging around the TV.

However, down the hall, he can hear one tiny voice talking to someone else and follows the sound. There’s one open door at the end of the hall with no name tag and Loki knocks on the wood. The girl inside is dressed in a long grey shirt-dress and striped leggings. In her hands, she holds some Barbie or other and Loki guesses she’d been playing Pretend before he knocked.

“May I come in?” She nods and Loki steps in tentatively. Crouching, Loki gestures to the doll. “Were you playing Pretend?” Again, a nod. She’s nervous, he can tell, so he asks, “What’s your name?”

“Aloisia.”

“Aloisia. Beautiful name.” Loki looks around the room. Not much is in, the walls still a drab white. She must be new. Aloisia does smile and says he can sit if he’d like though so Loki crosses his legs and gets comfortable. “How old are you?” he asks, picking up the toy horse idly. Aloisia looks up at him with the biggest blue eyes.

“Six. My parents died in a car crash,” she states factually and Loki’s taken aback by how blunt she is. He nods and keeps up the smile but he can’t help the sympathy he feels for her. Children forced to grow up too young are never children to begin with. “What’s your name?”

“Loki,” he says and she grabs the horse from him, her smile ever growing. He doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until you find him in Aloisia’s room. Crouching behind him, you wrap your arms around Loki’s shoulders and greet his new friend. “Aloisia, this is (Y/N).”

“Hey, there.” Your smile is warm and you sit beside Loki.

“Aloisia, why don’t you show (Y/N) all your Barbies?” Loki prompts and the girl gets up excitedly, much more lively than when Loki had first went in. As the girl goes to her trunk to dig up her collection, Loki leans over to you and whispers, “She’s the one.”

.

Loki’s been sitting an hour or so based on the sun. The fox has fallen asleep at this point, the oozing blood drying in its fur. His fingers are curled around the stone and he’s raised it a few times to see if he has the guts to smash it down on the fox’s skull.

You shouldn’t. Let him sleep, a voice says and Loki pauses. It’s his own conscience but he can’t — there’s something about those words that aren’t his. He lets go of the stone. The hairs along his back rise and a wind sweeps under his jacket, gooseflesh following after. The words repeat in his head as he tries to put a finger on the voice.

Aloisia. It’s Aloisia, he realizes with a start. The orphan girl they’d visited up until your last hospital visit where you’d stayed permanently always had a penchant for animals. She is nine now, older and much more mature than she should be. Impatient as well, wondering when they were going to adopt her.

“Sorry, Lola,” you had said, “I’m just very sick right now. We don’t want to be unable to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself! Let me go home with you.”

The last words of their almost-daughter echo in his head. The two of you should’ve adopted Lola when you still had the chance.

.

The creature lunged I turned and ran To save a life I didn't have

Loki wonders then if Aloisia knows you’re dead.

It’s a thought that occurs and he can’t believe he’s even forgotten the little girl he’s fallen in love with over the course of a morning. You always said he was smitten by their little girl.

Our little girl, he repeats, heart throbbing. He has to visit her when he goes back to the city. She likes the hot chocolate you used to make, my girl. And her favourite Barbie is the one like the cowgirl. How could I forget you, Lola?

He’s been sitting here for hours and his back is stiff. Shifting in the dirt, he stifles a yawn just as the fox sniffs and raises its head drowsily. It’s amber gaze is cloudy but once it spots him, its lip curls in a bloodthirsty snarl.

The last thing Loki sees is a flash of russet and black, teeth bared and aimed for his neck. A blinding pang hits him tight and he raises his arms in defence. The fox caught his jacket, growling and raving, but Loki manages to shake him off and run. The boots slap against dirt and leaves as he sprints with reckless abandon.

I’m not strong enough, his whirlwind thoughts scream, not strong enough to face death in the eye. I’m sorry, my girl — I can’t join you yet. Lola’s sweet face burns bright in his mind and Loki tries to breathe through the burning in his lungs. He can’t hear the fox running after him but he still runs. He’ll run until the edge of the forest if he has to. Anything to outrun death’s shadow. He can fool himself all he wants but he is not interested in dying, even if it gives him you.

.

Dear, in the chase There as I flew Forgot all prayers Of joining you

“What happened to (Y/N)?” Lola asks as she helps set the table. Loki pauses from where he’s cooking the meat sauce for the pasta. The little girl’s voice is carefully constructed to give nothing away and Loki wishes that Aloisia hadn’t picked up your knack for masks and hiding. At nine years old and nearing ten, Lola’s quite perceptive. Something Loki normally hopes she gets from him but now dreads. “She’s gone isn’t she? Just like my parents.”

“How old were you when your parents passed?” he asks, hoping to switch the topic.

“Three. I don’t really remember it.” Aloisia sits at the table as Loki wraps silicone grips around the handles of the pot and pours it over the spaghetti. “So is it just you and me?” Setting the dish on the table, Loki takes off the silicone grips and throws them on the kitchen island. He bends over and presses his nose to Lola’s hair briefly before sitting at the table.

“It is just you and me,” he affirms quietly and Lola nods. Serving her a plate, Loki watches hesitantly as she twists her fork in the spaghetti. She’s only been adopted for three days but already, she’s made herself at home. Loki had realized with a painful punch to the gut that Aloisia had picked up a lot of your own tastes. “Is the pasta alright?”

“It’s good,” she says and Loki nods to his own plate.

“You’ll start school soon, and you’ll make new friends. Would you like that?” Loki continues and Aloisia nods. “Good.” He forces a smile and her big blue eyes scan his face for a moment before she stabs a meatball and bites a bit of it off. They eat in silence except for the moment Aloisia asks for a cup of juice. When they’ve had their fill, Loki scoops the leftovers into a container as Lola brings the plates to the sink and sets it on the counter.

“Go shower. Dessert and movie later,” he tells her and she hugs his legs for a moment.

“Okay, Papa,” she says sweetly. Loki’s heart collapses in his chest and he smiles softly down at his daughter, placing a hand on her head. She grins, heading down the hall where her room is. He painted it a shade of blue a few days before she’d arrived and filled it with a huge bed, a closet and shelves. She had loved it.

There are moments when he still forgets you’re dead. Moments so perfect where he’s holding someone who was supposed to be your daughter too, reading her bedtime stories. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine you coming home from work and scooping Lola up, rubbing your noses together as she squeals that little giggle of hers. Then he remembers that urn full of you in his closet and he reminds himself all too firmly how gone you are.

But Lola keeps him busy. Having a daughter is certainly an adjustment and Thor is besotted by his niece. She takes up dance and music and art, curious in all sorts of lessons, and makes friends at her new school that Loki barely remembers how hard it is to keep going without you. On Sundays, they have a family dinner with her Uncle Thor but on Saturdays, they take hikes up to the mountain as long as Lola wants to. Sometimes, they watch movies and sleep in. Lola likes to cuddle on his chest as they watch, and it is in this position they are in as they watch Despicable Me on their second Saturday together as a family.

“Papa, you don’t look like yourself,” she says and Loki looks down at her, frowning quizzically.

“How do you mean?”

“Ever since (Y/N) died, you don’t feel the same,” she says. Loki sighs, hoisting her up and she sits in his lap, leaning into his chest. “Do you miss her?”

“Terribly,” he whispers, pecking his child’s temple. “Let me tell you something, Lola.” He mutes the TV and his daughter twists to face him. “When someone you love very much dies, they always take a part of you with them. I loved (Y/N) for a very long time. I would’ve married her if she asked, so when she died, she stole something from me.”

“She should give it back,” she replies quietly. From any other child, it would sound snobbish and petulant but Aloisia only stares at him with the blue eyes he’d drowned in the first time they met. “I miss her.”

“I miss her, too.” He goes for the remote, his finger hovering over the mute button to toggle it off when a thought pops into his head. “But you know something, Lola,” he prompts and she raises her head again. Loki wonders if he imagines your features in Aloisia’s face or if it was ever truly meant to be. “Ever since you’ve moved in, I am almost me again.” And she’s almost you, (Y/N). Sweet, and kind, and blunt as can be. Mountainous tasks are like anthills to Lola.

“Will you ever be okay?” Lola asks, eyes drifting to the array of framed pictures of you along the desk beneath the mounted TV.

“Of course, my girl. Of course.” And for once, Loki believes the words coming out of his mouth.

.

I clutched my life and wished it kept My dearest love I'm not done yet

“You look better, Loki,” Thor says, sipping on his pretend tea cup a child had passed him earlier. In front of them, Aloisia helps baby Morgan Stark begin to walk in the living room. It’s the Morgan’s birthday and Loki had been inclined to go since Tony is Thor’s friend and by extension, Loki’s. “Some colour, some warmth.” His eyes soften as he holds his brother by the shoulder. “Lola’s good for you.”

“I spoil her,” Loki mutters helplessly, running a hand over his head to smooth out any bumps to his bun.

“So? She’s good.”

The Starks have a huge mansion and Loki can hear other kids running around upstairs but Tony and Pepper only have eyes for their small daughter. Their son, AJ — Antonio Jarvis — has his friends over and Loki swears he can hear Peter Parker running around with them.

Sitting down on the couch, Loki sighs and eats the finger foods provided at any regular party. Thor perches on the arm rest, arms crossed and the two brothers watch as Aloisia helps Morgan get up again. Tony’s enthusiastically recording while Pepper claps her hands and encourages her little daughter, on her knees across the wood floor.

“This is something she would’ve loved,” Loki remarks and Thor glances down at him. “I know it. She always wanted kids, even if she never said.”

“Loki—” Thor’s throat cinches shut and he clears it, trying to blink away the blurriness in his eyes. “I’ll keep the ring,” decides Loki aloud. “It’s what she would’ve wanted, to pass on some heirloom.” Thor nods, trying not to make a noise as he presses his lips together. It’s a hard topic to broach with the huge blond man. He’d lost his best friend after all, and while he loves to support his younger brother, Loki knows Thor feels every inch of your death. A earth-shattering laugh splits the morose air between the two brothers and Thor’s eyes dart to where Morgan is successfully stumbling her way to her mother. Aloisia claps, laughing loudly.

“Papa, Uncle, look! She’s walking!” Lola runs towards them, jumping into her father’s lap and beaming from ear-to-ear. The ray of sunshine in Loki’s lap prompts one of his own chuckles and Thor starts at how genuine it sounds.

“I can see that, my girl,” he teases and Lola sticks out her tongue before sliding off and running towards Tony.

“She laughs like her,” Loki says wistfully once she’s out of earshot. Thor cannot help his own smile when he thinks, And you laugh like you again, brother.

.

How many years I know I'll bear I found something In the woods somewhere

“Do you like the view?” Loki asks. Lola’s arms tighten around his neck and Thor sighs. Setting down the pack, the blond man sits on the ledge. The trek had been long and exhausting, especially when they’ve woken up while it’s still dark out. Loki raises his chin, feeling the wind lick at his face. The summer wind may be warmer but at sunrise, it does well enough. He sets down Lola and turns to her, half a smile on his face.

“Yes, Papa,” she says and holds up the bag she carried for him. “I kept it safe.”

“Thank you, my girl,” he murmurs, crouching beside her. She slides an arm along his shoulders, hugging him for warmth and Loki lets her step between his legs to huddle as he cracks open the urn.

“I never knew you had a view like this, brother,” Thor murmurs, eyes meeting his. With an arm around his daughter, Loki stares into your ashes. The wind already tries to steal you away but he simply kisses the silver embellishment. Tears escape and Lola wipes them away for him. Kissing her cheek, Loki uses the hand that’s around Lola to hold the urn while the free hand sets down the lid and slips into the soft powder.

The wind carries you off his fingers like ashy snow. Thor and Loki take turns, spreading you across the forest and when you are gone with the wind, Lola takes Loki’s hand. For the first time in months, the numbness leaves his fingers and he feels the warmth of the tiny palm in his.

TAGLIST: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala @dulharpa

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

The Perfect Moment (Chapter 5

Summary: When Cyrus is assigned to create a modern re-telling of “Romeo and Juliet” for English class, he decides to produce a movie. His stars, however, may pose some trouble. Will he finish his movie on time?

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Thank you!

Cyrus stared at his script, unblinking. The words all seemed to swirl together, like a giant dry alphabet soup. His eye twitched as he took note of the lines and scratches of his own handwriting - various attempts to write and re-write the ending. 

But, no matter what he tried, it all just sounded…off.

He was supposed to have a sad and tragic ending (no death required) and his original was pretty sad, but Mr. Spencer told him that if he could pull it off, he could keep it. But, now that Cyrus was re-reading and picturing it all in his head, it did seem complicated. Too complicated for a bunch of 8th graders with limited budget. So, he resolved to change it.

But, he couldn’t think of a single thing! His mind was blank! Why did writer’s block have to hit him right now?!

He had spent a good part of his Saturday cutting clips and editing and the sun was about to set while he was attempting to re-write this last scene!

Groaning, he fell back against the couch, closing his eyes. His head was pulsing so he lifted a hand to massage his temples with his fingers.

His phone ping-ed with a text and Cyrus blindly reached for it, hiding somewhere under his many papers. Finally, he found it and slowly opened his eyes, squinting.

Hey. What’s up?

Cyrus felt his lips twitch into a smile at T.J.’s text. It was so simple yet it made his stomach flip.

Trying to re-write this scene for the millionth time. Ugh I hate writer’s block.

T.J.’s reply didn’t take long. 

Bummer. Need help?

He was really sweet.

Thank you but it’s getting late. I’m done with it for the day.

He hesitated before sending a follow-up text. 

Do you want to come by tomorrow though? Maybe we can toss some ideas around together. Two heads are better than one after all!

His heart pumping, Cyrus pressed ‘send’ before he could change his mind. Placing the phone against his chest, he took a deep breath. He hoped T.J. would say “yes” because he really liked spending time with him. This project had given them the opportunity to get closer and maybe, the little bit of hope in Cyrus was already taking over.

His phone ping-ed, distracting him from his thoughts.

Sure! I’ll come by around 11?

Grinning, Cyrus responded, Sounds perfect!

Pressing the phone back against his chest, Cyrus let out a loud sigh. He was looking forward to tomorrow.

……….

At exactly 11am on the dot, T.J. rang the Goodman home’s doorbell. Cyrus practically tripped on his own feet to answer it. The athlete came bearing snacks so just like Friday afternoon, they settled themselves on the living room couch.

Even though it was almost lunchtime and his step-mom had left them money for pizza or Chinese, Cyrus attacked the box of Oreo cookies T.J. brought. 

For the next hour or so, they exchanged ideas and Cyrus dutifully wrote them all down… even the ridiculous ones.

“Oh! How about an alien invasion happens and they kidnap Quinn but Logan offers himself as an exchange?” T.J. suggested through a mouthful of chips.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow and wrote “alien kidnapping” on his notes.

“Where are we gonna get a spaceship and alien costumes at the last minute?” he pointed out.

T.J. hummed and shrugged. “Maybe Andi’s mom can do alien makeup?”

Cyrus chuckled and added that to his notes. T.J. leaned in, pressing his shoulders against his, to look at the piece of paper.

“Does anything else look good?” he asked, unaware of how much Cyrus’ heart was speeding up right then.

Why did a simple touch make him feel so overwhelmed?

“U-Um… I like the one where they end up injured and unable to play their respective games and thus, ruining the championships for both teams and resentment arises in their relationship so they break up,” he answered.

T.J. hummed. “It’s simple but straightforward. I like it.”

Cyrus beamed. “I originally had Logan about to get hit by a car and Quinn shoves him out of the way but she ends up losing all of her memories of him.”

“That’s a good one. Why do you have to re-write it?”

“It requires filming a car accident which I don’t have the time for nor do I want Buffy to get unintentionally injured… or you.”

“Awww, thanks, Underdog.” The jock ruffled his hair, fondly, before falling back against the couch. “So… are you gonna start writing now?”

Cyrus sighed as he grabbed his notebook and opened to a fresh page. “I suppose so.”

While T.J. played around on his phone next to him, Cyrus began to write. Now that he had an idea in his head, he had to put it all down before he lost it.

Logan and Quinn agree to meet one last time. But, Logan’s Captain finds out and tries to stop him. Meanwhile, Quinn continues to wait for Logan but she hears a loud noise. Thinking it’s Logan, she goes to investigate, falls down some stairs, and breaks her arm. And after that….

Cyrus blinked. He re-read everything he just wrote but he still came to the same conclusion: he didn’t know what else to write now.

Quinn falls down the stairs and breaks her arm. Then… what?

“Wow, you wrote a lot.”

He turned his head to give T.J. an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but it’s not done yet. I… can’t think of what happens next.” Suddenly feeling tired, he leaned his head against the couch. “My head hurts,” he whined. Then, his stomach moved and made a noise. “And hungry.” He checked the clock on the wall. “It’s past noon. We should eat.”

He turned back to T.J. to see the athlete staring at him with a deep, contemplative look.

“What?” he asked.

“Have you taken a break from this project at all this week?” T.J. asked.

Cyrus pursed his lips. “Well, obviously I took breaks and did my homework for other classes.”

Suddenly, T.J. got to his feet and stretched. Cyrus was momentarily distracted by his shirt lifting up.

“Get your things, we’re going out.”

Pulling his gaze away from the hem of T.J.’s shirt, Cyrus looked up.

“Huh?”

T.J. grinned. “We’re going out. You’re taking a break.”

Cyrus frowned. “But…”

T.J. grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “Let’s go.”

…….......

Instead of taking him to The Spoon like he expected, T.J. led Cyrus to a pizza place on Main Street. There wasn’t a lot of people so they managed to buy their pizza and grab a table, immediately. 

Cyrus didn’t realize how hungry he really was until he smelt the cheese and tomato sauce so he dug in with much enthusiasm.

“Did you starve?” T.J. joked before biting into his own pizza.

Cyrus flashed him a harmless glare. “We were working for a long time. Oreos are good but they don’t fill up a growing boy.”

“Well, then, eat up cause we’re going somewhere after this.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were just taking a lunch break.”

“You need a real break. Just for a couple of hours. Once your head is clear, you can get back to writing the rest of your assignment with a fresh mind.”

Cyrus pointedly stared at his pizza, unsure. He still had quite a bit to do. Would taking a couple of hours break really be okay? What if he fell behind?

As if he could read his thoughts, T.J. spoke up. “You won’t fall behind, don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

“T.J., you don’t have to, you know. This is my work and I’m sure you have your own assignments too.”

The athlete shook his head, looking almost amused. “I’m touched that you care about my education, Underdog, but it’s fine. Really. I’m getting my work done and I can spare some time to help you. This is a big project! I can’t let you do it all on your own!”

Cyrus bit his lip. “But…”

“But, nothing. I’m offering my help. So, take it, okay? You don’t have to do everything by yourself. It’s okay to ask for help.”

At that, Cyrus couldn’t help but smile. “You sound so wise.”

T.J. flashed a smile of his own. “You taught me that.”

And now, Cyrus was blushing. Of course. Could he not go a day without blushing around T.J.? You’d think this was his first crush!

………

After lunch with Cyrus, T.J. led him a couple of blocks away to the place where he wanted to take him. He had thought many times about taking the other boy there (preferably on a date) but he never got the opportunity until that day. He hoped that Cyrus would like and would have fun.

“Ta-da!” T.J. gestured to the building with a flourish.

Cyrus stared at the building. “The arcade?” he stated.

T.J. grinned. “Yeah. Today, we’ll have fun, just you and me.” Excitedly, he took Cyrus’ arm and began to tow him towards the doors. “We’ll play all the games and win prizes and they have snacks, too, if you get hungry.” He spun on his heels to look at the shorter boy in front of him. “So? You game?”

Cyrus looked startled at that. For a moment, he only stared at T.J. then at the games and machines ahead of them. Then, he smiled and its radiance made T.J.’s heart flutter.

“Well, what are you waiting for, basketball guy? Let’s go!”

He grabbed T.J.’s arm and towed him towards the nearest game.

They started simple with a racing game. Side-by-side, they raced through a desert landscape, avoided other cars, and finally reaching the finish line. Cyrus won this one.

He let T.J. pick the next one and since he felt like shooting zombies… 

Cyrus (cutely) wrinkled his nose at the sight of the gross-looking undead characters but when it came to shooting them, he wasn’t half bad… until the king zombie popped out and scared him half to death that he started shooting randomly all over the screen. Suffice to say, they won because he managed to hit the zombie king on the head.

Then, they played air hockey. This was when T.J.’s competitive nature flared. He spared no mercy, not even to his crush. Cyrus pouted at him when he missed the puck for the very last time, making T.J. the winner.

“Awww, it’s okay, Underdog,” he said, flinging an arm around the pouting boy’s shoulder. “We can play something else and I’ll let you win.”

“Don’t you dare, T.J. Kippen! I want to win fair and square!”

T.J. chuckled, pulling him closer and squeezing him against his side before letting him go.

“How about basketball then?” he said, pointing at the game. “We can do it together and get tickets for a prize. You in?”

This seemed to cheer up Cyrus. “With you? This will be a piece of cake! Let’s go!”

Cyrus was pretty enthusiastic when trying to shoot basketballs. Unfortunately...

“Ugh!” Cyrus glared at the 5 tickets the machine spit out. “I hate this game now! I keep missing!”

T.J. tore the tickets out and stuffed them in his pockets. “It’s okay, we can try again.”

He put another quarter in and the game started again. He began to shoot at a steady speed, taking peeks of Cyrus from the corner of his eye.

The shorter boy looked so cute, eyes peeled wide as he bit his lip in concentration.

“How are you doing that?!” Cyrus whined.

T.J. furrowed his brows. “Doing what?”

“Shooting without looking?!”

“Oh.” He felt a little smug after that. And maybe showed off a little.

They got 10 tickets for this round. But, Cyrus still didn’t look happy so T.J. put in another quarter. This time, he grabbed a basketball and got behind Cyrus.

“Here, I’ll fix your stance for you.” He placed the ball in Cyrus’ hands before positioning his arms correctly. “Bend your knees a little and jump if you have to.” Then, he moved his hands to cover his. “Don’t throw the ball, just toss it and give it momentum with your hand.”

Cyrus’ ears were a cute red and T.J. couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable it was.

He helped him shoot and the ball went in, earning them a point.

“Yes! Let’s keep going! We have 30 seconds left!”

T.J. moved back to his side and began grabbing ball after ball to shoot. This time, Cyrus managed to get a few in and by the last 10 seconds, both boys were yelling at the increasing score.

The timer turned 0 just as T.J. managed to get the last ball in.

“Yes!” He turned to Cyrus and met his hand in a high-five before pulling him in for a hug. “You did it!”

“We did it!” the other boy exclaimed, happily.

They stared at each other for a moment, basking in the glory of their victory. T.J. always thought that Cyrus looked the most handsome like this: when his pretty brown eyes are sparkling, his lips are smiling, and his overall aura was just… bright.

Cyrus looked away first. “Look, T.J., we got more tickets!”

They got 30 tickets in total from the basketball game.

Next, they played skeeball, which Cyrus was also pretty good at. It added 20 tickets to their pile.

By then, they had already been at the arcade for three hours and as much as T.J. wished they could stay longer and play more games together, he knew that they had to start heading home soon. Cyrus still needed to finish his script and T.J. also had some homework.

They went to the counter to claim their prize and the guy gave them 3 options for prizes: a small teddy bear, a pack of Hot Wheels cars, and a plastic T-rex.

T.J. could see Cyrus staring pointedly at the plastic T-rex.

“We’ll take the T-rex,” he stated.

With a grin, he turned to Cyrus and hand it over.

The boy’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, taking the toy.

T.J. shrugged. “I know it’s not a Brontosaurus but a T-rex is cool too, right?”

“You know my favorite dinosaur,” Cyrus said, sounding surprised.

T.J. shrugged again.

Of course, he knew. Cyrus talked about it once and how much he liked “The Land Before Time” (though the first and second one always made him cry… ALWAYS).

“So… did it help?” he couldn’t help but ask as they walked home.

“Well, my head is a little less fuzzy now and I’m not as anxious as I was this morning so, yes, it did.” Cyrus beamed at him as he hugged his T-rex against his stomach. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” T.J. lightly brushed his hand against his. “Hey, I know you’re stressed out by this and I don’t blame you. It’s a lot of work. But, try not to worry too much, okay? You always do a hundred and ten percent and this one won’t be any different. I’m sure Mr. Spencer knows that, too.”

Cyrus sighed. “You’re right. I just… can’t help it, sometimes. I always feel like… I have something to prove.”

T.J. could relate. “Yeah? Well, I think you’ve already proved quite a lot. You’re amazing, Underdog.”

Cyrus blushed and sheepishly looked down at his feet. He was quiet for a moment before his steps slowed down until he stopped and turned to look at T.J.

“You don’t have to walk me home the rest of the way, I can manage. I think I need the solitude to think a little.” He flashed T.J. a look of apology. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad I got to spend time with you today. And helped relieve your stress a little.”

Cyrus smiled. “Thanks for Rexie. I’ll introduce him to the rest of the Dino Squad when I get home.”

Oh, goodness, he already had a name and a Dino squad. T.J. wanted to wrap him in his arms and squeeze him but he restrained himself.

Instead, he just nodded. “No problem. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you.”

With one last smile, Cyrus turned on his heels and walked away. T.J. watched him until he disappeared in the next corner. Only then did he continue on his way home, humming to himself.

It was an amazing day.

………

When Cyrus arrived home, he immediately collapsed on the couch, tired and exhausted from the day… but happy. He hugged Rexie to his chest, remembering the sweet way T.J. gave it to him.

He wondered if his heart could survive this crush. It just seemed like the more he spent time with T.J., the stronger his feelings grew. And it didn’t help when T.J. was always so nice and sweet… always going the extra mile for him… and at the end of every interaction, just left a giant impression. It had always been that way since the day they first met when he helped him get that muffin. He really liked T.J.

And the way he felt for his athletic friend frightened him sometimes.

As Cyrus rolled over to make himself more comfortable, something crunched underneath him. He reached under himself and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. It was his list of ideas from that morning, the plot he chose encircled.

Sighing, he turned his head to look at his notebook on top of the coffee table. It stared back at him.

All of a sudden, pictures played in his head.

Quickly, he sat up, placed Rexie on the coffee table (he would introduce him to the rest of the Dino squad later), and grabbed his notebook and a pen. Opening to the page where he was earlier, he pictured the scene in his head again.

Pen poised on top of the paper, Cyrus began to write.

Tag list:

@lemon-boy-tj @homosexualearthworm

@disastrxlogy

@new-to-the-phandom

@tyrusgoingfast

@tj-cyrus

@multifandom-bxitch

@completelysterling

@spike-heels

@thedampjofangirl

@i-am-confussion 

@buffyshirley

@azuresoulsblog

@cxrus-kippen

@tyrus-endgayme-confirmed

@barely-even-simming

[twdxjess]

Knight in a Leather Jacket: A Negan Story ( Chapter 4)

Summary: MAJOR FLUFF ALERT!! After a rough ending to your supply run Negan treats you with a surprise dinner.

Pairing: NeganXReader

Word count: 1,348

Previous chapters:  master list

“Is that everything?” You asked Negan as he was setting the newly found supplies on the small wood table.

“Yep, pretty much darlin’.” He smiled while plopping his masculine body on the small built in couch. “ I just gotta say this couch is actually fuckin’ comfy.” You gave Negan a half smile while putting supplies away still thinking of today’s events. “ Is everything okay (y/n)? You don’t seem like your usually “don’t fuck with me badass” self.” Negan mentioned to you.

“ I...I..umm.. that guy...” You weren't sure how to answer without crying, but before you knew it you were balling your eyes out like a baby. “ I’m sorry...can..we.. just...talk about this later?”

Negan nodded his head and embraced you in a giant bear hug. “Yeah, no problem princess.”

After unloading and sorting the supplies within the RV, you and Negan finally decided you were both hungry. So looking over your recent finds, you suggested some dinner options to Negan, “It looks like we can have beans with a side of day old picked berries or canned carrots with a side of, what looks like stale pretzels.”

“Neither," Negan held up his hand and said, "hang on, I’ll be right back..”. Negan grabbed his flashlight and exited the RV. While he was gone you were trying to think of what he was doing. Clearly, he wasn't going to go hunting for animals this late at night. Even though you didn't have a clock you assumed it was about 10 o'clock at night, which without much light can be very dangerous nowadays.  A few minutes later Negan brought back a small sachel bag from his truck, which had looked like it belonged to Indiana Jones. As Negan walked in you sarcastically said to him, “Hey Dr. Jones did you bring me that crystal skull I’ve been asking for?”

“Hey don’t make fun of the satchel... do you know how many hot fuckin’ women I’ve picked up with this thing.” Negan explained while caressing his bag. You couldn’t help but laugh at the man.“There’s that beautiful smile I’ve been missing!” Negan said with cheer. You started blushing at the handsome man’s comment.

Negan took the precious items (being noodles and a can of tomato sauce) from his bag holding them up in the air and boosted, “ How about spaghetti...It’s kinda my specialty.” 

“Wow, first eggs with bacon and now Spaghetti! You do know how to treat a lady.” You responded with some sass. 

“But wait there’s more...drum roll please..” Negan was waiting for you to start tapping on the table, you rolled your eyes at the man. But once you did he announced in a very loud voice, “with this sweet ass bottle of green apple vodka.”

“My favorite alcoholic beverage. How did you know?” You smiled at Negan going for the bottle.

“Well, when I first saw you I noticed you were sleeping with an empty bottle of this girly vodka.So I just figured it was your favorite because if I thought I was going to be eaten alive by ugly ass walkers then I would want to die with my favorite whiskey.”

You briefly interrupted his story, "remember I was just "testing" my RV's "limits" I had everything under control!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say doll face...anyways when we were in that mini-mart in the mall I saw this on the shelf so I said to myself what the hell let’s get drunk tonight, in honor of our victorious supply run!”

“ Awww how sweet! You know if I would have to guess it seems like you like me a little bit, Dr. Jones.” Your horrendous british accent came out and Negan started to laugh with amusement.

"Looks like you've got another accent down for the bedroom..huh (y/n)." Negan smirked at you.

"OMG Negan is all you think about is sex?" You threw a stale pretzel at him.

"Not as much as spaghetti! Let's get cookin' good lookin' !" Negan smiled at you turning around to start dinner. You thought to yourself, "It's a good thing Negan can't read my mind because if he could he wouldn't be cookin' right now."

Once dinner was over, you decided you would cleanup since Negan did all the cooking, so you grabbed all the plates and started to soak them in the sink when Negan asked out of the blue, "This is a pretty fuckin’ nice ass RV... did you find it after the world went to shit or have you had it all along?"

"It was my parents..," you paused for a moment then said, "I still remember when they dreamed about getting one of these things in order to travel across the country."

"and did they?" Negan asked sounding hopeful.

"They got about half-way, Kansas I think, but we mainly used it for family camping trips in the summer. They were good people...man, I sure do miss those days."

“ at least you have those memories, my parents didn’t take me anywhere.” Negan responded with envy in his voice.

“ Were they at least decent parents?” You asked.

“ mmmm...I guess... my dad was never around he was always working and when he was home he was sleeping or drunk. And my mom, shit, she was odd! She was always crying or bitching over something. “

“And I thought my parents were strange. How did you survive your childhood with no parental support? 'Cause I don't think I would be the same person today without them always being there for me.”

“ Let’s just say my friends...their family’s were like yours always there supporting their kid. So when it got rough I would just go over to their houses. One time I actually tried running away but then my girlfriend's dad kicked me out. So I just went back home." Negan laughed trying to ease the tension in his voice. He continued to say, "But I do recall having one bomb ass memory with my crazy ass parents. I was about 10, and my dad had gotten a bonus from work. So my parents and I went to two MLB games at two different stadiums, The Braves were playing the Phillies and then The Nationals were playing the Yankees. I guess you can say that was my road trip memory.” Negan smiled at the happy  memory he just shared with you.

You didn't want the rest of the night to go to waste so you grabbed multiple bottles of liquor and yelled, "Okay, no more reminiscing on the past, let's focus on the present and get this party started." 

After playing multiple drinking games you decided to call it quits and go to bed. "This is... fun..*hiccup* and.. all... but I should probab-baabbaa-llly...bed to head *you giggled*..I mean head to bed now." You explained to Negan trying to sound as sober as possible.

Negan laughed at your behavior and said, "Okay doll, I'll just grab my things and head to the truck."

"Wait you're actually leaving? Like going home... to your house? " You whined at his comment.

"No, I'm gonna give you your space and sleep in my truck, tonight."

"But..it's soooo scaarryyy out..there." You sounded like a 4 year old at this point, "'eff your drunken state" you thought. You then said, "It's okay you can sleep with me.." you suggested to Negan while closing in on his beautiful face. Negan smiled and said, "As much as I would love too, (y/n) I don't think you realize how fuckin' drunk you really are."

"No, no, no I'm not drunk watch this.." You stated your case by trying your best to walk in a straight line when suddenly you fell with Negan catching you before you met the floor.

"Woah girl, okay fine I'll stay but I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight. Deal." Negan commanded to you, as if he was making a deal with his employee.

"Fine," you pouted. "But for your information its much more cozier in my bed..." You winked at Negan swaying your hips down the small hallway.

Right then Negan realized just how easy it could be for a man to fall head over heels in love with you.

[adulttalk]

How to Shop On a Budget

This is going to be an all-inclusive post on how to shop for food, clothes/shoes, toiletries/house supplies, and makeup on a budget. Here we go!

Food

1. Shop after you’ve eaten a fulfilling meal. If you shop on an empty stomach, you’re going to buy more food than you’ll need and it’ll probably be food that isn’t good for you.

2. If you’re shopping for a week or two, have a menu already for those weeks of the foods you’re going to eat. Know the ingredients you’ll need for these foods.

3. From the menu you’ve created, make a grocery list before entering the store. Stick to this list like it’s a lifeline and you’re stranded on an island. If you don’t get sidetracked, you probably won’t be tempted to buy foods you don’t need.

4. Try to limit yourself to only going to the grocer’s once or twice a week. If you go more often, the more money you’re going to end up spending.

5. Shop in a store that you know well. If you’re shopping in a store where you’re unfamiliar with the layout, you’ll get sidetracked from your list and be more tempted to buy food that you won’t need.

6. You should probably be cleaning out your fridge and pantry every couple of weeks or so. This allows you to see what you’ve got and use it up before if expires and before you buy anything else.

7. On the same note, keep your fridge and pantry fairly organized. If you’ve got a mess, it’s going to be hard for you to keep track of what you do and don’t have and you’re going to have a hard time making an accurate shopping list. Don’t waste money by buying something you didn’t know you already had because your fridge is a wreck.

8. If your grocery store offers coupons, use them! Even if they’re only saving you pennies, the pennies will add up. Take the money you save at the end of every month and put it towards other expenses such as bills, pamper yourself with it, or deposit it into a savings account.

9. Don’t use coupons to buy something if you’re not going to use it. However, if you plan your meals for the week around coupons, you can definitely save big $$, be the judge of when to use coupons or not. Similarly, if things are buy one get one half off and their easy to store and non-perishables like granola bars and you always eat granola bars for snacks, buy as many as you can afford or as many as you need. Be the judge of when to use coupons and/or bulk sales. 

10. Use the calculator app on your phone to keep track of how much money you’re spending. This will help you to stick to your budget/grocery list and keep you from overspending. Don’t forget to allow for taxes!

11. Cook meals that you can get three or four servings out of like spaghetti and soup. Freeze these leftovers and reheat them when you’re ready for your next meal. It’s an amazing money saver. Leftovers are my life.

12. Foods that are fairly cheap and versatile: 

eggs -- scrambled, hard-boiled, fried, they go with anything

potatoes -- buy a sack of them instead of the instant packs, they’ll last forever and you can make mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, fried potatoes, sliced potatoes, diced potatoes in soups, the list is forever

Apples --- these last forever on the counter, you can eat them with yogurt, oatmeal, smoothies, peanut butter, or alone

Pasta noodles -- you can do anything with pasta noodles and the carbs are filling

Any type of canned beans -- green beans, black eyed peas, pinto beans, brown beans, they’re all delicious, buy what you like and they can be eaten alone as a side, in soups, or topped on other foods, again protein is filling and definitely cheaper than meat

Canned vegetables in general -- wash them in cold water before cooking to get rid of all the extra salts and other ingredients they add to canned goods that aren’t good for you

Rice -- I’m not a fan of rice but it is cheap and you can literally do anything with it

13. Use store savings cards. Even if you don’t care about the points (I don’t), the cards will usually get you discounts on some items and allow you to get items on sale that people without cards wouldn’t.

14. If you eat/can afford meat, buy meat when it goes on sale and freeze it until you’re going to use it.

15. If you’re dead set on buying produce, get it while it’s in season and refrain from buying something when it’s not in season. Instead, use the produce that is. Produce and when they’re in season:

Apples: late summer through fall

Apricots: late spring through early summer

Artichokes: spring and again in early fall

Asparagus: spring

Avocados: summer

Basil: summer

Beets: year-round

Blackberries: summer

Blueberries: summer

Boysenberries: early summer

Broccoli: fall and winter

Brussels Sprouts: late fall and winter

Butternut Squash: fall and winter

Cabbage: fall and winter

Cantaloupes: winter and early spring

Carrots: year-round

Cauliflower: fall and winter

Celery: fall and winter

Cherries: late spring and summer

Chickpeas: summer

Corn: summer

Cranberries: fall

Cucumbers: summer

Eggplant: summer and early fall

Figs: summer and fall

Garlic: summer and fall

Grapefruit: winter and spring

Grapes: late summer and early fall

Green Beans: summer and early fall

Horseradish: fall and winter

Kale: fall and winter

Kiwis: winter through spring

Leeks: fall through spring

Lemons: winter and spring

Lettuce: year-round

Limes: late summer and fall

Mandarins: winter

Mangoes: summer

Melons: summer and early fall

Mushrooms: spring through fall

Nectarines: summer

Potatoes: spring through summer

Okra: late summer and early fall

Onions: spring through fall

Oranges: winter and spring

Peaches: Summer

Pears: fall

Plums: summer

Pomegranates: fall

Pumpkins: fall

Rutabagas: fall and winter

Peas: winter

Strawberries: spring and summer

Sweet potatoes: fall and winter

Tomatoes: summer

Turnips: fall through spring

Watermelons: summer

Zucchini: summer

16. Pay attention when you’re at the register. Things may get rung up too many times or may not register that they’re on sale. My mom swears by this.

17. if at all possible, shop with cash. If you don’t have more cash than what your budget is, then you can’t go over.

Clothes and Shoes

1. Buy clothes when they’re out of season. You need winter clothes? Go online in the summer and stock up on what you’ll need.

2. Check around several different websites and stores when buying clothes. Oftentimes I can find the same item I need somewhere for cheaper than somewhere else.

3. If a store you like has an app and you’re sure of your size, get the app. I have the Charlotte Russe app and they’re always having app-exclusive sales on shoes and other clothing.

4. Buy items that are versatile and you can make many outfits with. My must have versatile items (you don’t have to have them all, these are just some options):

Jeans: light-wash, dark-wash, black, boyfriend, and distressed

Basic business attire: solid colored slacks, solid colored pencil skirt(s)

Dresses: black bodycon, gray or white bodycon, and t-shirt

Jackets: bomber and jean

Solid colored items: shirts, body suits, camisoles, sweaters, halter tops, leggings

Cardigans

Good winter coat (invest on a good one, it’ll save money in the long run)

Shorts: light-wash and dark-wash

Overalls

Skirts: skater, leather, blue jean

Simple pair of white/black/grey heels

Solid colored pair of flats

Solid colored pair of sandals

A pair of comfy shoes like Nike’s, Converse, Vans, etc.

5. Don’t buy all the latest trends. If you buy them the year afterwards, no one is going to care. You should only be buying what pleases you anyways so if you’re buying it just because it’s the latest fashion, you’re wasting money.

6. Don’t be afraid to buy your clothes from thrift stores, consignment shops, or yard sales. I find great pieces from these places all the time. It can be very hit or miss but it’s always worth the look.

7. Declutter your closet and the beginning of every season. If you’ve got something you wore only once or twice or something that still has tags on it at the bottom of your closet, get rid of it. Sell it or donate it.

8. Take care of your clothes and shoes to keep them looking good and lasting longer.

9. Know when to buy quality. If you’re messy and always getting stains on your shirts, you don’t have to buy the best quality shirts out there. Get something cheap and comfy if you’re going to have to throw it out later.

10. Shop sales racks first. I got a shirt from Old Navy once for a dollar on the sales racks. The sales racks are my (and your) best friend.

11. Places I shop:

Rue 21

Charlotte Russe

Goodwill

Plato’s Closet

Walmart (seriously they’re stepping up their quality, I bought some slacks and pencil skirt from here a while ago and they’re still good, I don’t recommend their shoes though)

TJMaxx

Old Navy

Local thrift stores and yard sales

12. Places others have recommended to shop but I haven’t tried yet:

Amazon

Zara

Mango

H&M

ASOS

Target

Toiletries and House Supplies

1. Things to buy from a dollar store/dollar tree:

Cards for occasions, party supplies, and gift wrap and bags

Seasonal decorations

Reading glasses (not prescription glasses)

Hair accessories and necessities

Pregnancy tests

Dishware, cookware, and decorative vases or bowls

Storage containers for food and other storage bins

Candy and sodas

Dishrags and towels

Medicine

Pet treats and supplies

Makeup (not everything)

Cleaning supplies

Baby supplies

Paper products

Personal items such as pads or tampons

Sandwich bags

Band-aids and other first-aid items

Mailing labels

School supplies

Not everything on this list may be available at your dollar store or may even be a better deal than your local Walmart or other retail store so check around.

2. Again, use coupons and store cards to your advantage!

3. Shop for school supplies when there’s no-tax weekend. It’ll save you so much $$

4. Same as with clothes and shoes, check around many stores to find the best prices on goods and then make a shopping list once a week and hit up all the stores for the specific goods they have the best deals on.

5. Make a specific shopping list for what you need and stick to it.

6. Keep all of your personal products and your cleaning cabinet organizes so you know what you do and don’t have and can avoid buying duplicates in case you’re tight on money.

Makeup

1. I watched a ton of YouTube videos for drug store hauls and dupes.

2. Ask your friends and family if they have any recommendations for drug store steals and deals.

3. Try to avoid high end makeup if you can. You can usually find a drugstore dupe of almost if not the same quality and for way cheaper.

4. If you want to splurge on yourself and buy high end makeup, don’t buy it when it first comes out. Sometimes the items will go on sale online a while after they come out and all the hype has gone down.

5. Not only for makeup but for clothes and shoes as well, shop on cyber Monday or Black Friday to get ultimate money savings

Where to get quality makeup for a low price:

Brushes: E.L.F., Ecotools, Morphe, BH Cosmetics

Mascara: Maybelline

Blushes: Milani, NYX

Lipstick: NYX, Colourpop, Maybelline

Eyeshadows: NYX, Colourpop, Morphe, Coastal Scents

Primer: Maybelline, NYX

Setting Spray: NYX, Milani, Hard Candy

Highlighters: Rimmel, LA Girl, Maybelline, Milani

Brow Gel: NYX

Loose Powder and Under Eye Concealer: E.L.F., Maybelline, NYC

Foundation: L’Oreal, E.L.F, Cover Girl

Pressed Powder: Rimmel

Bronzer: Milani, Essence, Makeup Revolution

Brow Mascara: Essence

Eyeliner: LA Girl, NYX

Contour: Makeup Revolution, BH Cosmetics

BB Cream: LA Girl

Places to get a variety of stuff for good quality but may be hit or miss or be of varying price ranges:

Catrice Cosmetics: good products but limited in options

Chi Chi: good for large palettes

BH Cosmetics: good for a variety of everything but may be hit or miss

Coastal Scents: good for eyeshadows

LA Girl: good for lipsticks and highlighters

Makeup Revolution: good for a variety of things but different price ranges

NYX: good for a variety of things but may be hit or miss

This post has taken me forever with all of the research, I hope everyone can get a use out of this. Enjoy!

[5hfanfiction]

Arch Rivals 6

A/N : May contain abuse, drug use and violence.

“Hey Jauregui? Everything okay? You’re not hurt are you?” Jacks asked when he noticed Lauren crying.

Camila watched as Laurens’ walls built right back up. Camila watched as happy and vulnerable went to sassy and bitchy in an instant. Lauren stood up and wiped the tears away like nothing happened. Camila watched as everything she had just accomplished was wiped off, shrugged away.

“It’s all good Jacks. We’re good.” Lauren straightened her posture. “We kind of have a problem anyways.”

Camila looked between Lauren and Jacks and tried to understand their dynamic. Trying to figure out if Lauren actually trusted him.

“How are we going to make Camila part of the team? I don’t want her to be in danger. I don’t want anyone to figure out who she is. I need her to be safe.” Lauren told Jacks with care and concern lacing her features.

“I get that. I understand that is what we have to do. You know that I protect everyone that is under me.” Jacks patted Lauren’s head, “How did she get involved anyways? I thought you were keeping this stuff a secret? Do they know her real name?” Jacks questioned back.

“You think that I did this on purpose? You really think that I would put someone that means something to me in danger? I just happened to get spotted on the beach, at least they didn’t see my brother and sister that happened to be there too. To those people I’m just their go to, their lackie,” Lauren ran her hand through her hair while pacing back and forth, “What do you think would have happened if one of them yelled my real name or came up to me? I salvaged the situation the best I could. The girl called Camz out, there was nothing I could do about it.” Lauren threw her hands up in frustration and continued pacing back and forth.

Camila looked at Lauren confused, did Lauren really just say she cared about her? That was something new, maybe Camila was finally breaking through Lauren’s barriers.

“Okay, okay calm down.” Jacks walked to Lauren and rubbed her arms. “I will figure it out. Maybe you two can be upstairs at the time of the bust. I’ll see if I can be the one that searches the place this time. No promises, but I will try.” Jacks reassured Lauren, Lauren backed away from the embrace though.

Camila was getting tired of being talked about like she wasn’t there. “WAIT! STOP!”

Jacks and Lauren both looked at Camila.

“Who says that I even want to be involved in this. I mean how dangerous is this? How much trouble will I get into if I’m caught? What is involved? What do I have to do? You can’t just expect me to jump in when I have absolutely no idea what is going on. So instead of you two talking like I’m not even here why don’t you try at least explaining everything to me.” Camila ranted out.

“Woah! Fiesty! That’s a new one for you Jauregui. I think she’ll be good for you.” Jacks said with a small chuckle taking a few steps back from Lauren.

Lauren looked at Camila and then back to the floor finding interest in how it was so shinny. Jacks laughed and smiled at Camila as Lauren started turning red.

“Okay since Lauren is turning into a tomato I’ll fill you in.” Jacks said as Lauren smacked his arm.

“The first thing that my people are doing, is finding you an identity. We don’t want to use your real name for anything so tonight take nothing that has your real name and address on it with you. Pretty much just take whatever we give you. Second thing is I’m not going to lie, what we are doing tonight is going to be dangerous. The people we are dealing with are going to know if we give them fakes. Therefore most of the drugs will be real. If you are caught with any of them we have to process you like you are one of them. Third is that the girl we are giving the drugs to is basically going to hook us up with one of the other dealers in the area. They know CJ is getting fed up with working for penny’s and wants out of her current situation.” Jacks stopped for a minute to let everything process seeing Camila looking a little flustered.

Lauren noticed Camila and took her hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Camila looked at her hand and then gave Lauren a small smile.

“Listen I know that it’s a lot to take in and that it all sounds really bad. I do this every so often this one just so happened to land in our laps we weren’t expecting anything for a long time. I’m sorry that you were with me at the beach today. I’m sorry that you are even thinking about doing this with me. Simply put Camz you either have to trust me to get you out of there or walk away from everything right now and I will think of something like I always do.”

Lauren moved a piece of hair out of Camila’s face as she watched her think about everything that was just said to her.

“So here’s the thing we have till ten o’clock tonight to figure this all out. I don’t need you to make a decision right off the bat here. But I do need you to really think about it. All I am doing is trying to get these drug dealers off the streets and people behind bars where they belong. I do however promise you that I will keep you safe and nothing will happen to you.”

Camila saw something run through Lauren’s eyes but couldn’t quite decipher what exactly it was. Camz squeezed Lauren’s hand and knew that she had already made up her mind. Some how she knew that she couldn’t let Lauren down she wanted to make sure Lauren knew she would always be there for her.

“I will do it. If you promise to not go anywhere with out me tonight.” Lauren smiled wide and nodded her head.

“I promise. You have no idea how much easier this will be not having to explain why you, as my girlfriend, aren’t there. Yeah they made that assumption not me.” Lauren said when Camila’s eyes got wide at her being called Lauren’s girlfriend.

“Alright then. Now that we know Camila is in we need to go down to the station and get everything ready. I’ll make sure that everything is perfect. What’s the house address so I can plan all the escape routes for you?” Jacks asked.

“Um here she put everything in my phone.” Lauren handed him the work phone. “Oh yeah I recorded the conversation too.”

“Lauren you are amazing and would make a great cop one day. I really wish you would consider it. However the address she gave you is a warehouse. So it looks like you two are going to a rave which means it might be a little harder for me to get you guys out without looking suspicious. I will see what I can do though.” Jacks sent a text to his phone with the address.

“Okay you two have a few hours before I really need you. So see you then. Jauregui no heels this time let’s go with sneakers and make sure you two look the part okay?”

“Got it. See you later Jacks.” Lauren answered as Jacks made his way out of the gym.

Lauren turned back to Camila. “So care to tell me what is really going through your head right now? I mean you sounded kind of weary in the beginning and now you are down for it. Talk to me.”

The two girls stood their staring in each’s others eyes trying to find what they were looking for. Lauren wondered if Camila was being sincere in everything she had been doing for her lately. Was Camila really just wanting to protect her? Would Camila actually stick around and not leave her side when she needed her the most? Could she really let Camila go with her tonight and risk her? Lauren didn’t think she could let someone who had had such a big impact on her life do this tonight. Lauren made up her mind she had to talk Camila out of it.

‭“I don’t know. Like you have said to me for some reason I just trust you. I don’t know what it is but I just feel like you won’t let me fall.” Camila couldn’t take her eyes off of Lauren.

‭“Camila you don’t have to do this tonight.” Camila looked confused.

‭“I know that I just said that it would be easier so I wouldn’t have to explain. Truth is that is me taking the easy way out like usual. So I don’t think you should go tonight. It’s dangerous, and risky. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Lauren said squeezing Camila’s hand.

‭Camila could see Lauren was telling the truth about it being serious. Camila knew that too many people had let Lauren down though and she wasn’t about to be added to that list. Camila knew she needed to do this for Lauren.

‭“Lauren, if it was that dangerous I have a feeling Jacks wouldn’t be letting you do it either. So even though I appreciate the concern for my safety. Yeah, I am still going tonight because I want to make sure that you’re okay too. Oh and I trust you to keep me safe and not leave me behind. There is just something about you that makes me want to stay by your side and protect you. I don’t want you to do this alone either. Besides I know that you will catch me if I fall.” Camila said with a small smile.

Lauren let go of Camila’s hand and walked to get her ball, she got it and came back. “You shouldn’t put all your faith in me Camz. I am always screwing things up and the last person I want to do that to is you.”

Before Lauren could shoot the ball Camila took a step in front of her and lowered the ball. “You don’t have to worry that much about me. I do know how to take care of myself. However thank you for wanting to protect me. It’s actually really sweet.”

Camila let go of the ball and backed up but never took her eyes off Lauren. “Now how is your back feeling?”

When Lauren hesitated Camila knew Lauren hadn’t been taking care of it. “Let me see please?”

“Uh..no. It’s alright just a little sore.” Lauren said shooting the ball.

“Lauren please let me look at it. I promise not to do anything.” Camila turned on the puppy dog eyes and pouted her lip.

Lauren was screwed and she knew it. Camz had just melted her heart. Lauren knew she was in trouble if she ever let Camz know that face worked on her. How the hell could just three months of getting to know the girl make Lauren feel like she couldn’t go a day without her?

“I will let you look at it if you promise not to freak out or get mad.” Lauren said getting the ball again.

Camila smiled a little knowing that she had definitely gotten to Lauren. “What would I have to freak out about Lauren? I have seen them before.” Camila said now worried about what was wrong with Lauren.

“Just please don’t freak out.” Lauren took her shirt off as she walked over to Camz.

“Why do you have it wrapped Lo? Does it hurt that bad? Did he hit you again since last time?” Camz who was now worried and met Lauren half way trying to examine the girl.

“No Camz he didn’t exactly hit me. It’s wrapped because…it kind of won’t stop bleeding and I don’t know why. With the pressure on it though it numbs it enough that I don’t think about it.” Lauren answered as she took the bandage off.

When Lauren was done and Camila saw her back she freaked out.

“Lauren Oh My God! You have to let someone look at these. Please you have an infection. I can’t do anything about it. You have to let me take you somewhere. Please Lauren. Please let my mom look at it.”

Camila was in front of Lauren know pleading with her words and eyes that Lauren would go to a doctor. Camila had grabbed one of Lauren’s hands pulling her into a hug, carefully not to hit her back.

“Please Lo. I can’t stand that you are in pain. It hurts me to see that you won’t let anyone help you. I promise you that my mom won’t ask any questions if you let her take care of it.” Lauren could hear the concern in Camz voice. Something that she wasn’t use to hearing.

“No I can’t. Adults always ask question. I know that she will even if you ask her not too.”

“No really if I ask my mom to not say a word she won’t. My mom understands that some people don’t want to talk about it. Please Lo. Please.” Camila pleaded with everything she had even pulling out her signature pout and puppy dog eyes.

Lauren wasn’t sure if Camila could get any cuter. As she battled with herself on whether or not she could trust her or not. Could Camila’s mom really not ask any questions even though she would see the horrible scars that were left behind from years of abuse. There was no way that someone could see all that and not ask the questions. Even Camila asked the questions…well okay more or less waited Lauren out on the answers. Lauren searched Camila’s eyes for any sign of faking it, but found nothing but worry and concern, and something else she couldn’t place.

“You are cute when you’re begging.” Camila blushed.

“If you stop with that face right now then I will go and let your mom look at my back.” Camila lit up like a Christmas tree.

“However if she asks one question about how I got them or any of the other scars then I am out of there. Got it?”

Camila could feel and see the seriousness on Lauren’s face. “Yeah I got it and I will tell her. Now come on.”

Camila grabbed Lauren’s hand and dragged her outside so they could go. The trip to Camila’s house was short and Camila hoped off the bike excitedly as Lauren was starting to rethink everything. Camila noticed.

“Hey. It’s okay? You really have nothing to worry about Lo. My mom works with kids and knows not to ask questions and to let them want to tell her. I know this may be hard for you but trust me.”

Camila grabbed Lauren’s hand and walk with her to the front door. Camila opened the door and led Lo inside never once letting go of her hand.

“Mom, I’m home.” Camila yelled. As soon as she did two little heads popped out from around a corner and Sofi went in for a bear hug making Camila let go of Lauren’s hand.

“KAKI!! Your home!” Sofi screamed excitedly.

“LOLO!! Your here too!!” Taylor yelled when she noticed her standing there.

“Yeah hey munchkin. Were you good today?” Lauren asked again with a little head nod. All Camila could think was that it had to have something to do with her dad.

“Yeah Lolo I promise. We played fairies, and we ran around outside, and we got to play with the dogs and it was so much fun and me and Sofi are the bests of friends and I need to come over here more often and play and have fun and yeah I really like it here and Sofi’s mom is weally nice and she fed us lunch and we got to have juice and chips and samwikes and I’m not ready to leave yet I want to spend the night. Pwease pwease pwease Lolo say yesss.”

Lauren almost didn’t catch all of Taylor’s ramblings but half way through she felt the smile start on her face as she held the girl and listened to how happy she was for once with no worries in the world. Lauren was happy that Taylor got that for a day. Happy that Taylor got away from all the drama that was involved in their lives. Happy that she didn’t think about it that day.

“Hey mom would you be okay with Taylor and Lauren staying over tonight?” Camila shouted as she smiled at the scene that unfolded in front of her.

“If I get to meet this Lauren first that would probably help. So why don’t you introduce me.” Camila’s mom yelled from somewhere in the house.

“Well time to meet the mamacita! Are you okay with this still?” Camila asked taking Lauren’s hand again as the two little ones ran off to play again.

“Well I kind of have to be now that you told your mom I am staying over. Well that is unless you want me to be your invisible friend.” Lauren laughed.

“I like it when you smile.” It was one thing that Camila wanted to make Lauren do everyday. All Camila wanted was to see her happy and be a teenager. Someone that wanted to enjoy life. Not someone that need to survive day to day to make her life only mediocre. Camila loved it when she smiled it made Camila feel things churn around down in her stomach and she was slowly starting to love that feeling.

Lauren stopped laughing and looked at Camila still smiling.

“Huh?” Lauren asked with an even bigger smile on her face.

“No I did not just say that out loud.” Camila put her free hand over her mouth.

“Oh yeah you did. Don’t worry I really like it when you smile too.” Lauren kept smiling as she followed her through the house.

“Mama. This is Lauren. Lauren this is my mom.” Camila introduced the two of them.

“I would shake your hand but I am in the middle of cooking dinner. It is nice to meet you though. How is it that you know Mila here? I mean I thought I knew all of her friends. Oh and don’t you dare call me Mrs. Cabello. Call me Sinu.” Sinu asked Lauren.

“Well I know Camz because she came to my school and is co-captaining the team with me. I do have to say that she is an amazing player and a real asset to the team.” Lauren said sincerely.

“Wait are you the Jauregui girl that Mila here was always getting in fights with?” Sinu asked with her hands on her hips.

“Mama we were not getting into fights. It was all just a fierce rivalry that we got caught up in.” Lauren could tell it was something Camila didn’t want to talk about it she would have to remember to ask Camila later.

“Alright I get it. It’s nice to meet you anyways Lauren. I am guessing that Taylor is your little sister?”

“Nice to meet you too and yes.”

“Lolo? Lolo?” Everyone looked at Taylor when she ran into the room.

“Hey I’m here what’s up?”

“Come look at the fort we built. Please Lolo.” Taylor grabbed Lauren’s hand not waiting for a reply and dragging the girl out of the kitchen and upstairs to Sofi’s room. Lauren laughing the whole way.

“Okay while she is out of the room. Mama, Lauren got some…cuts…scrapes on her back and I think they are infected. Is there anyway that you can take a look at them.”

“How did she get them?”

“Well that right there mom is what you have to promise not to do. I need you to not ask any questions. I just got her to trust me enough to let some one else take a look at them so please mom can you help her without asking anything? Like you do for the kids you treat.” Camila was all but begging her mom.

Sinu could see the worry on Camila’s face and knew that she need to help Lauren. “Alright let me finish this and throw it in the oven and then I will take a look at her. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you mama. You are the best. Remember no questions.”

“Alright baby I promise.” Sinu crossed her heart and kissed her hand raising it.

Then it dawned on Sinu, just as Camila was about to leave the room. “Wait! Mila is this the girl you tole Sofi about the other night? I think I get the rivalry now.” Sinu smiled leaning against the counter.

Camila blushed as she just nodded and ran out of the kitchen before her mom had any more questions for her, hearing her mom chuckle as she went.

Camila went up to Sofi’s room knowing the girls were showing her their fort. Camila smiled when she walked in the room and all three of them were sitting in the fort and Lauren was telling them a story about princesses and fairies and not always having to go the traditional way. Of course Sofi and Taylor were saying no a princess had to be with a prince, but Lauren of course rebutted with not everything had to be as ordinary and unoriginal and that they could feel free to marry a frog if they so wanted to. Which in turn made all of them laugh including Camila.

“Hey Sofi, Taylor can I steal Lo for a little while?” Camila asked

“Yeah we were done with her anyways.” Taylor said laughing.

“Yeah well I love you too munchkin.” Lauren grabbed Taylor and started tickling her.

“I…swowee….Lolo…I…love…you.” Taylor managed to say as Lauren stopped tickling her.

“Alright sweetie be good and I’ll see you later okay?”

“Okay bye Lolo.” Taylor said

Camila took Lauren’s hand and lead them to her bedroom. Lauren went and sat on Camila’s bed taking in her surroundings. The walls were littered with pictures of her family just randomly placed along the walls. A bookcase was filled to the brim with books and knick knacks. There was an acoustic guitar in the corner that Lauren seemed to linger on. Camila noticed.

“Do you know how to play?” Camila wondered aloud.

“No. I always wanted to though, I was suppose to learn but I ran out of time to learn from her.” Lauren said confusing Camila.

“How could you run out of time Lo? I mean if you really want I will teach you.” Camila went to get the guitar.

“No.” Lauren stopped Camila. “What I meant was that I wanted to learn from my mom. I remember her playing to Chris and Taylor when they were younger to put them to sleep. The way she played was…captivating. I remember sitting for hours on end just watching her play and asking her to play another one for me when she stopped. I was so happy then.” Lauren whispered the last part.

Camila watched the distant look take over Lauren as she shared this memory with her. Camila watched as Lauren smiled remembering her mom. Camila only wished that Lauren could have a father that actually loved her and not one that blamed her. Camila wondered how that could have happened anyways. How could someone blame their own child for an accident? Camila wanted to make the beautiful green eyed girl in front of her…happy…safe…feel loved. Could Camila be head over heels for Lauren in such a small amount of time? Sure they had known each other since they were eight playing against each other but did they really know enough about each other to take that step? Camila didn’t even know if Lauren wanted a girlfriend or even what she wanted to do after she graduated.

“Lo? You okay?” Camila said.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’ll be alright. I just miss her…a…lot.” Lauren said trying to hold back the tears.

Camila never hesitated and wrapped Lauren up in a hug. Lauren nuzzled her face in the crock of Camila’s neck as she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Lauren never let anyone know anything about her mom. Everything was a well kept secret. Camila was the only one that had ever broken through it. Lauren wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. All she knew though was that she felt safe with Camila. Whether they were on the court or Camila was picking her up off the weight room floor. Lauren was slowly starting to realize that she had feelings for the other point guard and had no clue what to do with that information. Lauren knew that it would probably bring nothing but heartbreak to anyone that she let into her life. Yet again here was Camila slowly but surely learning everything about her. Slowly but surely Camila was becoming the person she wanted to tell all her secrets to.

Camila just kept rubbing Lauren’s sides and whispering sweet nothings. Camila let Lauren get all the sobbing out she was sure that her mom had peeked through the door but slowly closed it again when she knew no one was hurt. As Lauren started to slow down her breathing she pulled back from Camila.

“I can’t let you get attached to me. Nothing good can come out of you wanting to be my friend or anything else for that matter. Camz you can’t…shouldn’t want anything to do with me. I am bad news all the way around.” Lauren tried.

“Lauren you can’t tell me what to do on the court what makes you think I am going to listen to you off of it?” Camila asked.

“I’m just letting you know. I’m giving you the chance to run while you can. Camz I don’t want to hold you back or bring you down with me in anyway.” Lauren said fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Camila was quick to read Lauren and sat right next to her this time. “Lauren I am telling you I’m not going anywhere. It is so beyond late. I have been attached since I was ten and you told me I had pretty chocolate eyes.”

Lauren’s head snapped up. “You remembered that?”

“Yeah. You were the girl that made me realize even then.”

“Holy shit.” Lauren said looking back down. “Are you sure that it was me?”

“Uh…well yeah I mean look at you. Everyone should turn a little gay when they see you. Even when we were ten I knew there was something about you. Something that I wanted to see more of. Why do you think I was at every basketball camp or scrimmage or pick up game? I always wanted to figure you out, see what made those bright green eyes dull over time. Watching that happen actually broke me in more ways than one. I could see the pain in your eyes yet you had the biggest smile on your face. I didn’t know what I was looking at back then. As I got older I just knew that something had made you turn from the sweet innocent girl I met in our first camp together that shared her juice and sandwich with me when the bigger girls took it, to the pent up hulk version of that girl.”

Lauren was smiling but her head shot up when Camila told the camp story. “Wait did you go by a different name then?”

“Yeah I did.”

“You…you…you’re KC?” Lauren asked.

Camila panicked no one had called her that since she had changed schools. Camila didn’t want her past following her around. “Please Lauren. Don’t hate me. I was in a different school some things happened and I had to change my name. I mean you are the only one that had ever really called me KC but then the whole Cabello thing happened so I just put it out of my mind. I stopped using KC after I got bullied so much at my middle school. That is why we ended up going to different high schools. Well until now. The truth is that all the old bullies know me as Camila now. No one has put two and two together yet. Please Lauren. I know I should have told you. You were my first kiss.”

Lauren saw the panic race across Camz’s face. Lauren had never lost the girl that made her feel safe. Some how the only person that had ever really cared about the girl was still there. Camila was Karla Cabello a.k.a. KC. Why had it never come together? Why did she never catch onto that? How could someone change so drastically that she didn’t realize they where the same person anymore? Lauren should have known through those eyes, some way though she over looked them every time they played each other. Maybe it was the fact of being arch rivals that Lauren never looked at the girl twice. Now Lauren had to deal with the fact that her confidant was again sitting right in front of her and yet again she had trusted the girl. Lauren wanted to be mad at the fact that Camila had changed schools and never told her anything, but nothing could have made her as strong as she is now as to when Camila had disappeared from her life.

“You’re….you’re here. You didn’t leave. You were mine too.” Lauren said not believing that KC the girl she was head over heels for was right there in front of her. It made everything that Lauren was feeling click into place, so to speak. Lauren understood why she felt so comfortable around Camila now.

“What?” Camila looked back to Lauren with shinny eyes.

“No, nope don’t do that. Do. Not. Cry.” Lauren pulled Camila in for a hug.

“Nothing had ever made sense till that day that you stole half my sandwich. I was going through a lot wanting to know what was gong on with my…my…him.” Camila tightened her grip in the hug. “You were there though. The sweet, smart, beautiful princess that wore bows to keep the hair out of her bright mahogany eyes. You were always there letting me know that I did have someone on my side. I needed that and I still do. That is why I made you meet me by the bonfire after dark and kissed you. You were everything to me.”

Lauren couldn’t help it as a few tears trailed down her face. Camila wiped the tears away with her thumbs and left her hands there slowly rubbing Lauren’s cheek soothing Lauren. The girls sat looking at each other for what seemed like hours neither wanting to break the moment.

Lauren though was the first to lean in just slightly. Camila had the biggest smile on her face when that happened and crashed her lips into Lauren’s. The two broke apart in a flash when they heard a knock at the door.

“Mila. Sweetie suppers all done so whenever Lauren is ready I will take a look.” Sinu said as she peaked inside the room.

“Okay momma thanks.” Camila said as Sinu closed the door again.

Lauren in the mean time stood up and was pacing back and forth. Camila walked over and took her hand. Lauren felt herself relax at her touch.

“Hey it’s going to be okay. My mom promised not to say anything. So she won’t.” Camila said.

“Can you do me a favor Camz?”

“Anything.”

“Will you take Tay out back or something? Just keep her distracted so that she can’t walk in on this.” Lauren asked with sad eyes.

“Sure I will take the girls down to the park that is two blocks away for a little while. I’ll keep them there until you text me.” Camz said.

“Thank you.” Lauren said relaxing just a little bit more but she could still feel her stomach turning. The last thing Lauren needed was someone piecing everything together.

“Hey trust me Lo, she won’t talk about anything unless you bring it up.” Camila said squeezing her hand.

“Okay.” Lauren let out a sigh of relief. Not completely relaxed but trying to get there.

Camila noticed Lauren had tensed back up, so she grabbed Lauren’s other hand making the girl face her. Camila place Lauren’s hands on her hips and then slowly moved her hands up Lauren’s arms to the back of her neck. Camila leaned up a little ways and connected their lips sweetly. Camila pulled away and looked into Lauren’s eyes.

“I will be a phone call away. Just go outside and go down two blocks to the left that is where I will be. Now just relax and let my mom fix you up okay.”

“Okay. Only if you will do something for me though.” Lauren smirked.

“What?”

“Go out with me tomorrow night.” Lauren blushed.

“Umm…yes. For sure yes.” Camila said as she lit up like a Christmas tree.

Lauren couldn’t wipe the smile off her face either until Camila lead them out of the room and into her guest bedroom where her mom had everything set up.

“Alright. I will be right down the street. Everything will be fine. Just take off your shirt and bra and lay down on the bed.” Lauren raised an eyebrow at the girl and smirked.

“Not like that you perv. Now just do it.” Camila said slapping Lauren’s arm and closing the door behind her.

Lauren got undressed and laid on the bed waiting for Sinu to come in a check her out.

Lauren heard a knock on the door. “Come in.” Lauren said.

“Okay so let’s do…..this then shall we.” Sinu said as she gasped seeing Lauren’s back.

“Just to let you know this might hurt a little Lauren.” Lauren could tell Sinu was holding back. Lauren knew that she wanted to ask. True to her word though she didn’t.

“So Lauren,” Great here it comes Lauren thought. “How long have you played basketball?”

“Um, for roughly eight years now. I love it.” Lauren tried to hold back the tears as Sinu started working on her back.

“I know that it hurts you don’t have to try and pretend it doesn’t. I won’t tell anyone that you shed a few tears.” Sinu said as she laid on hand on Lauren’s shoulder for a second.

Lauren didn’t say anything and eventually gave up and let the tears fall. Lauren tried to focus on something else while Sinu cleaned her up but all she could think about was how much this was hurting her. It definitely most have been worse than what she thought. Lauren grabbed her phone and texted Camila and Dinah.

To Cabello : How is Taylor? Is she being good?

To Dinah Jane : How is Chris?

From Dinah Jane : He is great they are all in the backyard getting ready right now. See you tonight?

To Dinah Jane : I actually got called in for work. Tay is staying at Camila’s so can you tell Chris good luck for me? I owe you big time. I’ll give you some of my next allowance.

From Cabello : Taylor is great, playing princesses with Sofia as we speak. :)

From Dinah Jane : Yeah it’s no problem Lauren and no you don’t owe me anything so stop with that already you know I hate it when you try to do that.

To Dinah Jane : Thanks and yeah I know :)

To Cabello : Thanks again for doing this.

From Cabello : No problem Lo.

Sinu was glad that something was distracting Lauren from what she was doing. Lauren wasn’t going to like it but Sinu needed to pull some slivers of glass out and wasn’t exactly sure how deep they were. Sinu just knew that it was really going to hurt with some of the infection that was already there. Sinu grabbed a hold of a piece and pulled it out. Lauren dropped her phone and slammed her face into the bed to stifle a small scream of pain.

“I’m so sorry Lauren. I didn’t think that it would hurt that much. I am so sorry. But there are more in there and I need to get them out. Just tell me when you’re ready.” Sinu said taking a step back from Lauren and noticing that the glass was from a beer bottle. Being as it was dark brown in color and still had part of a label on it.

Lauren laid back down and told Sinu that she was ready. Sinu decided to try and distract the girl.

“Have you always been captain?”

“Huh?” Lauren asked.

“Just trying to give you something else to think about.”

“Oh…well um yeah I guess for the most part I have been captain.”

“Is Taylor your only sibling?”

“I have two others an older sister that I haven’t been in contact with for a while and a little brother Chris he is a year older than Tay.” Lauren explained with a grunt at the end when Sinu pulled another big piece out.

“Sorry sweetie. I’m almost done though.”

“It’s okay I’m used to the pain.” Lauren shrugged.

Sinu wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement. How could an eighteen year old girl just nonchalantly say that. Lauren pretty much said it like it was an everyday occurrence that was having no effect on her what so ever.

“What is your older sisters name? Do you know where she is?”

“Um…her name it Sierra. Sierra should still be at Penn State, she got a full ride.” Lauren said proudly with a sad undertone.

“Wow that is amazing. Good for her. Why don’t you two talk?” Sinu asked.

“Sierra used to call all the time. I guess she got busy. She graduates this year. I’m really proud of her.” Lauren said.

“Alright Lauren I have got to put some medicine on it now and I’m not gonna lie it’s going to burn for a little bit, okay?” Sinu said.

“Okay that is fine.” Lauren said.

“Go ahead and tell Camila to come back. Dinner should be ready when they get back.”

“Okay.”

To Cabello : Hey you can come back now ;)

From Cabello : Okay we are on the way

“All done sweetie. Can I ask you to come by the house everyday so I can change the bandages and make sure it’s healing?”

“Um…yeah I think that I can handle that. Thank you again Mrs.Ca…Sinu.” Lauren said.

“No problem Lauren. Anytime. Now get dressed and you and Taylor are staying for dinner.” Sinu said not leaving time for discussion as she left the room.

Sinu walked down the stairs thinking that there was definitely something Lauren was hiding. The amount of fear in her eyes when she pulled that first piece of glass out was all she needed to know that Lauren was being abused. There was no doubt about it, but by who?

“Camila. Can we talk in the kitchen please?” Sinu said when she spotted her daughter walking through the front door.

“Sure. What’s up mami?” Camila asked.

“What do you know about Lauren?” Camila looked a little confused. “I mean like what do you really know about her? Do you know what her home life is like? Or who is hurting her?” Sinu watched as Camila’s mouth almost hit the floor before she recovered.

“Mami. You don’t have to worry okay. Lauren is amazing and she has a troubled past not going to lie to you. Lauren though has stepped up and done what she needs to do to take care of her problems. Trust me mami when Lauren wants you to know she will tell you. Until then please don’t push it. It took me a long time to get through to her. Mami I really really like Lo. I know what I’m getting my self into.” Camila said then gave her mom a hug.

Lauren heard everything from the bottom of the stairs. Now she knew that trusting Camila was the right move. Maybe just maybe things would turn for the better now. However Sinu was on the right track and that meant only a small amount of time before two and two were put together.

After dinner Lauren tucked Taylor and Sofia in then went to find the older Cabello.

“So are you sure you want to do this tonight?” Lauren asked.

“Yeah. I am.” Camila said walking out of her closet ready for a rave.

Lauren was stunned as Camila came out in tight ripped white jean shorts and a bright pink crop top. Nothing could have prepared Lauren for this. This was definitely going to be a trying night. Lauren knew that she was going to be torn on wanting to get the bust and wanting to be all eyes on Camz.

“Let’s go party Lo!” Camila said as she grabbed a jacket and left the bedroom and Lauren with her jaw dropped.

[abiteofnat]

NYC? NYFEEDME... 

Because if there’s one thing NYC is good at, it’s making sure my bottomless pit of a stomach is consistently full of something tastyyy. As well as beautiful. They are the epitome of making food into an art and waste no time or money with creative executions of something as simple as “cookie dough” (more on that later). A couple weeks ago I went to NYC as a part of a) finding a smart-kid college for my smart-kid sister and b) due to a standing family vacation reservation that fit in nicely to part “a” so after my donut-filled Syracuse excursion we bopped on down to Midtown! There was the glitz n’ fake glamour of NYC just blocks away in Times Square, but we tucked away in the 1 Hotel on 6th which has become a second home of sorts. While it’s strangely organic and it all smells like wood and hemp, it’s a literal oasis from the trashbag-lined streets and taxis honking and honking (and honking). Do NOT get me wrong, I ADORE New York. I live for the salty street pretzels and the iced coffee at every deli and the need to just live it up there constantly. But I’m a Chicago girl, midwestern to the bone and Jesus I thought I might have a better fate in store but it appears I’m baseball and cheese fries until I die. 

Give me ten days in that wild city though and I will make them my bitch! Since I’d only ever spent 48 hours at a time in NYC many times a year in the past few years, and still managed to consume most of the island I was concerned as to how I would fare. I’d say thankfully we as a family eat pretty healthy and my one friend I stayed with is a ~vegan~ and the other one is a marathon runner with a taste for really really good carbs, so damage was light. I’ve rounded up my tippity-top spots for grub worth taking one to one million photos of and I hope you get to go try them all, because I’m a creature of habit and rarely wine n dine somewhere once so I’ll see you around! 

1. BLUESTONE LANE! 

This cafe was one of my sister’s finds, and still one of my favorites to look back on! Elise isn’t usually one to choose where we dine, but we all needed coffee and a breakfast that wasn’t bagels on bagels (which would be my choice if it was my turn to choose breakfast) and she pointed us to a little funky-chic cafe called Bluestone Lane, an Australian chain dotted across NYC. The location we went to was on 5th Ave (2 E 90th ST for the exact address) and was attached to a gorgeous old church, the seating within some of the re-done structure with tables spilling out onto the scenic sidewalk. Bluestone offers a “reasonably” priced, health-oriented menu that’s somewhat Cali and somewhat NYC-foodie-on-a-mission-for-THE-PIC. I was beyond thrilled to get to shoot this food- we ate at a table right inside the doors between the beautiful stone walls which meant natural, warm light and perfect people watching. 

What we ate: the BIRCHER MUESLI STOLE THE SHOW. With creamy oats, crisp apples, quinoa for texture and health benefits, and seasonal berries + fruits it was a killer combo of filling and still light in the stomach. The homemade banana bread (gluten free!) with ricotta and fruit is a great sharing plate which is exactly what we did, and added something sweet and heavier to everyone’s meals. The avocado smash was beautifully composed “On Balthazar toast with tahini, heirloom cherry tomatoes, feta, sunflower sprouts & e.v.o.o” (from website) and could have been the full meal if we came an hour later. For a breakfast/brunch/lunch date, this is the place. You want to sip their scrumptious espresso and fragrant, rich chai over the colorful food and chat forever in these walls. And guess what? The Guggenheim Museum is right next door, which is exactly where we went after this meal. How perfect is that? 

2. DOUGH!

So my mom loves donuts. As in donuts are worth twenty minutes to find parking for, legit anger if they are sold out, real old school donut appreciation level of love. This is something I love deeply about her and why I can always count on a “yes” upon a donut excursion request, and while in NYC it’s a m u s t to go to Dough. These big ole fluffy fuckers are too good to skip, and given there’s plenty of flashy, over-the-top donuts to be found on Instagram I can’t praise Dough enough. These are bigger than your hand but weigh less than a baby bunny, and the flavors do nothing but enhance the sweet, airy dough you can watch being hand-fried in the back baking room through a glass wall. My favorite one to date is the Blood Orange donut coated in the prettiest pink glaze and donning a dried orange slice, and it’s tangy and flavorful and citrusy without being sickeningly sweet. 

The other front runners are the chocolate-hazelnut and the lemon poppyseed which tastes like a much less buttery version of lemon poppyseed pound cake and instead would make a lovely breakfast pastry. While Dough is small and there isn’t much open seating since it’s ~always~ full of people eating a donut with fork and knife, my family grouped up by the window and shared donuts with chocolaty fingers and smiles galore. Can’t frown when you’re eating a donut unless you’re a miserable person! 

There she is, the Blood Orange baddie calling my name. I’ll be back, my sweet. 

3. TOBY’S ESTATE COFFEE

What’s a family vacation in my family without copious coffee??? Seeing as donuts and 3 p.m. always call for caffeine, we wandered around the Flatiron District where Dough is located and found this little coffee shop that’s Brooklyn originated and very very cute. They take coffee seriously so don’t expect grande sizes, but do expect major taste. Bonus? It’s attached to a boutique bookstore so you can sip and shop (but do NOT SPILL). I got a mocha and it was rich, delicious, and also very expensive. That’s what good espresso (cough cough not Starbucks) will cost you. 

4. DŌ, Cookie Dough Confections

That’s right, another “dough”! There’s a theme here of trendy sweet treats and this one certainly takes the... dough. Made famous through social media and the 2017 “need” for colorful and unique foodie experiences, DŌ offers a variety of cookie dough flavors all entirely safe to eat either in a cup or a cone quite like an ice cream store! I turned 22 during our trip and this was my pick for birthday breakfast because what adult doesn’t want to turn 22 while eating a scoop of oatmeal and M&M cookie dough that comes in a PINK CONE?!?!? I may be getting old and gross, but my stomach is still a dessert-driven child. I literally only eat my vegetables so we can get to the real stuff. 

We came at a great time- given the fact it’s such a destination spot there can be up to a 2+ hour wait (!!!) so we got there bright n’ early at 10 a.m. and there were enough people to feel cool but not too many people that I was like weneedtoleaverightnowfuckthedough. Mom got the chocolate chip dough on a chocolate chip cone, Elise got the plain ole sugar cookie, and my dad nibbled on a little of it all which was impressive since his sweet tooth is nonexistent. I guess when you don’t have a birthday cake there are no candles, right? NAH. THIS PLACE HAS IT ALL. We got some candles and stuck em right in there. 

And the fact we had leftovers to eat during intermission at “Kinky Boots” on Broadway that night when we were taking a break from salivating over Brendan Urie? PERFECTO. Brendan and DŌ. A winning combo and making me feel real good about 22 so far. 

5. SANCTUARY T! 

HA as if the birthday eating ended there. I planned weeks and weeks ahead to have dinner at Sanctuary T on my birthday, as it’s one of my absolute favorite restaurants in the world, and my mom dragged her heels for a while asking if I was “entirely sure I did not want to try somewhere NEW and FRESH” and I stayed strong because Sanc T is my bliss. She regretted that resistance when we sat down in the fucking cute Free People photoshoot setting of this place and got a rose on happy hour, and when the food was brought to the table I pondered how is this place not on every foodie list because it’s all just so GOOD. The truffle-Caesar kale salad is incredible, as the kale is crunchy and earthy which plays off the strong smooth linger of the truffle dressing, and the fish tacos are fried to perfection and topped with pickled root veggies. The fries (also on happy hour!) come with -surprise- truffle aioli, and they are the best fries in NYC. I’m just going to go ahead and make that claim. The burrata was thick but silky and on homemade bread with some olive oil it was straight s-e-x. Slippery and salty and best with an alcoholic drink in arm’s reach.  

There’s nothing bad on this menu. Nothing. So go H A M and eat it allllllll up. It’s in SoHo so it’s a great area to walk around before or after dinner, with amazing classic New York architecture and picturesque streets. Make sure to hit up the Brandy Melville nearby and scoot over to MarieBelle for after-dinner hot chocolate and sweets. 

That will do it for part one of “Natalie Eats NYC”, part two will be up in a couple days!!! While I can write forever, I don’t think y’all want to read forever. So I’ve chunked it up. 

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie

[miraculoussideblog]

Ways to Say I’m Sorry- Chapter 2

Chapter [1][you are here]

[AO3]

Chapter 2: Honey/Tomato

Chloe stood in the grocery store staring at the high quality organic honey she used to love. It was ten Euros for 147.87 ml of the sweet treat. It would take of a third of her new food budget of thirty Euros for the week. There was half jar of cheap honey in the Dupain-Cheng’s apartment anyway. She had to be smart or else her poor spending habits would bite her in the ass again.

Maybe next paycheck.

The first two weeks working at the bakery had to be the hardest weeks of her life. She burned herself making coffee more than once, she screwed up an order for Nadja Chamack and spilled an entire bag of flour in the kitchen. Marinette had to take some money out of her paycheck to pay for the damages. Now she had little money, two dozen cupcakes and flour in every nook and cranny.

Despite her mistakes, Marinette was patient. They barely spoke about the past, and didn’t even attempted to rebuild their friendship. She fucked up. Running away when things got tough. With her father in jail and her finding out her Ladybug the girl she tormented throughout her youth, she had to get out of Paris as fast as possible. Hawkmoth launched his final attack that night.

The news broke that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste the next day. New spread fast to London. She couldn’t bring herself to call Adrien. She didn’t know what to say. Mr. Agreste’s tried to steal his son miraculous for years, almost killing him and others in the process. Her problems seemed so trivial.

Chloe turned on her heels and bumped into someone’s chest. “Ugh, watch where you’re going,” she snapped.

“You ran into me.” Nathaniel stood in front of her carrying an empty shopping basket. His hair was down today, nearly falling over his eyes.

“Are you following me?”

“Yes,” he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. Nathaniel’s sat in the bakery every day for an espresso and chocolate croissant. Like clockwork, Chloe would set his treats on his usual table as he walks in. They barely spoke. He’d sit there on his tablet doodling God knows what while she struggled to get her job done. Why he came to the shop every day was beyond her.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he smirked. “It’s just Chloe Bourgeois shopping at a grocery store. It’s unheard of.”

“Shh,” she pressed her fingers to her lips. “You’ll blow my cover.”

“I don’t understand why you have to hide,”

“Because, if my misfortune pleases you, the the people I’ve bullied in the past will get a kick out of this. Some aren’t as nice as you and Marinette.”

“Fair,” he frowned. “Did have other friends though.”

“Lila?” She scoffed. “That girl only clung to me because of my status. She was hardly a friend.”

“What about-”

“No,” she cut him off before he could say her name. “Drop it okay.”

“Okay,” he glanced into her nearly empty cart. “I see you got first paycheck?”

“Yeah, it’s smaller than I wanted it to be because of that flour incident. But I’m tired of eating bread. I found a budgeting website, and if I want to get my own place soon, I’ll need to save up now. I just didn’t think shopping on a budget would be this difficult.”

“What’s on your list?”

“List?”

“You didn’t create a shopping list before you left? How will you know what you need?”

Chloe shrugged. “The Dupain-Cheng’s empty out the fridge before they went to China. I’ve been eating leftovers from the bakery for two weeks.”

“So you need to stock up on the basics first. Come on,” he pulled her cart to the dairy section. “If you already have bread from the bakery. You need milk, eggs, cheese, meat and vegetables.”

He began throwing items into her cart. Chloe had to stop and check the prices. The numbers were racking up fast. By the time they got to the produce section, she was over budget.

“Nathaniel, stop.”  she pulled the cart away from him. “This is too much. I can’t afford vegetables now. We got to get rid of something.”

“Forget your budget,” Nathaniel said. “You’re stocking up, you won’t need to buy some of these things you next shopping day. You can’t go on extreme budgeting if you have nothing to begin with.”

“I don’t know…”

Nathaniel picked up a ripe red tomato, and placed it next to his face. “Please, Chloe,” he said in a high pitched voice. “I’m packed full of vitamin C and other nutrients.”

“Stop before you embarrass yourself.” Chloe grabbed the tomato and put it in a bag along with two others. “Aren’t you supposed to be shy?”

“I am shy,” he said. “Just takes a while for me to get out of my shell.”

“And when did I crack yours?”

“Somewhere between you falling into a fountain and now,” he smiled.

Chloe turned as red as that tomato. She quickly turned her head to cover her face. Why was this man having an effect on her? She couldn’t let him get to her, she had enough on her plate as is.

She and Nathaniel finished shopping and checked out. The total cost of all the groceries was twice her budget. She reluctantly handed the cash over to the cashier. “I better not regret this Klutzberg.”

“You won’t trust me.”  Nathaniel picked up some of her bags. “Do you need help walking this back to your apartment?”

Chloe sighed. She did buy more than she intended. “Fine, if you insist.” She flipped her hair back in typical Chloe Bourgeois fashion.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Lead the way, your Majesty.”

  Sometimes he was too kind for his own good. Nathaniel placed the grocery bags on the counter and slumped on the table. After accepting his offer to help, Chloe made him carry everything the six blocks to her apartment and up two flights of stairs.

Chloe locked the door behind her and placed her purse on the hook. “Coffee?”

“No,” he gasped for air. “Water...please.”

Chloe went to the cabinet. “Did I get too much?”

“No,” he took a deep breath. Chloe handed him a glass. He chugged it down quickly. “You did fine. You’ll save more money making everything in bulk and eating leftovers.

“Shit,” Chloe mumbled.

“What?”

“I got so focused on spending too much money. I have no idea what to make.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Following a recipe shouldn’t be hard. I think I can turned on a stove.”

The image of the bakery engulfed in flames flashed in Nathaniel's mind. “Let’s see what you have and we can whip something up.” He began digging through her the grocery bags.

Chloe took hold of his hands. “You’ve helped me enough. Please, just tell me whatever you’re after.”

“Can’t I help you without an ulterior motive?” Nathaniel said. She was helpless without him.

“No,” she muttered. “Everybody wants something from me...or wanted something, past tense I guess.”

“See, you’re poor now, what could I possibly want from you?”

Her lips twitched. “I guess, better tasting espresso.” She chuckled, but a hint of sadness flashed in her eyes.

Nathaniel squeezed her hands gently. He was in too deep. Helping her should have stopped after getting her a job. But everyday his sketchbook fills more and more with pictures of her smile. Despite her shortcomings, Nathaniel believed she could be happier in this life than her old one. Back then, only one person truly cared about her. Now she had two.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Nathaniel pulled away. Boundaries. He needed to establish boundaries. He’d help her cook, get a few things started, than it was back to admiring her from afar. He pulled a tomato out of the bag. “I can make a mean chicken parmesan.”

“Ohh, Italian cuisine,” Chloe walked over to the couch and sat down. “It pairs well with Merlot, I’m sure the Dupain-Cheng’s have alcohol stashed somewhere. Just a small glass with dinner should be fine.” Chloe picked up a magazine from the side table and began to read.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Get up Your Majesty. I’m not a personal chef, you’re going to help me with this.”

“Fine,” Chloe dropped the magazine on the couch. “You can’t say I didn’t try.”

Nathaniel laughed. There was still a bit of the old Chloe in there, but new Chloe appeared when it really mattered. “Let’s clear the groceries we don’t need first.”

Over the next hour, Nathaniel and Chloe cooked her dinner. There was really no time for chatting, just step by step instructions on how to properly cook chicken and pasta sauce. When he tried to talk about school and the past, she would change the subject quickly, by making joke about burning the food. After an hour of cooking lessons, Chloe’s chicken didn’t come out half bad.

“This smells amazing,” Chloe dug her spatula into the dish and pulled

“Now you a a meal for three or four days.”

“When I was rich, we would just toss food after one day.”

“That’s wasteful.”

“Now I know.” Chloe blew on her fork before taking a bite. Nathaniel watched her eyes roll back in delight. “This is literally the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“And you did it yourself.”

“With your help,” she smiled. “Do you want some?”

Nathaniel stood up from his seat. Cooking with her was one thing, but dinner? A line had to be drawn. “It’s getting late, I shouldn’t have stayed this long anyway. I have a couple projects I need to finish.”

“Come on, just ten more minutes. Tell me about your projects.”

Nathaniel paused. This was the first time she genuinely showed interest in his work. “Fine, five more minutes, but not food.”

“You must be famished,” she made a plate for him and slid it across the counter.

“You need the leftovers.”

“You can’t possibly think I’ll eat all this in three days.,” she placed a fork next to him. Nathaniel politely pushed his plate aside. “Fine, but it’s there if you want a bite. Now what are you working on?”

“I have several commissions out for my designs and a couple paintings here and there. But my passion project is actually this new webcomic that I’m working on.”

“Can I see?”

“I don’t have my tablet on me, but maybe next time. It’s about a superhero who defeated the final boss and what he’s doing in his everyday life. It’s goofy, but I was inspired by what happened to Paris’ heroes. They spend years trying to defeat this psychopath, gaining new allies on the way. And now that the fight is over what are they doing now? I see Ladybug, Chat Noir and Volpina out on patrol now and then, but Queen Bee has disappeared off the face of the earth. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing now...sorry I’m rambling.” Nathaniel looked over at Chloe. Her expression was blank. “You okay.”

“Fine,” she nodded. “You’re still really into superheroes?”

“Yeah, they’re the coolist. I’ve read hundreds of comics in my life, but witnessing the action happen on the streets or in my own classroom could never compare.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “What a rush.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she paused. “Back in lycee, I wasn’t a nice person. Bringing up those akuma attacks just...I don’t know.”

“I guess you were targeted a lot early on.”

“Yeah, by you too.”

Nathaniel frowned. “Oh yeah.” He had no memory of the event. His classmates filled in bits and pieces of the story. He attacked Chloe several times, nearly killing her with a hair dryer. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “A psychopath took advantage of your negative emotions and made you do terrible. Believe me, I’ve been there. Almost half of the city has been there.”

“You’re right,” he nodded.

“I know we haven't gotten along well in the past, but thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m a mess and I have no idea how to repay you.” She reached over and squeezed his hand gently. “Thank you for being my friend.”

Nathaniel’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He check the caller ID Red #1.

Shit.

Of all the times to call, it had to be now. His stomach dropped as the guilt finally set in. If Chloe finds out, whatever friendship and trust they’ve built would fall apart quickly. The buzzing stopped, but he knew he needed to call back right away. “I’m sorry, I have make a phone call. I’ll see you soon.”  He headed for the door.

Chloe stood up and walked him to the door. “I’m sure you’ll be at the bakery again tomorrow.”

“You know me, I’m still waiting for that perfect cup of espresso.”

“You’ll get it...eventually. Good luck with your project.”

“Thank you, if you need anything, you know where to find me.” Without thinking Nathaniel pulled her into an embrace. She smelled like flowers and honey, the scent soothed him. Chloe squeezed him tighter, this was probably the closest thing she had to human contact in months, he thought.

He slowly peeled away. “Goodbye.” Chloe closed the door behind him.

“What was that?” Nathaniel turned around, pressing his head against the door. His heart pounded in his chest. What was happening to him.

His phone buzzed again, pulling him out of his train of thought. He answered on the second ring. “What do you want Sabrina?”