#the significantly shorter distance is going to be good I think... having to sit in the car for 30 minutes and thinking about the upcoming

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm going to a different dentist for the first time in my life tomorrow 😬

I mean, I've seen probably at least 12 different dentists - but they all worked in the same dental practice. I've wanted to go somewhere else for over 10 years but it just felt too scary (I'm really scared of going to the dentist, so adding my fear of unfamiliar places AND people on top of that made it feel impossible). I'm hoping that my anxiety meds will make it bearable 😬

I did find a dental practice that is 1. much closer to where I live, and 2. specifically mentions anxious patients on their website. Soo maybe they'll be a bit better with that...

[wornoutmouse]

Yandere Tanjiro

Manipulation

Everytime I write salty sweet I think of peanut m&m's

Shout out to all my big areola having ass hoes. Pizza platter with the thick marshmallow tall nipples

You were so obvious and you didn't even realize it. Tanjiro doesn't blame you, many people forget how great his sense of smell was. So in the end he found it amusing when your scent would change to arousal and adoration whenever he was around you. In fact it entertained him

At first he thought it was misplaced, you couldn't feel such a thing towards him, that wasn't in your character. But all of his tests gave fruitful results. As he watched you from an unnoticeable distance He was able to confirm that no one ever made your scent change into any romantic auras. Not with Inosuke or Zenitsu. He even tried to see if you had feelings for Nezuko, she was always around him. But once again there was no change.

Even after finding out, he didn't care about this discovery. It wasn't the first time a woman or man alike has had an attraction to him. He knew he was handsome and everyone loves a kind soul. But your feelings weren't going to get him closer to his goal or keep you alive in the long run so he did not address it. That doesn't mean he didn't use it to his advantage though. On many occasions, he'd find himself teasing you subtly about your crush often.

Harmless grazes along your skin, being more extravagant when he fought with Inosuke. A few times he even waited around shirtless just to see you look away from him to hide your embarrassment. The sticky sharp smell that emanated from your body clung to your skin like a cologne. Tanjiro would even say that the smell gave him a bit of a high whenever it would fluctuate from the things he did. 

Getting real close to you with a neutral face to make the arousal spark before committing a distracting act of kindness to make the soft smell of adoration and content swirl and mix into your aura. It was fun for him, almost like a game, and soon it became a routine way of life. After defeating a demon and the buzz of adrenaline dies down, you'd go right back to your bumbling self.

But then like everything Tanjiro has had in life, it is interrupted.

It happened right after you all just barely made it out of fighting the spider family. You and the others were relocated to the infirmary while Tanjiro was put on trial. He was already agitated when Sanemi pushed his filthy sword through Nezuko's flesh. So in an effort to calm himself, he decided that a little bit of teasing would help boost his mood. 

When he finally ran across you again, you were lying in your own room resting. But not alone, one of the Hashira, Uzui Tengen sat by your side telling you stories of his battles and cracking jokes.

This would be fine normally, but the scent emanating from you was annoyingly familiar. You didn't even look at Tanjiro when he walked in and had a genuine look and scent of surprise when you noticed him. "Oh Kamado, what are you doing here?" Your scent still had its tinge of attraction but it had significantly lessened, not by much but enough to annoy him. 

Tengen excused himself when he noticed his presence adding a head pat as he walked past the shorter male. For a moment Tanjiro lost focus and concern invaded your aura as you watched his face contort into one of disgust and unbridled rage. 

Kamado, Since when did you call me that? Why are you giving your attention to a Hashira? What, am I not good enough for you anymore now that you found someone stronger. 

Tanjiro never took you for the power-hungry type, you can't be. No that's not it, Tanjiro adjusts his face again to one of a content smile. "Are you okay?" 

No, you weren't trying to abandon him on purpose. It's his fault partially, he doesn't blame you, his poor sweet naive Y/n. It's understandable that after ignoring your feelings for so long you'd try to move on and save yourself from the pain. But now it was okay, cause Tanjiro would fix it, he'd accept you, cause he was all you needed. "I'm okay, I broke my ankle and wrists." You raise said appendages to the best of your ability to show off your bandages.  

For a second a dark thought crosses Tanjiro's mind. How weak you and flimsy you were,  how easy it would be for one to take advantage of you at this moment. That's why you needed him to protect you. Someone so easy to break and seduce shouldn't be on their own. That's why Tanjiro would accept you, so you could stay close. For your own good.. All you had to give him was your attention and being. 

Tanjiro sighed but for a different reason than you would ever know. If only he could put you in a box too.

B "Luckily I'm not as badly hurt like the rest of you." Tanjiro sat at your side and picked up your limp hands. "I don't know what I would have done if something were to happen to you." A small smile spreads across your face, "You would never lose us Tanjiro, Inosuke would definitely be hard to bring down." 

The attempt to make a joke is invaded as Tanjiro cups your cheek. Rough battle-worn fingertips graze your lips. Tanjiro gazes at them as he speaks, his bottom lip worried by his teeth as his other hand ghosts over your bandaged wounds. It was a perfect performance. One that replicated the emotion of one who wants to make a move but holding themselves back. One that you effortlessly believed. "You don't understand, I don't want to lose you."

Tanjiro stands up and walks towards your door. Just before opening it, he turns with a doleful look on his face. "Rest up okay?" You nod quickly. Lips puckered into an O of surprise. Tanjiro closed the door, his demeanor doing a complete 180. His gaze was calculated and precise. Tanjiro had planted a seed of conflict, and all he had to do was wait till tomorrow to sow it.

You woke up bright and early the next day, wrists sore but thankfully no longer numb. Unthankfully, you were bedridden until your ankle has healed itself correctly. Sitting alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts was a dreadful way to spend time. However, you didn't want to disturb your friends. "Their life does not revolve around me." Getting sleep was an inviting solution.

A light tap on your door shifts your goal ever so slightly. "Come in!" You try not to look deflated when only a Kakushi boy comes in with a pail of water and new bandage wraps. 

Similarly, Tanjiro was helping around the state trending to his friends. Inosuke was being difficult as usual,  only wanting the springer to fetch him water and tea to feed his sore throat. On multiple occasions, he had to dissuade Zenitsu from trying to propose to random Kakushi women that would help clean his wounds but in the end, it was futile as he returned his infatuation to Nezuko who wistfully stayed in their shared room asleep.

By the time Tanjiro got any time to himself, the evening sun was already setting and most had retired to their own rooms. Heading to your room, Tanjiro thought of ways to get you to succumb faster to his advances. The sound of a door opening made his gaze shift abruptly. His vibrant brown eyes dulled when he saw a Kakushi boy leaving your room again. 

Entering your room was almost as if a joyous bomb had gone off. The smell of happiness was so strong it almost stinked. You didn't notice Tanjiro's soured mood as you observed your room. "He taught me how to make paper butterflies and put them on my ceilings, what do you think?!" He had indeed taught you Tanjiro mused as many of the butterflies had deformed wings of all sorts. "So what brings you here.?" Tanjiro looks back at you with a soft smile. "I just wanted the check-in on you, you must have been bored being cooped up in the room alone all day."

You shook your head, "No Kocho was here with me all day!" Tanjiro bit his tongue but maintained his smile, "Who's Kocho?" You laughed, "The Kakushi boy that just left. He had originally come just to change my wounds but then we got so interested in each other that he never left." With a blissful sigh, you tilt your head and murmur, "I hope he doesn't get into any trouble on the way back." 

Tanjiro is on you in a second, wrists held haphazardly above your head drawing slight sharp pains to your inner elbow. "Tanjiro?" His eyes observe the dark bruises swirling underneath your bandages, your hair slightly matted and in disarray, since you were the only one who knew how to do it. "You're so soft…" Having no reason to leave your room you had remained only partially dressed as a large kimono hung around your figure. Your chest easily being exposed by unnatural movements. "T-Tanjiro?" 

The boy hummed, leaning down to press a slow kiss on your brown nipple. "Say my name again.." You're taken aback by the sudden boldness and the warm feeling on your breast. "Tanjiro, what are you doing?!" He could feel himself becoming harder underneath his robe. Even though he said he was only indulging your crush to keep you near, he couldn't help but notice how sweet your skin tasted underneath his lips. "One more time, say it once again." Tanjiro begins to grind on the leg trapped in between his. He uses his other hand to cup your other boob before biting down on your nipple making you gasp. "Tanjiro!"

Your smell begins to become more lucid and tender at your arousal peaks through the haze. Your moans get airy and each time you say his name it turns more and more into gasps. Tanjiro squeezes down on your chest before traveling to your neck where his teeth sink into the flesh there. You ground yourself by holding onto his wrists. 

Tanjiro peels himself away from you as you go pliant underneath him. ‘This wasn’t the plan.’ Tanjiro removes his robe from around his shoulders exposing his tan skin. He couldn’t focus past your addicting scent and you couldn’t focus past the feeling of his hands fondling your chest. The belt of your kimono is quickly unraveled, “Look at you.”

Tanjiro pulls your undergarments off exposing your body completely. Through the fabric of his robe he thrusts shallowly against your pussy. The fabric rubs against your clit on every thrust. Both sides of the robe are becoming damp. "I haven't even touched you yet and you're already so wet." The smell of sweat and sex floods Tanjiro's nostrils making him more sensitive.

He unwraps his robe the rest of the way, tossing it elsewhere to leave himself completely exposed. Tanjiro felt a sense of pride as he watched your eyes trail over his muscled form. He wasn't buff by any means, but his training in agility and swordsmanship made his body lean and bulked in his arms and legs. "Only look at me."

You let out a surprised gasp when delicately firm hands drag your body down by your calf. Tanjiro uses his fingers to push the skin of your pussy up to force your clit to peek through. His other hand holds the base of his cock and he swirls the tip around your clit. "Tanjiro please, I'm begging you!" 

For a split second a look of unaltered disdain crosses his face before a more loving one takes over. "Your face is so cute, it almost makes me want to tease you more." Yes, that's it, play the part of a doting lover. You flinch the further his cock is pushed into you. Your bodies combine into a pulsating rhythm of jealousy and lust.

You squeeze snuggly around Tanjiro's and he sets a quick pace. Your legs try to curl to your chest but are stopped by Tanjiro's own body cornering you to the wood floor. Tanjiro steadies his breathing on every thrusts until his strokes are as smooth as the water he drinks. Slopping sounds and your pitiful cries equalize around the room. 

Tanjiro knew these walls were thin, in fact he was betting on it. "Y-You're so loud Y/n." You close your mouth at the tease but it doesn't work. Just as you go to cover your mouth you're stopped by a hand and a loving smile, "Dont, I like hearing you feel good." 

You cum, barely suppressing your sounds, hips twitching when Tanjiro cums inside right after you. An unnecessary act but one that could ensure even greater attachment if your body accepted him. 

Expertly playing the role Tanjiro cleans you up with an ever content smile on his face, this time genuine. "You should get some sleep, you'll be more sore than you were this morning." Tanjiro puts his hand on the know before flinching when you call out to him. "Tanjiro?" He doesn't turn around unwilling to force another smile. "Yes?" He can smell your apprehension as it covers the smell of sex. 

"I know its stupid to ask this but could you give me another kiss?" Tanjiro sighs silently, "Of course!" He forces his persona for the last time tonight and heads towards your bed. Halfway there he stops.

L

"Promise me you'll only look at me from now on." You smile giddily, "You're so weird Tanjiro of course I'll only love you." Tanjiro frowns and you fail to notice the space between the two of you growing smaller. "No, that's not good enough. I don't want to see you near that damn Hashira again." And then it happens. It only takes a split second before Tanjiro's face is in front of yours and the cold kiss of his blade presses against your neck.

"You wouldn't want something to happen would you?" You shake your head as he knew you would, "Good girl." Tanjiro has no care for the shocked tears gathering behind your lashes. Greedily he cups the back of your head and forces you into a kiss. All teeth pure spite as he swaps saliva with you. 

"There's your kiss." Without having to pretend any longer he drops his smile. The sinister complex of a perceived hero shining through dark eyes. He looks you up and down once again, fingers tapping along his blackened blade before taking his leave.

[stopeatingwhales]

second chance x damon albarn

i'm surprised i haven't written anything about dilf damon yet bc i've been so obsessed with him recently wtf. anyways enjoy x

i might do a second part to this, idk yet tho

Pairing: dilf damon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 2.786

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Do you want to come over?” I abruptly asked, the silence pouring through the line deafening my ears as my fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. The desperation and moment that led to me ringing my ex-boyfriend at what was nearing eight in the evening seemed as though it was a fever dream, the words rolling off my tongue so delicately out of apprehension only a fragment of that trance. In all honesty, I had no idea as to why I rang Damon, or to what extent the string of thoughts guided me towards the action of calling - we had been broken up for around a year, and it came as a much larger shock that I was able to muster the amount of courage to tap his contact on my phone and attentively listen to the thunderous rings as the landlines attempted to connect, instead of quickly shutting the phone off before he was able to receive a missed call alert.

“Uh, um - are you sure?” he questioned, the stutter escaping his mouth insinuated that he was just as dazed at my sudden offer as me, the demeanour of his voice accentuating the idea that he was entirely finished with the ephemeral chapter of his life which had me intertwined inside as his partner; that he had gotten over me quicker than the momentary period our relationship lasted. My heart sank, realising how indigent I sounded, as if I had never gotten over him throughout our time apart - which I did, learning to live with myself was easier than I had thought it was going to be; the weeks leading up to the breakup stemming from the distance we shared apart due to Damon consistently being on tour and never providing enough time for me, for us, to consider one another as more than romantically acquainted, though that didn’t mean the gap in my heart had been sealed shut, it was simply brimmed with other, unspecial fragments of things which could only distract the thought of him for so long, until I’d discover myself adventuring for something else to hyperfixate my thoughts upon, though he always returned.

“Yeah…” My voice trailed off, so quiet that I struggled to sustain the volume. Though we had only just spoken, the trance that he had obtained over me for all those months we were with one accord, returned in an instant, having the same rush that a recollection of memories, pastimes that were once forgotten, crumbled to dust, had been reborn; ignited into a new bloom in the height of a harvest, resulting in the scolding of yourself upon how you granted the ability to forget such a thing. It seemed as if all those thoughts, ideations convinced to the point that I had gotten over him, were myriads of masks attempting to say it enough to believe it. Without a doubt, I had never overcome the strains of the acquaintance we shared - and I could only hope he felt the same way.

I heard his throat clear itself before his voice echoed through the telephone speakers once again. “Alright… I’ll be there in a bit.” he mumbled, those words bringing a soft, yet apprehensive grin to my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, or why, but it felt right.

It felt as if only the sum of a few minutes passed when I heard a distinguishable knock on the door; one that had not rang through my ears for an interminable amount of time, one that was able to send me months back in time to a period where he had significantly been a figurehead dictating the story. As I jolted up to answer the door, it felt as if things were normal again, back to how they used to be so many nights previous; me waiting for him to come home after he spent a long day at the recording studio, crafting what could only be assumed was the pure essence of talent, unlocking the door to allow my arms to envelop into an embrace cherished with affection and warmth, proving he longed to have my presence just as much as I craved his. Once my eyes met the sight of him, my heart dropped at the overwhelming feeling of my reminiscing about what once was, the nostalgia for a moment so authentically shaped with what could only be described as true love, my body yearning to relish in the sensation of his arms protectively wrapped around my body, a feeling which could only fulfill one’s heart with all that it desires. "Hi..." I trailed off, stunned by how similar, yet different his appearance was from when we last saw one another. His hair had the same shape, though it seemed a little shorter, his eyebags still prominent on his features, though it seemed as if they had sagged down slightly, posing the idea of whether he had been sleeping alright. His torso still adorned shirts with dark colours, amplified with one of his leather jackets which only made me more attracted to him. Widening the door, he set foot into the apartment, nodding his head lightly as a greeting. Although I was very elated to the fact that he was in my apartment, it felt eerie having him back here after so long, stepping foot into the space that was once served merely as a homely and secure space where we both could simply live and enjoy our time together, no distractions included.

Once I had followed him into the living space, he took a seat onto the couch facing the television. I attempted to make my footsteps omit as little noise as possible, as if to avoid damaging the awkward silence that had been shared between the pair of us. It went without saying that neither of us knew how to break the ice, or where this was going to head. One could only hope that the outcome of this meeting was positive. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, ushering over to the cabinet adjacent to the television, supplied with all sorts of alcoholic beverages in which I had not touched, simply there as a point of manners to offer when somebody had come over. “White?” I offered, pulling out an almost-full bottle of white wine. I knew he hated it.

"You know I’ve always hated white." he mumbled, a small smile playing upon his lips. Something about that little grin plastered on his lips made my stomach flip and turn, welcoming a swarm of butterflies to accentuate the nervous pit that had formed within myself. The intense feelings reminded me of the same bewilderment your body undergoes during the first date; there is such a raw attraction to somebody that you know far too little about, but you are so hypnotised by their presence it is as if they’re the only thing in the world that matters, to the point that they obnoxiously overtake your mind, every little thought occupied with their name, wondering whether they may like such and such, like an infection spreading without you knowing such cure for it. The atmosphere was intense, carrying the same ambience of two strangers meeting for the first time in an isolated space, though there was also a refreshing element of familiarity that neither of us wanted to admit that we appreciated so deeply.

"Red?" I asked, snatching the half empty bottle as I placed the other wine bottle back in its designated place, turning my head back to fix my gaze onto Damon, raising my eyebrows as a form of derise for the drink. Nodding his head in response, I quickly took two glasses from the cabinet, brimming them both with the alcoholic liquid before slowly making my way to sit next to him on the sofa, handing him one of the glasses as he thanked me in response. The same devilish silence echoed in the room once again as we granted the situation to truly sink in - thankfully alcohol was present. As I took a sip of the beverage, I tried to gulp down as much liquid as possible before I spoke once again. "So... how have you been?"

"Good... Just came off tour actually. Was a really successful one." he replied, his voice laced with a slight tone of doubt, edging the regret of so eagerly returning back into a place that was once so attached to his occupancy. He carried on talking about how the tour had been, my head subconsciously nodding, attentive to what he was talking about. Each time he had told me about something new they had added, or something they had changed surrounding the live performance set-up, it never failed to blow me away. Him and Jamie together, working on such a creative idea and putting it to life on stage was truly something out of rare virtuosity, disregarding the lengthy old ramblings from Damon almost every night he had returned home about how much Jamie had pissed him off, having a petty argument as if it was a be or end all in their friendship. It was actually a good form of entertainment, seeing how riled up Damon had gotten simply because of something that Jamie joked in an interview.

Once he had finished talking, our eyes connected, uncertainty clouded in his eyes as he searched for the reason behind him needing to come over. "Y/N, why did you ask me to come over?" He said, abrupt, almost as if those words had been lingering at the back of his mind the entire time we had been in one another’s acquaintance; the ease of the sting of words rolling off his tongue softly implied that, perhaps a try to prevent the harshness of the asking from offending me in the slightest. "We haven't seen each other for a year, why now?"

Both gazes never dared to break contact as if we had attempted to communicate telepathically - the ideation of instigating a conversation as awkward as how this had become, the two of us simply wanting the ground to swallow us whole. His gaze had the ability to put me into a trance upon which I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else except for the utter magnificence that was birthed into his loving eyes. Inhaling sharply, I tried to collect the thoughts in my brain that had been travelling in all directions, searching for all sorts of different possibilities that the conversation could reach. "Can we give it a second chance?" I asked absentmindedly, the realisation of what had just rolled off my tongue not settling in my mind until his eyes widened, speechless and shocked at my sudden questioning.

Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. “Love, we didn't work out the first time..." he began, my heart dropping to my stomach as the thought of him breaking my heart again entered my mind. His expression quickly softened once he saw my face drain colour, explaining all that he needed to know about how I had coped since he had left the picture. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Breaking away from the stare, I gawked at the dark shades of red that had adorned the transparent glass clasped in my palm. Holding in my emotions wasn’t going to do me any justice, and since he was here, it would not make sense for me to stupidly avoid the whole reasoning behind me needing him inside my apartment after so long. “It’s been so hard trying to get over you,” I mumbled, my voice almost inaudible out of embarrassment, though I knew he could hear me. “I need you.”

What I didn’t see from my shameful gaze at the ground, was the miniscule beam that broke out across Damon’s features. What I was unaware of, my body encompassed in such a impotent state of pure isolation, was that Damon had been as dependent on hearing those words escaping my mouth before he could admit the same to himself. Though it had all been answered to me as he softly brought his arm to caress my arm, gently squeezing the skin as a form of reassurance, implying the notion that he understood, that he felt the same way, after all this time. We broke up not because we lost feelings, but because the emotions we carried for one another were too strong to handle, too intense to progress with, that when he was gone for those long hours it had left me in such a stupor of helplessness and melancholy that it was unbearable to handle without it tarnishing my health. Unsurprisingly, at this point we knew where the conversation was headed; my desires to be swathed in his arms once again that I had tried so hard to banish to the back of my mind, to the depths of my distant memories in which by reliving such a hug came flooding back, my body leaned into his touch almost instantaneously, a subconscious reflex that I had craved, such an embrace that no other person could give, the mere side hug from him was able to banish all the pain that I had tried so diligently to mask away for the past few months.

We sat there for a short while, taking in the moment as it had played throughout, our breathing syncing together as comfort relished in the atmosphere, our minds now finally at peace while all the conflict that had battled our minds over the time we weren’t together. "Let me come on tour with you." I said, my head resting against his shoulder.

A chuckle erupted out of his throat. “It’s not that easy love.”

"Why can't it be? You're literally the frontman!" I exclaimed, lifting my head off his shoulder to connect eyes with him. "Damon, it would be so fun!" I exclaimed, attempting to encourage him.

It was as if things had mended back together, all the cracks in the pavements had been glued together to mend the time lost, as if it had never occurred. Through all the hardship I had faced trying to find the remedy to my heartache, I was dumbfounded to realise that it had been sitting in front of me, at the top of my phone’s contact list, right in front of my eyes this entire time. His eyes were calling out to me, enveloping my heart in comfort and warmth, the hunger radiating out eager to the ideation of starting anew and preserving the time in which we had lost, building new memories, unfastening the lock on the clock dictating the length of the relationship, allowing it to elongate, carry on as long as we could. My heart brimmed with homeliness - the house I was inside finally feeling normal to me once again.

"I'll see what I can do," he grins, the beautiful sight causing a small smile to erupt on my face as my body melted back into his arms once again. "No promises though."

It felt nice to wake up next to someone again the next morning, on the mattress that once was a carcass of many tears of sadness and melancholy, authentically conveyed by the essence of nihilism embodied from isolation, the kind of philosophical beliefs one could only develop an understanding towards subsequent to irrational thinking as the hours fell still, leaving you sat there, reliving the last moments from your memory bank with the significant other you had soiled ends with, a person who had supported you from the very beginning, even when things formed a bitter congestion to the relationship devoured by both participants, perhaps from the acceleration of argumentation shared, or the distance that had started to weave its way between, leaving you both stranded to conclude, as if you were both on separate, desolate islands fighting against the starvation of progressing through your lives and starting anew, departing from the old knots and attachments formed once epitomising pure adoration and love, though over time spawning to be the offspring of the devil. A person whom you knew would make your bed every morning, cradle you in his arms at the darkest hours to baptise the negativity coiled in your brain, whispering what seems like sweet nothings, merely sounding like soft raspy groans due to them being exhausted out of their mind, but you knew they were saying something to you, you could hear it, acknowledge it in a language that nobody else was able to understand. I relished in concession that he who lay beside me was the one that bestowed and epitomised all the things that I once lacked a night before. A lover.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Soulmate

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Three: (Fake/Secret Dating, Soulmate, Hobbies)

A/N: Here we are, the last time I’ll need to give this warning! This is the last part of the main storyline, everything else after this will be snippets from this AU safe for anyone to read. Enjoy! Word Count: 4,104

Mitsuri waited outside the gates of Sekirei Girls’ Academy, humming and rocking on her feet. It was obscenely early, but it was a price she was willing to pay if it meant being the first person to greet Shinobu on school grounds each morning.

Mitsuri was very happy. Ever since the surprise thunderstorm, she and Shinobu had grown much closer. Whenever Shinobu would spot her, she’d shoot Mitsuri the cutest little smile that made the older girl’s heart feel like it was going to explode! They talked more and even hung out outside of school on occasion, it was all Mitsuri had ever hoped for in pursuing a relationship with the cool, smart and beautiful Kochou Shinobu.

There was one thing that bothered her though, and that would be Shinobu’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the strange bond between them. It hadn’t just been a product of the storm, they had experienced the visions a few more times since then. Usually, a specific touch or smell, even a sound could trigger an event and they’ve only gotten clearer since that rainy day.

From what Mitsuri gathered, she and Shinobu had been part of some kind of war if the uniforms and katanas were anything to go by. She didn’t really have many specific details beyond that. Many of the visions that came to her seemed to reflect whatever triggered them in the first place. Mitsuri had been researching the phenomenon in her spare time, but wasn’t making much progress on her own. She was sure if she could get Shinobu’s help on the matter they could actually find something, but as previously said, Shinobu wanted nothing to do with it. That didn’t mean Mitsuri was going to give up though.

“Good morning, Shinobu-chan!”  Mitsuri grinned and waved excitedly as Shinobu appeared in the distance.

“Good morning,” Shinobu answered once she was close enough to do so without yelling. Her lips were curled into that small smile that Mitsuri loved to see.

“What are you going to be practicing today, Shinobu?” Mitsuri asked, following her Kouhai to the track. Now that she had her foot in the door of Shinobu’s life, she was working on wiggling herself further in by spending all the time she could with her.

“My events next week are going to be the triple jump, high jump, one hundred meter dash, one hundred meter hurdles and the four hundred meter relay.” Shinobu recalled. “After I warm up I think I’ll start practicing my jumps and finish off with the sprints. I wanted to try pole vaulting, but Tomioka says I have to focus on my strengths now that the season is almost over. He’s such a killjoy.”

Mitsuri giggled. That was another part of Shinobu’s practices that she loved to watch. The shorter girl often sassed the coach or countered his teachings. It had worried Mitsuri at first, but quickly learned that it was simply their dynamic.

“There’s always next year, Shinobu! It’s sad I’m graduating this year, watching you practice is so fun. It’s too bad we didn’t become friends sooner, then you could have watched me during dance and volleyball season.” Mitsuri said wistfully.

“I’ve seen you do both many times.” Shinobu mumbled, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “My sister was in both of those clubs as you may recall.”

“Yes! That’s true!” Mitsuri clapped before she thought about it a moment more and her face dropped. “But that means you’ve only seen me at my worst! I was only a first year back then and I wasn’t really good.”

“I remember, you fell a lot.” Shinobu snorted. Mitsuri covered her face and whined pitifully.

“But I didn’t stop going to meets and events even after Kanae graduated. You really improved over time.” Shinobu added shyly, keeping her eyes staring firmly ahead at the track where some other girls were already warming up.

“Aw, Shinobu!” Mitsuri cooed. She couldn’t stop herself from latching on to the shorter girl, pressing tightly into her side while Shinobu tried halfheartedly to shove her off.

The pair slowed their stride significantly as another vision past behind their eyes. A similar hug, but again with the strange uniforms and taking place in a grand garden that was growing steadily more familiar.

"Come on, I know you saw that." Mitsuri said once the feeling past and they began walking again.

"Saw what?" Shinobu feigned ignorance.

“Shinobu, when are you going to admit there is something supernatural going on here?”

“Never. It’s just absurd. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.” Shinobu said, setting her bag on the bleachers.

“What do you mean? You love ghost stories and supernatural phenomena.” Mitsuri countered, sitting beside Shinobu’s belongings.

“I love telling scary stories precisely because I don’t believe in any of that junk. It’s funny to see how others react.”

“If you would help me with my research for just one night, I just know we could find something.”

“I’m sorry, Mitsuri. That just sounds like a waste of time,” Shinobu said, stretching her arms over her head before placing her hands back over her hips, “I’ve got to go warm up now.”

“No!” Mitsuri pouted.

“What?”

Mitsuri snatched Shinobu, catching her off guard and making her fall into Mitsuri’s lap.

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu scolded quietly, “let go!”

“Not until you promise to help me research what’s going on between us! Just one day, please!” Mitsuri exclaimed, pressing her cheek snuggly between Shinobu’s shoulder blades as her strong arms held her firmly in place.

“Fine, fine! Just cut it out!” Shinobu snapped.

“Yes!” Mitsuri cheered. She gave Shinobu one last tight squeeze before letting her go. The Kouhai stood and shot a glare at the giddy girl before darting of onto the track. Her skin already flushed before her workout even began.

Mitsuri used the rest of her time organizing the research she already had so she could really optimize her time with Shinobu. It was a little difficult to stay on task however, when she could be watching Shinobu twist over the high jump pole or sprint and leap over hurdles like they weren’t even an obstacle. Needless to say, Mitsuri didn’t get as much work done as she could have.

***

They had set the research session for Saturday. Shinobu thought she could have gotten away with a couple of hours Friday night, but Mitsuri had shot down that idea quickly. She had finally coerced Shinobu into helping her and she wasn’t going to settle for a couple of hours, she wanted a whole day.

They decided to do their research at Shinobu’s since it was a more quiet and controlled space than Mitsuri’s house with all her rambunctious siblings running about.

Mitsuri arrived bright and early Saturday morning, beaming brighter than the sun. Shinobu answered the door with messy hair and squinty eyes. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting Mitsuri to already be here. It was only seven in the morning after all.

“What time did you wake up this morning? You live on the other side of town.” Shinobu asked. She sounded grumpy, but it was mostly because she herself had only woken up fifteen minutes ago.

“I couldn’t sleep at all Shinobu. I couldn’t stop thinking about how excited I was to spend the day with you!” Mitsuri said, giving off a glow that should not have been humanly possible for someone who hadn’t slept at all the night before.

“You’re insane.” Shinobu deadpanned whilst making room for Mitsuri to enter her home.

While Shinobu finished getting ready for the day, Mitsuri made herself at home in Shinobu’s room and set up her own workspace. With Kanae at her job and Kanao heading out later to stay over at a friend’s house, it would just be the two of them for a majority of the day. Mitsuri wasn’t sure why, but the thought made her heart beat faster.

“Alright,” Shinobu sighed, dropping onto her futon beside Mitsuri, “what do you have so far?”

Mitsuri turned to face Shinobu and smiled. Gone was the cute, tousled bed hair, now tucked neatly into place, but the giant hoodie and athletic shorts she had been wearing when she had answered the door remained unchanged.

“You really like wearing giant sweatshirts, don’t you Shinobu?” Mitsuri had said instead with a light giggle.

“I get cold.” She stated simply.

“But you’re wearing shorts. Wouldn’t it help if you wore something longer?” The older girl pointed out.

“Watch this,” Shinobu sat up further back on the futon, “I’m about to blow your mind.”

Shinobu lifted the hem of her hoodie and before Mitsuri could register and appreciate the newly exposed skin it was quickly gone again as Shinobu’s knees pressed against her chest and the large hoodie was thrown back into place, encompassing all of Shinobu’s legs, making her look like a lumpy egg with a human head.

Mitsuri blanked for a moment, taking in Shinobu’s form for a few moments before laughing heartily. Shinobu laughed too, although more subdued. She had gotten just the reaction she was hoping for.

“What a problem solver, Shinobu-chan,” Mitsuri wiped a tear from her eye, “when you get a boyfriend you’re going to steal all of his hoodies, aren’t you?”

Shinobu winced a bit at the insinuation, instead of giving Mitsuri a real answer she hummed noncommittally, making Mitsuri tilt her head curiously.

Then a thought crossed Mitsuri’s mind that chilled her to the core, did Shinobu already have a boyfriend? She was so beautiful and amazing, had someone already claimed her heart? She lurched forward, startling Shinobu by balancing her weight over Shinobu’s knees, still hidden beneath the blanket like sweatshirt.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Shinobu?” She squeaked, her face mere centimeters away from the other’s.

“What? No!” Shinobu denied, blush crawling its way up her neck from their proximity.

“You promise? You don’t have to hide from me Shinobu, I’ll be your number one supporter!”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Mitsuri. I never will so just drop it, okay?” Shinobu said, attempting to push Mitsuri out of her personal space.

“What do you mean, never?” Mitsuri was flabbergasted. Did Shinobu think that as pretty and charming as she was, she couldn’t get any boy she wanted? Now instead of relieved that Shinobu didn’t have a boyfriend, she was upset that Shinobu thought she would never have one. “You are beautiful Shinobu, and so smart and dedicated! Don’t give up, you’ll find the right boy for you and if they don’t treat you right they don’t deserve you! Just like you told me, right?”

“Mitsuri, stop.” Shinobu warned, running a hand through her hair.

“But it’s true! You could have any boy you want Shinobu.”

“I don’t want a boy!” Shinobu finally yelled, exasperated. “I don’t want a boy.” She said again this time in a more even tone, jerking her head away from Mitsuri.

“Don’t want a... oh!” Mitsuri clapped her hands together, “Do you want a girlfriend to share your hoodies with then?”

Though her head was turned, Mitsuri watched in amazement as Shinobu’s ears turned red before her very eyes. After a moment of silence, it was clear Shinobu was tongue tied.

“You do!” Mitsuri yelled, wiggling excitedly, “This is great, we can talk about what girls we think are cute together sometime. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“...What?” Shinobu peaked over her shoulder at Mitsuri.

“Well you know me, Shinobu. I like a lot of different people. It’ll be fun to see where we might overlap.” Mitsuri said as if it was obvious, no big deal. Unfortunately for her, her own idea didn’t make her feel much better. For some reason the idea of Shinobu sharing what other girls she found attractive made her feel anxious.

“No, I didn’t know that. I’ve only ever heard you talk about boys.” Shinobu said, distracting Mitsuri.

“Oh, well, now you know I guess.” Mitsuri shrugged with a smile, her face still hovering painfully close to Shinobu.

Shinobu could just about die.

A knock on the door saves her, and she calls Kanao in. The younger girl has her backpack on and a sleeping bag roll hugged against her chest.

“Nezuko and her mom are here to pick me up.” She said, staring between the two older girls and wondering why her sister appeared so flustered.

“Okay, do you have everything?” Shinobu got up from her futon, happy for an excuse to step away from Mitsuri and her honey sweet scent.

“Yes.” Kanao answered with a nod.

“And how are you getting home tomorrow?” Shinobu asked.

“Aoi said her dad would drop me off.”

“Alright, call or text if you need anything. If you want to come home early Kanae will pick you up at anytime, okay?” Shinobu reminded. Since their parents were often away, Shinobu and Kanae had basically been Kanao’s primary caretakers ever since she was adopted. It was a little hard at times for Shinobu to remember that Kanao wasn’t so little anymore.

“I remember, see you tomorrow, Nee-san.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Kanao turned, rounded the corner and with a quiet closing and locking of a door, she was gone.

Shinobu cleared her throat and turned back to Mitsuri, who had watched the interaction with hearts in her eyes.

“So, are we ever going to get into your, ‘research’ or are we just going to sit here and do nothing all day?” Shinobu crossed her arms, her eyes not quite meeting Mitsuri’s as she was still embarrassed from earlier.

That seemed to jolt Mitsuri out of her musings and the older girl quickly finished setting up and filled Shinobu in on what she had so far.

“So basically,” Shinobu leaned her back against the wall, “you have nothing.”

“That’s not true!” Mitsuri pouted, leaning closer to Shinobu to shove her laptop in the younger girl’s face, “Did you read this article about telepathic dream links and dimensional rifts?”

“Just hearing you say that aloud makes my brain want to melt.” Shinobu snorted.

“Take this seriously Shinobu. You promised you’d try today.” Mitsuri pleaded.

“You’re right,” Shinobu sighed, taking the laptop from Mitsuri’s hands to place it on her own lap, “sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Now, how can we find out what’s going on with us?”

“Well, let’s type... connected vision experiences, and see if we find something similar and go from there.” Shinobu tapped the enter key and the relevant links popped up on the search engine.

Articles, websites and message boards yielded very little the first hour or so. Then they got really serious. Shinobu got out her own laptop so they could broaden their search. Occasionally they would share an interesting or just down right insane tidbit of information but largely nothing came up that sounded like what they were experiencing.

After awhile, Mitsuri noticed that Shinobu had gone quiet and seemed to be reading something rather intently. Excited, Mitsuri knocked shoulders with her.

“Did you find something good, Shinobu?” She asked.

“Ah, no. Sorry.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed. “I was reading an article about a new species of butterfly.”

“Aw, Shinobu! Stay on task here, come on!” Mitsuri scolded as best she could, but she was just too sweet for her words to have much bite.

“A break wouldn’t hurt, would it? Aren’t you hungry? I’ll order a delivery for whatever you want.” Shinobu enticed.

Now how could Mitsuri say no to that? Especially since her stomach had just then decided to speak for her with a low rumble.

“Food sounds great!” Mitsuri said, easily giving in.

“What do you want?” Shinobu asked, getting up.

“Mochi!” Mitsuri cheered.

“And?” Shinobu laughed.

“Tempura and miso! No wait, oden! No wait, ramen? Yakitori?” Mitsuri rubbed her temples, a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. This was an important decision!

“Pick a couple of things we can get at the same restaurant and anything you wanted that we didn’t get, we can make for dinner, okay?” Shinobu suggested after watching Mitsuri struggle for a minute.

“Really Shinobu? You’re the best!” Mitsuri praised.

They came up with a list and Shinobu ordered from the restaurant before going to the kitchen to make sure they had the ingredients they needed for dinner, leaving Mitsuri to continue their research.

Mitsuri was thinking of a new phrase to put in her search bar when Shinobu’s laptop caught her eye, still open and waiting for its owner to return. With a light hum, she set her own laptop aside, replacing it with Shinobu’s. Shinobu was right, a little break would be fine and she really wanted to see what this new butterfly looked like.

Mitsuri scrolled back to the top of the page, letting out a disappointed huff as there were no pictures. She scoured for the name of the butterfly to look it up herself, but the words she scanned gave her more questions than answers.

Words and phrases of past lives and tragedy, rebirth and second chances. An uncommon phenomenon. Mitsuri decided to reread from the beginning with complete focus.

A few minutes later, Shinobu reentered the room, looking down at her phone as she finished typing out a grocery list.

“Hey, we’re short on a few things. I’m just going to pop by the convenience store down the street. Do you want to come?”

“Why did you lie?” Mitsuri frowned at Shinobu instead, causing the other to whip her head up from her phone.

“Wha—“ Shinobu cut herself off as soon as she saw her laptop in Mitsuri’s grasp. “Oh Mitsuri, I just— it’s one article. It doesn’t mean anything...“

“Doesn’t mean anything... Shinobu, this is us to a T!” Mitsuri shot her arms up above her head, “We’re soulmates!”

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu tried to de-escalate, “you can’t believe everything you read, I didn’t find anything else about the subject. It’s just one story and—“

“It’s so detailed. The visions Koyuki and Hakuji shared, they aren’t so different from how our own come to us,” Mitsuri laid back against the futon with a light groan, covering her eyes. “To think we experienced some tragic end in our past lives, and the visions were so we could find each other and try falling in love again. It’s a lot to take in.”

Mitsuri let out a big breath of air and then remembered that she was still hurt that Shinobu had lied to her and sat back up.

“So why did you lie, Shinobu? Do you,” her voice got quieter, “do you not like me?”

“I do like you, don’t be ridiculous. I was just, I don’t know...” Shinobu huffed, walking over to her fish tank to watch the little colorful fish swim about. An excuse to not have to look at Mitsuri’s sad face.

“Is it because of my hair or maybe, because I eat a lot? Because I’m too clingy?” Mitsuri thought aloud, making Shinobu immediately turn back and stalk over to her.

Mitsuri yelped as Shinobu pushed her back against the futon and hovered over her, eyes dark with great sincerity as she poked Mitsuri squarely in the chest.

“You stop that right now.” Shinobu warned quietly. “There is not one part of you that I don’t like,” She changed her position to sit beside Mitsuri and looked down at the floor,

“...I was just, nervous I guess. I didn’t know how you would react. If you would think I was trying to take advantage of you or you would want to be with me just because of what one story had to say. If we did become a, a couple, I would hope it would because we are genuinely happy with each other and not because we may have known each other in another life.”

Mitsuri sat back up again and nodded vigorously, wrapping up Shinobu in a side hug with her head resting on her shoulder.

“I’ve liked you for a long time. Ever since I saw you running at the sports festival last year, I thought you were really cool and pretty. You made my heart leap back then before I even knew your name. Even without our shared visions or the possibility of the existence of soulmates, I would still want to be with you.” Mitsuri spoke, her words heartfelt, and Shinobu knew it.

“Until now, I didn’t let myself really think about asking you to be my girlfriend because, well, you know what I’ve told you of my track record with dating. They would always end up leaving. I didn’t want you to leave too.”

“I wouldn’t.” Shinobu said sternly, crossing her arms beneath Mitsuri’s side hug, making the older girl giggle and bury her head further into Shinobu’s neck. “Those guys were all assholes.”

“This is why I was so worried you might have already been dating someone, you’re just so expressive and— ahh! I just like you a lot!” Mitsuri nuzzled.

“I like you too.” Shinobu mumbled but she was full of sincerity. She freed one of her arms so she could pat Mitsuri affectionately on her back before clearing her throat.

“So do you, would you, like to go on a date sometime? Not because we might be soulmates or whatever, but because you would genuinely like to regardless?” She asked.

Mitsuri squealed and shook Shinobu in her arms, “Yes! Yes, I’d really like to do that. Do you mean it? Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I do. —Hey!”

Mitsuri pulled Shinobu back down on the futon with her, still hugging her close. Wisteria clung to her nose the longer she stayed close and she didn’t want to leave. Mitsuri grinned into Shinobu’s shoulder as she felt arms finally wrap around her.

“What a weird, amazing day, hm?” Mitsuri breathed through a relaxed sigh.

“Tell me about it.” Shinobu sighed in return though she sounded more spent than relaxed. She wasn’t accustomed to sharing such gooey emotions like this. Honestly, she felt lucky Mitsuri had the patience to bear with her.

“Aren’t you glad I made you do this research with me now?”

“Mm, probably would have just been a lot less work for you to just as me out instead while you had me trapped.” Shinobu responded cheekily, earning a light slap on the arm.

“Now, as much as I’d love to lay here, the food should be here in less than twenty minutes and I’d really like to grab those groceries before the delivery person gets here. Are you coming?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll never leave your side again!” Mitsuri said, shifting her body upwards a bit so she could show Shinobu her very serious, yet extremely cute and hardly intimidating, expression.

“Oh dear, what have I done.” Shinobu couldn’t help but smile. Hesitantly she caressed Mitsuri’s cheek and she melted instantly under her touch.

Before they could leave, Shinobu said she had to change her sweatshirt first and Mitsuri lightly poked fun at her, but in all honesty it would have been like Shinobu was wearing a Snuggie out in public with how big that hoodie was.

Shoes on, they walked down the street to their destination. Surprisingly, their conversation on the way felt normal as if nothing had really changed and that felt good. Mitsuri nervously brushed knuckles with Shinobu a few times and the younger girl easily took her hand in her own. They both quieted for a moment and smiled to themselves, enjoying the small, but not insignificant, act of intimacy.

They got the ingredients they needed with added snacks and managed to just barely beat the delivery person home with a couple minutes to spare. They put away the groceries and set up lunch in the living room because Mitsuri insisted on eating under the kotatsu even though the chills of winter had long since past. Shinobu was happy to indulge her anyway and offered to put a movie on to watch while they ate. They picked one and sat together, steadily migrating closer until they were leaning on each other.

Before long, Shinobu heard Mitsuri’s breathing change and realized that the other girl had gone quiet.

“Missed sleep finally caught up to you, did it?” Shinobu whispered fondly.

She pulled Mitsuri further into herself and she snuggled in. Shinobu paused the movie, having a feeling that Mitsuri would want to finish it later, and turned on a show she would usually watch herself while playing idly with Mitsuri’s hair.

She’d never admit it, but maybe, just maybe, there was something to all that soulmate business because it felt like she had waited a lifetime to hold her like this without another care in the world.

[loverboytrashmouth]

Wish You Were Sober

pairing; Reddie

word count; 4k

summary; Eddie is tired of Richie flirting like a madman whenever he gets alcohol in his system.

a/n; so i decided i’m making a kind of series of reddie fics i write based on songs, bc i’m the type of bitch that listens to any music or intakes any kind of media and thinks “iMagiNe tHiS bUt rEdDiE<333″ so ya there’s that lol. here’s a lil angsty one shot based on wish you were sober by conan gray, aka a superior song if u ask me. as always, read on ao3 here if you’d like and enjoy ! :)

Nirvana blared through the speakers and traveled throughout the too small apartment owned by some random guy in one of Richie’s classes. Richie didn’t know him too well - he thinks his name is Chris? Collin? Something with a ‘C’ - but, hey, a party’s a party, and free booze is free booze.

The trashmouth was chatting loudly over the music with Bill on a dingy leather couch, waiting for Stan and Eddie to return with more drinks. Richie was already significantly further along than his friends in terms of his drunken state, all obnoxious laughs interrupted by hiccups and long, gangly limbs flailing more wildly than usual. It almost should be concerning to the other Losers, having only been at the party for less than a couple hours and their friend already being long gone, but it was what they were used to. Since they were 15 and stealing liquor from their parents, the Losers constantly saw Richie’s “go big or go home” attitude with drinking. They assumed it was just Richie wanting to be the life of the party and center of attention, whether that meant going shot for shot with Mike, accepting any type of drinking related dare from Beverly, etc.

Richie let them believe this, because it was better than telling them the truth. It was easier than admitting to them that around the same time he started sneaking a copious amount of vodka from the Tozier’s alcohol stash, he was also realizing certain feelings he had for a certain Loser.

Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was sure it was just one of those basic laws of the universe, one that’s impossible to ignore and inevitable to come to pass. Despite this, living in a small town like Derry meant getting the shit kicked out of you if you even look at another guy for too long, soulmates or inescapable love or whatever be damned. Richie had gotten beatdowns left and right from neighborhood bullies for being a “faggot” before he even knew what the word meant, so he, unfortunately, knew this from personal experience.

But now, sitting in an apartment in Manhattan of all places, attending NYU with three out of six of his best friends, away from those assholes in Derry, Richie thought he’d loosen up. Let himself be brave.

He soon learned that was easier said than done; who knew what 19 years of internalized homophobia could do to a man?

It’s not like he was afraid of being more of an outcast; he was already a loser with a capital “L,” and he, along with the rest of his friends, carried the title like it was given to them by the Queen herself. Deep down Richie knew the rest of the Losers wouldn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he liked dudes the way he should have liked girls, so he wasn’t afraid of losing them either. And deep, deep down, Richie also knew there wasn’t really anything wrong with him. Why would he feel such a way if it was supposed to be such an unnatural and vile thing? He couldn’t help who he was, who or how he loved, and God, he loved Eddie so much he thought he could just burst with it sometimes.

That shred of acceptance, though, was buried so deep in his lanky form, and the only way to reach it was through a ridiculous amount of shots. Or beers. Or just about anything with a decent alcohol content, really. He’d even settle with wine if he had to.

When Richie was drunk, he was able to be more clingy and face less consequences. He was already an affectionate guy, constantly pinching Eddie’s cheeks and throwing a lazy arm around the shorter man’s shoulders whenever he could. With alcohol, though, he’d give sloppy cheek kisses and intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s and allow his face to form a subtle blush when an intoxicated Eddie would lean into it.

“Sorry for being all over ya last night, Eds. You know how gross and clingy I can get,” he’d say the following morning, and then they’d fall back into their rhythm of bickering and ‘your mom’ jokes. Business as usual, like clockwork every time they’d get wasted.

Richie thought it was going well, that his feelings were going totally unnoticed, that he was stealth. Until this particular college party, that is.

Richie’s attention left his conversation with Bill about the newest Die Hard film when he felt the couch sink next to him, turning to meet eyes with a mildly tipsy Eddie. The taller man’s face immediately lit up, a goofy smile spreading across his chapped lips.

“Hiya, Spagheds! What’s cookin, good lookin’?” Richie slurred out, his arm finding its way around Eddie’s waist and using his other hand to snatch the mixed drink his friend was holding out for him. Eddie responded with his usual scoff and eyeroll, but Richie noted an extra bite to it that he wasn’t used to getting from him.

“Don’t call me that, asshole! And haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling himself out of Richie’s side embrace and putting some distance between the two. The arm that was once around Eddie made its way to Richie’s own body as he dramatically grasped at his chest.

“Eddie, baby, you’ve wounded me! Since when do you pass up some signature Tozier cuddles?” Richie was met with a simple huff in response as Eddie avoided his gaze. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the lack of attention he was receiving from the man who would usually be giving him the most attention, but he was overall too drunk to overthink. With a shrug, Richie downed his freshly made drink in record timing before crunching the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, causing Eddie to scoff again from next to him. Stan spoke up from beside Bill before Eddie could ream his friend about his lack of care for tidiness.

“Maybe you should start on some water, huh, Rich?” Richie gasped dramatically, turning to look at Stan as if he had just told him pigs fly.

“Staniel, did you just ask moi to drink water? What’s the point of free booze if you’re not gonna take advantage?” He asked incredulously before standing, wobbling on his long limbs for a couple seconds and giggling a bit before regaining his balance. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go see if my boy Chris has any good brewskis lyin’ around.”

“Isn’t his name C-C-Connor?” Bill asked, shaking his head in amusement. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the trashmouth’s antics this evening, as Stan’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern which he tried to pass off as annoyance, and Eddie still kept his gaze elsewhere. It was the latter that made Richie itch for another drink.

“Whatever the fuck, Billiam. I’ll be back in a jiff, my loves! Try not to miss me too much!” Richie exclaimed with a bow, breaking out his British accent for his next sentence. “But if I find m’lady Mary Jane, don’t wait up, lads! Pip pip!”

Before Richie could step five feet from the couch, an aggressive hand was yanking him back by the wrist. Losing his footing due to the intrusion, Richie stumbled once more, nearly toppling onto Eddie. The shorter man’s tight grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from sending them both back onto the scratchy leather of the couch below. Richie beamed at the attention he was finally receiving, despite the glare Eddie was boring deep into his features.

“Sit the fuck down, Richard. You’re not drinking anymore fucking beer and you’re definitely not smoking anything. You’re drinking some water and I’m taking you the fuck back to your room, asswipe,” Eddie said sternly, getting as close as he could to Richie’s face with the height difference between them. Richie couldn’t help but love when Eddie got like this; sure, he was red in the face more with anger than with the alcohol, but the anger was backed by mountains of concern. It reminded Richie how much his love cared about him, even though he was sure their forms of love differed. There was still some kind of love there, and sometimes, that was enough for him.

Although Richie felt his chest swell and he wanted nothing more than to ease Eddie’s anger and please him, his mouth rambled before his brain could tell it what to say, as usual.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Eds, all ya had to do was ask,” Richie slurred with a wink, slowly bringing his hand up Eddie’s arm, his calloused fingertips slightly teasing the warm skin. Eddie’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, from anger or something else, no one was sure - until Richie’s hand was being swatted away, the smack of it loud enough for Bill and Stan to hear over the music from their spot on the couch. Richie mumbled a curse under his breath as he rubbed the skin Eddie came in contact with, a sting lingering there. He opened his mouth to speak again, some kind of excuse or apology on the tip of his tongue, but never got it out due to Eddie’s voice cutting him off.

“Stop doing this, Richie! Just stop! I’m tired of it!” Eddie's voice was slowly rising, and the tremble that laced within his words acted as some kind of magical potion; suddenly Richie had never been so sober. 

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sor-” The apology was interrupted with another signature scoff as Eddie looked at the ground, shaking his head, breathing out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking Richie in his eyes once again. Despite the apartment being dark with the exception of a couple of lamps scattered around the area, Richie could see the glistening threat of tears waiting to spill from the doe eyes he loved so much. His heart ached.

“Of course you don’t know what you’re doing, Rich, because you’re too fucking drunk! You’re always too drunk. I just… I just wish you were sober for fucking once!” Eddie practically screamed, before his voice softened with hurt again. “I just wish you’d act like this with me without fucking booze.” There were a couple beats of silence between them, two pairs of dark eyes swimming with gallons of emotions simply blinking at one another, the only noise coming from Eddie’s sniffling. Richie did all in his power to search for a response, but for once in his life, the trashmouth was at a loss for words. After what felt like forever, Eddie finally ended the moment by turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door, leaving Richie to stand in dumbfounded silence while his intoxicated brain processed the scene that just unfolded. His thought process was interrupted by a voice coming from the couch.

“Wha-what just happened?” Bill asked, his amusement from earlier in the night completely dissipated and replaced with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Richie’s oblivious and a dumbass is what just happened. Nothing new,” Stan deadpanned from next to him. Richie snapped his body towards the pair, making his head spin and reminding him of just how drunk he was. He blinked at the two in an attempt to adjust his sight before raising his hands in defense at Stan’s comment.

“What are you talking about? Do you know what that was about?” Richie asked, pointing towards the direction Eddie stormed off in. Stan rolled his eyes before standing up and grabbing Richie by the shoulders with both hands, giving him a serious look.

“When we went to get drinks, Eddie talked to me. About you. About how you act when you’re drunk, all over him and shit, more than usual. And how much he likes it, but he hates that he likes it, because you only do it when you’re drunk.” Richie continued to gape at his friend, clearly not connecting what Stan’s words meant. Stan sighed, scrunching his face in annoyance and gripping Richie’s shoulders tighter. “He’s in love with you, asshole! Either tell him you love him too, because trust me, everyone except him knows you do, or stop leading him on. It’s fucking ruining him, man!”

Realization finally hit Richie, his eyes welling with tears as Stan’s grip on his shoulders softened. “He- He is? Are you sure? This- This isn’t funny, Stanley. A-Are you sure?” he breathed out, and if it wasn’t for the weight of the situation, he’d made a joke about how he was sounding like Bill, nervous stutter and all. Stan gave a slight nod and responded, but Richie didn’t hear what he said. His mind was suddenly racing; find Eddie. tell Eddie. kiss Eddie. EddieEddieEddie.

Before he knew it his feet were running just as fast as his thoughts, not 100% sure where he was going, just knowing he needed to find Eddie. Richie raced out of the apartment building into the chilly air that was New York City on a late November night, frantically scanning the streets. His eyes soon locked on a figure about half a block down, leaning against a mailbox, head in his hands. Even with the distance between them, Richie could tell he was trembling, either from the cold or from crying, he wasn’t sure. As he felt the sharp breeze across his skin exposed by the rips in his jeans, he assumed probably both.

Richie thought better than to call out his name, opting instead to slowly approach Eddie. He did his best to labor his breathing in his short walk over, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was about to take place. The confrontation that would bear all feelings, all confessions. All of the walls Richie had been building around himself since high school would finally come down.

He wished he had another drink.

“Eds?” He spoke softly, possibly the softest he’d ever spoken, as to not scare Eddie and send him running. The shorter man lifted his head from his hands, and Richie’s heart broke even more at the sight before him. Eddie’s eyes were red and puffy, a wall of hurt extremely evident in the soft brown. His nose was runny, and his lip quivered as he looked away when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whispered, just loud enough for the other to catch it over the bustle of traffic in the streets surrounding them. Although he was avoiding the other man’s gaze like his life depended on it, Eddie made no attempt to walk away. Richie took that as a small win.

“Eddie, talk to me. Please. What’s up? It’s just me and you, man. C’mon.” Richie wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Eddie. Offer a comforting hand on his shoulder, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t dare move.

A car honked down the street, offering the only noise that cut through the thick silence when Eddie didn’t take Richie’s offer to speak. The former stayed silent with his head down, finding the dirty concrete under his pristine white converse highly interesting. Richie let out a sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. I’m the Trashmouth after all, aren’t I?” Richie offered a lame chuckle when his attempt at a joke fell flat, Eddie not breaking his frown even slightly. Richie cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Look, I talked to Stan, he told me what you guys talked about, and -” He was cut off by the same humorless chuckle he heard in the apartment minutes ago, but this time it dripped with sadness rather than anger.

“Dammit, Stanley, you fucking traitor,” Eddie mumbled mostly to himself. He shook his head with a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, making them impossibly redder, before willing himself to look at Richie, his voice finally reaching above a murmur for the first time since leaving the party. “Secret’s out, I guess. I’m a fucking cliche. The fuckin’ queer that fell for his best friend.”

All Richie could do was silently stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes comically blown, amplified more so by his glasses. Sure, Stan had told him this not even five minutes beforehand, but hearing it from Eddie himself was an entirely different experience. He figured under different circumstances, Eddie would probably be laughing at how dumb he was sure he looked. Instead, the shorter man looked at him expectantly with tears still in his eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response, and expecting the worst. They stood this way, basically a mirroring of what played out in the party upstairs before Eddie stormed out, for a solid minute before it was - once again - Eddie who broke the silence.

“So much for doing all the talking,” he muttered, the volume of his voice lowering, Richie realizing as Eddie looked back at the ground that he was closing in on himself once again. “Good night, Rich.”

“No,” Richie finally spoke, his arm darting out to grab Eddie’s hand before he could even adjust his feet to leave. “Please don’t walk away again. Please.” His voice broke on the last plea, his own eyes finally beginning to water. Eddie was still staring in the opposite direction down the concrete path he was planning on following before he was interrupted, but was staying put, not rejecting Richie’s hand in his. “There’s so much I wanna say to you, Eddie. So much. I just… Shit, I just don’t know how.”

Richie was crying just as much as Eddie was at this point but quieter, unable to pull himself together as much as he wanted to be brave. Eddie turned his head to face Richie with his glare still hardened, only softening when he saw the state Richie was in. Eddie had known Richie since they were literal children, and he knew better than anyone that Richie Tozier didn’t cry like this. Not unless something was truly eating at him. The anger Eddie felt towards the situation seemed to have completely disappeared as he comfortably squeezed Richie’s hand, giving him encouraging eyes.

The taller man used his free hand to rub the tears from his eyes, giving him a better look at Eddie. They were standing fairly close to the lone street light of the block, the faint orange tint of the bulb complimenting Eddie’s lightly tanned skin and chestnut eyes. Without thinking, Richie brought his hand up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. He continued softly rubbing at the skin there after the tear was gone, his thumb dancing across the freckles, his mind flooded with thoughts of how beautiful the man before him was. Eddie closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feel of Richie’s touch.

Unable to find words again but refusing to let the moment slip out of his fingers for the third time of the night, Richie did the only thing he truly knew how to do; he acted impulsively.

If asked, Richie wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he decided to kiss the man he’d loved since he was 15 in the middle of Greenwich Village at one in the morning. Before he knew it, the hand on Eddie’s cheek slid down to his neck, pulling their lips together before the shorter man could react to the shift in Richie’s hold on him. As much as he didn’t want to admit the fact, Richie knew he wouldn’t have taken such action if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his veins, but at this point he didn’t much care. When their lips met, he forgot all about the booze, and became drunk on Eddie.

Eddie kissed back without hesitation, letting go of Richie’s hand and easily snaking his arms around his neck, with a comfortability as if they had done this thousands of times. It was sloppy due to the pair’s mixed tears along with their lack of experience, but nevertheless the two men kissed with purpose, as if the fate of their livelihood depended on this moment. Perhaps it did.

By the time they pulled away and rested their foreheads together, Eddie’s fingers had found themselves tangled in Richie’s dark curls, and Richie’s hands were gripping Eddie’s hips for dear life. The kiss hadn’t lasted too long - thirty seconds or so, if that - however the energy both men poured into those short seconds left them panting heavily, their breath tangling together, hot in the other’s face in the midst of the cold air around them.

“That was better than talking,” Richie breathed out with a wet chuckle, causing Eddie to finally crack his first smile of the night. It was a small one, the corners of his mouth curving only lightly, but Richie saw that his happiness had made its way into his stare.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie whispered with no real bite in his words before bringing their lips together again, this kiss softer than the last. While their first kiss was filled with the passion built up from years of mutual pining and secrets, their second let them convey the deepness of their love without words to speak. A tender peck of their lips told Richie everything he needed to know; this moment was very much real, and Eddie Kaspbrak very much loved Richie Tozier.

And if the kiss wasn’t enough, Eddie made sure to tell him when he pulled out of the kiss and rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, pulling him into a proper embrace.

“I love you, Rich. I- I think I always have,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was buried in Richie’s neck, but the other man heard him loud and clear all the same. Richie released his grip on Eddie’s hips and wrapped his arms around him, letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief as he held him impossibly closer.

“I love you too, Eds. So fucking much, fuck.” Richie pressed a kiss to soft brown waves, breathing in the clean scent of lavender shampoo mixed with light cologne, his senses filling with just Eddie.

Standing in the middle of a bustling city they barely knew in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another, ignoring the strangers that walked past them most definitely giving them some variation of judgemental stares, Eddie and Richie had never felt more at home.

“Alright, Trashmouth,” Eddie started, reluctantly pulling away from Richie’s hold. Richie pouted at the loss of feeling Eddie’s body pressed against his own, making the latter chuckle and playfully roll his eyes. He pressed a quick peck to said trashmouth before continuing. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, you need water and sleep.” Richie slapped a toothy grin onto his chapped lips after, once again, being reminded of how intoxicated he still was, falling back into his goofy demeanor with ease.

“Ya gonna take care of me, Dr. K? Ugh, what a dreamboat,” he replied, miming a cartoonish faint. Eddie simply giggled and grasped Richie’s hand once again, interlacing their fingers and leading him in the direction of their dorms. Richie fell back ever so slightly as to not get caught looking at Eddie like the lovesick dork he was, feeling a warmth grow in his body he was sure wasn’t due to the alcohol.

Richie still drinks after this night; old habits die hard, of course. However, Richie didn’t have to be drunk anymore to admit he loved Eddie. He told him sober and drunk, day and night, and vowed to remind Eddie just how much he loved him until the day they died.

[carminite-wyrm]

A Sunless Skies!AU fic, Part 1

So I've...ended up writing a fic for my Sunless Skies x Hermitcraft AU. At first it was meant to be just like, a ficlet, but it's kind of spiralled a bit into a multi-parter fic. So here's the Part 1!

Again, credit to @redstone-sun for the FL!AU that kickstarted my inspiration for the Sunless Skies!AU!

Ren and Doc, brave Co-Captains of the Octagon Van, seekers of secrets and conspiracies, have for once, decided to take a brief vacation from their adventures and accidental incidents in the High Wilderness. Their vacation of choice? A few days at the most desirable holiday destination in all of Albion: Worlebury-juxta-Mare.

An idyllic holiday spot, where nothing is amiss, and nothing can go wrong. Right?

(Spoilers for Sunless Skies lore!)

The admission passes for a weekend stay at Worlebury-juxta-Mare had been a gift from the Boatem Crew, after a series of incidents that were probably best to never be spoken about again, on both groups’ parts.

Specifically, Scar had handed over the admission permits with a wink, tipping them out of his top hat with a dramatic gesture, along with a pamphlet.

“Should be fine for a weekend stay, gentlemen! I’ve heard that they even sell genuine rubbery lumps there, tastes just like it does back in London, apparently. Haven’t tried any myself, admittedly.”

And with that parting note, the Boatem Crew had set off from their rendezvous, leaving behind Ren, Doc, and their horde of semi-displaced goats.

A few weeks later, they had finished finding decent homes for the goats across the entirety of the High Wilderness, with a few exceptions who were still very much at home onboard their locomotive. And finally, the two could head off to their first vacation in several months.

“So, Worlebury-juxta-Mare.” Ren commented, staring at the cursive writing on one of the passes, and checking the pamphlet’s travel details with the map in front of him. “Have you gone there before?”

“Nope.” Doc replied, most of his focus upon repairing his mechanical arm after their last goat drop-off resulted in a very close call with some of Albion’s native wildlife. “It’s…off to the east, isn’t it?”

“Past London, yeah. Not close to the Avid Horizon, though.”

“That’s good to hear, I don’t think they’ll be happy to see us again so soon after that one, uh, incident.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“True.”

The journey to the holiday destination took a little under a fortnight, with the last of the goats willing to leave rehomed on the way. The one remaining goat ended up being named Vigenere, and appointed as the Octagon Van’s noble mascot, screams and all.

The island that Worlebury was located upon was shrouded in mist, which slowly parted to reveal a quaint-looking town, with multiple other locomotives docked at the port, and the faint outline of amusement park rides in the distance.

“Well, it certainly looks like what the pamphlet described.” Doc said, as their locomotive was guided to a docking station.

As they stepped onto the wooden planks of the docks, they followed the signs leading them to a sizeable queue in front of the main gates of the station. A few signs, all in the same fanciful cursive as the passes that they carried, directed visitors either to the queue for those with passes, those bringing supplies, those waiting for regular entry, and workers. Right by where all the queues began, they could see a bright turquoise banner for a Swaggon Inc. stall, set up in what looked like a cart, and selling all manner of knickknacks to the passing visitors.

“Suppose that’s us.” Doc pointed at one of the shorter queues, patrons in fine clothing and clearly of noble or wealthy backgrounds murmuring among themselves as their passes were checked and stamped.

As they waited, an official suddenly wandered by, stared at them for half a second, before making a ‘come over here’ gesture. Curious, the two headed over, and the man held out a hand, the badge of a government representative clearly affixed to his lapel.

“First time in Worlebury-juxta-Mare? Excellent, excellent, right this way then.” He said, a businessman’s grin fixed upon his face as he shook their hands in greeting. “I’m a representative of the Bureau of Entertainments, and I’d like to welcome you to our fine port. Now, I know queue jumping is a little uncouth, but well, for fine gentlemen as yourself, I am certain you would rather be enjoying the sights rather than mingling with the proletariat for hours.”

Ren and Doc shared an awkward glance, silently comparing their practical, but significantly less extravagant, attire with the shining emerald suit the official was wearing. Over by the admission pass queue, one of the women’s hats looked more expensive than all of Doc’s prosthetics combined, and Ren knew for a fact that Doc had not spared any expense with his equipment or materials for that.

“Uh, thanks? We do have passes though.” Ren held up the aforementioned two items.

“Consider this a courtesy for your first time visiting. We are, of course, absolutely certain that you will be returning guests, after all.” The man smiled at them, before showing them to a door that had a brass plaque with the words ‘Fitting Room’ etched onto it. “Now, there is a dress code, so please do step inside and let the good Couturier find you a suitable outfit.”

With only the slightest amount of hesitancy, the duo stepped into what turned out to be a sizeable room that had all manner of clothing hung up in the wardrobes and racks that lined its walls. The Couturier took one look at Doc’s labcoat (missing a sleeve after it was ripped too many times by him using his mechanical arm to physically fend off the creatures that attacked their locomotive), and Ren’s combination of overalls, tinted goggles, and a ragged red shirt, seemed to grind his teeth in silent outrage, and stalked over to one of the racks.

“Pick an article of clothing you imagine suits you, and I’ll…figure something out to match it.” He said shortly.

Doc immediately gravitated towards the rack of coats, finding a white coat that was almost like his labcoat except with all its sleeves, and also made in the fashion style of decades past. The Couturier seemed to calm down upon seeing his choice, and immediately busied himself with providing the rest of a three-piece suit to accompany it. Off to the side, Doc saw Ren contemplate a lavish velvet-lined hat, before putting it down and flicking through a selection of dress shirts and blouses.

Fifteen minutes later, they had finally shoved Ren into a tailcoat set, much to the relief of the Couturier, who had seemed close to sobbing after the twelfth time that Ren had thought the chosen attire did not suit him.

“I still think the fur coat would have looked better.”

“It looked like someone had stitched together a bunch of rats, Ren.”

Ren sighed dramatically, before immediately lighting up once again as they finally made it into the port town proper, and spotted the wide variety of shops and amusement park games that lined the streets.

“Oh, there’s a stall for the rubbery lumps that Scar mentioned!”

And with that, the hours whirled past as they visited shop after shop, Ren gleefully taste-testing several shops’ worth of tea variety before ordering a few caddies for them to take with them. At one point, Doc swore there was something more wormy than earthy in a particular cup of tea, staring suspiciously into his cup before setting it down. There was something…just a bit odd, besides the fact that the mists really were vaguely corrosive and causing their clothes from the fitting room to slowly disintegrate and unravel as time went by.

But, on the other hand, Ren did seem to be having a good time, and the shop with a wide array of elaborate tea sets, and other porcelain objects, was quite enjoyable to wander through, even if the screams from the nearby donkey ride was a little disconcerting.

Wait. Screams?

Doc whirled around, to where the donkey ride was. No, he must have been mistaken, it seemed like nothing was amiss, though his mechanical eye did focus upon an odd reddish stain that seemed to shimmer in and out of view. He blinked, and the stain was gone.

Huh, his eye probably needed a little bit of a tune up once they were back on board the Van.

“Hey, Doc, want to get some candyfloss?”

He turned away from the donkeys, to where Ren was tugging him over to a stand with multicoloured sticks of candyfloss. Still perturbed, he absently took a bite out of the pale green spun sugar that Ren had purchased for him.

It was sweet. A bit almond-bitter, if he thought about it for long enough.

Their hotel resort room was actually quite comfortable, considering they were essentially visiting for free. The Department official had said that their stay would be the equivalent of their usual pass, just without needing the actual pass, for some reason.

Ren tugged awkwardly at his clothes as they settled for the day, the fabric already looking a bit threadbare. Doc simply huffed, sitting down in one of the armchairs with relief after a whole day of walking and running around.

“They sure weren’t joking about the mists.” Ren joked, looking out at their beachfront view. “We’ll probably be lucky to get to midday tomorrow before we have to leave because our fitting room outfits are in tatters.”

“I thought we already saw everything today?” Doc eyed the bags of souvenirs that they had acquired, and the stack of cargo receipts he was dreading having to file away at a later time.

“There’s an art exhibition tomorrow, and we still haven’t seen the beach.”

“Hm, alright.” Doc sighed, sinking further into his armchair. “I’m going to be honest; I’m looking forward to being back on our locomotive, my eye’s been seeing some strange things and I think it might need a tune-up.”

“Probably isn’t anything serious, Doc!”

“I hope so.”

Roughly eight hours later, Doc was deeply regretting everything as the sky above the beach shimmered and doubled, the sight of an idyllic foggy day overlapping with scintillating tendrils of unsettling light. Off to the side, Ren was attempting to skip stones along the sea of mist, which quite frankly wasn’t working on account of the ‘water’ not being water in the first place.

“Ren, I think we should leave.” He said, catching the other man’s attention. “I’m…The place is starting to look a bit weird.”

“Ah, is the eye giving you that much trouble?”

“No, it’s-“

“Eh, we can always come back later, we still have the tickets Scar gave us.” Ren shrugged, and the two of them slowly made their way back to the dock. As they stepped back out onto the wooden platforms that formed the dockside, Doc blinked as the double vision he had been experiencing slowly cleared up, fading away almost like mist on a windy day.

An hour or two later, and Doc held up his mechanical eye to the lightbulb above his workstation, frowning in consternation. There didn’t seem to be any faults with the eye, and he even swapped it back out again with the spare, to compare the two. For all intents and purposes, his eye was perfectly functional, down to the polished glass lenses within it.

“Well, Doc? How’s the eye?” Ren poked his head into the tiny room that housed most of Doc’s tools and other equipment.

“It…seems to be working as normal. I don’t get it, I swear it was glitching out whilst we were in town, but there’s nothing wrong with it! I even pulled it apart to check if some of the internal pieces had corroded or fallen out of place, but it was all fine!”

“Huh, weird.” Ren shrugged. “So, you up for heading back in to the town, or do you want us to go? We did manage to get quite a bit of souvenirs, anyways.”

“Honestly? I think we ought to go, there’s just something not right about this place.”

“Hm, maybe something about the mists is making your hardware go a bit haywire? They do have a corrosive effect, even if its mild enough to only affect fabrics.” Ren nodded. “Anyways, I’ll go tell the crew to get ready to set off.”

“Uh. Captains?”

The two turned, to see one of the crewmembers looking at them with barely hidden panic on their face.

“Yeah?” Ren raised an eyebrow.

“Vigenere. The mascot. We can’t find them anywhere!”

[clumsyclifford]

OKAY. how about "This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…" with ur teacher alex/ambiguous office job jack? (or any version of jalex) (we just love jalex in this house)

well hello, she said casually, nine months later. thank you for the excellent prompt, sorry it took me so long to get to it, but you can thank yourself for that too considering going to ssf is what inspired me to finally write this one. bellawritess clumsyclifford pictures is proud to present: the tshirt jalex meet-cute :)

read here on ao3

-

Later, Alex learns that the boy at the barricade who’d elbowed Alex in the face trying to snatch the thrown guitar pick out of the air is named Jack.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack says for the millionth time, even though Alex has laughed it off every other time. He laughs it off this time, too.

“Seriously, it’s fine. And hey, you caught it.”

Jack holds up the guitar pick, triumphant. “I did catch it,” he says. The blink-182 logo flashes its dead and frozen smile at Alex. Alex finds himself smiling back, though not so much at the pick.

The leaving crowd parts around the two of them. Headlights flood the night, filling the street before them with light and noise. There’s a line of cars backed up further than Alex cares to imagine. Those at the front must have left the show significantly before the set was over. Quitters.

“What I didn’t catch was your name,” Jack adds. His lips quirk, like he’s proud of such a smooth line.

“Alex,” says Alex. “We should probably get out of everyone’s way. Are you waiting for someone, or…?”

“No, no, I came alone.”

“Yeah, me too. Was supposed to have a friend but he bailed on me last-minute.”

“Seriously? Bailed on a blink concert?”

“I know, right?” Alex grins. “Eh, whatever. If he’d been here you probably never would have elbowed me in the face and then we’d never have met.”

“But I would’ve never elbowed you in the face,” Jack says. “Don’t you think you’d have preferred that?”

“Not if it means we’d have never met.”

Jack’s smile slowly grows. “Fair enough. Did you know there’s a 24-hour diner literally five minutes from here?”

“Oh, man, I like the way you think,” Alex says, shoving his hands into his pockets to protect them from the cool late-night breeze. “I didn’t want to sit in this traffic anyway.”

“And I don’t blame you.”

“Well, lead the way,” Alex says, nodding down the sidewalk, and he falls into step with Jack as they both start to walk.

-

The Tastee Diner is charmingly diner-y — neon lights, stools at the bar, the whole nine yards — and, more attractively, it’s mostly empty at this hour. It’s past midnight, later even than Alex’s usual bedtime, but between the buzz from the concert and Jack the attractive stranger across from him, he’s not really feeling tired. If he’s going to flush his sleep schedule down the drain, a post-concert Friday night seems like the best time to do it.

And Jack is really cute. So that helps.

“Breakfast,” Alex says reverently when they’re seated. “Oh my God, a fucking giant waffle.”

“Wow, everything you say makes me like you more,” Jack says, leaning his elbows on the table. Alex glances over the top of his menu but Jack’s eyes are focused on his own menu on the tabletop. He’s smiling a little. So is Alex.

“It’s a giant waffle, Jack! How the fuck do I say no to that?”

“You don’t. This table is pro-giant waffle. At the exclusion of anything else.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Alex says. “Do we also happen to be pro-chocolate milkshake?”

“We’re pro-vanilla milkshake.”

“Ew, seriously?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, how can I like vanilla when chocolate is right there—”

“Yeah, how can you?” Alex reaches over the table and covers Jack’s hand with his own. Their eyes meet. Very seriously, Alex says, “How do you look at yourself in the mirror, you monster?”

A beat. Jack chews his lip, clearly trying not to smile. “With great difficulty,” he says. He’s humoring Alex, but sincerity sparkles in his deep brown eyes. His earnest gaze holds Alex’s and he doesn’t pull his hand away. After a moment, Alex does.

“Well, if I looked like you I’d never stop looking in the mirror,” he says instead, and brings his gaze back to the menu. A laugh escapes Jack.

“You can’t turn it off, can you?”

“Turn what off?”

“Your flirty brain-to-mouth pipeline?”

“I could,” Alex says breezily. “I choose not to.” It feels like a subtle rejection, a quiet dig, but it’s hard to be sure. Jack’s smirk seems to suggest otherwise.

The waitress comes by to take their orders of two giant waffles and two milkshakes — chocolate for Alex, vanilla for Jack, though Alex is sure to give Jack a judgmental look as he’s ordering. When she goes, Jack laces his fingers together and leans back in the booth. “So,” he says. “Your name is Alex, you’ve got fantastic music taste, and you seem to be more or less my age, but that’s about all I know about you. Are you from around here? What do you do? Likes, dislikes?”

“Are you trying to build me a dating profile?”

“That wouldn’t be very opportunistic of me, would it?” Jack smiles innocently. Alex’s heart gives a little leap. “I’m trying to get to know you. You know, like any normal stranger would if they found themself at a diner with another stranger.”

That’s fair. They are effectively strangers, although Alex can think of a shorter word to describe what they’re doing right now. He glances around at the jukebox-esque machine bolted to the wall next to their booth, at the empty swivel stools at the bar, at the marble tabletop where Jack is absently tapping his fingers. The decor of the diner is very classic, and he and Jack, both dressed in blink merch and black jeans like the perpetual emo teens they’re no doubt trying to emulate, stick out like sore thumbs.

However unintentional, it sure as hell feels like a date to him.

“I’m from Baltimore,” he starts. Jack lights up.

“No shit! Me too.”

“Really? Whereabouts?”

“Well, I work by the harbor.”

“No shit, I work in Highlandtown,” Alex says excitedly. “Highlandtown Middle. I’m a teacher.”

Jack whistles lowly. “That’s fucking awesome. What do you teach?”

“Music,” Alex says, and Jack groans, although he’s smiling as his hands move to cover his face.

“Of course you do,” he says.

Alex tilts his head. “What, are you not a fan of music teachers? That’s insane.”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just.” Jack laughs. “Of course the hot guy I meet at a blink-182 concert is a middle school music teacher. I feel like God is punishing me for refusing to play anything but bad drums in middle school band.”

Alex also laughs. Being called a hot guy by a hot guy is making his stomach do gymnastics. He’s too old for his stomach to be doing things like that, but his stomach clearly doesn’t care. “Well, if I’d been your teacher, trust me, you’d have been playing solidly mediocre drums. But I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Jack’s hands fall to his lap. “I’m sure I’ll get over it,” he says with a slanted smile.

Alex swallows and grins. “So did you look up surrounding diners before you came, or are you just…inexplicably familiar with Silver Spring geography?”

“I come to a lot of concerts here,” Jack says, nodding in the general direction of the venue they’d just vacated. “Venue’s awesome.”

“Yeah, it really is. Honestly, I’m still amazed that you caught that pick.”

“I have a lot of practice. From aforementioned many concerts.”

“I can see that.”

“Trust me, it’s a very specific skill. I’ve got awful hand-eye coordination,” Jack says with a chuckle. “My dream of being the youngest Oriole inducted into the Hall of Fame was crushed at a young age.”

Fizzy champagne fills Alex’s chest. He can’t stop smiling. “Fuck yes, you’re an Orioles fan?”

“That’s my team,” Jack says, looking excited. Possibly at the prospect of meeting another person who’s equally interested in both music and baseball. That’s why Alex is excited, anyway.

“It’s my team,” he says enthusiastically. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they fucking suck—”

“Oh, no, yeah, they’re the worst—”

“But I’d take a bullet for them. I happily go down with ‘em every year.”

“Yeah, they’re my boys,” Jack agrees. “Here’s hoping this season is better than every single other one.”

“Yeah, all my fingers are crossed, but between you and me I don’t have a lot of faith.”

Jack shrugs and nods. “It’s good for my ego to be so loyal to such a bad team. Keeps me humble.”

“That’s the best attitude I’ve ever heard,” Alex says, and Jack’s smile is so radiant Alex could swear he can feel the glare off the shiny marble tabletop.

-

“Between ‘All The Small Things’ and ‘Going Away To College’ how the fuck am I going to choose ‘Small Things’?”

“Yeah, but it’s such a classic! ‘College’ is, like, emo and…emo.”

“No more emo than ‘I Miss You’ —”

“That one is a classic—”

“I’m not saying it’s not, I’m just saying ‘College’ is their best song and it deserves its spotlight.”

“That’s ‘Feeling This’ erasure and you know it.”

“Besides ‘Feeling This,’ but they always play ‘Feeling This.’ I stand by what I said. I’d swap ‘Small Things’ for ‘College.’ Deal with it.” Alex tongues his milkshake straw into his mouth. “Your turn.”

Jack glares at him for another long moment, like he has to properly make his point about it. “Fine,” he finally huffs. His gaze shifts sideways, off into the distance like he’s thinking, and he swirls his own straw around his milkshake cup. Alex can kind of see his reflection in it. While Jack is thinking, Alex quickly checks his phone.

(21:47) Rian Dawson: How’s the concert? Fuckin bummed I couldn’t make it :/

(21:48) Rian Dawson: Hope you’re having a good time anyway. Text me whenever you get home so I know you didn’t die or get trampled by a mosh pit or whatever the case may be.

Alex smiles and turns off his phone again.

“I feel like I can’t choose a song off Enema now that you did,” Jack mumbles.

“You can,” Alex says. “It would just be kind of a lot of Enema.”

“No, but Enema is a legendary album. I’d go to a show that was literally just all of Enema.”

“Why were you complaining about ‘College’ then!”

“I’m not complaining about ‘College’ itself, I just would never trade it for ‘Small Things’!”

Alex scoffs. “They play ‘Small Things’ all the time. I’ve never seen ‘College’ live. I’d literally kill.”

“Oh my God, I know what I’d do,” Jack says. “‘Shut Up’ instead of ‘Down.’ That’s the only thing that could make this set list more perfect.”

“Ohhh,” Alex says, “that would be fucking sick. Imagine two thousand people just shouting ‘shut the fuck up, she said’ at the top of their lungs.”

“I cannot think of anything cooler than that.”

Alex hums thoughtfully. “So you went with Take Off Your Pants instead of Enema in the end.”

“Alright, don’t get it twisted. If I could add the entirety of Enema to the set list, I would. But if I only get one song, it has to be ‘Shut Up.’ More Enema is never a bad thing.”

“Why wouldn’t you trade ‘College’ for ‘Down’ then?”

“Because that was your set list move, and this is mine,” Jack says. He slaps the table. “Yeah. This is the answer. Someone get Mark Hoppus on the line, stat. I have to tell him I’ve figured out the formula for the perfect set list.”

“‘Shut Up’ live would be awesome,” Alex concedes. “Good move.”

“What can I say, I have extremely good taste,” Jack says airily.

Alex snorts. “Okay, Vanilla Milkshake.”

“You’re just afraid to taste it because you know deep down that it will be better than your chocolate one,” Jack says, pointing his straw accusingly at Alex. Drops of milkshake fall onto the table. Alex sweeps a napkin over the mess.

“You had an advantage over me, though,” he observes. “You said your favorite blink song is ‘Feeling This,’ which was already on the set list. My favorite song wasn’t, so my hands were kind of tied.”

“It’s among my favorite blink songs,” Jack says. “I have many. Most of which are set list staples, yeah. But that’s on you for only having one favorite song.”

“Wait, what? You can’t have many favorites, that defeats the whole point of having a favorite.”

“I can have multiple favorites, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“No way, man. You only get to have one favorite. You can have second-favorites or close favorites but there’s always one that’s better than the rest.”

“Sorry to burst you bubble, Al, but I have more than one favorite blink song,” Jack says, shrugging. “I also have more than one favorite color and more than one favorite food and more than one favorite song.”

Alex shakes his head through Jack’s speech. “I reject this out of hand.”

“You can’t.”

“Well, Clearly Enema is your favorite blink album.”

“Tied with Take Off.”

“Seriously?” Alex narrows his eyes. “Come on, there must be one thing you have just one favorite of.”

“Yeah, there is,” Jack says. “My favorite movie is Home Alone. No other movie comes anywhere close.”

Of course it is. Alex grins and inclines his head in accordance. “That…is extremely good taste.”

“Thank you,” Jack says graciously, and slurps loudly from his milkshake.

-

The next time Alex checks his phone, his brain takes a moment to catch up. “Holy shit, it’s already one a.m.?”

“Oh shit,” Jack says, checking his phone as well. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

That adage has never felt more true. Slowly working through giant waffles and milkshakes while exchanging questions and random conversational topics with Jack has been the most fun Alex has had in a long time. Diners, he muses. There’s something about diners. Time feels frozen within these walls, and Alex kind of wants to stay in the time bubble forever, laughing with Jack until the sun comes up.

He could do it. Tomorrow’s a Saturday. Nobody works on Saturday, not even Jack at his “boring office job” (his words).

But he knows there’s a reason that nothing gold can stay. It wouldn’t be valuable if it lasted forever. The night will crystallize as something special in Alex’s memory, but it can’t do that until it ends. And it has to end eventually.

“We should probably go,” Alex says reluctantly. Jack nods once.

“Yeah,” he says. He signals for the check and looks back at Alex. “My treat.”

“Uh, no way. I’m paying.”

“Nope, not happening. I will elbow you in the face again if I have to. I’m paying this check.”

“Jack—” Alex wavers. Jack looks so insistent, eyebrows raised like he’s daring Alex to argue, and there’s nothing to do but smile. “Okay. If you insist. We’ll call it even for you assaulting me earlier.”

“Exactly,” Jack says, and he happily accepts the check when the waitress hands it to him.

“Did you guys get everything you need?” she asks the two of them.

Alex glances at Jack, but Jack’s scanning the check. “Pretty much, yeah,” he tells the waitress. She leaves them with the check, and they vacate their table to go pay it at the front.

Alex wonders what someone might think if they saw this table. Whether anyone could even begin to illustrate the story of the night using only two empty milkshake cups and two plates that formerly held waffles. It would be impossible. Not even Sherlock Holmes could work this one out.

Alex smiles. They’re a fossil in amber, preserved in memory. Even if it turns out not to be a date, Alex knows he’ll look back on tonight fondly, and he can count on this exact same smile every time he does.

Jack finishes paying and turns to face Alex. One arm outstretched, he says, “Shall we?”

Alex links their arms. “After you, good sir.”

They’re laughing as they leave in a glow of neon light.

-

“This is me,” Alex says, gesturing half-heartedly at his car. They both stop short behind it.

“Ah,” Jack says, nodding. “So I guess this is where I leave you.”

Alex swallows. “I’m glad you elbowed me in the face,” he admits, which sounds strange to say out of the blue. “I had a good time tonight.”

“What, at the concert?”

Jack is obviously teasing, but Alex doesn’t mind being more clear. “Actually, I think I had more fun after the concert,” he says, smiling a little. “You’re good company, JB.”

Jack smiles, and if Alex isn’t mistaken, he’s also blushing. “Same to you,” he says. “Despite your wrong opinions about the set list.”

“I hate sounding like a cliché,” Alex says, ruffling a hand through his hair. Jack cocks his head. “But, um, I’d like to see you again. If that’s okay.”

“So okay,” Jack says. “And totally plausible, considering we apparently live within twenty minutes of each other.”

“True,” Alex says. “The universe really wanted us to meet, I guess.”

“Thank you, Universe, for putting Alex in harm’s way,” Jack says solemnly, looking upwards. Alex laughs. “Can I have your number?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.”

Alex recites his phone number for Jack to enter into his contacts. “I promise I’ll call,” Jack says. His gaze flits around Alex’s face like it can’t find a good place to land. He drags his index finger diagonally over his chest. “Cross my heart and everything.”

“I have to ask,” Alex says, shifting on his feet. “Were you— was this supposed to be a date?” He hesitates; maybe that’s the wrong question. “Was it a date?”

“For the sake of anniversaries, let’s say yes,” Jack says. Immediately his face puckers in regret. “Pretend I didn’t say that. I’m— my brain gets ahead of me.”

“No, it’s all good.” It’s more than good; there’s a horde of butterflies in Alex’s ribcage that won’t fucking quit, not now that he knows Jack is thinking of anniversaries when this is only maybe their first date. A person who is not only anticipating a future for them but preparing to celebrate it. So far, so fucking good. “You’re a practical thinker. I can appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate that you aren’t deleting your number from my phone even after I just said that to you,” Jack says, grinning. His grin melts away when he sighs. “I should go. It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Alex echoes. “Late.”

“Please drive safe,” Jack says seriously. “If I’m the last person to see you before you die, that’ll make me look really bad.”

Alex laughs. He likes that Jack keeps making him laugh. His friends make him laugh, too, but Jack makes him laugh in a different way, like he can’t stop himself. Like the delight refuses to stay trapped.

“I promise to drive safe,” he vows. “I owe you a date. I would hate to lose the chance to impress you.”

“Oh, wait, that reminds me.” Jack reaches into his pocket and presses something into Alex’s hand. It’s the guitar pick, warm from Jack’s pocket. “You’ll probably use it more than me,” Jack explains, ducking his head. “You know, being a music teacher and all.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes, flipping the pick in his palm. “That’s, um…thank you. Thanks. I’m…”

“Yeah,” Jack says, licking his lips. “Of course. Um, okay, now I really should go. But like I said, I’ll call.”

Alex nods, still staring at the guitar pick in his hand. His head snaps up and he breaks from whatever trance he’d fallen into. “I’m counting on it,” he says, stepping closer to Jack. He hears Jack inhale as he leans closer, brushing his lips to Jack’s cheek.

When Jack speaks, it’s a hoarse whisper. “I had a good time too, you know.”

Alex leans away and starts walking backwards to the driver-side door. “Good,” he says, smiling warmly. He’s not really trying to smile so warmly but he can’t help it. “Get home safe, Jack.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “You too, Alex.”

[peachyteez]

second chances ≫ DAY TWO, NEEDLES.

as a feral wolf hybrid that was violent with all of the employees assigned to him, seonghwa was subjected to be put down. however, jiyu being the softhearted feral hybrid nurse she was, she decided to save seonghwa no matter what.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @choisaniskillingme

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added!

✧ note: puppy!beomgyu makes me so soft, y’all don’t even know—

back。| next。

“are you sure this is a good idea?” yeonjun asked for what seemed like the millionth time since jiyu came into work. even though he transferred seonghwa’s file to her, he still had his doubts about leaving jiyu with a violent hybrid.

jiyu sighed. they were walking down the hall towards seonghwa’s room so jiyu can check up on him. “yes, jun. i’ll be fine,” she reassured. “you underestimate my skills a lot, you know,” she teased with a chuckle.

yeonjun pouted and crossed his arms. “can’t blame me for being worried,” he grumbled. seeing they already arrived at said hybrid’s room, he patted her head. “well, this is your stop. hope to see you during lunch and not in the infirmary,” he said before leaving.

jiyu scoffed at yeonjun’s remark, yet she couldn’t help but smile. pressing the numbers on the keypad, jiyu took a deep breath before pressing the enter button.

seonghwa’s ears perked when he heard two voices on the other side of the door. then he heard one of them walk away while the other stayed. hearing the beep of the keypad and the opening of his door, seonghwa turned his head away from the window to look at the person.

he was mildly surprised when he recognized the same female from the previous day. he kept his eyes trained on her with his guard up.

jiyu softly smiled when she spotted the hybrid sitting on the floor and looking back at her. seonghwa didn’t say anything and returned his gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window. jiyu gently placed the clipboard down on the table and walked towards the hybrid and sat down next to him, but maintaining a safe distance. “hi, seonghwa.”

seonghwa glanced at her from his peripheral vision and gave a slight nod of his head—his way of greeting. jiyu’s smile grew wider when he acknowledged her. he wasn’t as bad as others made him out to be, and she didn’t know why.

“can you let me do a checkup on you?” she carefully asked. she saw him tense. “is that a no?”

after a moment’s hesitation, seonghwa wordlessly stood up from the ground and moved to the bed. he sat down and stared at jiyu. sensing her confusion, he gestured with his head towards the stethoscope around her neck.

jiyu gasped. “thank you!” she chirped before springing up from the floor and walking towards the hybrid. she placed the stethoscope in her ears. “don’t be alarmed. this is just to check your heartbeat. i promise i won’t hurt you, okay?” she gently reassured before putting the stethoscope on his chest.

seonghwa flinched from the cold metal object on his chest and he started growling. jiyu immediately retracted the intstrument. “no no no, it’s nothing harmful. see?” she put the metal part of the stethoscope on her own chest to demonstrate how unharmful it was. “it’s not hurting me and it won’t hurt you, either.”

his growling ceased after a minute and jiyu took it as a sign to try again. gently placing it on his chest, she internally sighed in relief when seonghwa didn’t start growling again. telling him to take deep breaths in and out, they smoothly finished with the stethoscope.

“your heartbeat sounds normal,” she mumbled to herself as she wrote on seonghwa’s medical file. most of it was filled out with the exception of his heart rate condition and the shots. it turns out that the previous nurses were never able to give him his shots since he always attacked them.

jiyu took a deep breath as she prepared the syringe. her back was towards seonghwa, so he didn’t notice the needle in her hand. she turned back towards the hybrid. seonghwa spotted the syringe and immediately, his started growling again. and this time, his chilling gaze was fixed on jiyu.

jiyu hid the syringe behind her back. she felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of seonghwa attacking. “are...are you afraid of needles...?” she asked.

seonghwa backed up on the bed as he kept his eyes on jiyu. like the previous day, he pressed himself ip against the corner and continued growling as a warning. gently putting the needle back on the table, she held her hands up again.

“look, i don’t have the needle anymore,” she showed. “please calm down, seonghwa. i won’t hurt you.”

she waited with bated breath for him to calm down on his own terms. seeing that jiyu was just standing still, not making a move, seonghwa immediately stopped. but he still kept himself pressed against the wall.

“okay, then...no shots today, i guess,” jiyu mumbled as she slowly shuffled back over to the clipboard. putting the cover over the needle, she put the syringe back in the breast pocket of her white coat and turned back to the hybrid in the corner. her face softened. “sorry, buddy.”

seonghwa cocked his head to the side, skeptcism written all over his face. usually whenever he refused the shots, the nurses always tried to hold him down to insert the needle into his arm. not that the method ever worked since seonghwa always went into violent mode.

yet jiyu just put the syringe away and didn’t try to force him?

jiyu sensed his apprehension. “i won’t force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. i don’t know what you went through before coming here, but as your new caretaker, i’ll try to help you recover as much as i can,” she explained with a soft smile. “so no need to be afraid of me, okay?”

a curious expression replaced the glare on seonghwa’s face. did the woman in front of him really have no malicious intents? did she really mean what she said?

glancing at the clock, she realized her time with seonghwa was up. “oh, it’s soobin’s turn,” she said to herself before turning her attention back to seonghwa. “well, that’s all the time we have for now! i’ll come by and check up on you during my lunch break.”

with a little wave and smile, jiyu left seonghwa’s room. like the previous day, seonghwa stared at the door. he cocked his head to the side again. “interesting...”

meanwhile, jiyu internally berated herself as she walked to soobin’s room. “ohmygod, why did you have to whip out a needle on the first day!” she whisper–shouted to herself. “so much for trying to get him to warm up...”

“jiyu!”

turning towards the voice, her eyes widened when she saw a familiar golden retriever hybrid barreling towards her at high speeds. “wait, wait, slow down–”

bam!

her warning proved to be useless as the puppy–hybrid literally crashed into her and they both tumbled to the floor.

jiyu, flat on her back with a hybrid towering over her, crossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows. “beomgyu, what did i say about tackling people?” she gently scolded as she reached up and flicked his forehead.

beomgyu laughed and stood up before helping jiyu up. “sorry! i just got excited,” he sheepishly explained as he scratched the back of his neck. jiyu couldn’t help but smile.

“beomgyu, come back!”

frantically turning the corner was yeonjun as he searched for the energetic hybrid. finding him with jiyu, he sighed in relief. approaching the two, he bent down with his hands on his knees as he tried catching his breath. “what...did i...say...about running...off?” he panted.

beomgyu stuck his tongue out. “you’re just out of shape.”

yeonjun immediately stood up straight. “yah!”

beomgyu giggled and hid behind jiyu, poking his face above her head since she was significantly shorter than him. yeonjun just sighed—he can never win against beomgyu. jiyu snorted at the scene, letting beomgyu rest his chin on top of her head.

“you actually came out unharmed,” yeonjun incredulously commented. “how did he not attack you?”

“i was just gentle with him. but i couldn’t give him his shots...seems like he hates needles,” she said.

“oh, yeah! yeonjun–hyung told me about park seonghwa,” beomgyu piped up. “if he ever hurts you, i’ll bite him!”

jiyu softly chuckled as she imagined beomgyu trying to bite someone like seonghwa. “thanks, beomgyu,” she thanked as she reached up and scratched behind his ears, making him close his eyes in content.

yeonjun stuffed his hands in his white lab coat pockets. “yeah, he wouldn’t let anyone give him his shots. usually, the other hybrids take a week or two until they get used to us and the checkups, so we can give them the shots. but it’s been about two months already for seonghwa and he’s still attacking everyone, even if he’s seen them everyday.”

jiyu furrowed her eyebrows. “i don’t know what he went through before coming here, but maybe that explains his behavior,” she said. “well, either way, i won’t force him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. the previous nurses were probably too forceful with him.”

yeonjun thoughtfully hummed.

“oh, i was supposed to go visit soobin!” jiyu squeaked in realization.

beomgyu gasped. “can we come, too?!” beomgyu asked, giving her his best puppy–dog eyes.

“yeah, can we?” yeonjun asked. “i haven’t seen him since he was admitted here.”

jiyu nodded. “alright, just try not to overwhelm him, okay?” she asked, although she was directing the question more to the hyper golden–retriever hybrid.

beomgyu smiled and playfully saluted. “yes ma’am!”

yeonjun sighed. “sometimes i think you listen to jiyu more than you do to me.”

[koreaweeb]

Red Strings - Thirteenth String

@underc0vercryptid-reads @laraplisetski @omegahighendpro @thooo0t @t3sselated @youngestdelacour​

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, ABUSE, MENTION OF SUICIDE, MENTION OF SELF-HARM, SEXUAL CONTENT

-

-

Walking through the hospital even without her iconic red dress, Kurenai was turning heads. She wore a simple white silk camisole with an oversized turquoise blazer on the outside and matching trousers. Her heels were significantly shorter than usual, only about an inch tall, and she had her hair in a ponytail with two loose strands framing her face.

A simple look, but she caught his eyes. 

“Good morning, Chishiya-kun. Coffee?” Honoka asked, trying her best not to take note of how he had his eyes on Kurenai the entire time. Even when she did not look in his direction. 

“No thanks.”

“Shuntarou.” Calling his name as she poked her head out from the break room, Kurenai smiled. “Would you like some coffee? I brought my Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee beans.”

With a nod, Chishiya was already walking toward the break room. 

Honoka could not help but roll her eyes. What a hypocrite Kurenai was. In front of Honoka, she was always acting innocent and implying that she had no intentions of competing with her for Chishiya but her actions were quite the opposite. 

When Honoka suggested sushi for lunch with Chishiya, Kurenai would buy sushi for all the staff. When she offered Chishiya a sandwich once, Kurenai brought in a Michelin star chef just to make one sandwich. And that one time when Chishiya wanted a bottle of water, Kurenai had ten boxes of VOSS delivered to the hospital. Not just the normal VOSS, but the fancy lemon cucumber flavoured sparkling version. 

How was this not competing with her?

“You went with a different look today,” Chishiya said, watching as Kurenai was making coffee with their machine. 

“Hm? You noticed?” she grinned, though her focus was on the machine. It was different to the one she was used to at home. In theory, this was a lot simpler than the one she had, but she was having difficulty figuring out the mechanics. “It’s not really practical to wear a dress in a hospital.”

“You look good in dresses though.”

He walked up to the machine and reached for the back, turning it on. Someone must have accidentally shut the machine off, though it was entertaining to watch Kurenai struggle with such a simple task. 

Once it was turned on, everything else was easy enough and before long, Kurenai had a pot of coffee ready and the aroma filled the entire room. She poured a cup for Chishiya before taking a sip of her own. She hummed with satisfaction, sitting on the sofa. 

“Where did you learn to make coffee?”

“Coffee is one of those things I prefer to make myself,” Kurenai said, holding her cup with both hands, looking at the liquid inside. “Ayako-san’s coffee is fine but not quite right. So I took a class, and after some trial and error, found a way to make it that is…” She kissed fingers like an Italian chef would. 

Frankly, coffee was not something that Chishiya concerned himself with. If he needed one, he would make one in the break room. Or he would buy a can from the vending machine. If he wanted to indulge a little, he would head to the shopping centre nearby and get himself a Starbucks. He would not, however, spend time learning about coffee beans and how to roast them. 

But the coffee Kurenai made was especially good. 

“Is that Blue Mountain I smell?”

Disrupting the mood, Ichiro walked into the break room. He poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a sip, and let out a satisfied sigh. Instantly, Kurenai’s mood soured and she was no longer enjoying her morning coffee.

“Good morning, Morita,” she greeted, turning her laptop on. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, this is our project,” he said. “You look like a hot secretary today, nice.”

How crude, and classless.

Kurenai had to physically bite her own tongue so she did not blurt out something offensive. As much as she hated Ichiro’s presence, he was on the project. If she got along with him, this would go a lot smoother and that would mean getting rid of him faster. 

However, she did not have time nor the chance to say anything as a loud bang could be heard from outside, along with some scufflings and shoutings. 

All three of them headed out to see what was going on, only to see a man frantically waving a knife around, shouting something incoherent.

As soon as he read the situation, Chishiya went to grab Kurenai by the arm. He had to get her to safety. Except, he was grabbing at air. In a panic when seeing the knife, Ichiro dove for the nearby ward though in the process, he nudged Kurenai who, caught by surprise, was now standing in front of the knife man. 

The man was quick to grab Kurenai, hooking his arm around her neck and had his knife pressed to her throat. “Don’t you dare come closer or I’ll kill her! I’ll do it!” 

“Hey! Let her go,” Chishiya said, holding his hands up to show that he was harmless. “Let her go, and we can work this out.” When Chishiya spoke, the man had his knife pointed at him while keeping hold of Kurenai, stepping away from Chishiya. “Do not hurt her.”

“Stop it! Leave her!” Honoka whispered, grabbing Chishiya by the arm to try and get him to hide like everyone else. 

He flung her hands away, taking cautious steps toward the man but still keeping a distance. He was trying to think of a way to subdue the man without hurting Kurenai, and so many scenarios were running through his mind. She was too close to the man to get out unscathed. 

“You said! You said she wouldn’t die!” the man cried. “Your doctors said they will do their best to keep her alive! Why did she have to die when the punk who hit her didn’t?! Why?!” His knife was back on Kurenai’s throat, cutting into her skin and drawing a little blood. 

“Do you know who I am?” Kurenai asked.

“I don’t care who you are! You better bring me to that punk!”

“My name is Chuya Kurenai,” she said, keeping her cool despite the position she was in. “And when I say you do not want to hurt me, you better trust me. Hurting me is not going to bring you anything but misery. If you let me go, however, I can help you. You know the Chuya Group, right? My father is Chuya Atsushi. We have all the money and the power to help you.”

Kurenai’s words were distracting the man as he seemed to be deep in thoughts. Chishiya took the opportunity to grab the hand holding the knife while pulling Kurenai away at the same time. Startled, the man pulled his hand away, slashing Chishiya’s arm in the process. Security was quick to jump in, subduing the man. 

“Are you hurt?”

Both Chishiya and Kurenai asked the same question simultaneously.

Chishiya lifted her chin, taking a look at the cut on her neck. Thankfully, it was not a deep cut and she was no longer bleeding. His arm, however, had received quite a cut. His white coat sleeve was dyed red, and only now was Chishiya starting to feel the pain. 

How fortunate for them to be in a hospital.

He was brought down to A&E where a nurse stitched him up. Kurenai was waiting outside the curtain, and the moment the nurse walked out, she went in to see Chishiya. 

“Hey…”

“Hey,” he smiled. 

“How are you?”

“I got six stitches. Probably a scar too. But I’m alr-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Kurenai was hugging him. Her arms were tight around him, like she was making sure he was really there. And while he was rather composed before, Chishiya suddenly felt overwhelmed. 

When he saw the knife on Kurenai’s throat, his mind went blank. He could not think straight because fear was all he felt. Not fear for his own life, or of the knife. But fear for Kurenai’s safety. 

“Thank you.”

Pulling away from the hug, Kurenai held his face in her hands, stroking her thumb gently against his cheeks. She could not help herself as she was leaning closer until finally their lips met. And before she knew it, Chishiya was kissing back too.

[skygirl5]

12 Prompts of Christmas - #8 - Snow

A/N: this prompt begins an all new AU ficlet

EIGHT - Snow

A shiver traveled up the spine of Richard Castle when a clump of snow fell from the branch of a tree above, landed on his neck, and slid down towards his collar bone. Grunting, he hunched his shoulders and zipped up his coat a bit higher, regretting his decision not to grab a scarf before he’d left his Manhattan apartment and traveled two hours north west to his wilderness destination. He’d just been very on-edge and frazzled meaning he’d probably forgotten more than just some warmer items, but he could manage; his trip was only a few days long.

His day had begun just after six a.m., which was at least an hour before he would have preferred to be awake. He’d had himself a quick cup of coffee—no time to savor that morning since he was on a time schedule—and then gone upstairs to wake his daughter. Thankfully, her luggage had been packed the night before (SHE had been the one to remind HIM that was a good idea), but he needed to get her breakfast and then pack some snacks for her to have on the plane.

They shared a quick breakfast together and then, with a heavy heart, he gathered up her things and they made their way to Penn Station to get the New Jersey Transit train to Newark. Since his daughter was a minor traveling alone, Castle was allowed to walk her to the gate and wait with her until it was time to board, at which point the airline representative took charge of her. They hugged goodbye and he’d managed to wait until he was back on the train to the city before letting a few tears fall. The first Christmas without his daughter was definitely going to be as hard as he thought it would be, which was why he’d planned what he thought was a good distraction.

Back at his apartment he wasted almost no time throwing belongings into a suitcase of his own. Then, he got his car out of the garage, and began the two-hour drive towards northern Pennsylvania. He’d heard about the cabin from a friend of his and thankfully the owner said it was still available over the Christmas holiday even though he had only called a few weeks before, once his ex-wife Meredith had officially confirmed that, yes, she wanted Alexis to visit for Christmas.

When he thought he was nearing the cabin, Rick pulled off into the first grocery store he spotted and shopped for some essentials. He made it to the cabin about twenty minutes later and surveyed the interior, which had been advertised as “rustic” and certainly fit the descriptor. The interior had rustic looking wood panels on the walls and exposed beams on the ceiling. The furniture was obviously well used, and the kitchen appliances looked nearly as old as he was, but for a few nights it would do.

Though he hoped to get a fair amount of writing done in his free-from-distractions environment, Castle first knew that he wanted to explore the surrounding woods and lake, which were, after all, the main draw of that location.

He started out walking along the road, which was not the best due to a narrow berm made narrower by piles of plowed snow. After about ten minutes of walking, he noticed a path through the trees and hoped over the plowed banks of snow to access it. The path was well covered in footprints from both humans and dogs by the looks of it and it was paved beneath the cover of snow, which meant he wasn’t slipping or tripping on the uneven forest floor. About fifteen minutes into his stroll he was hit by the falling snow, but he didn’t let it bother his forest exploration. It was so tranquil and quiet. He hadn’t experienced such a walk since that summer when he’d walked down the beach in the Hamptons.

As Rick walked, he tried not to think. Maybe if he was in a different headspace he would have used the time to plot, plan, or think up dialog for his latest book, but in that moment, the turmoil in his chest was too great. He was so distracted with worry over Alexis that he knew that concern could soon consume him and he didn’t want that, so he used the walk as a meditation of sorts. He tried to keep his mind as clear as possible and if he had to think about something, he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him: trees stripped bare of their leaves now that autumn had come and gone, a small bird sitting on a naked branch, some rocks and stones on the ground.

When he came to a divergence of the path, he chose the one to his left, which seemed less traveled. In fact, the further he walked, the less footprints he saw marking the path. After what he estimated to be about twenty minutes, he grew concerned that he was going to become a bit lost and thought about turning back to the divergence and taking the opposite path which might lead him back to the main road when something caught his eye.

The path was well defined enough for him to see it curved to the right up ahead, but to the left he could see distinct footprints in the snow. The virgin fluff was otherwise undisturbed, but for the distinct walking path that cut directly through a cluster of trees. He walked over to the footprints and couched down. From a closer vantage point he could see they were crisscrossed with prints from a small animal, perhaps a rabbit, but were otherwise lone markings in the newly fallen snow.

Intrigued, several scenarios started to spin in his mind, and he decided to follow them to see where they went. He liked to use his story-on-the-fly exercises to keep his creative juices flowing. At that moment in particular, it would continue to serve as a distraction for him and keep his mind off his daughter.

Were the footprints made by a hunter stalking his prey? An old man missing his deceased spouse and going on a ramble in the quiet early morning? Or perhaps a mischievous child determined to explore, just like he had done during his younger days.

Rick took two steps forward but then thought better of it. Was leaving the designated path really a good idea when he was already feeling a bit lost? Probably not. Disappointed, but knowing it was for the best, he began to turn around when something up ahead caught his eye. Dangling from a tree branch about fifteen steps ahead he saw a green scrap of fabric, notable as all the green was gone from the trees. Curious, he walked forward, but when he reached out to touch the item it immediately fell to the ground; it had evidently barely been hanging on.

Castle scooped the green object from the snow and realized it was actually a green knitted mitten. He glanced between the mitten and the tree for several moments then realized this made sense. The mitten had been hanging at about hip-height in comparison to his stance. It was entirely possible the mitten had been in the coat pocket of the snow footprint maker and was snagged out by the branch.

Still holding the glove, Castle couched down again and examine the footprints ahead of him. In comparison to his own shoes they seemed a bit shorter and definitely narrower. His first thought was that they looked to be from a woman’s boot, and that would have made sense given that the glove in his hand was more feminine than not.

Now even more curious, he found himself unable to turn back and instead pressed on. The thicker the trees grew, the more difficult it was to proceed. He was constantly being hit in the shoulders and arms with twigs and sticks, but he kept going. Sometimes he needed to crouch down closer to the ground to see what direction the footprints were traveling, especially where the thick trees had prevented a lot of snow from falling.

More than a few times during his twenty-minute journey he’d been fearful that he might never find his way to a clearing, and then what would he do? Surely his cell phone wouldn’t work that far into the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, he could soon see a clearing ahead and let the panic dissipate from his mind and instead focused on how he might use his experience in a novel. Perhaps Derrick Storm could track an enemy through the woods—or maybe even a potential lover. Maybe both!

As the trees began to thin, the lake came into view, and Castle smiled to himself; he’d made it through the wilderness! He was so relieved that he almost forgot about the green glove he still held until he stepped into the clearing and caught sight of a figure by the lake. She was tall and wearing a long quilted coat as she stood just a few feet from the edge of the lake. With a grey and green striped hat on her head, he couldn’t tell much about her—at least not from that distance.

The clearing he stepped into gave him about twenty feet of clearance before it turned into the rocky shore of the lake. No other people or structures were in sight, though a low hanging cloud reduced visibility significantly. He took two steps towards her, his boots crunching against the newly fallen snow, then stopped when she turned in his direction just slightly. She brushed some of the hair back from her cheeks with bare fingers enabling him to see her profile. Instantly, the breath was sucked from his lungs for she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Thinking she might have turned in his direction due to the sound of his walking, he decided to approach cautiously. He walked forward, closer to the lakes edge, before cutting over in her direction. From that spot he could see more of her face: her petite nose and the slash of her well-defined cheekbone, in addition to the hints of her honey-brown eyes, which to him appeared heavy with sadness.

He took several more steps closer before saying softly, “Excuse me?” Despite what he thought was a delicate approached, she still jumped at the sound of his voice, so he apologized. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. I just…I found this and wondered if it was yours?”

When he held up the glove, her eyes widened with recognition. She glanced down at herself, stuffed her hands in her coat pockets, and only came out with one glove. “Oh, yes, thank you! That must have fallen out of my pocket somehow.”

He gave an easy smile and walked forward to pass the glove off to her. “No problem.”

She took the glove with another thank you and said, “You startled me; I didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”

He nodded in the direction over his shoulder and said, “I came from the trees…I just got here, was wandering around. Glad I didn’t get lost to be honest.”

“Are you renting one of the cabins for Christmas?”

“Mmhm. Are you?”

She shook her head. “No; my family owns one.”

He nodded. Her jaunt through the trees made more sense if she was a resident of the area and thus probably not as likely to get lost unlike a newcomer such as himself. “I see. I’m Rick, by the way.”

When he extended out his hand, she shook it and introduced herself as, “Kate.”

He took a moment to study her face now that he could see it closer up. She was definitely younger than him by more than a few years; he guessed her to be in her early twenties. Her eyes were indeed filled with an unexplained sadness, but her smile was warm and friendly. Though he’d wished to speak with her more, his gut told him he should leave her to her solitude, so he reluctantly decided to part ways. “Well it was nice to meet you and I hope you have a good holiday.” He rocked back on his heels, glancing out at the lake for a moment, but then looking back to her with a pit of a pitiful expression. “I, um, well seeing as you’ve probably been here before, perhaps you could point me in the right direction so I’m not circling this lake for hours? I’m afraid I got turned around.”

“What’s the address of your cabin?”

He laughed, having no idea; fortunately he still had the directions in his jacket pocket. “What an excellent question. Hold on. Um…” He hesitated while he skimmed through the folded up piece of paper. “Ah, here its: 817 lakeview.”

Kate nodded and pointed towards his left. “That way. About halfway around that big curve.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Not a problem. Happy holidays Rick.”

“You too,” he echoed. Then, he turned, shoved his hands down into his coat pockets, and trudged his way through the thickly laying snow.

[painterofhorizons]

More First Impressions

Alex&Murph edition

Here you go @sheeplessthings​! Lets see where this takes us. Alas, no gifs for Murph in lack of a faceclaim (though I realized I will let this be just Alex and will do Murph later). And for reasons I worry this will get significantly shorter, because

No joking. While Alex does hold a similar morale compass like Tonks, she is way more open and flexible with people. Put in short, she doesn’t give much on First Impressions. So, first impressions, exist, right? But what do they actually tell? Not much, right? So, Alex gives much more on getting to actually know a person and have an opinion then, not right from the start. So she’ll be open and friendly with everybody, will give everyone a potential leap of faith and see if they will live up to that.

Will does easily without any problems. And unlike Tonks, who will get along with Will but will not feel super close to him due to being very different, Alex has no problems making friends with people who are different to her, and I see them become close friends over time potentially.

Bear does prove to be a Good Guy, and while Alex sticks with the strict rules of who can and cannot join the club, she still easily is willing to see Bear as someone who can do fucking good to the world. She knows from first hand experience that making mistakes in the past and coming from a troubled background doesn’t mean your path is over, so she’ll do her best to help Bear find his way to do that good. I think those two can become real buddies, they share the same rough on the outside super soft on the inside personality.

Sebastian? Well well well. Well. I don’t see Alex as harsh with him as Tonks is, but she will probably always stay somewhat distanced. Sebastian surely is no Bad Guy, so there’s no reason to reject him. And when he’s close to Bear, he has to be a somewhat good guy on some level, or so Alex dearly hopes, so she will go on and try to see what kind of person he is. But I don’t see them ever become close, because they are very different and I’m not sure either of them would be willing to actually make friends with the other, because they don’t seem very interested in the other’s world. (What do you think about that??) So Alex will stay friendly (but never hold back with her opinion when the situation needs it) and be able to do small talk and stuff when on a party or anything where both of them are, but she probably won’t seek out Sebastian’s company and she will always be 5% suspicuous and have an eye on him around the club and all. Because while leap of faith is cool, she won’t blindly fall for it and would be more than able and willing to tell Sebastian he is not welcome should the situation ever need it. (Oh man, I fear I’m doing Sebastian very wrong here. xD)

And Petrow? :D Lets do two routes here.

If Alex was to meet/run into Petrow back in her youth in Russia? She would probably pretty much despise him. Who is he? What does he do? Isn’t he somewhat shady? Morally questionable? He would probably be someone she would give a wide berth (einen großen Bogen machen), especially because her bad experience with the miliz and on the first impression he might fall into a similar category for her.

If Alex was to run into Petrow as an adult in the US or in Russia when she’s there? Completely different story. Like I said, she doesn’t give much on first impressions and she is much more morally flexible the older she gets. So if she gets the chance she would really enjoy just sitting down with Petrow for some tea or coffee or have a walk and talk about things. What is his connection with Yuri? What was/is his role in Piter and around? What DOES he actually do? But most of all his connection with Yuri and just talking about “the old times”. And I think she would really get along well with Petrow’s nature. He seems very russian, rouch on the outside (she doesn’t even care if he’s also rough on the inside), with edges, not giving a shit, having strong opinions, not needing many words and all? She could totally bond with him over their shared russian background. Under other circumstances they would maybe not find much to bond over, but both being away from “home” and in places that are just very different than growing up in Russia? Then the shared heritage is enough to bond over, and they might even realize they share more than they think. And it’s easy to get along because for once it’s not about the club and no gatekeeping neccessary, they can just talk about Russia and how things changed there since the fall of the USSR and all. They can even share some mean laughters about some not so nice jokes and drink some bad american vodka together. :D

And those two routes can even be combined: they could have run into each other in Alex teens and then decades later meet again in Piter by accident or anything. It would actually be very cool and we could definitely write that! :D

So much for the moment. ^.^ Murph to follow later.

[sagasofazeria]

Stranger In A Strange Land

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 1

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin

Faulkron Rhodes was a long way from home. He stood on the deck of a small sailing ship, the golden light of the late afternoon sun glinting off of the sapphire waters, searing his eyes even as he shaded them with his arm. Looking past the glaring reflections of the sun, he could see the shoreline ahead, and a port city bustling with all kinds of ships. He was relieved to see land again, after being on the open water for so long. He had almost begun to regret his somewhat on-a-whim decision to cross an ocean and leave the land he’d grown up in. However, with a new land in sight, his faith was reaffirmed. Readjusting his leather armor and his greatsword on his back, he couldn’t help but be eager to see the new land ahead. As he stated at the port, he heard the captain of the ship called out to him from somewhere to his right.

“Hey, adventurer! We’re about to dock in Corias! Welcome to Leinos!”

From what the crew had told him along their journey, Leinos was a young country. Corias was just one of many ports along the coasts of a massive continent, and trade thrived there. Leinos had access to seas that connected it and every country Faulkron had heard of thus far, and more. An up-and-coming mercenary like Faulkron would do well there, he hoped. Supposedly, they were a peaceful nation since the end of the war between Leinos and the peoples further inland, so Faulkron hoped to have luck fighting problems they might not want to solve with their personal swords.

Eventually, the ship had docked, and as the sailors began to unload their cargo, Faulkron took his leave. He walked from the docks through the town, taking stock of the city. He could see tiled colorful roofs, and lots of hanging colorful cloths around the streets, partially shading the many people walking around, going about their business. Clay pots, cloths, art, all sorts of things in a variety of styles were being sold all along the streets, by people who looked to be from all over. He recognized very little of what was being sold here, and realized growing up on a small farm in the middle of the hills back across the ocean in Unterras probably wasn’t the best environment to meet new people. Regardless, he walked on through the city, taking in what he could. He saw numerous guards as well, dressed in silver-painted, hardened leather armor, with blue crests of dyed horse-hair adorning the helmets. An amount of guards he wasn’t expecting for a supposedly peaceful nation. In addition to the guards, he also thought he could make out some sort of fortress further inland, situated on a hill that overlooked the port, hanging banners depicting a blue flag with silver bordering, a stylized crest of some sort emblazoned on it.

He eventually found himself in a town center, with even more market stalls than by the docks. He could see storefronts of buildings on the edges of the square, as well as some sort of pavilion with what appeared to be people drinking and talking. He also noted a statue in the center of the square of a sitting man. He was well dressed, in long flowing robes. He had a thick beard, and curly hair down to his shoulders, his head adorned by a crown. Faulkron, in a remarkable display of intelligence, deduced this guy was probably important. He couldn’t read the plaque beneath it through all the people, but as he got closer he realized he wouldn’t have recognized the language anyways. He looked at it for a little longer, looking for some translation in Common, but was startled out of his search by a voice.

“Hey there. Noticed you looking at the statue, and I haven’t seen you around before. Who are you?”

Faulkron turned to the voice, looking for its owner. In front of him, standing significantly shorter than him (most people did, at his nearly 6 foot height), was a human woman. She was wearing simple light cloths and leather bracers. She had a lyre on her hip and a wooden violin case that appeared to double as a scabbard for the sword on her back. She had wavy brown hair in an undercut swept to one side that was dyed a vibrant purple at the ends, and tanned skin, like many of the Leinai he’d seen so far. He stared for a moment, still slightly confused as to who she was talking to, but she kept looking at him, and there was no one behind him but the statue.

“I’m Faulkron, Faulkron Rhodes. Who are you?”

“Well met, Faulkron. I’m Jetra, I’m a storyteller of sorts. This guy right here—“ she pointed at the statue “—is King Akeron II. He was the last king of Leinos. His son is Akeron III, the current king.”

“Oh. Didn’t know... Wait. Why’d you say you hadn’t seen me before? Isn’t this a trade city? Wouldn’t most people be unfamiliar?” Faulkron took a step back. He couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the ‘storyteller’. She seemed overly friendly, and he wasn’t exactly used to just being approached and talked to like this. In response, the woman just laughed.

“You got me. I just thought you looked interesting. Plus, most of the people here are selling something, so that limits our conversational opportunities, know what I mean?”

Faulkron nodded hesitantly. Was everyone like this is Leinos? It would definitely take getting used to. He thought about leaving, but she began talking again.

“Well, what brings you to Corias? You look like the adventuring type, you going somewhere?”

“Not yet. I only just got here. I was thinking of finding some sort of job board, or maybe some other mercenaries?”

Jetra nodded. “Well, I can get you to either of those. I know a mercenary group that is based here in Corias you might wanna talk to, the Icaon mercenaries. And there’s a job board over by the tavern, near that pavilion there.”

Faulkron weighed the options, but decided a fully fledged mercenary company would probably pay better. “Let’s go to the mercenaries.”

“Alright then, come on.” Jetra began to weave through the crowds, heading further into the city. With a small shrug to himself, he walked off after her.

•••

Jetra was very interested in the adventurer she’d met in the marketplace. He looked to be extremely capable, judging by his extremely strong build. She’d quickly noticed he held himself with strength, and she knew she’d need it if she wanted to deal with her problem. She lead him to the Icaon mercenaries, walking toward their complex by the docks, where they trained and did most of their business. She turned back to her new companion.

“Okay, I’ve worked with some of the Icaon before, they’re generally pretty up-front. You shouldn’t have any issues. So, where are you planning on going? Thinking about heading inland?”

Faulkron thought for a moment, before nodding. “I guess. I just sailed here, so I figure that’s where I should head. Why, what’s that way?”

“Well, there’s the capital city, Anikora, to the east a ways, along the coast. Corias is actually the westernmost point in Leinos, other than the Ceana region down south, but it’s pretty far away. Between here and there is a massive rainforest, and you’d have to cross most of Azeria to get there. It’s a remnant of the war, seperated but technically still a part of Leinos. As far Leinai cities in this region, especially looking inland, there’s not much. Some farming villages, and I know there’s Kuretion in the hills before you get to Great Rainforest. We might find something near there. There’s a lot of land to explore, my new friend. I can help guide you, if you like. I’ve traveled quite a lot, gathering my stories. I’d be willing to help you get where you’re going, if you help me. You seem friendly enough.”

Faulkron took in what she’d told him. This new world was bigger than he’d expected. He figured it’d be smart to have a guide. Plus, if she betrayed him or something, he was sure he could easily take care of her. “Deal. We can travel together, at least for now.”

She grinned. “Great! Traveling is always more fun with someone to sing to, in my opinion. Well, before we set off, let’s see if we can get paid for it, huh?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Well, that was at least the first step done. And he looked like he had a somewhat solid idea of his own path forward, even if he was a bit closed off right now. She needed people who knew what they were doing if she was going to succeed.

As they approached the wooden archway that served as the entrance to the Icaon camp, Jetra raised a hand in greeting, and started to speak.

•••

Faulkron, walking behind Jetra, nearly stopped in his tracks. There were two guards standing watch at the gate, both human. One of them was leaning against the wall, barely paying attention to them at all, her eyes gazing vaguely into the distance. The other one, however, was a sight to behold. He had longer dark brown hair, tied into a small loose ponytail, skin that looked forged from bronze, and a sharp jaw with a fine dark stubble all across it. His chest was bare, save the leather strap that held on his shoulder armor. He was well muscled, and on his hips were two shortswords, and all of his gear looked like it had seen lots of use.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d been out to sea for so long, maybe it was the fact that the sun sinking in the west definitely complemented this man’s looks. Maybe it was the fact that his green eyes were so vibrant. Faulkron didn’t know, but he had forgotten for the moment about mercenary work and traveling inland. He was caught, in a cruel irony of words, entirely off-guard.

The man stepped forward, before they could enter. When he spoke, his voice had a rich accent.

“Hola. Why do you approach?”

Faulkron stood silently, still regaining his composure.

Seeing this, Jetra quickly responded, “Just to see if there might be any opportunities for me and my friend here. Figured this was a good a place to start as any.”

The man nodded. “Sí, you would be right. This is one of the few organized mercenary companies based in Leinos that hasn’t been assimilated into the military. We operate all along the northern coast. You can enter. Talk to Elikon, he’ll get you familiar. I’m off my shift at sundown if you need me, ask for Alejandro. I know my way around, if you need help.”

It was at this point that Alejandro’s eyes met Faulkron’s. They both paused, and Faulkron stumbled over his words before blurting, “Off your shift? Cool cool. I will definitely do that.” Mentally, he scolded himself. First hot guy you talk to in 3 years, and you’re making yourself look like a fool, he thought.

•••

Jetra turned around, surprised by how sheepish the massive warrior behind her sounded suddenly. She followed his eyes to the guard, and back to him, and realization dawned on her. She couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Faulkron, when you’re done talking to Alejandro here, come meet me inside?”

Faulkron nodded, still locked in some sort of awkward homosexual staring match with Alejandro. Chuckling, Jetra slipped into the compound.

•••

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” Alejandro smiled, watching as the elf in front of him quickly looked away, obviously flustered.

“I. So... yeah. What do you do? For a living. Wait no-“

Alejandro just laughed. You could always tell which ones had been stuck on a ship for just a little too long. He had to admit, the awkwardness of such an imposing warrior was quite cute. He was tempted to just walk inside, but he couldn’t skip out on another shift, he’d get thrown out of the company. And he was really trying to settle into a rhythm in his life, despite it not working at all.

“Listen, why don’t we talk after my shift? I need to do my job, boring as it may be. And I’ll give you a little time to collect yourself, maybe?”

The warrior just nodded, averting his eyes from Alejandro’s smirk. “Yeah. I’m gonna- Yeah.”

Alejandro stopped him before he went inside. “Wait. I never got your name.”

“It’s Faulkron.”

“Hasta luego, Faulkron.”

Prologue | Part 2

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Sides (Part 20)

She finds that it is more or less a matter of sorting out her feelings. It is quieter in her mind now. Less chaotic. She has a lot to think about, a lot to process. But at least it is organized. At least it feels authentic.

This semi-clarity comes as a relief especially with the palace in view. She can’t imagine returning with anything less than a clear head. She sits cross legged on the deck and watches as it looms closer. Admittedly, even with a wholly unclouded mind, she is apprehensive about returning.

Fully aware or not, Zuko had left her to get re-shaped and reformed beyond recognition. Fully aware or not, he hadn’t bothered to check in on her. Perhaps if he had she wouldn’t have fallen so far.

Azula inhales deeply and looks at her palm. She hasn’t yet gotten around to firebending yet, hasn’t mustered up the willpower to do so. She braces herself to see lapping and licking orange, but doesn’t think that she will be ready at all if that is what she finds. She closes her eyes and closes her fist. With the opening of her hand, comes fire. She waits for just another moment or two before opening her eyes. She just about cries with relief when she sees a gentle dance of blue. It is her fire.

“You must feel a lot better now.” Aang remarks, taking a seat next to her.

She manages a nod. Truly she does; the sun on her skin feels that much warmer and the breeze keeping it’s head at bay feels kinder as it rushes around her. Her tummy flutters with a feeling of exhilaration that she hasn’t felt in a very long time. A feeling that is perhaps optimism. Hope.

She watches the flame dance on her palm for a very long while before finally letting it sputter out and putting her hand down.

“Feel more like yourself?”

Azula nods again. At the very least she feels strong again. At the very least, she is better able to start picking up the bits of her confidence and piecing them back together again.

“We should arrive at the palace a little after nightfall. That’s what the captain told me.”

“That will do just fine.”

She never actually turns to face him. At last he takes the hint and mumbles something akin to, “alright, great, glad you’re feeling better.”

.oOo.

She is in better spirts and yet he is still reluctant to approach the princess. She is still dwelling on the deck and he isn’t sure if it is because she simply enjoys the fresh air or because she is trying to avoid being below deck with him.

Based solely on the way she has herself laid out with the sun warming her back, he would guess that it is a pretty solid mix of both. She does seem rather relaxed for a change and he isn’t sure that he wants to ruin this for her. But at the same time he has to know…

He takes a deep breath and, once again, takes a seat next to her. He waits for her to crack an eyelid and acknowledge his presence before stating,  “you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”

With a sigh, the princess sits up. “Not particularly.”

“You haven’t talked to me since we balanced your chakras.” Evidently, he feels used. And maybe he deserves it. “I guess I can’t blame you if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Avatar.” She says softly. “I just can’t think about you right now.” She pauses. He isn’t exactly sure what emotion flickers across her face, but is something very close to desperation. Conflict, he realizes. Azula seems to wear the two emotions the same way. “I don’t want to...I don’t want to lose you. I don’t have many friends. But there are other things that I need to focus on.”

“Like your bending?”

“Correct.”

“And how you’re going to confront Zuko?”

Another affirmative nod.

“You do realize that you can do all of those things and be social, right?”

This time her nod is disagreeing. “Not with you.”

He leaves her to herself and she leaves him contemplating the implications of that. He thinks that at least a part of him knows exactly what she is trying to tell him. Another part crave denial and yearns for him to stop thinking about it. It could be that he has it all wrong anyhow. He isn’t sure if he’d prefer that he were wrong or if he is secretly thrilled at the prospect of being correct.

Somewhere, somehow, he has grown quite fond of Azula; she has an admirable amount of determination, a resilience that he doesn’t come by often. In her own stern and stand offish way she is good for conversation. And beneath all of that hurt and fear, he has felt nothing but love and a protectiveness. He knows that he would not have been able to coax those emotions from her were they not already there.

And yet, she so stubbornly refuses to truly let people in.

.oOo.

Zuko is waiting at the docks when the ship pulls into port. The stars have just risen, they reflect tantalizingly on the water’s surface. He hears the hasty clinging of hammers as dock workers make their final repairs for the night.

The sea splashes him with a light spray as the vessel in front of him drops its anchor. Late traders and buyers bid each other hurried goodbyes and scramble back to their dwellings. Every now and then he hears a coin ping against the wood and roll away.

He watches one gain momentum and come to settle at someone’s feet. Her hair is shorter now and she isn’t as well groomed and pampered as he remembers, but he recognizes her immediately.

He has an impulsive urge to rush over and embrace her the way an older brother ought to, but her temperament keeps him at bay. After days at sea and a significantly longer period cooped up in an institution, he isn’t sure what mood she is in. He imagines that it is somewhere between exhausted and furious. Certainly, he can’t imagine that Azula is in any manner of a pleasant mood.

He keeps his distance, only offering a small wave, until Aang comes to stand next to her. “Hi, Zuko!” He greets with a smile.

Zuko come closer and slings his arm over Aang’s shoulder, “good to see you again.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed talking with you and the others.” Aang agrees. “Has Appa been good?”

“You’ll have to ask Sokka and TyLee, they’ve been watching he and Momo.”

With Aang’s nod, Zuko turns to Azula. He grits his teeth and tries to come up with some sort of greeting. She offers him no help. He wonders how much energy she is investing into not frying him on the spot. But the more he looks, the less likely this seems to him. The more he looks, the more tired she seems. And for what it is worth, he can’t particularly sense any hostility.

At last she speaks, “aren’t you going to welcome me home?” Her tone is caught between a jest and a genuine inquiry. But she doesn’t seem particularly resentful.

Somehow this is more pertubing than the notion of having to fight her. His stomach grows queasy; have they successfully shaped her into someone else entirely. Is that why she is home?

He knew that they would be utilizing spirit energy as part of her recovery process, but would they really go so far as to have twisted her spirit into something it was never meant to be.

He forces a smile, “yeah. Welcome home, Azula. You’re probably looking forward to sleeping in your own bed again.”

“Among other things.” She confirms.

Some of his unease subsides; she, at the very least, still sounds and talks like Azula.

“Was Sangyul able to help you at all?”

Azula cuts Aang a glare, “just how vague was your letter?”

Aang shrugs, “I just told him that we were on our way back to the mainland and needed a boat.”

Azula sighs, “let’s head back, I’ll tell you along the way.”

The reach the palace before she finishes her recap. For a good while they linger on the steps as she covers the last stretch of her journey and boasts about how she has balanced her chakras so she can give him the ass kicking he deserves for leaving her in such a miserable facility.

And by the end of her story, Zuko still isn’t certain that he has all of the details. He has a sneaking suspicion that she has left a lot out; whether it is because she doesn’t want him to know or because she simply can’t bring herself to talk about it, he doesn’t know. But he is decently disturbed all the same.

He looks between Aang and Azula as it all settles in. “I...I didn't realize…”

“Why didn’t you come by to visit, Zuzu?” She asks, tone simmering in accusation. At last he feeling the resentment he had been expecting at the harbor.

“I thought that seeing me would upset you.”

Azula shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have. They would have had me nice and happy and sub…” she trails off, “relaxed, just for you.”

His stomach lurches.

.oOo.

Where Zuko’s stomach sinks, Aang feels bizarre pangs of relief. Azula is angry. She is all fire and icy fierceness. He hasn’t seen this from her in quite a while. Perhaps he should have just brought her right to Zuko; he seems to have a very special way of bringing out her lashing tongue and her merciless wit and sarcasm.

Aang puts a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps. She shakes his hand off before he can retract it on his own. “Sorry.” He grumbles. “I was just hoping that the two of you would give each other a chance.” Granted Zuko has given her a chance--he vocalizes as much--it is Azula who has thrown up her walls. Even so he doesn’t want to aggravate her more. “I think that it would make things easier if you two weren’t arguing.”

“He left me with him.” Azula snarls. “With you.”

Aang swallows, he thinks that Azula’s eyes betray at least a little regret.

“I’m due for a bath.” She grumbles, with an almost sheepish folding of her arms.

“Azula! Calm down.”

“Grab your spirit vines and make me.” She hisses. It is equally devastating and reassuring. Doubly so when she ignores his requests that she stays and finishes talking things out. He very nearly goes after her but Zuko holds him in place at the shoulder. “Let her have her bath, she might be less cranky after

Aang nods.

“And besides, I was hoping you could tell me things from your side. Without side commentary.”

Aang allows himself to chuckle.

.oOo.

Where Azula had left blank spaces, Aang fills him in. He goes quiet when she reappears, smelling freshly of jasmine shampoo. She spares him a glance before disappearing into her room. This time Aang lets her have her way quietly.

“She didn’t tell you, but she lost her fire for a while--I mean I did take it but even after I gave it back she was having trouble. Zuko, it was bad. Really bad.” He steals a glance at her bedroom door. “I’m still kind of worried about her.”

Zuko doesn’t particularly need him to elaborate. He has a hard time picturing his sister without her fire, even if it is only for a span of time.

“And then for a while, when it came back, it wasn’t even blue.”

And the implications of that are jarring. “Is there anything else I should know about.” Exactly what could break her to the point where her fire faded.

Aang grimaces and seems to contemplate whether or not he should share. “He--Sangyul made her cut her hair. She called him, ‘father’. And he...he did things to her. Humiliated her. He would make it seem like she had choices and then he would make these little remarks until she changed her mind.” He takes swallows hard. “And for a while after our escape she wasn’t making decisions on her own…”

“What the fuck, Aang!?” The Avatar flinches at his outburst. “How could you let that happen? I told you to work with her spirit energy to help her not...do that!”

“I know.” Aang replies quietly. “I don’t know how I let it happen. I guess...I guess that Sangyul is good at what he does. He convinced me that I was helping her and by the time I realized what was going on…” He makes a vague gesture. “She says that she isn’t angry with me but I think that she is.”

“I am.” Comes a declaration from behind a closed door. Zuko can vividly picture her laying on her side, arms folded, face fixed in a pout.

.oOo.

Quieter, Aang mutters, “I’m not sure if she’s angry that I just told you all of the details or because of everything that’s happened.  Happened.” He has a feeling that it is a blend of both, perhaps with a more heavy lean on him blabbing away.

He imagines that her resentment had been carefully put aside while he helped her through everything. And now that it has come up, it is coming out. And maybe that is a good thing, maybe he needs to let her work through it.

“Let her sleep it off.” Zuko confirms. “She hates long boat rides, she complained almost the whole time when we went on family trips to Ember Island.” He laughs to himself.

Aang nods. “I just don’t want to lose her as a friend. I know that you two don’t get along but she’s…”

“I know that she’s not a bad person. She sure as Roku’s beard isn’t friendly, but she’s not a bad person.”

Aang smiles. At least that’s some progress. “She’s actually kind of nice when she’s in a good mood.”

.oOo.

Azula stares up at the ceiling, head spinning with frustration and unease. Aang had told Zuzu much more than she wanted him to know and now she has an extra helping of shame and indignity to work around on top of all else. Likely he sees weakness where he used to see strength.

She inhales sharply. He’d already seen her thrashing about, tethered to a grate, he can’t possibly view her anymore pitifully than he does already. She inhales again and tries to focus on what she’d learned from her meditation.

There is depth in shame. Pride in shame. She rolls onto her side and rests her head on her hands. And maybe they see strength in her ability to overcome and carry on. Maybe they see dignity in the reclaiming of her autonomy.

At the very least, she can see the dignity and strength in it.

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 4

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: none... yet

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble—

And I will do it without fear or doubt,

To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.

Jisung feels exactly as Juliet does in Act IV; he, too, would suffer in order for his love for you to remain pure. Venomous snakes, giant bears, and even being buried alive sound fairly doable. Seeing you with Hyunjin is a different story, however. He’s not even in Act IV, but he insists on watching you from backstage. Yugyeom and Ryujin seem to have taken a liking to him, and Jisung wants to shout that Hwang Hyunjin isn’t all that great.

He has no evidence of that, but he just feels it in his heart.

In the spare minute you’re not performing or playing a “dead” body on stage, you’re waiting in the wings with Hyunjin by your side, praising you for your acting. You beam at his compliments and say, “It’s all because we practiced in class today.”

Hyunjin shares a class with you, drama most likely. Fantastic. Absolutely amazing. Jisung only sees you at rehearsal, but you’re both always preoccupied with other things, so he doesn’t even get to be with you that long. He feels a twinge of envy, and it grows when you seemingly allow Hyunjin to playfully tug at the sash around your waist.

He abruptly turns to Changbin and asks, “When do you think dinner’s going to be?”

"I don't know. After this act?"

"How many scenes are there?"

He flips through his binder. "Five. And we’re on the second one. Are you hungry already?”

“Just asking. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Only a short distance away, Hyunjin gently turns you around and ties the loose sash back into a neat bow. He’s slow and methodical, and Jisung knows he’s doing so on purpose. Anger flares throughout his body, and he stares daggers at the back of Hyunjin’s head. You don’t look bothered though. You play with your fingers while quietly thanking him. Ryujin is nearby; she could have done it, Jisung bitterly thinks.

You nearly miss your cue because of Hyunjin’s antics and are forced to run on stage. Jisung feels a smug grin forming from his vindication, so he quickly tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, pretending to be cold from the air conditioning.

“Hey, Jisung, right?”

“Yes,” he replies, slowly drawing out the ‘e.’ What does Hyunjin want with him?

He sits down on the coffin beside Jisung. “Well, Y/N said you were a big Shakespeare fan, and I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how to portray Romeo. Ms. Park’s advice isn’t really helping me, so I thought maybe yours would. Since, you know, you like Shakespeare’s plays.”

“S-sure.”

Should he give him good advice? Bad? It’s probably going to be all bad since he doesn’t really like Romeo, let alone Romeo and Juliet.

“Thanks. I don’t really know how to play Romeo. It’s really hard to be him when I know that he’s just a dumb, horny teenager.”

Jisung thinks that’s exactly what Hyunjin is, but he digresses. “Just pretend to be maddeningly in love with Juliet. That’s, like, the entire plot.”

He sighs. “I can’t say those things to Y/N. I physically can’t. Every time I do, I get red and embarrassed. When she looks at me, it’s even worse. You know how Romeo says Juliet is the sun? That’s exactly what Y/N is.”

A strangled noise leaves Jisung’s mouth. To his horror, he knows exactly what Hyunjin is describing.

“You get me, right? There’s just something about her.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you on stage. You’re worrying about the sleeping draught actually being poison, but even anguish looks pretty on you. His own anguish is the opposite. His head hurts, his heart is erratic, his foot repeatedly taps the floor. Hyunjin looks over at Jisung, waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Jisung?”

“I can’t help you,” he blurts out, not looking at him. “There’s— there’s nothing helpful I can tell you if you can’t say those lines.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he sighs. “Thanks anyway.”

Hyunjin finally leaves him alone, but Jisung can’t bring himself to watch you as closely. He always had an inkling of a feeling that Hyunjin was interested in you, but he could never tell if he was flirting or just being Hyunjin. Now that he knows the truth, Hyunjin looks different, and you kind of do too. You’re less bright, while Hyunjin’s turning into a muddy gray color.

The rest of Act IV goes swimmingly, with only some redos. Just like Changbin predicted, dinner break starts when the act ends. Jisung chooses to walk to the convenience store with Chan and Jeongin even though he brought food from home. He doesn’t want to face Hyunjin or you after what he just learned. Jeongin asks about why he isn’t working lights like usual, and he makes up some excuse about wanting to work on homework during rehearsal.

You’re the real reason why.

“But you don’t even do homework. Ryujin says you just space out and stare off in the distance,” he protests.

“Things didn’t go as planned,” he shrugs. “Does anyone like doing homework?”

At the convenience store, Jisung hesitates in front of the chip aisle, thinking back to when Hyunjin gave you a bag. It only takes a few seconds for him to decide before he snatches two off the rack.

Jisung finishes his dinner of rice balls on the walk back, but he doesn’t start on his chips. Is it strange that he wants to share chips with you, just like how you did with Hyunjin? The activity was so mundane, but Jisung feels like that part is missing from his relationship with you. All you and him talk about is theater, but he’s never going to be more than your theater buddy if theater is the only thing you two have in common.

After dinner, the final act begins, and Jisung is unusually worried about the kiss scene, despite knowing that you are too shy to kiss for now. He rotates between sitting down on the prop bench and getting up for water he isn’t thirsty for. Hyunjin, instead, skips over it, and Jisung can breathe again. When Juliet wakes up from the sleeping draught, you’re supposed to kiss him before stabbing yourself with the dagger. As he expected and hoped, you skip over that step as well. His breathing slows and returns to a more reasonable pace.

The act ends with the Capulet and Montague families making peace with each other and deciding to erect golden statues of their dead children to memorialize the tragedy. There’s a few cries of disbelief and astonishment in the comms at such a stupid conclusion, and Jisung is one of them. He hates this play so much. You’re the only tolerable thing about it.

Ms. Park makes you and Hyunjin go over the death scenes again and reminds you that she expects real kisses before opening night. You and Hyunjin turn similar shades of red, while Jisung goes pale at the thought. Like nothing happened, she requests all the actors come in the auditorium to practice the curtain call. All of the tech crew gets a round of applause and cheering from the actors after, and the comms are filled with tech’s own cheers.

Because it’s Friday, rehearsal ends an hour earlier than normal. Tech notes are shorter than usual, especially when Mr. Gi reveals that he wants to go home to watch his favorite show. Jisung receives some praise for improving throughout the week, but the floor crew overall still need to tidy up some of the blackouts. Once he moves on to lights, Jisung tunes them out and discreetly scrolls through your Instagram throughout the rest of notes. You look very pretty in white.

“Good job, guys, and have a good weekend.”

That’s their cue to go home. The actors are already lining down the auditorium aisles to hand their mics to Chan. Jisung spots you behind Capulet, discussing alternative death scenes with Hyunjin. You’re standing right in front of him, so you have to tilt your head far back in order to look at him while talking. Hyunjin mimes stabbing you, and you double over, clutching your stomach in pretend pain. He fakes horror and drinks from an invisible vial. It’s like the two of you are in your own bubble, and Jisung’s watching through a window.

He gets up and decides to wait in the classroom. As he walks back up onto the stage, he can hear you and Hyunjin dying from laughter. He hits the main curtain particularly hard while making his way backstage. He still wants to give you the bag of chips, but Hyunjin seems to be keeping you from him. The classroom is mostly empty, and people occasionally come in to get their belongings and leave. You finally come in, and you’re back in your normal clothes. He wonders how you’re not freezing in shorts, but that’s not important right now. Hyunjin is nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” he calls.

You brush your bangs to the side before looking in his direction. “Hey.”

“Any chance you’re hungry? I bought an extra bag by accident,” he says, holding up a bag of chips.

You laugh, and his heart rate increases. “A lot of our conversations seem to be about food. I’m getting food after, but thanks anyway.” When Jisung visibly deflates, you ask, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He stacks the bag on top of the other bag and rests his hand on top. “I don’t wanna give it to Jeongin. He’s probably going to ask once he sees I have two.”

“You could just eat both bags.”

“Maybe. I might also end up in the hospital for sodium poisoning though.”

You laugh again, and he turns pink with pride. However, the universe must be against him because Hyunjin appears in the door frame. You greet him with significantly more enthusiasm. Hyunjin collects his belongings, and his right hand twirls a car key. Jisung’s mouth starts forming a frown, and it deepens when Hyunjin says to you, “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You sling your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your textbook from the table. “See you Monday, Jisung.”

He says, “See you,” too late once again. With a huff of annoyance, he grabs his things and follows you two to the parking lot while staying a safe distance behind. Your textbook is now in Hyunjin’s hand, and you’re scrolling through something on your phone. He realizes with a start that you are reading off frozen yogurt flavors. When Hyunjin asks which flavor you’re going to get, you select strawberry cheesecake.

When Jisung is finally in his car, he turns up the volume on the radio and peels out of the parking lot, his hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life. In the passenger seat sits two bags of chips, unopened.

~ ad.gray

[doctorthedoctor]

Long thasmin (mostly Yaz) rambles under the cut. I have a lot of feelings about it, but that’s nothing new.

tl;dr Yaz is queer and I really hope this is where they actually plan on going with it.

I wish we knew if they’re planning on making Yaz canonically queer. If they are, I’m so interested in where she’s at in terms of her relationship with her identity. We’ve gotten a glimpse into her past, but there’s still so much we don’t know, like why she was bullied and what prompted her to run off. She’s clearly had to pull herself out of a very dark place, yet we hardly know any details about what bought her there (funny how that sounds exactly like the Doctor).

I know a lot of people are of the belief that Najia is the captain of the thasmin ship, but I’ve personally never felt that way. To me, she doesn’t look or sound thrilled by the concept of Yaz seeing the Doctor when she asks about it. And Yaz doesn’t seem very comfortable with the question. She initially responds with a disgruntled, “Not now!” and punctuates the exchange with, “Please, can we not have this conversation now? And not in front of [Robertson].” And between those lines, neither she nor the Doctor give Najia a clear answer.

This is just my take and it could very well be wrong, but the fact that Yaz expresses multiple times that she doesn’t want to talk about it tells me that a conversation of this nature has happened before. And judging by the tension between them, it probably didn’t go very smoothly.

I mean, nothing about this exchange looked or sounded comfortable to me:

It’s notably different from how Najia and Yaz interact later when the same question is asked about her and Ryan. The two respond with an immediate and definitive, “No.” Najia seems disappointed by their answer, yet she doesn’t press the topic and the story moves forward. This exchange ends up being significantly shorter than the first, solely because Najia accepted their answer the first time around.

Does anyone smell some heteronormativity in the air? Queer people are painfully familiar with having to spend time explaining their identity to others. It’s a conversation we’re forced to have over and over throughout our lives. That definitely sounds like an experience Yaz can relate to.

Ryan and Yaz look uncomfortable when she asks (which is understandable), but Najia looks much happier about the concept and disappointed when she finds out they aren’t dating:

And even the staging is interesting. Najia is positioned between Yaz and Ryan in the second scene, as opposed to being placed next to Yaz with a desk between them and the Doctor. When she’s talking to Yaz and Ryan, she’s on the same level as them and sounds friendlier. But when she’s talking to the Doctor, Yaz is sitting while she stands and assumes a more authoritative position/tone.

Sure, the Doctor is a stranger and Ryan is a childhood friend, but the Doctor was so nice to Najia when she met her. As far as I can remember, she never gave her a solid reason to be suspicious. If anything, she was too nice, given the way Najia reacts to the hug and compliment about her daughter, then proceeds to distance herself. She’s not Yaz’s mum, she’s Najia. And at the end of the episode, she continues to press Yaz about the Doctor, but never mentions Ryan again.

We know that there’s been a strain on her home life at some point after hearing her conversation with that officer, because she mentions Yaz’s parents not understanding her (not getting “what’s up”). As they they talk, the officer mentions Yaz wanting to run away from everyone, including herself. In trying to convince her that these feelings will pass, she essentially tells her there’s something good waiting on the other side if she runs toward herself instead—which is something queer people really need to hear.

It’s obviously not the only factor, and like I said, I could be wrong but...this sure does look like something that would make a person run from who they are:

After all, Yaz did promise her mom she would tell her about the Doctor when she got back from picking up bread, then proceeded to run off with her. As far as we know, Najia is still in the dark about their relationship—whatever that happens to be.

Aside from that, Yaz is the only one in the fam who hasn’t had any romantic interactions outside of the Doctor and the Master. I guess we could also count Ryan (I’m not against it because I headcanon her as bi) but I genuinely get more of a sibling vibe from them. Regardless, we all know the Master cozied up to Yaz because she fits the mold of who the Doctor has traveled with in the past. I can’t speak to classic who, but from Nine and on, the Doctor’s got a type and we all know it, including the Master.

Then we have all of the parallels between thasmin and various couples in the show. I’m not even going to begin to list them, but the crumbs are abundant and delicious. That gay cop and astronaut? I mean, come on.

On top of all that, the one really Yaz centric episode we’ve had dealt with themes of prejudice and a love within her own family that broke away from societal norms. Like, shit. The Doctor married Prem and Umbreen in a small, private ceremony because she was the only one who was willing to look past their religions. And because this was a relationship that went unknown to Yaz (for a vastly different reason, but still), even she wasn’t happy with the Doctor for agreeing to it at first.

Though private, their marriage was an act of rebellion against outside forces. And who did Umbreen specifically have tension with about the concept of marrying someone who was Hindu? Her mother. But she and Prem even created a new wedding tradition that celebrated their own love by tying their hands with the rope that fell in the water. “Now it can be our thing, if we want it to be,” Umbreen said.

(This is a side note, but if Najia truly isn’t chill about Yaz being queer, I really want to see Umbreen tell her about Prem. I want to hear her recount her experiences with her own love being scrutinized and challenged. I think it would be a cool way for Najia to learn who the Doctor really is, and just how much of a positive impact she and Yaz have made on her life already.)

Yaz struggled in Demons of the Punjab because everything she believed to be true about Umbreen’s life (and her own by extension) turned out to be so different from what she expected. But what she witnessed in that episode helped her understand that people deserve to share their experiences on their own terms. If that doesn’t translate into a narrative about Yaz’s own identity, I don’t know what will.

In season 12, Yaz spent this entire time focusing on the Doctor, but it was executed in a way that furthered her own development. Yaz clearly has feelings for her, but now we have a better understanding of what traveling with the Doctor means to her as a whole. Yaz idolizes her, constantly thinks about what she would say or do. She wants to impress her, prove herself capable of solving problems and saving people. In the process of doing this, she’s grown more confident in her own abilities, independently breathing hope and action into situations that feel paralyzing and hopeless. This is exactly what Yaz has wanted all along, with or without the Doctor. Yaz wants to matter and she wants to do work that matters. The Doctor gives her this. She tells her they can’t have a universe without her. She gives her the chance to make an impact in a way she doesn’t feel like she can at home.

I think their relationship could serve as such a wonderful catalyst for Yaz to step into her own identity and eventually find her place without needing the Doctor. Like Graham said, she doesn’t have a time machine or a sonic, but she’s doing the whole human race proud. Yaz deserves a “You were fantastic. And know what? So was I” moment.

I love thasmin as much as the next person, but I’m honestly less interested in seeing her feelings reciprocated by the Doctor than I am in witnessing Yaz’s journey to confront her feelings in the first place. I want to see or hear her express them in a way that leaves no room for doubt. Everything feels so blatantly intentional at this point, but there’s still just enough ambiguity for me to worry that they’re not going to follow through. They’ve planted all these wonderful little seeds along the way, it would be such a disservice to all fans (not just queer fans) if we never get to see them bloom.

[moongazer606]

Who Are You Calling Old? Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1914

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Summary: Part two!! It’s been a few weeks, but you finally have another run-in with Bucky at the bar.

Part One

Tags: @palaiasaurus64 @thenewlarislynn​ @calspalkira 

In an effort to not feel like a stalker, you decided to actively avoid looking up Bucky Barnes online. You didn’t want to see any paparazzi photos of him and the other Avengers, you didn’t want to know which small country they had saved now, or what restaurants they were visiting or what clothes they were seen buying. You just wanted Bucky to be the cute guy you had maybe kind of flirted with at the bar a few weeks ago. 

You hadn’t seen him, or Captain America, at the bar since. A small part of you missed him. Or at least missed being able to glance over at him as you played darts with your friends. He was easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. You supposed if you did happen to look him up, you’d find some explanation for his absence. Maybe the Avengers had moved back down to New York City, or maybe he was in Europe somewhere. However, no matter how tempted you were, you never did look him up.

Every so often Jess would catch you scanning the bar for the man and tease you. None of your other friends really knew about your interaction with the celebrity. It had only been a brief encounter really, yet somehow, almost a month later you were still thinking about him.

It was just another Friday night. You and your friends had already been here for a few hours and you were many drinks in. Your cheeks were flushed and you were laughing a little too hard at everyone’s jokes. You were standing with your friends, your gin and tonic in one hand, and a dart in the other. You had just thrown your first two darts and were lining up to take your last shot. 

Just as you released the dart, Jess leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Don’t look now but someone is checking you out from the bar.”

Before the dart had even met its mark, you whipped around to look for him. Your eyes landed on him almost immediately. He was sitting on the same stool at the bar, though this time he was turned to face the dartboards, his elbows back on the bartop. 

“I told you not to look!” Jess hissed. 

You were too busy smiling at Bucky to notice Jess now. You turned around briefly to check that your last dart had hit center before announcing you were going for another drink. You heard Jess suggest that maybe you had had enough to drink, but you just kept walking.

Bucky’s eyes were on you the whole way as you focused very hard on not tripping in the heels you were wearing. While you walked you realized that he had his hair pulled back tonight with the barest hint of 5 o’clock shadow. No matter what, you’d find him attractive, you thought. Especially because with his hair back it gave you an even better view of those steel blue eyes. When you got to the bar, you hopped up on the stool next to him and he turned to face the bartop.

“What’s a girl gotta do to buy you a drink?” you asked with a grin.

“And here I was going to buy you one,” he smiled back, crooked and boyish.  

You scoffed jokingly. “So old fashioned. This is the 21st century you know, old man.”

“Do men in the 21st century usually buy drinks for girls who haven’t introduced themselves first?” You could see him smiling into his glass as he took a sip of the clear liquid.

“Might I point out you haven’t introduced yourself either? In fact, the first time you spoke to me you were making fun of my drink order.”

He turned his body slightly to face you, and held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.”

“I know,“ you smirked, putting your hand in his. His hand absolutely dwarfed yours, somehow making you feel even smaller next to the super soldier.

“And yet I still don’t know your name.”

You thought about teasing him some more, but decided to just introduce yourself instead. He gave your hand a solid shake, repeating your name out loud. You liked the way it sounded in his deep timbre. 

At that moment, Max finally made his way over to the pair of you. It took your alcohol muddled mind a moment to realize you still had your hand in Bucky’s. You quickly snatched it away and turned to smile at Max.

“Another gin and tonic, please,” Bucky ordered. You were about to protest when he nodded his head towards you, continuing, “And for the lady?”

“I think it’s time I switched to water, Max. Thank you.” 

As soon as Max was out of ear shot you turned back to Bucky, giving him a shit eating grin as you leaned your chin on your fist. He looked at you before facing forward again. “What, doll?”

“I thought only old people drank gin these days,” you mimicked his words from the night you met.

Before he could answer, Jess came up to you. You could tell she was trying to remain perfectly casual in Bucky’s presence, her eyes darting to him every so often, as she told you they were all going to head out. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Max is bringing me a water as we speak, I’ll be just fine, Jess.” You saw her eyes dart to Bucky again. “Bucky, this is Jess. Jess, this is Bucky,” you quickly introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bucky told her as they shook hands. You noted that their handshake was significantly shorter than the one you had shared. 

For a moment you thought Jess was going to say something more to him but instead she turned back to you, gave you a quick hug, and went to rejoin the rest of your friends where they waited near the door. You raised your hand in farewell before they all filed out. 

When you turned back around, you noticed that Max had brought your drinks. You took a few large gulps of your water before spinning in the stool so you were fully facing Bucky. “So?” you prompted.

“Still on me about the gin?” he questioned taking a sip of it.You nodded your head with a grin. “I know you know who I am now. Which means you also know I wasn’t lying when I said I was old and didn’t look it- unlike some people.”

“You have to admit it tastes better than a scotch and soda though, right?”

“It sure does,” he winked, raising his class to you. You gently bumped your water glass against his, before you both drained their contents. When he called Max over you thought he was going to order another round, but instead he paid both his tab and yours.

“I was supposed to be buying you a drink!” you protested.

“Maybe next time, doll,” he assured you, tossing a few extra bills on the bartop for good measure. You raised your eyebrows at the prospect of a “next time”. “Let’s get you home.”

“I live just down the road,” you told him as you both stood from the stools.

“Let me walk you. It’s late.” 

He gave you a crooked smile that you couldn’t help but return with a nod. As you both made your way to the door, he gently guided you with a hand at the small of your back. Once outside, he pulled his hand away, but stayed close beside you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him and part of you wished he’d touch you again. Between the water and the cool night air, your head was starting to clear a bit. 

Even in your heels you had to tilt your head up to look at him. You could see him scanning the surrounding area as you walked in a comfortable silence. At this time of night there was no one else around. You had never felt unsafe walking home from the bar, but it was nice to have the security of a hulking super soldier next to you.

Your apartment, which was above a place that claimed to buy and sell gold, was only a few blocks from Shade’s, and you were there faster than you wanted to be. You stopped in front of the door that led up to your apartment, and turned to face Bucky. 

“Thank you for walking me back.”

As you looked up at him now, alone on the empty street, the only light came from a nearby streetlamp and a neon sign in the shop window. You became hyper-aware of just how alone the two of you were now, and just how quiet the street was after the bustle of the bar. You could hear Bucky’s shoes scrape on the pavement as he took a hesitant step towards you. 

He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and then left his hand there to cup your jaw. Without thinking you took a step forward, closing the distance between you. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself as he brought his lips down to yours. The kiss was gentle and soft, like he was afraid of breaking you. He pulled back after just a moment, those steel blue eyes meeting yours. Your eyes flicked down to his lips before making eye contact once more.

That seemed to be the only que he needed before leaning back in for another kiss. He seemed more sure of himself now, your lips moving together in perfect sync. He wrapped his arms securely around your waist as you clung to his shoulders. This time when he pulled away you were both breathless and grinning. You rested your foreheads together as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for weeks,” you admittedly shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You felt more than heard him chuckle. “Yeah, me too, doll.”

After a few more moments you let go of each other so you could fish your keys out of your purse.

 “I’d invite you up, but I don’t think your old fashioned sensibilities would allow it,” you joked as your shaking hands managed to unlock the door. You turned back to face him.

“I’ve got work in the morning anyway, but maybe we can grab dinner sometime this week?” he asked, a little bashful. “I’ll even let you pay if you want.” 

Having a sudden thought, you reached your hand back into your purse, pulling out a Sharpie. You held your hand out expectantly to him. He looked a bit confused before placing his hand in yours. As neat as you could, you scrawled your number on his forearm. “Call me sometime and we’ll set it up.”

He gave your hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Alright. Well goodnight, doll.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

With a grin, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to walk back in the direction of the bar. When he was about a block away he turned and raised a hand in farewell. You did the same before finally going inside. You were still grinning like an idiot as you climbed into bed and fell asleep.