#we’re gonna pretend this isn’t over an hour late for day two because ive been too busy to post this okay

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day two of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt is Rib Cage.

warnings for mentions of disordered eating.

It’s been a problem since he was young. Momma’s little projection of insecurity and status.

Steve doesn’t eat. Not when he can help it. And he’s good at hiding it too.

He wears concealer to cover the bags under his eyes. He goes and gets highlights in his hair to hide how dull and greasy it is. He brushes his teeth at least six times a day to hide the damage from the purging. And he buys his pants a size too big to pretend he’s not getting thinner.

But as good as he is at pretending, Billy’s even better at reading people.

Since November and getting put in his place by his step sister, Billy’s been an observer. The role of instigator went to Tommy while Billy sits atop his throne and just, takes it in. A dynamic not so different to what Steve once had with Tommy.

But it means he notices everything that goes down in his kingdom, and especially everything concerning Steve Harrington.

Steve doesn’t even notice at first that Billy has noticed him, not from the little remarks and the stares that last a little too long. It’s obvious, but he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t see what it is that draws his attention to him.

Not until Billy steps down from his royal court to confront him in the locker rooms.

Steve’s been avoiding the showers after practice for a long time. It’s bad enough being surrounded by that many other boys, all more fit than him in one way or another, but as if that isn’t enough, he has to show himself too. The second he takes his shirt off, everyone’ll know what he’s up to.

He’s proud of his body. He’s proud of having earned his beauty. But he’s humiliated by the questions. Be it the faux concern or the mockery he’s more than used to, he just wants nothing to do with it.

So he lingers, on the court talking to coach, pretending to be searching for something in his bag. Anything to keep him from having to face the nagging.

But Billy notices, because of course he does. And he sits on the bench between the lockers all smug like. Waiting for Steve to run out of excuses so he can corner him.

It works, after Steve digs through his locker for some imaginary object for the dozenth time, he sighs and turns to Billy, “You gonna keep starin’ at me, Hargrove? What’re you even still doing here?”

“Coach asked me to stay’n lock up. What’s your problem, man?” Billy hums casually, like he doesn’t even care how much he’s bothering Steve. It’s something he’s probably used to by now anyways.

If only he knew what that indifferent assailed routine did to Steve. He buries that for now though, to argue, “You seem to be the one with a problem.”

Billy snarks right back, “Ain’t wrong about that. But I was watchin’ you at practice. What’s wrong with your ribs?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re crossin’ your arms over your chest. You’re breathin’ all shallow like. You won’t even take your shirt off and get in the damn shower. Someone kick your ass Harrington?”

“No, no. That’s.. not it.”

“Uh-huh. Say the word n’I’ll put a stop to it. S’it Hagan? I told him to get off your case, man” Billy tries to convince him into admitting something, not knowing exactly what it is, but Steve shuts him down again, trying not to think too much about the concern in the other boys tone and expression.

“Seriously, dude. It’s just.. it’s me.”

“Right. ‘Cause you knocked your own self around like that. Lemme see it, Harrington.” Billy motions vaguely to Steve’s ribs, where the imaginary injury is, making his chest seize, flinching back from the touch that doesn’t land.

“No. No fucking way.”

“C’mere.” Before Steve can tell him no again, Billy steps forward and touches his ribs. His face looks sort of defeated when he doesn’t make Steve flinch or wince, clearly wrong, as Steve already knew, about the presence of a bruise.

His fingers gently linger though, tracing over each bone as they protrude through pale skin. It sends a shiver through Steve’s spine, and a spike of anger into his heart. Before Billy even opens his mouth, he knows he’s seen through him.

Knows Billy noticed that, just a month shy of the year anniversary of the fight, his body has changed far too drastically for it to be natural, or otherwise normal. His face softens in a way that’s so distinctly not-Billy, it makes Steve want to never see him that way again, “Steve..”

“Fuck off.”

But it’s too late, “Why’re you doin’ it?”

“Leave me alone, Hargrove. For real.”

“Don’t be stubborn, man. Lemme help you.”

“You don’t even know me, douchebag. I’m fine so just stop it.” Steve insists, panic rising in his chest, making his breath come out short and his throat real tight.

Billy doesn’t relent though.

“Yeah? Well I do know you’re starving yourself.” Billy counters, his tone surprisingly animated. It’s almost make Steve feel special if Billy wasn’t being an ass, “Used to think the school lunches were just below you. Thought your ass was too expensive for cold pizza like the rest of us ate. But I get it now. S’why you don’t drink either isn’t it?”

“Okay, you’ve been stalking me?”

“Just been keepin’ an eye on my competition. N’I don’t much like it when my competition starts gettin’ too depressed to even put up a damn fight.” It’s obvious Billy’s using that as a cover for something deeper that Steve doesn’t get, wishing Billy would just come out and say it already.

“Well I’m not much of a threat. Never was.” He prompts, but what Billy responds with instead instead is, “Exactly, and whose fault is that?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, surprised by the venom behind Billy's words. He’s even more surprised when Billy tears into him again, “M’serious. You’re wasting yourself away. It’s no damn wonder you can’t keep up anymore.”

That stings. “I thought you were getting better, but you’re clearly still an asshole.”

“And I thought you were alright to begin with. But I guess we’re both wrong.”

“So what the hell do you want me to say? Thank you my savior for savin’ me from myself?”

“Would you let me?” It’s not the answer Steve is expecting, the way Billy’s been acting since he confronted him, and he makes sure he knows, asking, “What?”

“Would you let me help you? Save you from what you’re doing?” Billy tries again, and it’s even more blindsiding this time.

“Like you even could. You said it yourself, Hargrove. I’m kicking my own ass here. You can’t help me.”

“I bet I could. You need someone in your corner.” Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Billy cuts him off quickly, “That curlyheaded kid don’t count. You need someone to look out for you. I’d let you be King again if it stopped this from happening.”

“But why would you?”

“I got my reasons.”

“Then just fucking tell me. If it’s good, I might think about it.”

“Look, I like you Harrington. I ain’t gonna stand by and watch you do this to yourself. Why’d you think I was checkin’ up on you in the first place?”

“To rub it in my fucking face that I’m unstable or some shit. Try to get dirt on me so you can make my life even more miserable.”

“What do I gotta do to show ya I really care then?” Billy sighs, but Steve hardly has the mind to detect his frustration, because he’s suddenly hung up by this declaration, simple to Billy but astroninal to him, “Wait- care? You mean, you don’t just like me in the same way everyone likes King Steve?”

“No. I meant it in the other way, Steve. The way I’m not so good at saying with words. The way I’ve trying to show you since we made things right. But I guess I’m not really good at this crush shit either.” Billy’s so bashful, so genuine, Steve knows he’s being honest, but some part of him can’t process it still.

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head, can’t believe it long enough to even look Billy in the eyes and deny it, “No-No you don’t. You’re fucking with me.”

“I do and I’m not. And that’s exactly why I’m not gonna sit around and watch this- this slow death you’re putting yourself through.”

Suddenly, this whole conversation goes from frustrating and pissing him off, to embarrassing. Like Billy's perception of him somehow changed his own. It’s funny how he was willing to argue with an enemy, but the second that other motive came into play, Steve finds himself flustered and trying to cover his tracks with a declaration of, “It’s not even that bad.”

But Billy continues to be a sweet talker, and he begs, all gentle and considerate, “Then let me fix it before it is. Please, Steve?”

“Okay.. okay.” Steve nods, biting the corner of his nail as he thinks, regretting it and shoving his hands in his pocket instead. He starts, after a moment of trying to collect his thoughts, “Just- Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too. That’s the only reason I’m accepting this.”

“Fine by me. How ‘bout I follow you back to yours tonight? Keep an eye on you still. Keep my promise too.” Billy offers, tone somewhat hopeful.

In response, Steve smiles shakily, so nervous his heart pounds in his chest. His ribs feel weak against its rhythm, like his chest could cave in from the combination of nerves and admiration, at knowing someone actually cared for him. He’s never felt more fragile than he does for Billy.

“I would like that a lot, Billy.”

[namjoonswifey99]

What The Heart Wants Pt.6

Billy Hargrove X Reader

Warnings : Cursing , Bullying , Harassment , Billy being Billy 

Author Note: Hope You Enjoy This Chapter and I apologize this was supposed to be out but ive going though a rough patch with my family so i hope you understand.

Billy walked over to Y/N and Max; he couldn't help but overhear Susan talking to the police.

“ Sir please i just want my little girl I don't do anything else but her.” Susan says trying to calm her breathing from crying so much

“ Ma'am, your daughter stated she wants to go with her step brother and his girlfriend. We are gonna have to take you downtown for questioning. This isn't the first time Mrs.Hargrove.”  Officer Powell asked why detaining her.

Susan started to protest but saw that was Max was looking at her and stopped and held her head down and started walking with the officer.

“ I'm so sorry you guys had to see that, that wasn't what I was going for, I just wanted to get our stuff so we can move in.” Billy says looking sad he never wanted Max or Y/N to see that side again. Billy then looks towards Will who was just wide eyed.

“ Hey Will right i'm sorry you had to see that I truly didn't mean for you to see that.” Billy says with an apologetic look. Will looks up at Billy, surprised by the story Jonathan and Max told him.  He doesn't seem so bad hopefully they can be friends

“

“ It's okay Billy i understand”. Will says, accepting his apology. 

Y/N then runs up and pulls Billy into a hug and just embraces him Y/N was so proud of Billy he finally stood up against his father. “ im super proud of you baby” Y/N says kissing Billy’s cheek 

Hopper looked at the two teenagers and smiled. It was rare for guys like Billy. He's honestly happy that he has this chance to make his life right with the right people by his side. 

“ Come one let’s get some more stuff out the house and go to Y/N place” Billy says while getting his key from Y/N . “ Yessss so i can more stuff then i intended” Max says while shouting in excitement to bring more of her things. “ Well as long as it fits in the car we'll just get a truck to move it”. Billy says while correcting Max he doesn't want his car to be too crowded. “ You guys don’t need a bed or dressers. My parents got you guys covered with bedding just more clothes and stuff you can fit”. Y/N says while fixing the trunk to make room.

----- 1 Hour Later----

After an hour later they arrived at Y/N house. Her and Billy explained what happened at his fathers house . Y/N and Billy starts to explain what had happened down at his fathers house and how he was gonna move forward to have sole custody of Max and to be filed down as independent. 

“ That’s a very good plan Billy and you know you and Max can still for however long you like it’s no problem to us you were already family from the beginning” Y/N mother Angelina says while putting the cookies in the oven. 

“ I agree with my wife you can stay however long you like” Y/N father Tremaine says while putting the sodas in the freezer. 

“ we definitely appreciate the love and roof you're giving me and max I won’t let you down” Billy says while looking at them. 

“ You don’t have to prove anything baby, we love you just the way you are flaws and all “ Y/ N says as she looks at Billy with full love in the eyes.

“ BABY” Both of Y/N parents shouted at the same time. 

“ Ummmmm yea as of today me and Billy are together “Y/N says while looking down shyly. To shy look at her parents reaction. 

“ Ha I knew it Tre you owe me 40$ bucks” Angelina says happily she knew they was gonna get together 

“ Man you guys couldn’t wait till next week I could’ve had extra money” Tre says pulling out the 40 dollars to hand to his wife. 

“ You are not mad about us” Billy says confused because growing with a dad like his a relationship between him and Y/N would be frowned upon. 

“ never we don’t care as long as you live and respect our daughter that’s all that matters” Tremaine says to Billy while tenderly holding Angelina to him. 

Y/N was about to say something when the doorbell rang, she gets up to ask who it was when a familiar voice called out. 

“ Y/ N your favorite person in the whole wide world is here “ 

“ No I’m Y/N favorite you can ask her herself” 

“ No Y/N loves me more she makes me more food than any of you” 

“ Well Y/N be at my house almost every other day with my sister so I get to see her more than any of you” 

Y/N knew right there it was the rest of her miniature best friends. 

“ Well all you are wrong Y/N loves me more and I’m living with her” Max says with a smug look on her face as Y/N opens the door. 

On her porch stands Lucas , Dustin , Eleven, and Mike with Steve standing behind them. 

After Max’s statement chaos was issued.

“ What no way, no fair” Dustin whines in disbelief. 

“ Yea what Dustin said , How come max stays” Lucas says while looking offended. 

“ Well it’s easier for you doofus . She like me more” Max says sticking her tongue out at the boys. 

“ That means we can have all the sleepovers and waffles we want” Eleven says with a bright smile on her face. 

“ Okay now listen I love you all the same your all my favorites I can’t just choose one”. Y/N says trying to mediate the situation. 

“ What about me guys? I can be as cool as Y/N” Steve said with a cocky grin. 

The group just all stared at him. 

“ No offense Steve buddy but Y/N waaaaaaayyy more cooler than you by a landslide”. Mike says. 

Before Steve can retort, Billy comes to the door to see what’s taking so long and notices Steve and gives him an annoyed look. There’s one thing Billy is a lot of but he doesn’t put his hand on women. He may be an asshole and a bully but he’s no woman beater. 

Y/N felt the tension before Steve face gave it away.  Before a fight can escalate she steps in. 

“ Okay so I got 4 movies picked out then we can go to the bonus room and play some board games and before you even ask Dustin and Lucas yes I did make you guys favorite dessert”. Y/N says while ushering the kids inside the house. 

Before Steve can ask why Billy was there Y/N comes back out. 

“ Thanks for dropping the kids off for Hopper I’ll call him when it’s time to come get them, '' Y/N says with a kind smile. 

“ Uhh yeah no problem anytime” Steve says, stuttering, he wanted to apologize for his actions earlier but with Billy right there he’ll never get the chance. 

Y/N turns to leave when she notices Billy still staring down at Steve so she grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him in the house. 

The kids were all in the living room trying to decide which movie they’re gonna watch. 

“ Baby look at me” Y/N says, grabbing Billy’s face so he’s looking directly at her. 

“ baby you’ve changed for the better don’t let what today put you down you know I’m right here by your side every step of the way” Y/N says while looking him in the eye so he can see she really meant what she’s saying. 

“ I know baby it’s just I want them to know I’ve changed. I got my second chance at life and to do what is right and I couldn’t have done it with you my sweet angel by my side” Billy says lovingly to Y/N. 

The chemistry between Y/N and Billy is unmatched for the simple fact when it was him against the world Y/N was by his side and he will never take that for granted him and Y/N connection is way deeper than anybody can imagine. 

Y/N just continued to look at him with so much adoration in her eyes. 

“ Okay love birds we chose the movie we’re waiting on you guys now”. Max says with an eye roll. 

Y/N and Billy walked into the living room but not before Y/N leaned down and whispered in Max’s ear. 

“ don’t worry max I have a grand plan for Lucas”. Y/N says walking away with a small grin on her face. Leaving a blushing max in her wake. 

— 2 Hours Later —-

After the movie ended Y/N looked over at the clock and noticed it was 7:40. It looks like they only have time for one game before she has to call Hopper. 

“ So I have guys listen up, it's a little late so we have time for one more movie or game whatever you guys decide”. Y/N says while pulling out the games from the chest. 

After about 5 minutes they decided on watching another movie before they left. 

“ So Max I heard there’s this boy whose been crushing on you for a while” Y/N says teasingly. Y/N signaled for Max to play along if one thing Y/N knows about men is that they’re extremely possessive no matter what age. 

“ Yea and I like him back hopefully he asks me to the dance” Max says with a blush on her face. 

Y/N notices from the corner of her eye that Lucas is not taking what they said well which means her plan is going accordingly. 

“ if you need my help with getting him to ask you I’ll definitely do it” Y/N says eagerly. 

Before Max can let out her response Lucas stands up and takes her and says. 

“ Would you do me the honor of my date for the winter formal?” Lucas says while looking so nervous. 

 Max pretends to think about it which makes him start sweating. More than he already was. 

“ Yes doofus of course I’ll go with you” Max says with a smile. 

Y/N was happy for Max she got what she wanted but Billy on the other hand was not so ecstatic. Y/N looked over and saw Billy with a scowl on his face. 

“ what’s wrong”.Y/N asked. 

“ Don’t you think it’s to soon for them” Billy says with a pout on his face. 

“ Awwww his the big brother feeling protective” Y/N responds teasingly. 

Billy kisses his teeth at her statement. 

“ No” was Billys only response. 

“ awww baby it’s okay it just a school dance they’ll be fine” Y/N says while kissing his cheek. 

“……. Fine but I don’t like it”. Billy says to Y/N. 

Y/N laughs wholeheartedly. He was just so precious and cute when he’s worried. 

The kids looked over at them when they heard Y/N they looked at her like she was crazy but left it alone.She was alway like that with Billy.

“ Okay kids get your stuff ready I’m going to call Hopper”. Y/N says while getting up and grabbing the house phone. 

After a while Hopper picks up. 

“ Hey Hopper the kids are ready” 

“ Umm about that I’m stuck at work and I already called their parents to see if it was okay for them to stay” 

“ What did they say”

“ Well they wasn’t to keen on Billy living there but since they trust you they allowed them to stay” 

“Okay that’s great I do have extra clothes for them especially when they stayed here during the you-know-what.” 

“ That’s great do you also think you can drop them off at school or call somebody to help” 

“ No it’s okay I’ll ask my mom in the Morning to take the kids she’ll be happy to” 

“ Okay that’s great Y/N I’ll pick up Eleven after school so will the parents except Dustin he’s going with Steve” 

“ Geats I’ll let the kids and my parents know have a good night Hopper” 

“ You Y/N Bye”

“Bye” 

 Y/N hangs up and goes back to the living room to tell the kids. 

“ Okay guys put your stuff away your spending the night here and Billy and my mom will drop you off in the morning” Y/N says while getting the extra blankets and pillows out. 

“ Yesssss Y/ N you're officially the best ever”  Max says with excitement that her friends get to stay.  

“ Well I try my best but you should really thank Hopper. He's staying overtime at work,  so Max and Eleven are rooming in Max’s room , Boys you’ll be bunking with Billy”.  Y/N  says while taking them upstairs. 

“ Actually you guys can get my room. I'll bunk with Y/N just don’t touch any of my things”. Billy says while staring them down. 

“ Billy now my parents love you and all but they will literally kill us if they find us in bed together”. Y/N says wagging her finger in a no motion. 

“ We can leave the door open, I just want to spend time with you and cuddle” Billy says while wrapping his arms around her waist to bring her closer to him.

“ It stays wide open Billy im not playing with you” Y/N says while mugging him because she was not gonna die over this man even though she do love him her parents were a different story.

“ I understand baby i promise” Billy says while sealing their lips together in a nice passion lip lock.

[theladyofdeath]

Thanks, Uncle Cassian {Feysand}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 3.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “ feysand- kid(s) coming to them with nightmares after watching a scary movie”

An extension of @snelbz​ and I’s 2nd gen series, The Arrival:

*The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART I} *The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART II} *The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART III} *The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART IV}

Happy Spooky Season, readers!

Feyre had just fallen asleep and was grateful for it. Having three kids under eight was a lot, which was an understatement, especially during the spookiest season of the year. 

It was a challenge to get them to bed, and by the time midnight rolled around and their eldest finally shut their eyes, Feyre slumped down next to Rhysand in their bedroom and closed her eyes.

It didn’t last long.

Apparently, at some point, it had begun to rain and a herd of little footsteps could be heard along the hardwood.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Rhysand groaned from beside her, the first time in hours he’d made any indication that he was still alive and well.

He rolled over, finding Lily standing next to his side of the bed. All that was visible were her wide, teary eyes. At least he thought it was Lily, he couldn't determine if the eyes staring up at him were violet or blue-grey.

“What is it, princess?” He murmured, scooting back towards his wife and tossing the blankets back. She crawled up into the bed, curling against his chest and he heard sigh as Feyre tossed the covers back as well. He glanced back and saw a small head snuffling into his wife’s embrace.

Definitely Lily in his arms.

“Bad dream,” she said, fussing, as she wrapped her little arms around him.

Livy was lying with Feyre, saying the exact same thing. “Bad dream, mama.”

Rhysand sighed and shot a look at his wife. In the dark, she could barely make out his facial features. With a sigh, Rhysand began rubbing Lily’s back.

“You're okay, sweetheart. A bad dream is just that- a dream. Not real.”

It didn’t stop Lily from snuggling into her daddy any less.

Another crack of thunder came before they heard another set of footsteps hurrying down the hall.

Their eldest, they assumed.

The footsteps slowed when they found the bedroom door already cracked and after Feyre heard a quiet sniffle, she asked, “You okay, Ben?”

Bennett quietly shuffled into the room. “I heard the storm, needed to check on Lily and Liv.”

Feyre’s quick glance at her husband showed her that he, too, wasn’t falling for that lie, no matter how smooth it was.

They’d let him think they were though.

“The girls are both in bed with us, they’re nice and safe,” Rhys said, realizing Lily was already dozing against his arm. “You can take the night off, bud. We can watch them tonight.” He winked at his oldest child, even though he couldn’t see him.

Bennett grappled for something to say. “Are you sure?”

Feyre’s eyes softened as she beheld her firstborn in the doorway, his silhouette in the moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if you stayed, too? So you can make sure the girls are okay?”

Bennett was quiet for a moment before he said, “Yeah. I think so.”

Feyre was holding up the blankets before he even finished his sentence, and his little footsteps hurried across the floor and underneath the comforter.

After a few seconds of silence, there was a loud crack of thunder and all the kids gasped. 

Feyre looked over at her husband and although it was dark she could see him subtly shaking his head.

“Does anyone want to tell me why they’re suddenly so afraid of storms?” Rhysand asked, quietly.

They were met with silence.

“Did you see something at Aunt Nesta and Uncle Cassian’s that made you scared?” Feyre asked, knowing full well they had had a movie night the weekend before.

Their kids had never been scared of a storm before.

None of them answered.

“Do I need to call Uncle Cass and ask?” Rhys murmured, laying his head back against the pillow.

“It was Thorn’s turn to pick the movie,” Olive said quietly.

Rhys murmured, “Mother’s tits.”

“Rhys!” Feyre whispered. “What did he pick, honey?”

“Tornado movie,” Lily said, glancing up at her father. He looked down and found his own eyes looking back at them. Tucking her in closer, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It was loud and scary.”

After a beat of silence, he asked, “Sharknado?”

“No, daddy,” Livy replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre’s waist as she sat up. “Sharknado isn’t scary.”

Bennett scoffed. “Yeah, dad, Sharknado is for babies.” 

Rhysand sighed. “Then what-.”

Another round of thunder shook the sky. All three of the kids gasped and hid under the covers as Rhysand groaned, again. “I’m calling Cassian.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Feyre grumbled.

“I don’t care,” Rhysand said, yawning. “I’m tired. It’s late. Bed. Sleep. If I can’t sleep, neither can he.” 

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” Feyre protested. “Don’t you dare wake up Nesta, or she won’t be able to function for her-.”

“Tomorrow is Halloween?” Bennett asked, sticking his head out of the comforter. His eyes were wide with terror.

Rhys leaned over and turned on the lamp on his nightstand. “Alright, what’s going on? Ben, you’ve always loved Halloween. We’ve had your costume for weeks.”

“I think- I just want to stay home tomorrow night.”

Feyre stared at her eldest child. “You want to skip Aunt Nesta’s Halloween party?”

Bennett nodded silently.

She glanced back over at Rhys. “Call Cass, he broke our kid.”

He was reaching over for his phone on the nightstand when another round of lightning and thunder shook the house, before it plunged into darkness.

All three kids screamed and Olive began to cry into her mother’s chest.

“Baby, it’s okay,” she cooed. “We just lost power. You are all three safe and sound with mama and daddy, yeah?” She sniffled and nodded. The other two did as well. “Are you ready to tell us what you watched?”

It was Bennett who finally fessed up. “The story of the day the twister hit.”

Rhys and Feyre both blinked, not comprehending. “What?”

“The tornado,” Lily jumped in, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The tornado that hits every nine years on Halloween,” Bennett added.

Rhys let his eyes fall shut as he dropped his head in his hand. “Uncle Cass told you it comes every nine years?”

Livy nodded and Bennett went on, “He said it last hit right before Thorn was born.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Rhysand muttered.

“Rhys,” Feyre snapped.

Rhysand just rolled his eyes. “Don’t use daddy’s bad language. Look, Uncle Cass is a liar.”

As the room lit up from the lightning outside, the kids were shrieking, their little bodies tense. 

“Twister is just a movie,” Feyre went on, when it was clear Rhysand’s sleepy annoyance spiked. “And it doesn’t come on Halloween. Uncle Cassian and Thorn think it’s funny to be scared, and they were trying to scare you.”

Lily’s big blue eyes were teary when she asked, “Why would anyone like being scared? It’s scary!”

“Because Uncle Cass and Thorn aren't human,” Rhys murmured, snuggling back into his pillow. Lily had laid her head down on his chest and her sweet, little hand was pressed against his neck, just like she’d done when she was a baby.

Feyre sighed and said, “Yes, they are human. They just like the thrill of being scared.” She gestured towards the window. “Are storms dangerous? Yes, they can be. Is this one bad?”

Bennett shook his head. “It’s just loud.”

“Exactly, bud. It’s just loud,” she wrapped her arms around Olive, who’d snuggled in between her mama and her big brother, who was crammed next to his father.

Rhys was thankful they’d decided to splurge and get the king size when they’d updated their room the year before. “We’re safe in the house, okay? No tornados are gonna come and get you, not tonight, not ever.”

Lily let out a big, overly dramatic sigh. “I’m mad at Uncle Cass.”

“You should be,” Rhysand agreed. “Let him know when we see him tomorrow.”

“At the party?” Bennett asked, quietly. 

Feyre looked down at him, at his face in the darkness. She could hardly see a thing, but she could still see the lingering fear in his eyes. “Aunt Nesta would be sad if you weren’t there, buddy. So would Thorn.” 

“I don’t like Thorn anymore,” he muttered. 

Feyre looked up at Rhysand, hoping he would give her some help, but his eyes were closed, his breathing steady. With a sigh, she said, “Thorn loves you. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

“But you just said he was trying to scare us,” Bennett protested.

Feyre rubbed her temples, unsure of where to take the conversation. Parenting was not for the weak. “You know what you need to do?”

“What,” Bennett mumbled. 

“You need to go to the party tomorrow and tell Thorn that scaring you isn’t okay,” Feyre said.

He turned over and looked at her. “He’s going to make fun of me. Uncle Cass, too.”

Rhys was already trying to fall back asleep, realizing the crisis of the night had been handled. The arm that wasn’t rubbing Lily’s back was draped over his eyes. “If Uncle Cass tries to make fun of you for being scared of storms, you should ask him about Bryaxis.”

“What’s a Bryaxis?” Livy asked.

“The neighborhood dog that nearly took a chunk of Uncle Cassian’s ass when we were kids.”

“Rhys!”

He ignored his wife’s reprimands and yawned, going on. “Thanks to Bryaxis, Uncle Cass is still scared of dogs.” He yawned again, Lily doing the same only a second after him. “Use that information however you will.”

Bennett, despite his mother’s chastisement, chuckled. “Uncle Cass is scared of dogs?”

“Deathly afraid,” Rhysand confirmed. “He pretends he’s not, but he is. Terrified. And you love dogs, right?”

Bennett nodded.

“Everyone is afraid of something.” Rhysand yawned. “But, there’s really nothing to be scared of, Ben.” 

The room fell into silence as the storm outside of their bedroom windows raged. 

Soon, the girl’s breathing slowed down. Even Feyre fell back into a deep slumber, Lily somehow scooting over in her sleep, one twin on each side of her.

Each, a different side of their mother, a different side of their father. Livy, with her violet eyes, mischievous personality and stunning loyalty. Lily, her stormy, blue-grey eyes, loyal, to a fault, yes, but sometimes too much. Too much that her heart ended up hurt, more often than not.

“Dad?”

Rhys, right on the cusp of sleep, both girls having curled up against their mama, breathed, “Yeah, Ben?”

Bennett’s voice was quiet when he asked, “What are you afraid of?”

The question took Rhysand by surprise. His son was growing up, that was for sure, to ask such a question. He thought of his wife, his daughters, his son.

He loved them all, was so in love with them that it made his heart ache. With love came fear, and that fear…

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” Rhysand replied. He was afraid of losing Feyre, was afraid of losing his kids.

“Like what?” Bennett asked, quietly. 

“Like...being alone,” he admitted, softly. “I don’t like to be alone, bud.”

Bennett was quiet for a moment before he said, “Good thing you have mommy and me and the twins then, right? That way you won’t ever have to be alone.”

Rhysand looked over at Bennett, with his hair sprawled out against the pillowcase. He used to wonder what his children would be like, wondered if he would do an okay job parenting them. As he looked at his eldest, he knew they were doing something right.

“You’re right, bud,” Rhysand whispered, and smiled, full of pride. “I won’t ever be alone. And, neither will you.”

“Good,” Bennett said, quietly, before drifting into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

[thepancakeboi]

118. “Forget the douche. He’s a dick. He’s a dickdouche.”

Divergence AU Part IV

Previous | Next (coming 10/17) | AU list | Prompt source

Fanfic under cut

11/22

Leader of the Phantom Thieves Commits Suicide in Custody

No, he hasn’t. The headlines are wrong. He’s alive-

They’re wrong, but he’s not alive. You killed him.

That’s wrong! He didn’t die, I’m sure of it.

No, you shot him in the head! He didn’t survive.

It was a fake. It was Sae’s cognition of him. It wasn’t him!

Sure about that?

Yes. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t acting like he normally does. He would have-

He was drugged, you fool. He’s as good as dead.

“Shut up!”

I sigh, closing my eyes and pushing away the pages of unfinished work as I lean further back in my chair. I hadn’t meant to yell that out loud. These past few days have been...rough, to put it mildly. No one should have to shoot their friend in the head and pretend to enjoy it. The memories are still fresh in my mind. I couldn’t give a shit if the guard had actually died or not, but Ren...

I’ve continuously told myself that everything worked, that he’s still a part of this world. The rational part of my brain tells me otherwise. There had been so much blood...and that fearful look on his face...

He only looked like that because he realized that we failed.

All I want to do is scream if only to silence the voices in my head. Maintaining the charade for so long is taking its toll on me. I open my eyes as I feel something wet sliding down my cheeks.

Am I...crying?

I wipe the tears and the moisture away, disgusted with myself. I can’t let myself cry. Crying is a form of weakness. You can’t let your feelings show like that. It’ll simply get you killed in the end.

This isn’t getting me anywhere. I shove myself to my feet, hastily grabbing my briefcase as I leave my apartment. What I need right now is a delicious cup of coffee and confirmation that my rival/friend/potential love interest managed to cheat death after all.

The hour it takes me to get from Kichijoji to Leblanc in Yongen-Jaya seems to drag on and on. It’s a relief when I finally arrive at the familiar back-alley cafe. The little bell jingles as I enter. There’s no sign of Ren. “Sorry, we’re closing for-” Sojiro starts to say, only to stop when he sees it’s me. “Oh, it’s you.”

“My apologies for coming so late into the evening,” I respond, my voice a little louder than necessary in the desperate hopes that Ren is still alive and will hear me. “I hope you don’t mind, but could I-”

My words are interrupted by someone barreling down the stairs and nearly tackling me as he pulls me into a hug. “I lived,” a familiar voice whispers in my ear, sounding very smug for someone who just cheated death.

“Ren...” I gently push him away, wanting to verify for myself that it’s truly him. Unless the black-haired, gray-eyed boy holding onto me is an extremely convincing replica, it’s definitely Ren Amamiya. He looks remarkably well for someone who had been beaten up and drugged by the police. The very thought of it still pisses me off. We hadn’t expected anything like that, and it really could have messed everything up. I hate that I thought it had screwed us over. Luckily, Ren must have remembered the plan in the end. “Nobody knows you’re alive, right?”

“Other than the Phantom Thieves and Sae, no. Oh, and Kawakami, but she won’t tell anyone.”

“Good.” I don’t know what else to say, so I just say nothing at all.

“I’m heading home now,” Sojiro says amid the silence. “Don’t forget to close up shop once you’re done.”

“Got it,” Ren answers. We watch as Sojiro leaves, quiet for a few more moments before Ren speaks up again, pulling me close to him once more. “I missed you.”

“I know you didn’t see me for nearly two days, but I wasn’t the one who could have died,” I retort.

“Yeah, but I still missed you.” He rests his forehead against mine, for some reason wanting to be close like this. An impish smirk appears on his face as he notices my blush. “What about you, Akeppi? Did you miss me while I was dead? Did you think about me in all your waking moments? Wonder what could’ve been if we just met sooner?”

“Quit being so overdramatic,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. He doesn’t need to know how I haven’t gotten much sleep the past two nights because of him or how he did, in fact, occupy my thoughts day in and day out. “You weren’t dead nor are you currently dead.”

“But I am dead. Drop-dead gorgeous.”

I avert my gaze away from his beautiful gray eyes. Eyes that a couple of days ago had been completely terrified before-no. I shove that thought away into the deepest recesses of my mind. Now is not the time to break down. Not in front of him. “You must be fine if you’re managing to make jokes like that,” I snark.

“What? I am Joker,” he replies back with a sassy grin to match. The corners of my mouth twitch upward. His grin is downright infectious. The grin drops away as he seems to remember something. He hesitates for a few seconds before asking, “So...what are we gonna do about Shido?”

I jolt at the mention of that man’s name from Ren’s mouth. Outraged, I nearly shove Ren off of me as I yell, “How did you find out about him!?”

His hand instinctively moves, covering his mouth. I recognize the motion, a habit of his when he’s anxious or nervous. Whatever he’s about to say, he’s likely worried about my potential reaction. “I had Futaba wiretap your phone.”

So, he was eavesdropping on me, and when I had slipped up and said Shido’s name in the call after having “murdered” Ren, he and Futaba heard it too. It feels like a punch to the gut. I had been planning on telling him! There’s only one reason I can think of for why he would wiretap my phone without telling me. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

“I do trust you!” he replies immediately, fervently denying the accusation. I want to believe him. “But I had to take precautions.”

“Like what, exactly? You shouldn’t have kept me in the dark!” Hypocritical, I know. I had kept him in the dark regarding who Shido was for months now.

“What if something had changed in the plan?” I open my mouth, about to respond, but he cuts me off. “I know you’ll say you would’ve told me, but what if there wasn’t a chance? If something changed while I was in prison, you wouldn’t be able to tell me.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Would you have been able to stand up against Shido?”

What does he mean by that? Of course, I would have tried, but... “I would have fabricated some reason as to why the plans could not be changed.”

“But what if push came to shove? What if he threatened you?” I can feel the blood draining from my face against my will. I wouldn’t put it past Shido. He praises me now, but if I were to try and turn against him, I know he’d kill me off somehow. Knowing him, it wouldn’t be pleasant, either. Ren seems to realize this too. He gently wraps his arms around me, pulling me back into the hug from earlier. “I really did mean it when I said I’d help you. We’re going to change Shido’s heart. Will you join us?”

“I can’t.”

“Huh?” Ren sounds genuinely surprised at my refusal. “Why not?”

“As much as I would love to get my revenge myself, Shido would notice if-”

“Forget the douche. He’s a dick. He’s a dickdouche.”

That gets a hearty chuckle out of me. The way he phrased it is just too amusing. I’m sure he can hear my sarcasm as I reply, “Oh, how marvelous. That was the most profound and articulate statement I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“I try,” he says, grinning. “But why not? What’s stopping you from joining us?”

“My schedule is going to be...very busy in light of recent events. I won’t have a lot of free time to be gallivanting with you through his Palace.”

“We can work around it. I know you spent so much time planning this. And I’d love it if you were there by my side when we take him down.”

“We won’t have time to waste. It has to be done before he’s elected.”

“December 18th,” Ren interrupts.

“Yes. You’ll have to be ready for me to say we can enter Shido’s Palace.”

“You know the keywords,” he says. So, he remembers how I hadn’t denied knowing them before. I nod in confirmation. “We have the name and place. But what does he see the Diet Building as?”

“A ship.”

“A ship?” he repeats, making sure he heard it right. I don’t blame him. If I didn’t know that rotten piece of shit personally, I would’ve been stumped too.

“Yes, a ship. He sees himself as the captain of a ship for the elite in a sinking country.” How absurd. “If you go in tomorrow, I would be able to come,” I add.

Ren grins, seemingly happy with this. He then gets this melancholic look on his face. “Our deal’s going to be over soon. Once we change Shido’s heart, that is.”

“No,” I assert, shaking my head. He’s not getting out of this so easily. “I haven’t fulfilled my end of the deal. We still need to prove your innocence in the assault charge. That starts with finding the man who accused you.”

“About that. I...think I might know who it is. I’m not sure, but I think I’m right.”

“Really? Then who is it?”

“...Shido.”

“You’re joking,” I guffaw. Surely he must be kidding.

“Dead serious.” Ren laughs a little, probably because his sense of humor picked up on how he just said he was “dead” serious. So mature.

Once he’s finished laughing, I ask, “Are you telling me that we both were going after the same man this whole time?”

“I guess so,” he replies with a shrug.

I can’t help but chuckle, shaking my head at the sheer absurdity of the number of coincidences that have been occurring between us. “Fate works in quite mysterious ways.”

“Fate’s been good to me. I got to meet you. And we got to fall in love.”

I tilt my head to the left, a little confused. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You told me that you love me.”

“I did not,” I deny, clearly lying. There’s no way he could know. He-

“Did too. It was a week ago. I wasn’t asleep,” he adds, nearly whispering the last part in my ear, sending unexpected shivers down my spine.

...wait. There’s something in what he said that is vying for my attention now. Even if he had heard me as he claims, he said we fell in love. Could he...? I have to know. “Hold on, does that mean...you love me?”

The grin that brightens his face could melt through the coldest of hearts. “Yup!”

“But...I’m a bastard son.” I have no idea where this self-deprecating behavior is coming from. However, I need him to realize that the person he thinks he loves isn’t me. I’m not that polite, pleasant boy he met in June. “I’m an utter disgrace to the world...a deranged murderer. Hell, you could have died because of me! And you...you’re special. Perfect. How could someone like you-”

“You’re perfect just the way you are. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

“I’m not the ace detective you think I am. That simpering personality is just a charade to ingratiate me to the public. That’s not who I am!”

“I know.”

“And? You can’t possibly-”

I don’t have a chance to finish my sentence before Ren’s lips are pressed against mine. My breath catches in my lungs. I can only stare, eyes wide with shock. If I could see myself right now, I’d probably also be blushing. The kiss took me quite by surprise. The air still feels alive between us as Ren pulls away from the kiss, pulsing with an energy I hadn’t noticed before. I find myself wanting more. His smile is intoxicatingly sweet as he says, “I love you. I’ve seen the real you, and I love you for who you are.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear, is it?”

“No. I mean it. Just like how I’ve meant everything I’ve said.”

I finally wrap my arms around him. His warmth is so welcome. I didn’t know how much I wanted him like this. I refuse to let him try and save me or fix me or whatever he thinks he needs to do for me. All I want from him is his existence. Nothing more. “I love you too,” I say, resting my forehead against his, much like how he did earlier.

Ren holds onto me a little tighter as he whispers, “Let’s take down the dickdouche together.”

I snicker at his choice of words. “Yes. Together.”

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part XI

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect. Unexpectedly, they’re having a child together.  

Word Count: 2.9 K

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @jennyggggrrr @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld, @mrsmazzello, @reedusteinrambles, @rexorangecouny, @caborhapch, @kurt-nightcrawler, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @queendeakyy, @hotttspace, @anxious-diabetic, @someone-get-a-medic, @psychosupernatural, @lizvxx, @cobra-anon, @anotherhystericalqueen The story’s almost over, but it’s not too late to be added to the tag list! Let me know!

A/N: This chapter is super fluffy. But, once again, setting some important stuff. Little Joey is arriving soon! Also, special appearances from Bri and Rog in this one :)

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V   Part VI Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX  Part X

Part XI here we go!!!

You were free of Nick, but you could not force yourself out of your anxiety about cameras. You were doing so much better now. You were at a point where Joe - but only Joe - could take your photo. After you got your closure with Nick, you allowed him to post one of you onto his Instagram. It made you nervous, and you wondered if people might discover your old shame, but you pushed that all away. Joe posted a photo of you, holding your little bump right after he’d made you laugh. It was a great shot.

That was something that helped. When Joe made you laugh, you were immediately relaxed, almost unaware that he was taking a picture at all. He knew just how to make you comfortable enough to get an amazing one of you. Even you couldn’t deny they looked good.

His captions melted your heart as well. The first photo he put up that included your face read: “This is my beautiful girlfriend. She’s amazingly brave, talented, and smart. She’s also giving me the greatest joy of my life. Y/N, I love you. I can’t wait to see our son grow up guided by the greatest mother in the world.” It got you choked up.

Everything would have been perfect if it hadn’t been for your pregnancy making you feel sick and tired all the time. Your headaches were pretty intense, and you still had nausea. You also had swelling around your ankles that you were positive couldn’t be normal. You had a doctor’s appointment before you would leave for Los Angeles, and you made a note to tell Dr. Barrow your concerns. Joe wouldn’t be going with you because he’d be in London for the UK premiere of BoRhap. You promised to send him a picture, though.

You weren’t sure you liked Dr. Barrow much. When you told him about what you were going through, he insisted it was normal pregnancy stuff. He seemed a bit uninterested and overwhelmed by the fact that he also had Dr. Jones’s patients. You felt completely dismissed and unheard.

“Dr. Barrow,” you said. “I don’t think you understand. These headaches are splitting -”

“They’re always ‘splitting’ to you ladies, aren’t they?” he returned with a tired wave of his hand. “I assure you, what you’re going through is normal.”

You frowned. “And it’s still okay for me to drive all the way to LA?”

He nodded. “Of course. As long as you get plenty of rest and continue to take your prenatal vitamins, you and your baby will be fine.”

You felt a little uneasy about him, but took his word that you’d be fine. That afternoon, when you told Joe about it over FaceTime, he seemed concerned, but unsure how to handle it.

“I guess we have to trust him,” he said. “He’s the professional.”

You shrugged. “I suppose so. Hey, do you want to see the picture?”

“Of course!”

You held up the sonogram. “Behold, my love, your child.”

He chuckled. “Aw, he’s amazing! I miss you two.”

“We miss you too,” you replied. “But I’m sure you’re having loads of fun in London.”

He began excitedly telling you what he and  the guys had been up to. You smiled and listened carefully, laughing a few times. Your hand rested limply on your baby bump, phone dangling from the pop socket. All of a sudden, Joey gave a mighty kick, knocking your phone right out of your hand and it slid onto the bed.

“Joey!” you gasped, poking him gently. “That was rude!”

“Baby?” Joe’s voice came from somewhere in the covers. “What just happened?”

You picked up your phone and held it properly. “Your son just kicked the phone out of my hand.”

He laughed. “Wow, he’s a strong boy.”

“This is hardly congratulatory behavior,” you returned.

“Is he still moving?” he asked. “I wanna see.”

You lowered phone to your protruding belly, and focused the camera so he could see Joey’s little feet popping up. Joe gasped.

“It only gets more awesome every time I see it!” he said.

“Do you miss your daddy, Joey?” you cooed to your belly. “I miss him too.”

“I’ll be home soon,” he said as you brought the phone up to your face again. “Just one more day and then I’ll be on a plane.”

Shortly after, you said goodnight and tried to get some sleep. It felt awfully lonely in the house by yourself, but you took comfort in the fact that Joe would be home soon. Then you would start your first family road trip.

You followed the premiere coverage from your desk at work. Several people were watching, since you worked in entertainment. Emily sat with you, shaking her head in amazement.

“I can’t believe you’re going to the one in LA,” she said. “It looks so glamorous.”

“Or terrifying,” you said with a gulp.

You could see all the cameras and flashing lights as Joe and the rest walked down the carpet and into the theater. Your heart gave a nervous flutter.

“Oh, Joe’s talking,” she said. “Turn it up.”

You did so and you caught that the reporter was asking about you and the baby.

“Yeah, Y/N is doing great and so is the baby,” he said, beaming. “I’m so excited, I feel like I have so many blessings right now. Between this film and having a family, I just...I can hardly believe I’m so lucky.”

“How did you meet Y/N?” the reporter asked.

“We actually knew each other as kids!” Joe told her. “Fourth grade. We were friends and then she moved away, but we found each other again through work.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” the reporter said.

“Right?” Joe agreed. “Where’s our Hallmark movie?”

She laughed. “So, are you two hearing wedding bells?”

“We’ve talked about it, and we know we want to commit to each other,” he said. “No plans to bite that bullet just yet though. We’re focused on getting the baby here.”

“That’s a good thing to focus on,” she said. “Thanks for talking with us, Joe. And congratulations!”

“Thank you!” he returned and walked over to the next camera.

Emily sighed. “The way he talks about you is so sweet. I mean, his eyes just light right up. That must be so nice.”

You smiled. “It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”

Forty-eight hours went by, and before you knew it, you and Joe were on the road, heading west to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be able to stop and sight see because you were on a tight schedule to make it there in time for the premiere. Even so, Joe made it fun. He told you a bit about LA, since you’d never been before. Nervous as you were about the premiere, you were excited to be there with Joe.

The night of the premiere came. You and Joe were staying with Rami and Lucy. You honestly considered pretending to be ill to get out of it. You were so nervous, your body shook. Lucy had to help you into your dress and do your hair because you were just unable.

“Y/N, if you can’t do this, you don’t have to go,” Lucy said gently as she laid a curl across your shoulder. “Joe will understand.”

“No, I promised him I would,” you insisted. “Besides, like Joe always tells me, I can do anything.”

She smiled. “You two are adorable.”

“How do you do this, Lucy?” you asked. “What a good trick to keep in mind?”

“Focus on one thing at a time instead of the big picture,” she advised. “That way it doesn’t seem like so much. Stick close to Joe, and you’ll be alright.”

You nodded.

When you met Joe and Rami downstairs, they both gaped at the two of you.

“You look wonderful,” Rami said to his girlfriend. “You both do.”

“Lucy looks wonderful,” you returned playfully. “I look like a planet.”

“Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” Joe said, feigning offense.

You all chuckled.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said seriously, kissing you on the cheek. “I love you.”

The four of you headed out to the awaiting limo to take you to the theater and the premiere. You felt so on edge that even a bump in the road made you grip Joe’s hand tighter. You hadn’t gotten to try having other people take photos and videos of you, and you were unsure if you could handle it.

“Fuck, I wish I could drink,” you said under your breath.

Joe laughed. “I wish you could too. I’m pretty sure you’re breaking my fingers.”

“Imagine what it’ll be like during childbirth,” Rami joked.

“Oh please, childbirth isn’t nearly as bad as they make it out to be in movies,” you said.

“You’re not scared, Y/N?” Lucy wondered.

You looked at her and shrugged. “Not really, no. My body is made to do it. And with an epidural, I won’t feel much besides pressure.”

She looked impressed. You gave Joe’s hand another nervous squeeze.

“I’m gonna check your pulse,” he said. “You still have feeling in your fingers?”

You nodded. “So far.”

“That’s good,” he said gently. He pressed his fingers to your neck. “Definitely got a quick pulse, but you’re doing so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“I hope you’re not speaking too soon,” you muttered.

“I’m not,” he told you. “We’ve arrived.”

The car came to a stop. You sucked in a breath and looked wildly at him.

“You guys go,” he said to Rami and Lucy. “We’re right behind you.”

They shuffled out of the car. Joe took your face in his hands and held your gaze fiercely.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said. “Everyone here loves you. You got this. Stay with me.”

You nodded. He placed a swift peck on your lips. He moved so he could exit the car first. When he opened the door, you gulped. He stepped out, and you briefly considered telling the driver to go and take you with him. But you would not abandon Joe. Carefully, you scooted to the door, sticking one foot out and letting it hit the carpet. You reached out your hand, and Joe’s found it. You held your swollen belly and Joe practically lifted you out of the car.

The roar was deafening. The cameras clicked, reporters shouted questions, and music blasted from somewhere else. You held Joe’s arm and took a deep breath. The car pulled away as you stepped forward and you were forced to resign yourself to it.

You glanced at the cameras and felt your stomach drop. Joe’s arm secured you around your waist and you met his eyes.

“Stay with me,” he said again, and kissed your temple.

You let him lead you down the carpet closer to the cameras. Joe walked up to the first reporter, who was from the LA office of Everything Entertainment. You beamed at his consideration. He thought that if you knew the company you were talking to, you might feel more comfortable.

“We’ve been dying to see your beautiful baby mama up close, Joe,” the reporter said before grinning at you. “You look stunning.”

“Th-thank you,” you managed.

“How far along are you?” she asked.

“Just over six months,” you replied.

“Really?” she gasped. “You seriously look great to be six months pregnant. When’s the due date?”

“February 20th,” Joe answered.

“You guys excited?”

“We’re positively giddy,” he said.

The next few interviews went similarly. You found yourself relaxing more and more each minute. Everyone told you how great you looked, and you let yourself believe them. The security of having Joe beside you made you feel at home. Then, you saw two people who made your heart skip a beat: Brian May and Roger Taylor. You slapped Joe’s arm with excitement.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, nodding your head toward them.

“Oh, yeah, let’s go say hi,” he said, grabbing your hand and taking you over.

They were talking to the rest of the cast already so you were grateful you could blend in. Joe clearly wasn’t letting that happen.

“Bri, Rog,” he said. “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My wonderful girlfriend who is having my baby.”

They both shook your hand and smiled kindly at you. You opened your mouth to say hello, but at that moment, little Joey kicked out once more. You gasped and clutched it.

“You alright?” Joe asked.

“He’s kicking,” you returned. “I guess he wants to say hello too. You guys wanna feel?”

They both agreed and placed their hands softly on your belly. You could hardly believe the founding members of Queen were gushing over your baby bump. They also told you you looked beautiful.

“A little boy, yeah?” asked Roger

You nodded. “Little Joey!”

“Very sweet,” said Brian. “Congratulations, to both of you.”

He hugged you and kissed your cheeks. Roger followed suit. Now you really thought you might faint.

Ben came bounding over to you suddenly. He embraced Roger first, then Brian, and then he practically tackled Joe, kissing his neck. Joe laughed, clapping Ben on the back as they swayed together for a moment.

“I missed you, mate,” Ben said.

“It’s been like five days,” Joe returned. “But that is five days too long, huh?”

Ben nodded and then came over to you. He grinned and rubbed your belly as he hugged you.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said.

“Hi, Ben,” you returned.

“You feeling alright?” he wondered.

You smiled and nodded. Gwilym came over next and greeted you just as warmly, though without nearly knocking Joe off his feet. He also kissed your cheek.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said. “You look so lovely. How’s the baby?”

“He’s fantastic,” you said. “Thank you for asking.”

Allen approached next, extending his hand politely before introducing himself. “It’s great to finally meet you in person!”

“You too!” you agreed.

When Rami and Lucy joined, the photographers started yelling, desperate for a shot of everyone together with Brian and Roger. You started to back out of the frame, but Joe and Ben each took one of your arms and forced you back in. You giggled and accepted it. You truly didn’t think this night could get any better.

The movie was fantastic. You were a sobbing mess by the end of it, because they told the story well, and you were so incredibly proud of these people who had become your friends. You felt it was a great success.

The afterparty was also so fun. Originally, you had planned to go back to Rami and Lucy’s, but Joe insisted on going to the afterparty. He said it was going to be great and you needed to be there. Rolling your eyes, you indulged him, but you really did end up having a great time. They got Queen karaoke going, and Joe was perhaps the most enthusiastic of everyone.

“If I could have everyone’s attention for a second,” Joe said, when  the party was in full swing. “I have a little dedication I’d like to make to my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N. This song is called Misfire and it’s written by John Deacon.”

Everyone laughed, including you, but the music didn’t start.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “I’m not singing Misfire. But, Y/N, if you could join me up here.”

Rami helped you to your feet and onto the stage. Your heart was beating wildly as you felt the room of eyes on you. You turned to Joe, holding his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said, and you saw tears begin to form in his brown eyes. “This is a really special night, for a few reasons. First is the release of our wonderful film, Bohemian Rhapsody. Second is...well...I love you so much. More than I ever thought I could love a person. And you’re giving me something that I can never even hope to repay you for. Our son.”

“Joe…” you sighed, choking up.

“Hold on, I’m not finished,” he said. “I knew from the minute I met you - back in fourth grade - that no matter what happened, we’d be together. It was just a physical law of the universe. The years and geography kept us apart, but we’ve certainly done a lot of catching up since then.” The crowd chuckled. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

He sank to one knee and your heart leapt to your throat. He pulled a ring from his pocket and held it out to you as you - and everyone else - gasped. The ring was beautiful. The stone was not a diamond, but a pearl. It was unique, like you and Joe, and your story.

“Y/N,” he began again. “Will you marry me?”

You could barely form words. Your brain buzzed with elation. Slowly, you nodded, tears falling from your eyes.

“Yes!” you finally choked out and he slipped the ring on your finger. “Oh my God, Joe, yes!”

He leapt to his feet and pulled you in for the kiss of a lifetime. This kiss was the seal of your promise to each other. The people around you erupted into applause. Ben whistled loudly. You and Joe came down the steps together, immediately getting hugs and kisses from your friends. But nothing else mattered when you locked eyes with Joe again. He was it for you. Your whole future. Your whole heart. Everything was just you and Joe.

[wiener-soldiers]

hallelujah (iii) - steve trevor

summary: after your partner, steve trevor, washes up on some mysterious island, you can’t help but worry endlessly. an ocean away, steve can’t help but think about you in the company of a certain amazonian warrior-princess.

words: 2000ish

warnings: none, this is cute

parts: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv

 But Baby I’ve been here before

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor

You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya.

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch

And love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.

It seems like worrying was all you have been doing nowadays. You worried about your family: your mother who was struggling to make ends meet, your outspoken father who was most likely advocating for the entry and acceptance of refugees displaced by the fighting, and your brother who was slowly reaching the age where he could disguise himself as an eighteen-year-old and volunteer for the army. You worried about Etta, who gave herself a tremendously heavy workload and pretended that everything was chipper. You worried about your friends, Charlie, Sameer, and Chief, all suffering from emotional and physical scars from the war.

Most of all, you worried about Steve. He has not returned for weeks from his solo mission to gather intel on Dr. Poison.

He was supposed to be back eight days ago. But no one knows where he is.

The weeks without Steve were unbearably grim. You were normally sent out on missions together, but solo missions for the two of you were somewhat common. However, this mission had felt a little off to you: you had reason to be correct.

The weeks without him followed a routine: wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast if you are lucky, go to work, pretend not to worry about your partner as Etta’s chipper personality is in front of you, go home, eat some food, sleep, and repeat. You did not leave the house early with a smile on your face to meet Steve for breakfast anymore, or throw crumpled paper at him as he sits in the desk across from you at work, or debate on which deli makes the best sandwiches as you take a stroll through London for lunch, or console him through the aftermath of a terrible breakup with his fiancée after dinner.

You wondered if Steve felt the same longing for you while you were away.

You focused on that thought over a more terrifying one: if Steve was still alive.

Of course, he was alive. At least he thought he was. Washing up on a mysterious island full of women who seemed to be stuck in Ancient Greece was confusing, to the say the least.

Maybe this is all some crazy lucid dream that I’ll tell (Y/N) when I wake up, he thinks to himself.

Instead, he finds himself on a sailboat, making a makeshift bed out of sheets for Princess Diana. Princess of what, Steve still isn’t so sure.

“What are you doing?” Diana asks from behind him.

“Oh! Uh—” Steve’s mind scrambles for something to say. He will not deny that Diana is one of the most beautiful people’s he’s seen, but with his mind on (Y/N), he finds that she is more of a distraction from getting back home to her. If Steve couldn’t see you, he damn well would like to be left alone with pleasant memories of you. “I thought you’d maybe wanna get some sleep,” he finishes sheepishly, turning around to face her.

He averts his gaze downwards and shuffles out of the way as Diana makes her way to the makeshift bed. “What about you,” she asks, “Are you not sleeping? Does the average man not sleep?”

He stammers over his words a bit, still confused about how to have a conversation with her. “No, it’s just I—,” he pauses and inhales. “Yes, we sleep. But we don’t sleep with…” he finishes, gesturing towards her.

“You don’t sleep with women?”

“No! No, I do sleep with...” he retorts in a flustered manner, letting out an awkward chuckle. He shakes his head again, “Yes, yes I do. But out of the, uh, confines of marriage. It’s just, I don’t—it’s not polite to assume, you know?”

His mind wanders back to you and how you helped guide him through his horrendous breakup with his fiancée. He still doesn’t truly understand how you were able to stay by his side when on some nights, all the two of you would do is sits on his couch and stare. He was grateful, nonetheless.

He remembers one night in particular: the two had stayed at the office late, clocking in late hours to do paperwork and write reports. It was nearing ten in the evening when Steve looked up at you. You sat in the desk across from him with your eyes drooping as you tried not to fall asleep on your hand as you finished a report. He smiles softly before standing up, the legs of the chair scratching the wooden floor.

“You’re done. We’re done. We’re going home,” he declares, packing his stuff into a briefcase. You had just enough energy to look up.

“What do you mean ‘we’re done’? Steve, these reports were due a week ago and we started them at five today.”

“Well, our bosses are gonna have to get them later.”

“Steve—“

“Would you rather them read a late and crappy report or a little more late but extremely thorough report? Besides, this report isn’t even important.”

Your silence gives him his answer.

He walks over to you and begins packing your stuff as you let out an exasperated sigh, mumbling about how he was a bad influence and how the report was never going to be ‘extremely thorough’ anyways.

The two of you lock up the office and walk through the lobby, the marble floors echoing your footsteps in the empty building. As soon as the two of you step outside, you stop at the curb as Steve crosses the street.

As soon as he realizes the click in your heel and the warmth you radiated from standing beside him went away, he turned around an called back at you, “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for a cab,” you say as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sweetheart, it’s late and I know you can take care of yourself, but I don’t want you waiting out here this late,” he rants, not caring that the term of endearment escaped him. He cared about your wellbeing more than he did his pride.

You roll your eyes at him as you pull the trench coat you have on tighter around your body, “Do you propose that I walk home then?”

He scoffs and walks towards his car, opening the passenger door for you, “Just get in the damn car.”

You were never really one to deny a request from Steve, so you slid into his car.

Though you want to keep a conversation with him, the cool air and his smooth driving are enough to make you fall asleep against the leather passenger seat. Every now and then, Steve finds himself sneaking glances at you, then at himself in the reflection of the window mirror.

What am I doing? he thinks to himself as he watches you, lovestruck. Though he just got out of a messy relationship, he didn’t fear loving you. He didn’t fear getting close to you because he knew that you were different from his ex and would never hurt him.

He parks his car in front of your apartment building and helps you out of the car and up the stairs. It is a struggle trying to open your apartment door while bearing most of your weight as you nuzzle your face into his chest, too tired to care if you are being embarrassed.

Steve helps you inside and helps you change out of your jacket and shoes. He helps you remove your formal wear so just the slip dress underneath covers your body. You are too tired to feel uncomfortable and Steve has too much respect for you to look anywhere but your face. He helps you to bed and spends a few minutes sitting beside your head stroking you hair until he is sure you have fallen asleep, just as you had done to him when you had found him drinking away his sorrows and helping him get home safely.

Somewhere in between, you falling asleep and the morning, Steve had also fallen asleep in your bed. He woke up and the break of dawn with his arms wrapped around your waist and your head on his chest. Though he knows that it is best for everyone if he leaves, he lets himself enjoy this moment of tranquility. For a moment, everything else washes away and it is just you and him, basking in the morning light. He places a soft kiss on your head before hesitantly climbing out of bed and driving home.

When he arrives to work that morning, changed and showered, you are already sitting at your desk finishing your report. You smile at him as he sits down but immediately continue working.

Steve lets out a sigh (of relief or disappointment, he can’t tell). You didn’t know that he fell asleep in your bed last night.

Maybe it’s best for everyone if she doesn’t know, he thinks to himself. He never brings it up.

“Marriage?” Diana asks him, and he is snapped back to reality.

“Marriage. Do you not have that on…,” he sighs, remembering Patricia, his ex-fiancée. “You go before a judge and you swear to love, honour and cherish each other until death does you part,” he mutters quickly.

“And do they? Love each other until death?”

He wants to laugh, cry, and scream. But instead, he answers, “Not very often, no.”

“Then why do they do it?”

Steve finds himself speechless. He was once hopelessly in love with a woman who did not love him to propose, only to have his heart and emotions served back to him in a casket with her signature all over it. “I…have no idea,” he finds himself saying, chuckling at the end as he hopes to relieve his own discomfort.

“So, you cannot sleep with me unless a marry you,” Diana states.

“I will sleep with you if you want!” he finally answers with a joking tone, hoping to appease her. “I will sleep right there.”

“There’s plenty of room.”

“Then, fine, if you don’t mind…”

“No, it’s up to you.”

“I know it’s up to me, I’m making the choice. I will come to sleep with you.”

Diana chuckles softly in slight confusing at Steve’s sudden edge at the topic of marriage, “Okay.”

Steve stands up to lay down beside her but is certain to keep a respectable amount of distance between them. He lies rigidly and awkwardly beside her as Diana shift to face him, resting her chin on her hands.

He suddenly feels embarrassed by how he behaved when Diana mentioned marriage, and how easily distracted he was when his mind drifted to (Y/N). “You know where I come from, I’m not considered average,” he starts, already cringing at his own need to protect his pride. “You know, being a spy, you have to show a certain amount of…vigor,” he finishes lamely.

“Are there no women spies, where you come from?”

His heart skips a beat, “There’s not a lot, to be honest, almost none. There’s uh—well there’s my partner.”

“Your partner? As in your partner in marriage?” she pegs on.

“No! I uh, no. No just my, uh…partner. In spy work. My spy partner,” he stutters. He hopes that Diana is poor at picking up social cues, as his answer was blatantly showcasing his true feelings.

“Will I meet her? When we go to the mainland,” she asks after a beat.

“Yeah, I mean—I hope you will. Unless she went off on an assignment or something.”

“Tell me about her.”

Steve clears his throat, suddenly feeling warm. “She’s smart. Kind. Loves her family, would do anything for them, really. Trustworthy, she always has my back. Caring, forgiving, reliable. An excellent listener…”

Diana listened as Steve continued to list things off about his partner. The way his face lit up and his eyes sparkled was a reflection of how her mother looked at her. This is love, Diana concluded, Maybe, this is the reason why people get married.

taglist: @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape, @accio-rogers, @lionheo04, @stupendoussciencenaturepanda

[the-lady-bryan]

Weird Waitressing Dream - April 7, 2019

So last night I had a weird ass dream that felt so damn real I was disoriented for about 10 mins after I woke up and honest to got believed I'd made a big mistake quitting my job.... Only to realize that there's no such thing as an italian/waffle house fusion restaurant and I haven't been able to work due to medical shit since 2014. So.... anyway, here we go.

The best way to describe the start of the dream is I guess dream logic? A sort of montage but not montage I guess. This period encompassed around seven or eight years of dream time where I worked as a waitress in a, as stated above, italian/waffle house fusion restaurant. (I'd like to note that in the dream, I never saw what my life was like outside of work. I only know that I had a family and needed this job to help support them. And that my son was in high school. I may or may not have had other children. I don't know.) You know how every waffle house-type restauarant has "everyone's fave waitress"? I was it. I busted my ass, got great tips, the customers loved me and I was actually perfectly happy with my job even if the hours were long and most of my co-workers were assholes....

Speaking of co-workers... The only ones I ever saw were Angie, a teenager who worked after school that I'd trained so she was awesome. And The Bitch. She had a name but I never learned what it was in my dream because she always forgot her nametag and everyone except one other person called her "The Bitch". So, I'll assign her one now. Let's call her Brittany. I knew a lot of bitches in school named Brittany. And the last member of this cast of workers was Jamie. He was a lazy asshole who I think was a cross between maintenance guy and cook but I never saw him cooking or, well, doing anything really. He always sat at the end of the bar and drank Coronas all day, every day. (I only know they were Coronas because right before bed I'd looked up to see if a local bar, called Coronas, was still open of if it had closed down since I ain't seen people at it in a while. It closed down. Anyway, back to the dream.) The cast is rounded out by assorted customers coming and going, a few of them are regulars.

Okay so like, dream logic time lapse thing happens and then I walk in for a shift one morning. I'm pulling a double and relieving the general manager who is just finishing a double. I never see her, but anyway, I clock in and already Brittany is riding my ass and I ain't been there but less than five minutes. Angie isn't there yet because she's still at school. Brittany doesn't do shit but run her mouth all morning and afternoon till Angie gets there. Jamie's in his spot sucking down beers and I'm pretty much running the place alone but like a well oiled machine. I've got a system, and it's letting me cook, clean, and serve without any problems. I'm keeping the customers happy, racking in fantastic tips, all the while The Bitch just keeps on bitching and once in a while does a table that doesn't look like they'll be ordering anything too complicated.

Angie gets there and suddenly she's singing a different tune. Butter won't melt in her mouth. I know somethin is up because Britt the Bitch HATES Angie nearly as much as she hates me (I still don't know why she hates me but whatever. I just keep on a working). I work Angie into my system and the pair of us are doing great. Then Jamie decides he's done being the cook but he'll still do maintenance and what do you know he's decided fuck us using the grill - he's gotta fix it right this fucking second! - So the grill gets broken but I'm like "don't worry, I gotchu burger people!" and BAM! I whip out a George Foreman and slam it down on some clear counter space in the cooking area where I can keep an eye on it. And me and Angie just keep on bangin out orders.

My double ends and then weird dream time passing shit and I'm back at work. General Manager had pulled another long shift and has gone home. Jamie's in his spot, the Bitch starts her bitching, and I get to work as usual. But there's something.... different. Angie is there. And we're working like normal but she's not supposed to be there. She's supposed to be at school. So between orders I'm like "bitch you need to leave and get to school. your education's important and you don't wanna end up here forever." and she's like "eh." I eventually get her to leave and go to school. Late but she still goes. Angie's a great gal and whatever dream world she exsts in, she's gonna go far as long as she sticks to that life plan she's made for herself to get into chemical research.

Anyway so Angie leaves and I'm alone with the two laziest motherfuckers on dream-Earth.

Shift eventually ends and I leave.

TIME SKIP DREAM SHIT AND..... I'm walking in the door at work. Got my apron on. There's a promotion up for grabs and it's pretty obvious who's gonna get it. Me. I just have to get through one more shift before the owner of the place makes the announcement. This is pretty much just a formality at this point. Plus I was scheduled anyway so whatever.

The entire fucking day Brittany will NOT shut the fuck up about this guy "Justin" and how she's gonna totally hire him to be the new pizza chef. She's so bad with this that customers are like "Z, your awesome spaghetti sausage omelette is the best but even that isn't worth this shit. Here's my money, here's a tip for having to put up with this bitch, but I'm out." and she's literally driving away business to the point that after Angie's gotten out of school and clocked in the place is fucking dead. So, I decided fuck it, I'mma start cleaning shit to make it easier for shift change and cleaning your restaurant is just some really good positive shit man. I've got myself a big glass of iced sweet tea and I'm boppin along. And then, I take a break cause we're still dead. The moment my ass hits a stool at the counter, Brittany starts going on about "Great, now that SOMEONE is finally willing to sit down and shut up, we can get this meeting started" and I'm like "wtf? what meeting? Did Antonia call a staff meeting today? When's she get here?" and this bitch is all smug like "Ive been here for fifteen years so what I say goes and when I get the manager job" and I stopped listening after that and was like "Look, if you wanna hire this Justin guy then do it and shut the fuck up about it because you sound like an obsessive ex girlfriend the way you keep fucking talking about him." and Jamie's like "you can't talk to her like that!" and Angie's like ".......uh....... just pretend i'm not even here...." and Brittany, smug as shit is like "you've always had a problem with me since your first day! you'd better shape up or-" and finally i'm just so fucking done with this bitch. I very calmly say, "You're right." which shocks her enough and distracts both her and jamie enough for me to get up, untie my apron, take one large gulp of my huge ass iced sweet tea and then throw the liquid in this bitch's face while very calmly saying "Fuck this. I quit." I then threw the actual glass, it bounces off of jamie's head and hits the bitch in the face before falling and finally breaking, and then i take off the apron, drape it over my arm, and still weirdly calmly walk out the door.

once outside, i round the corner of the building and i call my boss, the GM, Antonia... who is also the owner. and i'm apologizing all over for waking her up because i know she had to pull another super long and hard shift and i know she's tired but i wanted her to know from me instead of hearing it from someone else that i had just quit and walked out and that i just can't work with "The bitch and that lazy fucking whale" anymore.

Now, Antonia was shocked to hear me swear because apparently despite real world not-dream me swearing like a goddamn sailor all the time, dream me NEVER talked like that. only in the most extreme of situations and then it usually had been like, Ned Flanders level of swearing. But I'm so done. i've lost my chill. i have none left. there are no more fucks for me to give. they've all been used up and i can't buy anymore because they stopped manufacturing the fucks for my model number. the point is, to Antonia, me swearing is "oh shit is this the purge?" level of panicing she should be doing right now.

after a few minutes of me losing my fucking cool on the phone she's like "i have another call and need to put you on hold." so she does, then not even a full sixty seconds later she's back and she's like "go home, calm down, and i'll talk to you tomorrow." and i'm like "why? i don't work here anymore. so fuck it." and she's like "no. go home Z, and calm your tits. i WILL speak with you tomorrow."

the last thing i heard before waking up was The Bitch screaming from the front of the building about having to actually fucking do her job for once and that Jamie was a useless piece of shit and Angie was a lying whore and I was a drug addict and shit.

after i woke up i sat in a chair for ten fucking minutes worried about having fucked up my family because i quit my job in a fit of rage instead of landing that promotion and that we'd have to sell the house and now i can't afford my meds and...

then it hit me. the building in my dream where i worked corresponds to a real life waffle house location down the street from my neighborhood, and they definitely are not an italian/waffle house fusion restaurant.

[vintagebeverly]

autumn leaves (reddie) chapter two

Eddie hasn’t seen the trees change colors since he was a kid, so Richie deems that the two of them should take a road trip to Derry and see the trees change colors. Cue lots of bad car karaoke, too much coffee, and Eddie absolutely losing his mind over the gorgeous reds, oranges, and yellows of the fall leaves.

Or the one in which Eddie hates Richie, of course, until he falls in love with him.

Words: 1609

Warnings: lots of swearing, underage smoking (sorta)

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff with angst mixed in

read chapter one here

“Our first stop is the lovely sight-seeing deck on the outskirts of this shitty town.” Richie shouted over the wind hollering in their ears. He refused to have the windows of the car up while the weather was so beautiful.

“Oh no, no useless stops, Richie!” Eddie sighed. He knew Richie would stop at nothing to bother him, even if it meant altering his travel plans. Richie turned to face Eddie for a brief moment before focusing on the road again.

“It’s not useless, Eds,” he explained, “It really is a lovely little place. Just this once, and we won’t make anymore extra stops.”

“Fine.” was all Eddie said as he stared at the trees flashing by. Richie smiled. He continued to drive down the long load, looking to the boy at his side every now and then. Eddie seemed somewhat unhappy, but Richie hardly noticed. The cool autumn air and the wind flowing through his long, curly hair while he was sat next to the boy of his dreams made everything okay. While the leaves on the trees in this small town were merely gone, he still believed the town to be beautiful because of the boy who lived in it.

When they reached their destination, it was almost sundown. Once Eddie was out of the car, Richie grabbed his hand and lead him up some wooden steps to the promised observation deck. Eddie felt miserable as he was forced to be there, but he found solace in the sunset. Orange, purple, and pink hues splashed together to create a breathtaking scenery, and that wasn’t even the best part. Not to him, at least. He looked down and saw nothing but homes. People walked around, rode on bikes, even greeted each other. It reminded him of how his life used to be, back in Derry. Sure, he kept in touch with his close friends such as Bill and Beverly, but he missed the way things were. A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Why are you looking down there? Isn’t the sunset beautiful?” Richie sighed dreamily. Eddie looked at him, and back at the sky. He watched as the clouds slowly moved and drew in a breath slowly. He felt the sun rays on his face and closed his eyes, then turning to look at Richie again. He didn’t even think twice about the other boy staring back at him. Richie leaned in, slowly.

“Let’s get out of here, it’s getting dark.” Eddie turned on his heel and started walking down the wooden steps. Richie followed him quickly, almost tripping a handful of times. As they were back in the car, day turned to night and light to dark. They drove in silence with the windows up. Richie dug around in his pocket, found a cigarette, and went to light it. “What the fuck are you doing?” Richie’s head whipped around to see Eddie staring at him in horror.

“Just going for a smoke, Eds, it’s fine.” Richie had been smoking since he was fifteen, so he didn’t see the big deal. Of course, he had never done it in front of Eddie before, but that had only been by chance. He realized Eddie was uncomfortable with the smoke filling his lungs, but they were his lungs, and if he wanted to fuck them up, he could.

“It’s not fine, I don’t want that anywhere near me. Do you know the dangers of secondhand smoke?” asked Eddie. Richie sighed and put the cigarette back in his pocket. He didn’t want to ruin his good mood, and arguing with Eddie would do just that. “Thank you.” Eddie’s tone was highly irritated, but Richie knew he would calm down within a matter of minutes. As the clock hit three am, Eddie drifted off to sleep while Richie hummed a soothing tune to himself. Richie had had problems with sleep, staying awake until ungodly hours of the morning just because he couldn’t control the thoughts running through his mind where the norm. Of course, when the clock hit four am, all Richie could think about was the boy in the passenger seat. Eddie had been acting strange as of late, but Richie, with his filtered hearing, hadn’t really picked up on it until that very moment. He seemed to snap at Richie often, too often for comfort. Perhaps he was just adjusting to the move. Of course this explanation couldn’t have been right, he had moved two years earlier, but Richie stuck with that theory, as it made the most sense to him at the moment. Yes, Eddie just missed his home and was taking it out on those near to him. That was all.

“Morning sleepy head!” Richie greeted as Eddie sat up in--wait, a bed?

“Where are we?” he questioned, starting to get sort of pissed off.

“Found this cute little motel at the state border. I was just gonna take a piss, but the staff were so friendly I decided we had to stay the night!” Richie clasped his hands together, “Actually, I was just fucking tired and wanted to sleep. You snore a lot, you know that?” He took a sip of the water bottle he was holding.

“Shut up,” Eddie threw the covers off of himself and got up, still fully clothed, and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Wait… did you carry me in here?”

Richie spat out the water he was drinking.

“You were heavy, too.” he played it off. Eddie held back a smile. Being with Richie had Eddie feeling some type of way. He felt as if he needed to hate him, he even wanted to, but he couldn’t. He could hardly breathe when he was around the taller, curly haired boy, and he wondered why. How come it stressed him out to no end to sit next to Richie? To even be near him? His heart stopped whenever the boy spoke for fuck’s sake. Eddie shook his head and turned to Richie.

“Where’s my stuff? I’m gonna shower and then we’re out of here.” he questioned. Richie smirked and strode over to him. He seemed more smug than usual.

“In the car,” he answered, and before Eddie could even get another word out, Richie pulled a sweater from his suitcase. “Wear this.” he said as he held the sweater up the Eddie. It almost went down to the boy’s knees. Eddie felt his face heat up.

“You’re an asshole.” He snatched the sweater out of Richie’s hands and turned around, closing the bathroom door behind him. He heard Richie snicker behind the door as he started the shower.

Richie bit his lip as Eddie stepped out of the bathroom in his sweater. His hair was damp and curly, his freckles popping out at Richie like they never had before. Eddie looked at him, with a gorgeous yet confused look on his face. Richie cleared his throat, but continued to look Eddie up and down before speaking up.

“Let’s get outta here.” And within the blink of an eye, they were checked out and back in the car, windows down and music loud. Eddie stared at Richie in awe, watching him sing loudly to the lyrics of whatever Guns N Roses or Beatles song was playing at the moment. He analyzed his face, watching as his chapped lips moved in time with the music, his head bobbing up and down, his curls loosely framing his face. He watched as his fingers tapped the steering wheel while his eyes were fixated on the road. Richie glanced at Eddie and smiled, Eddie whipping his head around, pretending to look at something else. Richie looked at the clock, seeing it was 11 am, and sped up a bit.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie softly asked. Richie smirked and sped up more.

“There’s no traffic on this old road, is there?” he asked. Eddie supposed there wasn’t, and Richie started to go faster and faster. They zoomed down the country road and Eddie watched as dead trees turned to bushes, and soon bushes turned to nothing but dirt. He knew they were going to get lost, but at the moment he didn’t care. Usually, he would be anxious about such things, but he found comfort in driving down this particular road with the music loud. He smiled and turned to look at Richie again, who was basically screaming the lyrics of the songs at this point. Eddie thought of a million reasons why this should’ve been dangerous, but he felt safe with Richie there. He didn’t dare look at the speed monitor, after all, it didn’t even matter to him how fast they were going. It didn’t even feel like driving on a road anymore, more like floating above it. Everything seemed to disappear around him as he looked at Richie. His scream-singing, the music itself, and the loudness of the wind passing by the windows was tuned out. Everything was silent and everything was Richie. The sun shined down on Richie’s face, illuminating his freckles, creating a glare in his glasses, and lighting up every inch of his soft, brown hair. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off him. He finally found the strength to speak.

“Are we lost?” his anxiety seemed to get the best of him. The sudden speech gave Richie a fright and he slowed down almost immediately. He turned to Eddie and smiled.

“Do you feel lost?” he asked, “‘Cause I don’t.” Now it was Eddie’s turn to smile. He supposed the feeling of being lost hadn’t even materialized itself within him.

“No,” he paused, “It’s more like… I feel found.”

a/n: this is the gAYEST SHIT ive ever written in my life and i;m sorry,,,,, but it’s gonna get more fluffy from here,, also angst is coming so just u wait;;;;,,

[gvbejvmes]

Task: Secret

Title: Blood Promises Rating: PG-13 Relationships: Past Gabriel/Jonathan, Past Gabriel/Nancy, Implied Gabriel/Jillynn Trigger Warnings: Non-descriptive mentions of child neglect/abuse Brief Summary: Some meetings were always meant to be.

How many murderers are on the National Donate Life Registry? If you matched with a convict, would you take their organ? Would you rather die than having the kidney of a man who killed six people? If they were the only person who matched with you would you take it then? Will an organ transplant from a convict give you their poor impulse control? Are you willing to find out? How many people die each year because their only hope lies in a person trying to lighten their sentence? 

2004

"It looks good to the parole board." Flaco (according to his birth certificate his name was Cesar, but Gabe never asked) said, in full explaining mode. "I don't know why that wasn't a thing over in the Sand Waste, man. The parole board loves seeing that shit. They love seeing that you're trying to improve yourself. And besides, if you match with someone and you get to have surgery, you get a cushy stay in the hospital wing. It's a win-win, Gabe. Besides, what else are you going to do?" 

The way his cellmate phrased it made it sound like it was no big deal. Sign-up to give someone one of your organs or your bone marrow and hopefully you’ll get a lighter sentence out of it. According to Flaco, the Registry people came once a month and tested anyone who wanted to be added. The idea of signing up for the Registry just to do it didn’t sit right with him. If Gabe matched with someone, he knew he’d donate no matter what. That was just how he was which was why he didn’t know if he wanted to do it. “What are the chances of actually matching with someone?” He asked finally. He was looking at 25 years. A couple of years off his sentence and the good grace of the parole board? He wouldn’t mind that...

Flaco grinned, looking like he won. “That’s the spirit! I don’t know anyone who actually matched.” He admitted. “But I know guys who’ve signed up and nobody thought they were gonna get parole but boom! They ain’t here no more.”

Gabe nodded slowly. If the chances of matching were really that low, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. What’s the worst that could happen?

Early 2019

"Good afternoon. This message is for Gabriel James-Michaels. This is Leslie Anderson with the National Donate Life Registry. I received your forwarded contact information from North County Correctional Facility. I'm reaching out today because we have a potential match for partial liver transplant. Please call me back as soon as possible to schedule additional testing. We understand that that it's been over a decade since you signed up for the registry, but we hope you're still interested. It's always exciting when we're able to find familial matches. Please call me back at...”

Late Summer 2019

"I feel like your mistress."  Kaleidoscope gushed out from the side of Gabe's bed. "Your kids and your straight life crisis think we’re staying up at my estate for the next two weeks." He made a 'tsking' sound. "What a bad boy." His friend and mentor had been talking at Gabriel for the past twenty minutes as they waited anxiously to be taken back for surgery. "What I don't understand is why you just didn't tell them what they were doing. Donating part of your liver to a total stranger is a big deal. You should have told them. Did you at least tell John?"

A wry smile slid onto Gabe's features. It amused him to no end that someone whose legal name was Kaleidoscope couldn't call a grown man Johnny because it sounded too childish to him. "Why would I tell him? We're not married any more, remember? You wanted to throw me a divorce party." He reminded him, raising an eyebrow.

"The fact that you didn’t let me is a travesty." Kale pouted, but he didn't let Gabe's obvious deflection distract him. "Because I watched you fill out your intake papers, Gabriel. You've been divorced, what? A year? And separated even longer?" When Gabe nodded, he continued on. "And yet, you haven't legally changed your name back to just James and you still have him listed as your emergency contact. Even though you know I’m more than willing to be your emergency contact. You’re mine, after all. Besides, he'd care that you were having surgery."

He shook his head. "We can't tell anyone about this surgery, Kale. Ever." He tried to convey the level of seriousness with his eyes.

Kale rolled his eyes. "Oh, because you're donating an organ to the secret child that no one knows about?" He joked out, never able to stay serious for too long, but when Gabe didn't laugh, his face fell. "Gabriel Anthony, tell me you're joking.”

Sighing, Gabe scrubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know for sure." He defended as Kale made all sorts of noises, obviously processing the information. "All I know is that CJ swears she has a vague memory of another kid being around when she was little. DJ is pretty traumatized from around that time so she can’t remember much of anything. Nancy and I were trying for another kid before Georgie died. It seems convenient is all, and they seem to think I'm a familial match."

"Gabriel." Kale breathed out, just staring at him, at a loss for words for once in his life. It sounded like he wanted to say more, but Gabe wouldn’t let him.

"He's a minor and he's here with his parents. This isn't something that anyone else needs to know about, including him. We share the same DNA, but he's not my kid, not really, okay?" He all but begged the other man to understand. 

It was quiet for a very long time before Kale said anything. "Do the parents know who you are?" His voice was much quieter than normal.

Gabe nodded. "They haven't verbalized it, but it's kind of hard to ignore sharing so much DNA with someone and the knowledge that my information came from a prison database. We discussed it, and it's best if he doesn't know where the donation came from." 

Kale didn't get a chance to say anything else before the anesthesiologist came in.

2008

Groggy. He felt so groggy and he couldn't open his eyes. There was beeping going on around him, And voices. There were a couple of different voices - one familiar, the rest alien. There was something on his face. A breathing mask? He couldn't lift his hand to pull it off, but it didn't matter. He was distracted the second he realized he could understand the voices around him. 

"Sir, don't make me call security."

"I told you already. That is my client in there and I need to see him immediately."

"And I told you already. No visitors. Only immediate family under supervision and there is only one name on that list and it is not yours."

"I am allowed to see him if the injury is directly related to his case and getting stabbed two weeks before his trial is supposed to start is just cause!" 

"And if he was in any state to talk to you, I'd agree with you, but he's not. You need to leave."

"I need to see my client."

"That's it! I'm calling security."

 Late Summer 2019 (Continued)

"Jay?" Blinking his eyes open, Gabe tried to remember why he was in the hospital this time, There was shuffling to his left, and he glanced over to find a dark haired teenager hanging onto an IV pole. He looked the way someone who was out of bed six hours after surgery looked: like he wasn't supposed to be on his feet.

The boy shook his head, his hair shifting into his face at the motion. "No, sorry." And he dragged himself into the chair next to Gabe's bed. "Is that your husband?" He gestured to Gabe's left hand, which was splayed open on his stomach, the name Jonathan more than visible on the side of his ring finger.

"Used to be." Gabe said with a cough. hand closing immediately. He glanced over to the padded bench in the corner where Kale was sound asleep. "That's not him though." He nodded towards his friend before putting his bed up a little bit and reached for the water pitcher next to his bed. "Your folks know you're out of bed, kid?"

"Of course not." He shook his head and looked at Gabe like he was crazy. "They would kill me, but I wanted to see you and thank you, but I knew they wouldn't let me. I know who you are."

Gabe looked at him as he took a sip of water and sighed. "And who am I?" He asked him tiredly.

The teen, Knox, rolled his eyes in a way that reminded Gabe so much of himself that he had to do a double-take. “I know I’m adopted. I’ve always known. I don’t remember a lot before Social Services took me away, but I remember having two big sisters and a mom who forgot about me sometimes. I had a dad, but he never talked to me. He pretended that I didn’t exist.” Knox sighed and chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I think I knew then that I wasn’t his, but I don’t remember him too much. What I remember are my sisters talking about their Dad, a man who died. This guy who could do no wrong. The Dad who magically saved the day. I used to be so angry that he was gone, that I didn’t get to meet him. And then...” Knox closed his eyes, a small smile on his face. “When we thought I was going to die, when we thought I was never going to get a donor - you appeared out of nowhere and I knew immediately that it was you. That it had to be you - my dad.”

Gabe sighed and set his water cup down. “Kid, I may have given you half your DNA, but I’m not your dad. That man asleep in the other room? That’s your dad. I just made you.” He whispered out. “And when your parts break, it’s my job to help you patch up.”

The boy looked at him. “That sounds like a dad to me.”

Frustrated and tired, he scrubbed his hand over his face. “You should go back to your room before your parents wake up and realize you’re missing. This was supposed to be a blind donation.” He reminded his son.

“I know, but...” The boy looked beyond frustrated. “Will I ever get to see you again? See my sisters again? Meet your ex-husband?”

A smile slid onto Gabe’s features, and he reached out and gave the boy’s hand a squeeze. “You got a part of me stuck in you forever, kid.” At the fallen look on Knox’s face, he couldn’t help but to squeeze his hand again before letting go. “As soon as you turn eighteen, call me. Your parents have my number. And we’ll go from there. Until then...”

“We never met.” Knox whispered out getting what Gabe was saying. He nodded and then pulled himself out of his chair, using the IV pole for support again. He made it all the way to the door before turning back to look at Gabe. “Hey, dad? Thanks.”

Once he was gone, there was a sigh from the other side of the room. “Is that what you were like in high school? But with more eyeliner?” Kale asked, because of course he was awake and had pretended to be sleeping.

Gabe groaned and lowered his bed back down.

“Right.” Kale said, treating Gabe’s groan as a sentence. “I know nothing. I saw nothing.”

It was quiet for a long moment before: “I like him.”

“Me, too.” Gabe whispered out. “Me, too.”

[zainab1x1s]

▲ five time my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did. agan jovia thanks

Five times Josh thought about kissing Olivia “Liv” Roberts, and one time he did.

i.

Okay, so he knows it’s stupid or whatever to want to kiss her right after they just met. Which is why he’s not going to do it. I mean, not that he isn’t stupid, because there are a couple of guys on the football team that have witnessed things that can’t be unseen, but he’s not going to be stupid anymore. Well, at least not when it comes to this. Because he thinks he might actually like her, you know? And, to be honest with you, he doesn’t know exactly what that means, or even if it’s going to lead anywhere, but he’s not about to mess up his shot within the first meeting.

He’s gotta be honest, though - it wasn’t the easiest. Because she was just sitting there, talking about him falling in love with her while he was locked away in prison and romanticizing her through her letters, and at some points their heads were too close together to be doing anything but kissing, and it was all a bit disorienting, if he was real with you.

The only thing that stopped him was the realization that he still had to go to football practice, and the inability to convince himself that his coach would accept talking to a very cute girl as an excuse for being late that. And even that barely stopped him. Josh kept talking to her as he stood up and shuffled toward his gym bag, his eyes not leaving her for a second. Even when she convinced him to get off of the bleachers and run through the field, Josh barely jogged, still laughing and talking and looking back as he eventually sped up.

He wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to hear about her dumb hypothetical scenarios where he ended up the pining idiot (which, as time went by, began looking less and less hypothetical). He wanted to kiss her, and it was pretty hard trying to convince himself not to.

It was worth it, though. He probably shouldn’t have been so sure of that right away, but he was. He liked hearing her talk too much for it to not be.

ii.

Josh had almost a schedule, which was saying something for someone who sort of did everything haphazardly. but his almost schedule went a little like this: Monday through Wednesday he for sure spent with the football team, unless someone else specifically asked to sit with them, and then he sat with them because, like, he’s not an asshole. Friday he sometimes sat with the football team, but only if they were going out later that night or there was a game and they needed to plan pre-party shit. Otherwise, he was on the far right bleachers with just him and his sandwich.

Thursday, though. Thursday was a god’s day. Thursday Josh had always spent by himself, every single time, without fail. If anyone asked, he just told them he had something planned. The football team had fallen out of the habit of asking, knowing that he was always, always, going to pick his turkey sandwich and the far right bleachers over them every time. He needed that day to pull himself out of the stupid facade that was Badlands Prep, needed time to get away from things that people kept treating as important or ground-shattering. Thursday was his alone day.

Which is why he couldn’t understand why the girl from the other day was walking over to him right that second.

“So,” she said as she sat down, as if she hadn’t just interrupted a boy mid-bite of a sandwich and clearly isolating himself. “I realized I never finished going over the theories with you the other day, and my dad brought up a good one today at breakfast this morning that I really think you’d appreciate.”

As Liv went on about her theory - which was that he was in a very elaborate game of truth or dare, one of which being that he had to pretend that he was a museum statue that had somehow gotten out - Josh tried his best to surreptitiously swallow the morsel in his mouth and came across a striking realization.

He was having a really good time. Like, actually, a really good, non-exhausting time.

And the more she talked about his inability to control himself, the more he wanted to kiss her.

“Right? Because you seem like the kind of guy that would get carried away with that kind of thing.”

Josh only nodded, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, uh. You’re right about that.” He handed her half of his sandwich, a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. “But have you considered this theory?”

They talked until the bell rang, and barely made it time for class.

iii.

They had spent too long flirting to not finally go on some kind of date. Along the same vein, they spent way too long talking about the different ways they could break into the MOMA to not go there for their first official date.

He felt almost nervous. He felt like he should have been nervous. They literally met because her dad arrested him for being cross-faded and breaking into their date spot in the middle of the night. He insisted on driving his clunky, atrocious, cherry red car through New York streets, and it was pulled up in front of her apartment building. He was standing in front of her door either severely underdressed or severely overdressed, considering they never discussed a dress code, and he had no idea who was going to open it. And yet, he wasn’t the least bit nervous.  

Maybe Liv had cast a spell on him. Some kind of un-nervous-ifying, un-exhausting, unable-to-stop-smiling-until-his-face-physically-hurt kind of spell. It only made sense.

And when she opened the door, Josh realized it was the only logical explanation.

She appeared in what must have been a haze of glory, but was more likely just Josh being able to focus on anything except her. She was beautiful. She was more than beautiful. Beautiful didn’t even begin describing how she looked. She was art, and Josh could only think of two things.

One: How could he have possibly gone this long without knowing her, dating her, doing this?

And two: How much he really wanted to kiss her right then.

Instead, he only stuck out his arm, already feeling his cheeks hurting from smiling too much, and said, “Ready to go? MOMA’s not gonna break into itself and all.”

iv.

Time was always a weird concept for Josh. When he was running - on the field, from the cops, anything that got his heart pumping - time kicked into hyperdrive. He was moving at the speed of light suddenly, laughter trailing behind him. When he was drunk - like, really drunk - time moved in sort of jump cuts, from one moment to another with no connection between the two. Trying to be sober when you really wanted to be drunk was like being frozen in time, like moving through molasses, except not moving at all. Parties themselves existed in a world outside of time, a weird subsection that didn’t fall under any of the above. 

He had, however, never experienced the slowing of time. And it seemed he kind of liked it.

The date couldn’t have been more than an hour or two in, and every moment felt like a lifetime, holding a million conversations per each minute that went by. He was on autopilot, but not in the sense that he had checked out. Rather, the words and stories and laughter spilled so easily from his mouth he didn’t even have to stop to think about them. Everything about Liv seemed more and more unreal.

It took everything in him not to kiss her. Like, he knew he said that a lot that day, but wow was it real this time. Because every time she moved, laughed, shook her head and smiled at his awful jokes, it was in slow motion. Like every sign in the world was telling Josh that this was his chance, that he had to seize it before it ended, and he was going to do it, too. He had to, right? 

But then she burst out laughing at a naked statue’s penis and the mood quickly shifted. 

Maybe that was for the best.

v.

The night came to a close before either of them could fully accept it, with reluctant “I should probably bring you back now, right?”s and “it’s getting late, my dad might wonder where I am”s stumbling over each other on their way to the realization that the date had to end at some point.

“One of these days,” Josh said with a striking amount of confidence as he walked Liv back up to her apartment, “I’m taking you somewhere better.”

Liv only raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Somewhere better than the MOMA? The world-famous MOMA?”

Josh was diligent in his answer, not missing a beat. “Yep.” He stopped to look at her for a second, smiling like an idiot before adding, “maybe I’ll take you to The Louvre.”

“The Louvre?”

“Yeah. The Louvre.”

“Sounds expensive,” was all she said. “What if the trip there puts you in debt, and then we’re stuck in France forever?”

“Then I’ll take up a job at a street performer,” he said with an amazing amount of conviction. 

This brought out a chuckle in her. “Can you even street perform?”

Josh shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?” Freezing in his tracks, Josh began a poor, almost comical mime-in-the-box presentation. He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing as he resumed his position Liv’s side. “See? We’ll be fine.”

An even louder laugh this time. “Okay, it’s settled. We’re doomed. We’re going to be stuck in Paris forever with no way of getting home, all because you tried to one up the MOMA.”

They had reached Liv’s apartment, and they were both stalling for time and were completely aware of the fact. Josh released her hand so that she could unlock the door, but leaned forward until their heads were nearly touching again. “If it helps,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke, “there are worse things than being stuck in Paris with a cute girl named Liv.”

He should have kissed her, but he didn’t. He had bigger plans.

vi.

Driving back to the MOMA and then driving around looking for a dollar store in his dumb, clunky car was the worst idea Josh had ever had. Well, maybe not the worst, because Josh has had some pretty stupid ideas, but it was up there, for sure. It was all for a dumb, stupid, dorky joke that she probably wasn’t even going to find that funny, but he had to do it, you know? He couldn’t not do it.

When he returned to his door, he found his heart pounding like it was about to beat out of his chest. He held the picture in the cheap ornate frame closer to his chest, as if it could quell the sound of his heartbeat. When she opened the door, though, a gigantic grin spread across his face like it was instinct, like that was his body’s natural reaction to just seeing her.

God, he was fucking wrecked.

“What are you doing?” Liv said slowly, but as her eyes fell on the picture frame, a small smile of realization spread across her face, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Well, I thought I’d get you something from the MOMA. As a date present,” Josh said, outstretching his hands and presenting the picture in all its glory. “Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it.” He gave her an overdramatic wink and then added, “I just bought it from the gift shop and threw it in a cheap frame.” Another dramatic wink.

Liv was already on the verge of belly laughter, he could tell.

“I-” she began to say something, but instead took the picture and sat it on a wall behind the door. When she turned back, the two of them wore matching ear-to-ear smiles, not needing to say anything - not being able to find anything that would quite communicate what they were feeling for each other in that moment.

And that was when he kissed her. And, okay, maybe it was too soon, and maybe it was stupid, but it also would’ve been stupid if he didn’t kiss her. He had to do it, you know? There wasn’t an option this time.

And when her hands found their way to Josh’s hair, and their teeth clanked together from smiling so hard, and his arms wrapped around her waist, Josh realized that (for what might have been the first time in his life) his gut instinct was right.

[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Part 12: …of Shorts Weather.

Masterlist

2 weeks later.

Hanbin taps his fingers to a directionless rhythm on the surface of his table. He’s written two paragraphs, both terrible, on a topic he wishes someone else got. Sometimes he loves his job but sometimes he wonders if he was just wasting his time writing articles he barely cares about.

“Are you planning on branching out into EDM? Dub-step? Big beat?” Donghyuk asks wearily from behind his laptop.

“Huh?”

“Oh I assume that’s what the tapping is about? Because surely you can’t be doing that just to annoy me, right?”

He retracts his finger back into his fist. “Sorry. This article just really isn’t working.”

Donghyuk sighs and looks at the clock on the wall before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. “I’d help you but mine isn’t really working either. Business Week is so boring to write about. It’s nearly 3 though, why don’t you make yourself useful and do the caffeine run?”

“Yeah okay. Do you want the same thing again?”

“No, we’re stuck in a rut. I feel like something different today. Surprise me. Might not be such a bad idea for you to try something new as well?”

Hanbin rolls his eyes as he passes Donghyuk’s desk on the way out, “Yes, Dad.”

The temperature in their office is always set at a crisp 22 degrees (to prevent cozy unproductive lethargy) but outside is a warm and sunny 30 degrees. It’d be stifling if there wasn’t a light breeze through his thin summer shirt and it’d be even more unbearable if Jiwon hadn’t sent his obligatory text at 7am that morning.

[hey, fyi its gonna be really hot 2day. SHORTS WEATHER!!! have a good day at work, call me later xxJ]

He chuckles to himself thinking of how many pairs of shorts Jiwon must own by now (probably a few pairs shy of 100). It gets him thinking about Jiwon’s wardrobe, then his room, then his apartment…

…the one that Hanbin has never even been to.

Was it weird? It must be weird. They’ve never even seen the inside of each other’s apartments. Or hugged since that day at June’s. Or even had a proper date by themselves. Or kissed again.

It was weird.

It was backwards.

He frowns as he passes the bookshop where there’s a poster for the new book by Haruki Murakami, no doubt about another tragically beautifully relationship that will have him turning the pages well into the dawn and wondering why his own life wasn’t as poetic or why he couldn’t write as well or why he just can’t be like everyone else.

Stop it Hanbin.

Stop it.

He wills himself to stop mourning about normalcy or wanting to join the conveyer belt of society-approved romantics when he knows that the thing he has with Jiwon is totally and utterly not normal.

He’s feeling better by the time he’s reached the familiar corner cafe. It welcomes him in with its comforting smell of sweet chocolate, happy yellow almond cakes, floral herbal teas and life-affirming coffee. Maybe that’s why everyone who works there looks like they’ve got a permanent IV drip to the fountain of youth and all the customers come in looking like fading zombies.

He waits for his order by the window, getting lost in watching life walk up and down the street; there was an old man trying to courier a giant painting on his bike, a teenage punk with about fifteen piercings on his face and a young couple trying to corral their three tiny children in line for ice-cream.

But inevitably, as with most of his thought processes lately, he ends up thinking about Jiwon and what he’d be doing at the garage right at that moment. It’s pervasive, just like his negative thoughts, but instead of drowning in anxiety, anything Jiwon-flavoured fills him with security and optimism. He’s trying to adjust but the change still constantly surprises him (in a good way). No matter how wild and convoluted his thoughts become or how far they stray off course, Jiwon is always there in his mind, like a lighthouse at sea or a magnet that drags him back to North.

On a whim, Hanbin takes his phone out of his pocket.

[hey, do you want to have dinner together tonight?]

He’s walking back to the office when he gets a reply.

[do we have to cook it?]

[no, hospitals dates aren’t fun]

[then yes, lol. sorry really swamped right now, call you later]

[ok bunny, xxh]

[xxj]

It’s 5:30pm and the sun is beginning to ride low in the sky, casting a golden-peach haze over the city. Jiwon is waiting across the street from his office but instead of walking towards the car, Hanbin feels like he’s walking straight into a John Hughes high school movie.

Jiwon is leaning casually against the driver’s side door, scrolling and smiling at something on his phone. He’s wearing that soft worn-in white t-shirt that Hanbin likes (and has put on his To Steal One Day list), the sleeves are rolled up high to reveal more of the smooth tanned skin of his arms, each ridge and muscle defined every time the sun hits at the right angle. His hair is getting longer now, falling and tickling his eyes until he looks up to shake it away.

It’s then that their eyes meet across the street.

And Hanbin feels 15 years old again. He’s taken back to the exact moment when he first locked eyes with the American exchange student who transferred to his school and awoke everything that had been lying dormant in his mind for 15 years.

He swallows thickly and tries to calm down the intensity of his emotions but the way his stomach still drops, even after all this time, the way his smile is automatic in Jiwon’s presence, the way he can’t remember anything terrible for those few seconds, the way everything was so obvious, even if neither of them said it out loud….

This must be his Murakami moment.

Stop it, Hanbin.

Stop romanticising everything.

He’s just a person.

He’s just a person.

He’s honestly surprised he doesn’t get run over while trying to cross the road because did he even look both ways? He doesn’t remember.

“Hey.” Jiwon’s smile is bright and toothy, it says absolutely everything about him.

“Hey.” He says, wondering frantically if they should hug or kiss or handshake or high five now.

“Good day at work?”

“Not really, I couldn’t write anything decent.” He sighs.

“Oh that sucks.” Jiwon says as he pushes himself off the car and comes around to open the passenger’s side door. “What’s your topic this week?”

Hanbin just stares at the gesture as Jiwon walks away to open his own door. “Oh ummm, the the rise of mid-twenties CEOs and the growth of independent businesses.”

When they’re both buckled in, Jiwon wakes the Beast up with that brutal growl that always shoots straight to the primitive corner of Hanbin’s brain and gets his adrenaline going.

“Hey, why don’t you talk to June or Yoyo? They’ve got their own business and have a lot of friends like that. Might help you get some ideas?”

Hanbin pauses. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Why didn’t I think of that? Urgh, where were you eight hours ago?” He groans.

Jiwon gives him a proud smile that makes him look 10 years old. “Underneath the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Wait, what?” Hanbin’s eyes widen in surprise and his voice is annoyingly high-pitched.

“Someone dropped off a 1961 California Spyder at the garage today.” Comes the cheeky reply and Hanbin grumbles with fake irritation, reaching over to punch Jiwon on the arm, leaving the other cackling and pretending that it hurts.

“You’re a jerk.” He says, trying to keep the relief out of his voice but obviously failing because he knows when he’s been busted. “Anyway, have all the car affairs you want. I think I’m going to just call you next time I get writer’s block though.”

Jiwon shifts the BMW into reverse, arm coming to rest behind Hanbin’s seat as he backs out onto the street, the movement causing just the faintest ghost of that familiar woodsy cologne to float between them. “So am I your new personal consultant?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the pay like?”

“Terrible. Virtually zero dollars.”

“God, how cheap are you?!” Jiwon teases as they stop at a red light, he fiddles with the buttons to the sound system before settling on an old Drake song.“You couldn’t afford me anyway.”

“Oh really. What’s your going rate these days?”

“One million dollars,” Jiwon replies smugly before looking across with that arrogant smirk that Hanbin finds annoyingly attractive. “Or….like, 20 hugs.”

Hanbin gives him an amused scoff. “Only 20? Deal.”

“No, I changed my mind. I want 40.”

“Oh 40? Then, no. No deal.”

Jiwon laughs loudly. “Fine. I’ll just keep all these good ideas to myself.”

“You are such a loser. It’s all your fault for being so distracting when I’m trying to work.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! In case you forgot, you agreed to date me so really, who is the bigger loser here?” Jiwon says. “And besides, if you blame me for anything, you’re kinda half blaming yourself. That’s the way things work now.”

Hanbin opens his mouth but ends up saying nothing.

Jiwon looks over with a quirk of his eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m stealing that to use in a future article.”

“Okay, I’ll put it on your tab. You owe me one million dollars and 40 hugs.”

“This is turning out to be a costly relationship.” He says with an exaggerated frown that really just wants to be a smile.

“Yeah suck it up, buddy.” Jiwon laughs. “Anyways, since you’re so poor, I’ll get dinner tonight. What do you feel like?”

“Italian?”

“You want to go eat out or…” Jiwon trails off, an uncertain expression on his angular face.

“I don’t really want to sit in a restaurant.” Hanbin says, trying to be brave for once but looking out the window the entire time. “Can we just get take-out? We could come back and eat it at my apartment.”

“Oh.” Jiwon says, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Only if you want to.” He adds quickly, heart jumping right into his throat as he dares to flick his eyes up in curiosity.

Jiwon is just smiling at him. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Cool. I want pasta then.” He says in relief but still completely avoiding Jiwon’s eyes again out of embarrassment. “And something with bacon.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

It’s just one word but it still causes the butterflies in his stomach to crash into each other like a fleet of kamikaze bombers. He wonders when the thrill will wear off and hopes that the answer is: never.

After finding the Italian restaurant, they sit in the parking lot listening to the rest of the Drake album while waiting for their order. It’s exactly where Hanbin loves to be on a warm evening: in the passengers seat, watching Jiwon sit at the wheel, casually rapping along to old hip-hop and in the process, killing him very very slowly.

“You’re really good.” He says.

“At what? Like, in general?”

He rolls his eyes. “At rapping. You’re so good at it. Do you ever want to get back to it? Do it seriously?”

Jiwon scrunches up his face like Hanbin just reminded him of something painful. “Yeah but something always comes up, you know?”

Neglected dreams are something Hanbin knows all about.

“Yeah I do actually. I’ve been wanting to write my book for awhile but it’s never gone beyond a passing hobby. Work kinda gets in the way. Or life does.”

“You should just write it.” Jiwon replies simply.

“And you should just rap.” He shoots back.

Jiwon lets out a quiet sigh as he plays with the door handle. “I need practice. The other guys would kick my ass if I turned up to battles like this. I want to go back though. One day.”

“So why don’t you? You could probably kick all their asses.”

Jiwon chuckles. “Have you even heard the other guys?”

Hanbin looks over shrugging. “Is that even relevant? It doesn’t make you any less good.”

“You rate me way too highly.” Jiwon says but even as the words come out he’s reaching across to run his fingers through Hanbin’s hair. “And you’re not exactly objective. Would you tell me if I was shit?”

“Of course I would! What do you take me for? Not like I’m blinded by-”

Oh no.

Shut up Hanbin.

He talked himself into a corner again.

Panic starts to set in but strangely enough, it doesn’t fully take hold because Jiwon doesn’t even tease or ask him about it, he just softly raps along to the music and continues playing with Hanbin’s hair until they get called in to pick up their order.

The good thing about anxiety is that all it takes for you to stop worrying about one thing is to become so distracted with another until there’s just a neat orderly ranking system. He likes systems. The order calms his mind. He was so busy being stressed about saying the wrong thing in the car that he totally ran out of time to worry about Jiwon seeing his apartment.

“Okay, so, come in. It’s a bit messy.” He says nervously as he pushes his door open and hastily tidies the stack of unread catalogues by the entrance.

Jiwon wanders in gingerly, looking around and chuckling inwardly at the distinct lack of mess anywhere. “I was here two weeks ago. Remember?”

“You were only in my doorway. Don’t judge the rest of it.” He says as he toes off his Nikes and jams his feet into old Snoopy slippers. “The kitchen is through there.”

“I’m not gonna judge it!” Jiwon shouts as he pads into the kitchen, placing the plastic bag of food on the small wooden table before turning around to survey the neat space. “God. It looks like an accident happened in here. How can you even live like this!!?”

Hanbin knows it’s just teasing but he goes red anyway. “I bet your place is worse!” He fires back.

Jiwon shrugs and grins. “I don’t know, want to come over next week?”

“Next week?”

“Yeah I’m gonna need the entire week to clean it.”

He kicks at Jiwon’s shin, the Snoopy slippers cushioning most of the blow and completely defeating the purpose. “Loser.”

“Stop being rude to your guest.” Jiwon scolds mockingly before pointing to the cupboards. “So where do you keep your plates and stuff?”

He gives a brief tour of his kitchen, from the over processed pantry to his collection of cartoon mugs, pointedly ignoring the sniggers when Jiwon finds all his new plates and cutlery still in their boxes. “Have many people over, Hanbin?”

“Only you and the Queen.” He snaps.

They sit and eat at his small dining table, talking about which one of them should learn to how to cook (both), which one is neater (definitely Hanbin), which one is better at fixing things (definitely Jiwon) and which one would be more likely to become a millionaire before the age of 30 (definitely neither).

It’s only when they’re standing at his sink to do the dishes that the occasion catches up with Hanbin.

Jiwon was in his apartment.

They just had dinner together.

He didn’t have an aneurysm from the stress.

What would Murakami write about this?

“Hanbin?”Jiwon is holding a wet dish out for him to dry. “In your head again?”

He takes the plate and nods. “I’m just thinking.”

“Anything you want to tell me about?”

“I was just thinking of the rap thing again. You’re so good Jiwon. It’d be such a waste if you didn’t just go for it. I’m sure you’re awesome at the garage because you’re good with your hands and I promise I’ll still like you no matter what you end up doing but honestly, you should really think about the rap thing again.” He doesn’t know why he always sounds so flighty and high-pitched when he rambles.

Jiwon gives him that one unreadable look that Hanbin had never been able to decipher. He has no idea what it means. It’s the one with the small smile, slight nod and slow blinks. What the hell does that one mean?

“I’ll think about it okay?”

“Yeah you should.”

“Hey, let’s make a pact.”

Hanbin gives him a condescending look. “Are you 12 years old? Are we at summer camp? Where are the friends-forever bracelets?”

Jiwon flicks water at him. “No listen, let’s both do it together. You start your book and I’ll do this rap thing. Give ourselves like a year? If it doesn’t go anywhere at least we can say we tried?”

“Seriously?” He asks skeptically.

“Seriously.” Jiwon nods and reaches over to dry his hands on the tea towel Hanbin is still holding. “That way we’ll both be annoying at the same time.”

“And stressed at the same time.”

“But maybe happy and successful at the same time?”

He shakes his head. “You haven’t thought this through. We’re going to need a plan. We should really make a plan. I have planning paper.” He says, trying to be helpful.

Jiwon takes the tea towel from his hands, throwing it on the bench before pulling at his shirt. “Come here.”

He has a fleeting thought about gravity before silencing his brain and sinking into Jiwon’s arms.

Oh.

Finally.

Their first proper hug.

He all but melts into it like gooey chocolate, savouring how reassuringly solid Jiwon’s body is underneath his soft cotton t-shirt and the slow sigh he lets out when Hanbin winds his arms around his back. Above all, he savours how truly safe and secure he feels in this completely ordinary and mundane moment. Jiwon was just comforting. Or comfortable. Or both. He was the mash-potato-warm-blanket-kind of comfortable and Hanbin doesn’t want to let go.

“I love that you have planning paper.”

“Surprised?” He mumbles into Jiwon’s t-shirt.

He feels a kiss on the top of his head and fingers brushing through his hair. “No baby, I’m not.”

[ginandvice]

Cloudy With A Chance

Part 12: …of shorts weather.

2 weeks later.

Hanbin taps his fingers to a directionless rhythm on the surface of his table. He’s written two paragraphs, both terrible, on a topic he wishes someone else got. Sometimes he loves his job but sometimes he wonders if he was just wasting his time writing articles he barely cares about. 

“Are you planning on branching out into EDM? Dub-step? Big beat?” Donghyuk asks wearily from behind his laptop.

“Huh?”

“Oh I assume that’s what the tapping is about? Because surely you can’t be doing that just to annoy me, right?”

He retracts his finger back into his fist. “Sorry. This article just really isn’t working.”

Donghyuk sighs and looks at the clock on the wall before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. “I’d help you but mine isn’t really working either. Business Week is so boring to write about. It’s nearly 3 though, why don’t you make yourself useful and do the caffeine run?”

“Yeah okay. Do you want the same thing again?”

“No, we’re stuck in a rut. I feel like something different today. Surprise me. Might not be such a bad idea for you to try something new as well?”

Hanbin rolls his eyes as he passes Donghyuk’s desk on the way out, “Yes, Dad.”

The temperature in their office is always set at a crisp 22 degrees (to prevent cozy unproductive lethargy) but outside is a warm and sunny 30 degrees. It’d be stifling if there wasn’t a light breeze through his thin summer shirt and it’d be even more unbearable if Jiwon hadn’t sent his obligatory text at 7am that morning.

[hey, fyi its gonna be really hot 2day. SHORTS WEATHER!!! have a good day at work, call me later xxJ]

He chuckles to himself thinking of how many pairs of shorts Jiwon must own by now (probably a few pairs shy of 100). It gets him thinking about Jiwon’s wardrobe, then his room, then his apartment…

…the one that Hanbin has never even been to.

Was it weird? It must be weird. They’ve never even seen the inside of each other’s apartments. Or hugged since that day at June’s. Or even had a proper date by themselves. Or kissed again.

It was weird.

It was backwards.

He frowns as he passes the bookshop where there’s a poster for the new book by Haruki Murakami, no doubt about another tragically beautifully relationship that will have him turning the pages well into the dawn and wondering why his own life wasn’t as poetic or why he couldn’t write as well or why he just can’t be like everyone else.

Stop it Hanbin.

Stop it.

He wills himself to stop mourning about normalcy or wanting to join the conveyer belt of society-approved romantics when he knows that the thing he has with Jiwon is totally and utterly not normal.

He’s feeling better by the time he’s reached the familiar corner cafe. It welcomes him in with its comforting smell of sweet chocolate, happy yellow almond cakes, floral herbal teas and life-affirming coffee. Maybe that’s why everyone who works there looks like they’ve got a permanent IV drip to the fountain of youth and all the customers come in looking like fading zombies.

He waits for his order by the window, getting lost in watching life walk up and down the street; there was an old man trying to courier a giant painting on his bike, a teenage punk with about fifteen piercings on his face and a young couple trying to corral their three tiny children in line for ice-cream.

But inevitably, as with most of his thought processes lately, he ends up thinking about Jiwon and what he’d be doing at the garage right at that moment. It’s pervasive, just like his negative thoughts, but instead of drowning in anxiety, anything Jiwon-flavoured fills him with security and optimism. He’s trying to adjust but the change still constantly surprises him (in a good way). No matter how wild and convoluted his thoughts become or how far they stray off course, Jiwon is always there in his mind, like a lighthouse at sea or a magnet that drags him back to North.

On a whim, Hanbin takes his phone out of his pocket.

[hey, do you want to have dinner together tonight?]

He’s walking back to the office when he gets a reply.

[do we have to cook it?]

[no, hospitals dates aren’t fun]

[then yes, lol. sorry really swamped right now, call you later]

[ok bunny, xxh]

[xxj]

It’s 5:30pm and the sun is beginning to ride low in the sky, casting a golden-peach haze over the city. Jiwon is waiting across the street from his office but instead of walking towards the car, Hanbin feels like he’s walking straight into a John Hughes high school movie.

Jiwon is leaning casually against the driver’s side door, scrolling and smiling at something on his phone. He’s wearing that soft worn-in white t-shirt that Hanbin likes (and has put on his To Steal One Day list), the sleeves are rolled up high to reveal more of the smooth tanned skin of his arms, each ridge and muscle defined every time the sun hits at the right angle. His hair is getting longer now, falling and tickling his eyes until he looks up to shake it away.

It’s then that their eyes meet across the street.

And Hanbin feels 15 years old again. He’s taken back to the exact moment when he first locked eyes with the American exchange student who transferred to his school and awoke everything that had been lying dormant in his mind for 15 years. 

He swallows thickly and tries to calm down the intensity of his emotions but the way his stomach still drops, even after all this time, the way his smile is automatic in Jiwon’s presence, the way he can’t remember anything terrible for those few seconds, the way everything was so obvious, even if neither of them said it out loud….

This must be his Murakami moment.

Stop it, Hanbin.

Stop romanticising everything.

He’s just a person.

He’s just a person.

He’s honestly surprised he doesn’t get run over while trying to cross the road because did he even look both ways? He doesn’t remember. 

“Hey.” Jiwon’s smile is bright and toothy, it says absolutely everything about him.

“Hey.” He says, wondering frantically if they should hug or kiss or handshake or high five now.

“Good day at work?”

“Not really, I couldn’t write anything decent.” He sighs. 

“Oh that sucks.” Jiwon says as he pushes himself off the car and comes around to open the passenger’s side door. “What’s your topic this week?”

Hanbin just stares at the gesture as Jiwon walks away to open his own door. “Oh ummm, the the rise of mid-twenties CEOs and the growth of independent businesses.”

When they’re both buckled in, Jiwon wakes the Beast up with that brutal growl that always shoots straight to the primitive corner of Hanbin’s brain and gets his adrenaline going.

“Hey, why don’t you talk to June or Yoyo? They’ve got their own business and have a lot of friends like that. Might help you get some ideas?”

Hanbin pauses. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Why didn’t I think of that? Urgh, where were you eight hours ago?” He groans.

Jiwon gives him a proud smile that makes him look 10 years old. “Underneath the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Wait, what?” Hanbin’s eyes widen in surprise and his voice is annoyingly high-pitched.

“Someone dropped off a 1961 California Spyder at the garage today.” Comes the cheeky reply and Hanbin grumbles with fake irritation, reaching over to punch Jiwon on the arm, leaving the other cackling and pretending that it hurts.

“You’re a jerk.” He says, trying to keep the relief out of his voice but obviously failing because he knows when he’s been busted. “Anyway, have all the car affairs you want. I think I’m going to just call you next time I get writer’s block though.”

Jiwon shifts the BMW into reverse, arm coming to rest behind Hanbin’s seat as he backs out onto the street, the movement causing just the faintest ghost of that familiar woodsy cologne to float between them. “So am I your new personal consultant?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the pay like?”

“Terrible. Virtually zero dollars.”

“God, how cheap are you?!” Jiwon teases as they stop at a red light, he fiddles with the buttons to the sound system before settling on an old Drake song.“You couldn’t afford me anyway.”

“Oh really. What’s your going rate these days?”

“One million dollars,” Jiwon replies smugly before looking across with that arrogant smirk that Hanbin finds annoyingly attractive. “Or….like, 20 hugs.”

Hanbin gives him an amused scoff. “Only 20? Deal.”

“No, I changed my mind. I want 40.”

“Oh 40? Then, no. No deal.”

Jiwon laughs loudly. “Fine. I’ll just keep all these good ideas to myself.”

“You are such a loser. It’s all your fault for being so distracting when I’m trying to work.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! In case you forgot, you agreed to date me so really, who is the bigger loser here?” Jiwon says. “And besides, if you blame me for anything, you’re kinda half blaming yourself. That’s the way things work now.”

Hanbin opens his mouth but ends up saying nothing.

Jiwon looks over with a quirk of his eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m stealing that to use in a future article.” 

“Okay, I’ll put it on your tab. You owe me one million dollars and 40 hugs.”

“This is turning out to be a costly relationship.” He says with an exaggerated frown that really just wants to be a smile. 

"Yeah suck it up, buddy.” Jiwon laughs. “Anyways, since you’re so poor, I’ll get dinner tonight. What do you feel like?”

“Italian?”

“You want to go eat out or…” Jiwon trails off, an uncertain expression on his angular face.

“I don’t really want to sit in a restaurant.” Hanbin says, trying to be brave for once but looking out the window the entire time. “Can we just get take-out? We could come back and eat it at my apartment.”

“Oh.” Jiwon says, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

"Only if you want to.” He adds quickly, heart jumping right into his throat as he dares to flick his eyes up in curiosity. 

Jiwon is just smiling at him. “Yeah, yeah I do.” 

“Cool. I want pasta then.” He says in relief but still completely avoiding Jiwon’s eyes again out of embarrassment. “And something with bacon.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

It’s just one word but it still causes the butterflies in his stomach to crash into each other like a fleet of kamikaze bombers. He wonders when the thrill will wear off and hopes that the answer is: never.

After finding the Italian restaurant, they sit in the parking lot listening to the rest of the Drake album while waiting for their order. It’s exactly where Hanbin loves to be on a warm evening: in the passengers seat, watching Jiwon sit at the wheel, casually rapping along to old hip-hop and in the process, killing him very very slowly.

“You’re really good.” He says.

“At what? Like, in general?”

He rolls his eyes. “At rapping. You’re so good at it. Do you ever want to get back to it? Do it seriously?”

Jiwon scrunches up his face like Hanbin just reminded him of something painful. “Yeah but something always comes up, you know?”

Neglected dreams are something Hanbin knows all about.

“Yeah I do actually. I’ve been wanting to write my book for awhile but it’s never gone beyond a passing hobby. Work kinda gets in the way. Or life does.”

“You should just write it.” Jiwon replies simply.

“And you should just rap.” He shoots back.

Jiwon lets out a quiet sigh as he plays with the door handle. “I need practice. The other guys would kick my ass if I turned up to battles like this. I want to go back though. One day.”

“So why don’t you? You could probably kick all their asses.” 

Jiwon chuckles. “Have you even heard the other guys?”

Hanbin looks over shrugging. “Is that even relevant? It doesn’t make you any less good.”

"You rate me way too highly.” Jiwon says but even as the words come out he’s reaching across to run his fingers through Hanbin’s hair. “And you’re not exactly objective. Would you tell me if I was shit?”

“Of course I would! What do you take me for? Not like I’m blinded by-”

Oh no.

Shut up Hanbin.

He talked himself into a corner again.

Panic starts to set in but strangely enough, it doesn’t fully take hold because Jiwon doesn’t even tease or ask him about it, he just softly raps along to the music and continues playing with Hanbin’s hair until they get called in to pick up their order. 

The good thing about anxiety is that all it takes for you to stop worrying about one thing is to become so distracted with another until there’s just a neat orderly ranking system. He likes systems. The order calms his mind. He was so busy being stressed about saying the wrong thing in the car that he totally ran out of time to worry about Jiwon seeing his apartment.

“Okay, so, come in. It’s a bit messy.” He says nervously as he pushes his door open and hastily tidies the stack of unread catalogues by the entrance.

Jiwon wanders in gingerly, looking around and chuckling inwardly at the distinct lack of mess anywhere. “I was here two weeks ago. Remember?”

“You were only in my doorway. Don’t judge the rest of it.” He says as he toes off his Nikes and jams his feet into old Snoopy slippers. “The kitchen is through there.”

“I’m not gonna judge it!” Jiwon shouts as he pads into the kitchen, placing the plastic bag of food on the small wooden table before turning around to survey the neat space. “God. It looks like an accident happened in here. How can you even live like this!!?”

Hanbin knows it’s just teasing but he goes red anyway. “I bet your place is worse!” He fires back.

Jiwon shrugs and grins. “I don’t know, want to come over next week?”

“Next week?”

“Yeah I’m gonna need the entire week to clean it.” 

He kicks at Jiwon’s shin, the Snoopy slippers cushioning most of the blow and completely defeating the purpose. “Loser.”

“Stop being rude to your guest.” Jiwon scolds mockingly before pointing to the cupboards. “So where do you keep your plates and stuff?”

He gives a brief tour of his kitchen, from the over processed pantry to his collection of cartoon mugs, pointedly ignoring the sniggers when Jiwon finds all his new plates and cutlery still in their boxes. “Have many people over, Hanbin?”

“Only you and the Queen.” He snaps.

They sit and eat at his small dining table, talking about which one of them should learn to how to cook (both), which one is neater (definitely Hanbin), which one is better at fixing things (definitely Jiwon) and which one would be more likely to become a millionaire before the age of 30 (definitely neither).

It’s only when they’re standing at his sink to do the dishes that the occasion catches up with Hanbin.

Jiwon was in his apartment.

They just had dinner together.

He didn’t have an aneurysm from the stress.

What would Murakami write about this?

“Hanbin?”Jiwon is holding a wet dish out for him to dry. “In your head again?”

He takes the plate and nods. “I’m just thinking.”

“Anything you want to tell me about?”

“I was just thinking of the rap thing again. You’re so good Jiwon. It’d be such a waste if you didn’t just go for it. I’m sure you’re awesome at the garage because you’re good with your hands and I promise I’ll still like you no matter what you end up doing but honestly, you should really think about the rap thing again.” He doesn’t know why he always sounds so flighty and high-pitched when he rambles.

Jiwon gives him that one unreadable look that Hanbin had never been able to decipher. He has no idea what it means. It’s the one with the small smile, slight nod and slow blinks. What the hell does that one mean?

“I’ll think about it okay?”

“Yeah you should.”

“Hey, let’s make a pact.”

Hanbin gives him a condescending look. “Are you 12 years old? Are we at summer camp? Where are the friends-forever bracelets?”

Jiwon flicks water at him. “No listen, let’s both do it together. You start your book and I’ll do this rap thing. Give ourselves like a year? If it doesn’t go anywhere at least we can say we tried?”

“Seriously?” He asks skeptically.

“Seriously.” Jiwon nods and reaches over to dry his hands on the tea towel Hanbin is still holding. “That way we’ll both be annoying at the same time.”

“And stressed at the same time.”

“But maybe happy and successful at the same time?”

He shakes his head. “You haven’t thought this through. We’re going to need a plan. We should really make a plan. I have planning paper.” He says, trying to be helpful.

Jiwon takes the tea towel from his hands, throwing it on the bench before pulling at his shirt. “Come here.”

He has a fleeting thought about gravity before silencing his brain and sinking into Jiwon’s arms.

Oh.

Finally.

Their first proper hug.

He all but melts into it like gooey chocolate, savouring how reassuringly solid Jiwon’s body is underneath his soft cotton t-shirt and the slow sigh he lets out when Hanbin winds his arms around his back. Above all, he savours how truly safe and secure he feels in this completely ordinary and mundane moment. Jiwon was just comforting. Or comfortable. Or both. He was the mash-potato-warm-blanket-kind of comfortable and Hanbin doesn’t want to let go. 

“I love that you have planning paper.”

“Surprised?” He mumbles into Jiwon’s t-shirt.

He feels a kiss on the top of his head and fingers brushing through his hair. “No baby, I’m not.”