#which has put a little extra day delay on things unfortunately

[marlynnofmany]

Drying Out

The wind on this alien planet was like I��d expected: not quite strong enough to put my balance at risk, but enough to make me glad I’d braided my hair back extra tight. Even with that precaution, little hair tendrils were whipping the sides of my face as I walked, and I didn’t have a hand free to brush them away. I was, as usual, carrying a box.

Mur could have carried it, but it would have been much harder for him, since he needed his tentacles to walk. Lucky bipedal me, with my free hands. I tried to focus on that as I squinted into the wind, scanning the nearly-deserted spaceport for our clients. I really should have brought goggles. Or at least a hat that wouldn’t get blown off.

A beanie would be perfect right now, I thought. Or even a scarf. I could be nice and fashionable with my swim goggles and a tie-dye bandanna. Why did I grab chapstick but nothing for my eyes?

I knew it was because Wio had only mentioned the drying properties of the local air when I’d asked. She was a Strongarm like Mur, and they admittedly had different priorities. No hair, for one.

“There they are,” Mur said over the wind. Not a thing got in his eyes.

I followed the direction of his blue-black tentacle, and spotted the little alcove that looked like an old fashioned bus stop. Three small whitish shapes huddled there that I’d thought were trash bags. Whoops. A bit of judicious squinting showed that they were another pair of tentacle folk and their bag of belongings, avoiding the worst of the wind.

Not a bad idea.

They unfurled as we got close enough for them to see the package and correctly deduce that we were here to deliver whatever they’d ordered. Miscellaneous stuff from an offworld store without its own delivery crew, I think. Not my business.

Mur greeted them warmly, taking point in the conversation while I stood there like the hired muscle with the box. The clients were very glad to see us, mostly because that meant less waiting in all this wind. The bus shelter didn’t do much to hold it back.

“Thank you for being prompt!” said the bigger of the two Strongarms as she signed the payment tablet. Her coloring was off-white with patches of yellow, which reminded me of a popcorn-flavored jellybean. The other popcorn squid was a little smaller, but had the same coloration. Probably related, but what did I know?

“Our pleasure,” Mur said as he took the tablet back and they pulled out a small hover platform to carry the package. “The less time spent in this desiccating wind, the better.”

They agreed heartily. I placed the box on the platform and helped the small client strap it in place while the big one explained that they had one more delivery to wait for.

“Unfortunately, that ship has been delayed,” she said. “Which would have been good to know before we got out here, but that’s the twist of the current for you.”

The smaller one piped up in a voice that sounded young. “I’ll say. I ran out of moisturizer with one arm to go — I would have dug up more from storage if I’d known we were going to be out here all day.”

The big one was visibly worried, already tugging at the small one’s tentacles. “Where aren’t you covered? How bad is it? Let me see!”

Mur made sympathetic noises while I mentally went over what I knew of Strongarm physiology. The previous courier ship I’d worked on had kept the air at a higher moisture level than the current one, largely for their benefit. Mur had told me about the lotion they all wore in dry air. I’d honestly forgotten about it.

And it appeared to be a big deal. The one yellow-white tentacle that the small Strongarm had been holding curled close looked dry and stiff even from where I was standing. She winced as she uncurled it. Her mother (yeah, I’m assuming) rushed to dig through the bag for a bottle of water, which she rubbed into place with visible worry.

The young one watched her fuss over it. “I’ll be fine; it’s just a little dry.”

“It’s a lot dry! Why didn’t you say something? And I didn’t bring any moisturizer either, because this was supposed to be a short trip. Oh, and this port doesn’t have a shop!”

Mur winced. “Yeah, this place is mostly Heatseekers and Mesmers, isn’t it? They probably wouldn’t even stock the good stuff.”

“Or any stuff,” the older client agreed. Another gust of wind spun in from a new direction, as if it was determined to make things worse. I licked dry lips while the client fretted.

I had an idea.

“Hey, I don’t know if this works, but do you want my chapstick?” I offered, pulling the tube from my pocket and removing the cap. I swiped some on the back of my hand to demonstrate. “It’s made to keep human lips from drying out, but it might work for you. Assuming you’re not allergic. It has like three ingredients, mostly wax.”

The big Strongarm was already reaching for it, spilling gratitude. She inspected it quickly, picking up the cap with another tentacle while she read the ingredients. “Beeswax, coconut oil… What is coconut? And almond?”

“Plants from my planet,” I said. “Seeds, kind of? Though the coconut is really big and kind of like a fruit with a shell. I don’t know what it really counts as. At any rate, it’s not toxic for me, though that doesn’t mean much.”

She turned it further. “There’s a species-safe diagram here, though it’s very small. I think that’s a dot in the Strongarm corner. Do you remember which is where?” She looked up at Mur.

“Lemme see.” He studied it for a moment while the wind gusted around us and the smaller Strongarm curled her tentacle under her. “Yes, that’s the right corner! Good news.”

“Excellent! Thank you!” The client snatched the tube and instructed the young one to hold out the vulnerable tentacle.

It took a while to cover the whole thing in chapstick, but the elder was determined, and the youngster was patient. Also more than a little embarrassed if I was reading the body language right, but I couldn’t blame her for that.

“Done!” the elder announced. “Did I miss anything? Are there any other spots that feel dry?”

“No, it’s fine.” The youngster pulled her tentacle back. “Feels weird.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with sympathy. “The wax is more noticeable than a good moisturizing lotion would be. But I hope it helps!”

The elder put the cap back on and moved to return it to me, but I told her she could keep it. They needed it more than I did. Plus it had tentacle-alien cooties all over it now, which I’d feel weird about using on my own mouth, but I didn’t say that.

“Honestly, it’s my least favorite flavor,” I said instead. “I got that one in a multipack. I’ll just get a better one later.”

She thanked me again and badgered the younger one into holding the tube, with instructions to reapply it the moment her skin started feeling dry again. The youngster insisted she was fine. The adult had clearly heard that before.

“Well,” Mur said. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you! May the wind torment you as little as possible.”

“We appreciate that,” the client said. “Do all humans carry these? I’ve seen human-run shops before, and never thought to look for moisturizing agent there.”

“Most of us probably don’t have chapstick on hand all the time, but it’s a good thing to have available. And humans do use skin moisturizer too! It’s probably not the same grade as the kind you’re used to, but if you’re in a tight spot in the future with a human-run store nearby, you can probably find something there.”

“That is very good to know,” she said. “Thank you again!”

We said our goodbyes and headed back out into the brunt of the wind. I could swear it was trying to unbraid my hair one strand at a time.

“Morbid curiosity,” Mur announced as we walked, “But what flavor do you prefer for lining your mouth with? Knowing humans, it’s probably gross.”

I had to smile. “I like the minty ones, which isn’t that weird. Or cherry. Though there was a cinnamon one I found once that I’d like to get again. It looked more like lipstick, which isn’t really what I’m going for, but it smelled good.”

“Hm,” Mur said. “And what was this one? Plant flavor?”

“It was mostly just beeswax. Not that great.”

“What kind of wax is ‘beez wax’?”

“Oh!” I lit up. “I told you about honey, right? The sweet stuff made by bugs?”

“Yeeeees,” he said with suspicion. “Your food additive that’s full of insect spit. Don’t tell me this is the same concept.”

“It’s what they make their hives with!” I told him. “I don’t think there’s as much spit involved. I looked it up once, and the wax seeps out of these pores on their sides, making little scales, then if enough of them flap their wings to raise the temperature to soften it, they can shape it into the little cells to lay eggs and store honey in. But not at the same time. And yeah, they probably do that with their mouths, so there might be some spit involved.”

Mur’s squid face was contorted into an expression of spectacular disgust. “And you put that on your mouth,” he said.

“Yup!” I brushed hair back from my face. “Probably good the client only asked about the other ingredients.”

Mur walked faster. “I hope they don’t find out until we are far out of range.”

“It’s not that gross!”

“You said that about honey too.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[alwayscorvus]

"Petals of love" - Blade as your boyfriend Part 2

"Petals of love" - Blade as your boyfriend Part 2

Blade x malereader, fluff, soulmate au; requested, Part 1; sorry for the wait but med uni is terrifying sometimes. and thanksss again, that made my day. Hopes its acceptable

Mornings:

In normal work days, when you don't have time to fool around in the shine of a rising sun, you both wake up pretty early.

Blade is an early bird which unfortunately affects you too. He involuntary gets up around 5/6 a.m.

And compared to you, he looks brand-new.

But even when you are sleepy, can hardly open your eyes and all you dream about is to just cuddle into your boyfriend's warm body for a few more hours, Blade shows no mercy.

With a swift motion he gets up from your bed, puts on a nearby shirt, which was hanging on a chair just a minute ago and in a firm voice announces you that it's time to wake up.

Maybe the reason why Blade is so strict is because he's afraid that he'll actually succumb to you and won't get out of your grasp till noon.

And he has a goal. A clearly stated goal. To work hard and successfully complete missions. As many as possible.

And to achieve this, you both need to put yourself together. The earlier the better.

Before just leaving the room, he sticks his finger between your ribs and tells you to not delay.

Still, Blade realizes that your habits are quite different from his. And although he pretends to be demanding, he secretly gives you some blissful extra minutes of sleep. Going to the shared kitchen firstly and leaving you alone.

While you are enjoying your last moments in a soft bed he is already preparing your morning coffee. Black. Strong. This kind that a true warrior should drink. Blade wouldn't allow you to show any weakness.

Or at least that's an official version. When Kafka and Silver aren't looking, he secretly adds a little milk or a pinch of sugar. If that's your preferred version, of course.

When you finally manage to join him, he is already waiting for you with a mug of steaming from heat drink.

By rubbing your eyes you try to fight off last signs of sleepiness.

Thanking, with one hand you receive a gift and with other you grab Blade by waist.

He involuntarily turns his cheek towards you. In order for you to lean over his smaller form and kiss him for a greeting as usual.

Later, when Blade is satisfied, you just lean against the stone countertop.

Your lack of shirt and low-rise sweatpants allow its cold to scratch your back unpleasantly.

You ignore it, however, and ask what your boyfriend is in the mood for.

In this relationship, you are the one responsible for rational eating. If it weren't for you, your "silly" boyfriend would have set off to fight monsters without a breakfast.

And it is obviously impossible to conquer world on an empty stomach.

When he is/you are sick

In this relationship, it is mainly you who take care of his health and try to introduce his life to healthy habits.

Blade is a big and smart boy. He knows that he has to take care of himself if he wants to perform well. But unfortunately, he often forgets that. Or sometimes, worse. He thinks that he deserves a little more pain and suffering.

Hearing this makes you want to punch him for the mere thought of such a thing, and everyone else who in the past led to his present state.

However, you know that currently you can't do anything about it. So you act here and now, by looking after his health and well-being for him.

When he is sick, you literally have to keep him in bed by force. So he doesn't run off to train. And even though he is wrecked by fever, Blade in his “weakened” state is still very strong. After giving him pills and plenty of water, you end up locking him in a tight hug.

Then you sleep for hours. Cuddled together in a bed. Blade is covered with extra thick layers of fluffy duvet to warm up his body.

You stay awake the whole time, never letting him out of your sight. And every now and then you sooth his burning forehead with kisses.

Meanwhile, when you get sick… Blade becomes oddly protective and possessive. He doesn't let anyone into your bedroom. Only he can take care of you, and only he knows how to do it. He prepares cold bandages for you. And what's even more shocking, cooks a ramen. You wouldn't suspect him of having a great culinary talent. But you've never eaten anything better in your life. Maybe because you know it was made by your lover. Or maybe it's because Blade really put an effort into preparing it.

If that weren't enough, Blade demands for you to sit still while he feeds you with his soup. Cooling each spoon beforehand.

What he does for you/Massages

During training, Blade doesn't give you a break. So he can understand when you're tired and everything hurts you afterwards.

He is already used to them, he even likes it at some point. By them he feels alive.

You, however, are something else. He knows it.

Blade has only you. You are the only one that really matters to him. So he has to take care of you.

It is for these reasons why after every difficult training or mission, Blade offers you a massage. Whether it's your back, shoulders or ankles. He always does it in silence and great concentration, with hidden love and great care.

To do this, he uses his own handmade oil. Made from rose petals.

He dips his soft, bony hands into an oily liquid and kneads your sore body in a slow, steady motion. Towards the end, he gently brushes and strokes your skin to prolong your pleasure. Silently thanking himself for protecting his hands under bandages and gloves every day. Thanks to that, despite his constant weapon gripping, his fingertips aren't rough.

When he wears your clothes

Apparently, this is something that couples do. It is also said that your partner looks adorable in your clothes, especially when they are too loose for him. When your shirt reaches halfway down his thighs, almost resembling a dress.

Blade doesn't understand this idea. It's weird, strange.

What's more, Blade doesn't feel the need to “steal” your clothes because he just doesn't like your style. Not that he doesn't find it good-looking. Indeed, you look attractive in things you wear. (from an objective point of view, of course. Blade would never get fooled by your handsome face)

Despite this, however, Blade is a very simple man. That's why, when his part of closet is in a laundry, he suddenly needs to throw something on himself and in his reach he has only your dark sweatshirt or blood maroon shirt, he doesn't think twice.

Second option greatly highlights his good features and depth of eyes. It's really hard for you keep still.

If we are already on subject of clothes... Quick mention about matching clothes. You know Blade enough to know that there is nothing more stupid than suggesting this idea to him. You prefer to keep remnants of dignity in his eyes. You're also no longer a teenager to get excited by such things. But this cultural tradition in some parts of world captivates you. And you want to mark your possessiveness a bit. That's why you've changed the color theme of your closet to match your other half. Dark, black colors with ruby and emerald accents.

Blade never pays attention to this. But Kafka, seeing this, smiles softly to herself.

How he calls you/nicknames

It's probably obvious that Blade wouldn't use any adorable nicknames in a relationship.

The only thing that you can hope for is your name and in the future... maybe a straight "fiance" or "husband".

You can use whatever you simply prefer at a time. As long as it's not "too cute". For "honey bun" and names like that you could expect a dagger in your guts.

You often use a classic "babe" "love" orrr... "hubby".

Holidays and valentine

Blade isn't a person who would celebrate any holidays, especially commercial ones. Sure, he may show respect to deceased ancestors or something like that. But he's not going to decorate a Christmas tree with you, start baking gingerbread houses, light lanterns, or give you any gifts related to valentines day. He's just not the type. Besides, Blade has no time for that.

You respect that. But on such days, you still give him some small gift straight from a heart.

When he has a nightmare

Unfortunately, this happens pretty often. Blade can't get any sleep at night. He regularly gets up even before sunrise, and goes to bed around midnight, if not later. You tried to change that, but no matter what you did it was completely pointless.

Even when you went to bed earlier together, Blade couldn't fall asleep. Despite your "magical" embrace, nothing helped at those moments.

Maybe it was the darkness. Thought about what lurks in the shadows. Past and future. All of Blade's victims. These whose lives he took. And these who were preparing a revenge.

Threat not only to him alone, but to you as well.

Memories wouldn't let him shut his eyes. And even when he finally did manage to fall asleep, he would wake up screaming during the night.

Blade would rise rapidly to a sitting position. And worried you, did exactly the same.

He was breathing heavily. His forehead was covered in sweat. He stared dully at the wall in front of him. As if seeing something in it that you couldn't.

His suffering was killing you. But all you could do at such moments was whisper to him quietly, "Everything will be fine. I'm here. You are not alone. I will never leave you. You are safe with me" and make a slow circles on his back, waiting until his breathing would normalize.

Such situations happened quite often. Especially at the beginning of your relationship. Over time, however, they were less and less frequent.

Presence of a soulmate nearby, healed Blade's wounds slowly.

When you ignore him

Don't. Even. Think. About it. That would make him feel so uneasy. He would start doubting himself. And the idea of him being not enough for you could break him.

You know in fact how fragile his ego is. So even in the hardest moments, when you're fed up or tired, you remember to give him at least a little attention.

His way of being clingy

This definitely doesn't happen often. Especially in Blade's case. But there are times when he seeks your attention. He misses the warmth of another person. Especially after being left thirsty for many years. And soulmate bond also does its job.

At such moments Blade doesn't leave your side.

When you get up from a couch he gets up with you. When you go to the kitchen he goes with you. You don't even have a second for yourself. He is like a shadow. He is able to follow you even to the bathroom. It's a good thing that after a years of relationship, a shower in his company is no more a problem for you.

Blade doesn't say anything, doesn't touch you and doesn't take the lead.

He just takes a seat next to you and waits for you to finally figure it out. Embrace him or put a hand on his thigh. Only then does he feel satisfied and stops " following" you.

In heath of a fight

This was one of those missions when Blade just had to do everything on his own way.

He made plan in his head and just had to fulfil it.

Of course, without consulting you beforehand, or even notifying.

Seeing a threat surrounding Blade from all sides, you were beyond panicked. You started screaming. That he should stop. That he should look out.

You even begged for a signal to retreat.

However, Blade in heat of a battle turned completely deaf to this. Only when he felt a piercing pain in his chest only then he stopped.

He came to his senses. Pushed back opponents that were rushing at him and hurriedly looked at his body. Aside from a blood of his enemies and standard "minor" injuries, he saw nothing suspicious there. At least not a huge hole in his heart which he had just felt.

Urged by a sudden realization, he looked around. And to his horror, he saw something that he definitely didn't want to see. You, protecting his back.

But you were supposed to stay behind. And not take part in it. That precisely how his plan sounded. That way he wouldn't have to constantly look for you and control safety of his other half. By that, he could completely lose himself into a fight and use his 100%. Spreading a total destruction.

However, it didn't occur to him that such turn of events would put him in a great danger.

As it was proven by your arm, pierced straight through.

It was only by this sight that the seriousness of your situation hit him. And he immediately took you out from that massacre you both were in.

You found shelter in some warehouse. Somewhere behind a pile of boxes.

You were sitting on the ground, resting your head heavily against a cold concrete wall. While Blade was between your legs, hugging you tightly. Or rather, you were the one squeezing him with all your strength. Making sure he was all right.

Blade didn't realize it, but if it hadn't been for you, just a few minutes ago, he would now be lying on a battlefield having wounds on all sides. You really had to work hard to prevent anything more serious from happening to him. Your hot-headed boy, definitely miscalculated the backup that came to support your enemies.

You didn't say anything. You didn't even have a strength to argue with him or point out stupidity of his plan. It was pointless. Anyway, you were just happy that he was right there with you. Safe.

You couldn't stop thinking, however, about this possibility that something bad could happen to him. That if you had reacted even a few seconds later. That if it hadn't been for your arm. Blade might have just had his lungs stabbed through… That drove you to pure convulsions.

-Can you… stop? - Blade asked somewhat unsurely but still in scolding voice.

And you turned your gaze to him, filled with confusion.

-I can feel your stress in my chest an it's… not comfotable at all - this time he said that far more confident and sharp.

You, after a moment of realization, laughed lightly. You forgot that some strong emotions can really effect your soulmate.

-I'm right there with you and I'm perfectly fine so stop worrying about me. Better worry about yourself. You are the one with a big hole here.

-I'm sorry love, I'm just really glad that you are safe - you said kissing him on a forehead.

He only blushed slightly and snuggled more into a crook of your neck.

He truly felt safe.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in July 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #64 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🌊 don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 83k, trans Louis) the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

🌊 The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, dragons) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

🌊 let me carry your weight by @soldouthaz

(E, 28k, trainer Harry) louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

🌊 Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 26k, canon divergence) Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

🌊 Peeping by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 16k, roommates) Louis has a thing for his housemate, Harry is under the impression that clothing around the house is an optional extra, and neither of them seem to be able to stop wanking long enough to get their shit together and admit their true feelings.

🌊 It's halftime. Are you ready to go? by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry

(E, 12k, body worship) football is gay and Harry is trying to cope.

🌊 Be Mine? by @softfonds

(E, 12k, famous/not famous) Getting dumped the week before Valentine's Day wasn't in Harry's plans, and neither was being dragged to a concert to forget about it.

🌊 The Checkout by @silverstuff50

(E, 12k, omegaverse) Omega Harry is a bit obsessed with one of the workers at the small supermarket around the corner from his flat.

🌊 every day and tomorrow night by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 8k, high school) “You know the rule, Z,” Harry answers, still not pulling his eyes away from this unexpected Adonis. “If I lick it, it’s mine.”

🌊 Standing On the Edge of Falling by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(NR, 5k, famous/not famous) It’s Harry’s first security gig, and somehow, he landed Glastonbury. Unfortunately, he’s been tasked with telling a very gorgeous man that he can’t stream the football match. Things go … much better than expected.

🌊 Body Stay Vicious by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 5k, pwp) the one where Harry is feeling himself in the gym and gets a little carried away. Of course his gym crush just happens to walk in. They work it out

🌊 Unspoken by Speechless / @smokingluckiesalltheway

(E, 5k, exes) Harry and Louis broke up when they were nineteen. They see each other after six years.

🌊 Figure This Out by @haztobegood

(E, 2k, age difference) Louis is everything Harry could have imagined when he’d typed “silver fox enthusiast” into his Grindr profile. Too bad he's probably scared Louis off by giving him too many expensive gifts.

🌊 sandwiches on the shady shore by @juliusschmidt

(T, 2k, summer romance) And then, because he’s already showed up embarrassingly early in the day and made Louis a cheese sandwich, he adds, “I wanted to.” Part 3 of Cabin on the Bluff

🌊 Irrumabo by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(E, 2k, sex pollen) Harry’s plane is delayed. He buys a plant.

🌊 coming home by @nouies

(E, 2k, canon Euros 2024) It’s coming home, one way or another.

🌊 Tastes Like Violets by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/famous) Louis has a death metal band, Harry doesn't mind public challenges via Twitter, and Lottie thinks they're both hopelessly chaotic.

🌊 It Was Electric Touch by @allwaswell16

(E, 2k, silver fox Louis) Harry, assistant to The Snuts' manager, has been indulging in fantasies about the headliner and founder of the Away From Home Festival, Louis Tomlinson. He gets the chance to indulge in the real thing at the after party.

🌊 If Life Is a Photograph by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) Harry gets plucked out of the crowd to take Louis’ crew pic on stage in Guadalajara.

🌊 For you i would lose my mind by @dreaminrainbows

(E, 1k, pwp) Louis is a total menace on stage and Harry has had enough of it

🌊 Salt On My Tongue by @homosociallyyours

(E, 649 words, incubus/witch) Harry is a witch who's been dabbling in summoning sex demons for a while now. He's become especially devoted to one incubus in particular, a blue eyed demon called Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🌊 Four, Five, Finished? by @beanno28 , @lalalaartje

(E, 45k, Zayn/Louis/Harry) Now that they've all settled down in their relationship dynamic, Zayn, Harry and Louis agree it's time for the next step. They're having a baby! As usual for the three of them, nothing goes as planned. Part 3 of You Only Fall In Love Twice

🌊 Pay It Forward by @reminiscingintherain

(M, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn's agreed to be a sperm donor for his lesbian friends. Louis' his best friend, and he supports Zayn's decision... right?

[deathisararemercy]

Sweets for Sweetheart's Day

Death x Reader

Just one day. You just had to make it through this one day. Tomorrow, you could go ransack the town and buy out all the leftover chocolate and candies that people would be dying to get rid of, maybe pick up a few flowers for your place. All you had to get through was this one day: Sweetheart’s Day.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I have many many thoughts on this holiday that may or may have definitely bled through into the reader's perspective. But hey! New dividers ohohoho. And my sincere apologies for the delay in responding to requests. Life has gotten unexpectedly busy, and I anticipate it being more busy in the coming weeks. Unfortunately, requests are closed for now, and they will remain closed after I've finished the ones currently sitting in my inbox. But they should hopefully reopen before the end of the month! To hold you all over, here's a little thing about a reader who is a bit of a foodie and gets a little less lonely on Sweethearts Day. Cheers!

Just one day. You just had to make it through this one day. Tomorrow, you could go ransack the town. You could walk the streets without feeling discomfort, uneasy, and (admittedly) a painful twinge of jealousy. You could buy out all the leftover chocolate and candies that people would be dying to get rid of, maybe even pick up a few flowers for your place.

All you had to get through was this one day:

Sweetheart’s Day.

The annual celebration of all things love (be it romantic, platonic, familial and everything in-between) seemed to be extra annoyingly loud and in your face this year. In the weeks leading up to this beloved and cherished holiday, you couldn’t walk three steps without someone brandishing carnations or candies in your face, insisting that you prepare something for the sweetheart in your life right that instant, nevermind the fact that the flowers would likely shrivel up and die in a few days.

Looks like they’re trying out some potions to get them to last a bit longer this year though, you thought absentmindedly to yourself as you passed a vendor selling last minute flower bouquets while sprinkling a sparkling green liquid on the flowers. The delicate smell of flowers mixed with the sugary sweetness wafting from the bakeries running along this street was just a little bit overwhelming. It was like walking straight into a rosebush, sending prickles up your arms that made you want to rub your skin incessantly.

The people around you didn’t seem to mind though. Sweetheart’s Day festivities were in full swing with flower petals being periodically rained through the air and paper hearts being strung up. Loud music blared from every street corner, and bars and taverns were full of bar crawlers.

Children swung from their parents’ arms. Lovers clasped hands and chatted merrily. Friends laughed and gave each other bone-shatteringly tight hugs. Even animals seemed to be getting into the Sweetheart’s Day spirit. Just a ways down the street, a bipedal tabby cat was offering a black cat a single rose, tipping his feathered hat. The black cat laughed and took the rose, smiling fondly.

Everyone seemed to have at least someone to be with this Sweetheart’s Day.

But you would be spending this Sweetheart’s Day alone.

There’s a difference between being alone and lonely. You can be lonely and unalone, or alone but not lonely. Right now, you were lonely and alone which was arguably the worst state to be in.

“But you know what?” you said to absolutely no one. You stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, your gaze passing over but not truly seeing the people around you. “I’m going to get myself a pastry. Because I deserve it!” You put your hands on your hips, asserting the fact that you were one hundred percent certain of this sudden decision. “Yeah…yeah! I’m going to go into that bakery,” you proclaimed, pointing at a startled baker through the window, “And get myself some baked goods to make me feel happy today!”

Bless the stars above for baked goods and good food.

You marched straight into the bakery you had pointed at, the baker and the few customers within it yelping a bit as you stormed in. The walls of the little store were lined with shelves and shelves of pies, cookies, cakes, breads, and all the pastries you could dream of. Cackling, you began to pick up as many as you could. You were a whirlwind, a storm, a wild beast unable to be tamed, a-

“Having a bad Sweetheart’s Day?”

You bumped into someone very tall, dropping the pie you snatched up. Before you could react, a paw grabbed it just before it reached the floor. “My lattices!” the baker wailed from behind the counter.

Ignoring the incoherent babbling and confusion of the baker, you looked up, up, up at the hooded figure. Piercing red eyes met yours. They weren’t scary or angry. They were…amused. And they belonged to a wolf with very, very sharp teeth.

“You could say that,” you said, slurring your words a bit as you held your horde of treasure closer and turned away from him.

The wolf chuckled, reaching over you and plucking a few of the sweet rolls you had stacked on your mound of goods. “Let me help you with some of those.” Reluctantly, you let him take a few of your precious sweets away from you, effortlessly holding them in an arm. “Y’know,” teased the wolf as he took one last jelly tart from your pile, “Usually people show up to these places and bring a basket or something.” He sniffed the tart, eyes lighting up. “Oh, these smell good.”

Your lip twisted as you held your chin up high (and not because the wolf was much taller than you). “I just so happened to be passing by and was drawn in suddenly by the tantalizing smell of jelly tarts. Besides,” you added assuredly, “I could easily eat all of these. By. My. Self.”

“They’re certainly tantalizing, and you definitely have the right spirit,” the wolf smiled. You realized that you two had managed your way to the counter. The baker still seemed to be in a state of shock, muttering about pies and customers and the holidays. “Allow me.” You began to protest when the wolf began tapping the counter and asking the baker how much the pastries would cost, but he held up a clawed finger and continued pressing the baker for details. Eventually, the baker’s senses returned and you were suddenly standing outside the shop in possession of way too many baked goods.

This is why we don’t buy things on impulse.

The wolf stretched his arms, rolling back his shoulders. “Well, it’s been fun. And a bit entertaining too.”

You scoffed jokingly, unoffended. This guy was so... “Was seeing someone have a sudden loneliness-induced craving for baked goods really that entertaining? Sheesh, don’t you have better things to do?”

He practically howled, tossing his head back and letting his hood fall to his shoulders. His grey fur was the color of dusty bones, but you could feel the lively playfulness in his deep voice. “I’ve been around for a while and Sweetheart’s Day is usually the same old thing. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone have a sudden loneliness-induced craving for baked goods.”

“Well there’s a first and a last time for everything,” you said, unceremoniously taking a bite out of a chocolate roll. “This was a once in a lifetime event, and you and that baker were the only ones to see it.”

“I see,” the wolf replied slowly. While you continued eating the roll, you could feel his eyes on you. It felt like he was staring. Was he staring? Would it be weird to look? Oh, fairy godmother. You just wanted to eat this plethora of sweets in peace. But also he paid for your food. And he was nice. And kind of cute. Or handsome. Or whatever.

With an exaggerated groan, you rolled your eyes and offered the wolf a heart-shaped jelly tart from your bag. “Here. Thanks for buying all this stuff for me.” You chanced a look. His eyes softened at the offered tart. Peeking down, you could see his tail wagging a bit under his poncho. When you looked up, your gaze met his.

“...Thank you.”

“Y-yeah. No trouble at all.” You snuck more glances as he tentatively licked the jelly before devouring the tart in a bite. “Holy wish! And I thought I was a crazy fast eater!”

His head suddenly turned towards you abashedly. For a moment, you stared at each other, before he pointed at the bag of goods.

You ended up sitting down at a bench with the wolf.

Turns out, he hadn’t had sweets in a long time. “I usually don’t go out to eat or anything,” he said, munching on a cookie.

“Really?” You stuffed another chocolate in your mouth. With an incredulous look, you asked, “So what brought you into that bakery?”

“Oh, I followed you in.” You choked a little bit. “You were being very dramatic in the middle of the street like that.”

“Honestly, that was pretty tame compared to some of the professions of undying love I’ve seen today.”

The wolf chuckled. “Well, maybe you’re right.”

By some miracle, you two had reached the bottom of the bag. “Dang. I honestly thought this would be some sort of magic nanny bag with no end,” you sighed. Regret sank into your stomach, along with the food. Why were you feeling upset? Shaking your head sadly, you pulled out the last baked good: a loaf of tear-and-share bread. You split it into two and offered the other half to the wolf, who took it gratefully. “Cheers. To eating sweets on Sweetheart’s Day.”

“To eating sweets on Sweetheart’s Day,” the wolf chorused with a smile. The two of you finished your respective pieces and continued to sit at the bench, watching the people passing by.

“You know,” you said slowly, “I actually don’t know your name. I kind of feel like I should, considering you bought me an entire bag of baked goods.”

For the first time since encountering him, the wolf frowned, eyes narrowing as he stared at the cobblestone road.

“What? Something wrong?”

He sighed. “Oh, what the hell.” He turned to you, your attention rapt. “I am Death.”

“Death.”

“Death,” he nodded. “Not in any fancy way or anything like that. I am Death.”

“Huh. So Death just bought me sweets on Sweetheart’s Day and I shared them all with…”

“Him.”

“Him,” you nodded. Well. This was a lot to process. “Honestly though,” you murmured loud enough for him to hear, “It was pretty fun.”

“Haha, it was ‘pretty fun’?”

“Oh yeah. Really fun.” You grinned, and you really meant it. You offered a hand. “Thanks for making this Sweetheart’s Day a little less lonely. Really less lonely, really.”

He took your hand in his paw, his fur cold, and gently kissed it. “Of course.” With that, he stood up, barely giving you time to process that you were kissed on the hand by Death. He drew his hood and gave you a smile. “Hasta la muerte.”

“Hasta la muerte,” you whispered as the wolf began to whistle and disappeared into the crowd. For a short while, you sat there on the bench on the side of the street, stunned. When your senses slowly returned to you, you looked back down and, to your surprise, found a jelly tart on your lap. A soft laugh escaped your lips. Sweet.

[soulwitch]

If we have an ongoing thread that you really want to continue over do let me know.

There's a few of good automatically continue but oh, if there's one you want to really make sure is continued, let me know before the end of the night.

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

delayed ~ eminem

word count: 1133

request?: yes!

“Hey, here is your new follower and lover of your writing ♥ ️, I need more imagine of Eminem I feel they do not value it, so here is a request, Reader is a young actress and is recording abroad and Marshall started his tour a much bigger one, and reader promised her that she would be there during her entire tour from the beginning, but she is delayed because she has to record one more week the movie in which she is the protagonist but she arrives by surprise at the first show of the tour and stays for the whole tour and there are many moments of soft, tender and somewhat hot you know in the dressing room.”

description: in which he thinks she’s going to miss his first show, only to be surprised when he goes on stage

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

I could see the look of disappointment on Marshall’s face as I told him the news, although he was trying not to show his face too much on camera. “They’re making you stay an extra week?”

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Some last minute reshoots are supposed to happen this week apparently. I did tell them about the tour.”

“I know you did. It’s not your fault you’re a big movie star now.”

I smiled a little at his comment. “I’ll join you eventually.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Once my phone screen went black, I smiled up at my co-star who was sat across from me in my trailer. She smiled back as she placed another item in my suitcase. “Damn girl, you even had me believing you.”

“They don’t call me the next big thing for nothing,” I joked.

The truth is, there was no extra week of reshoots. We had finished the film earlier that day and now one of my co-stars was helping me to pack my things. I was supposed to fly to Michigan the following day to join Marshall on his latest tour. With filming ending so much earlier than expected, I managed to switch my flight for that night instead.

I decided not to tell Marshall this though. I wanted it to be a surprise. Very rarely did I ever get the chance to surprise him the way he often surprised me. I had it all planned out, I just needed help to work on one last detail.

I said goodbye to the cast and crew I had become so close to the past few months and climbed into my Uber. As we drove towards the airport, I called the only person that could help enact my plan.

“Hey (Y/N),” Paul said as he answered the phone. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s great! I just need to ask you for a favor, but you can’t even mention it to Marshall, okay?”

He was silent for so long that I thought he was going to say no. I nearly sighed with relief when he finally said, “I’m intrigued. Go on.”

~~~~~~

The next night, I was stood outside the side door of the arena Marshall was meant to perform in. I was trying to hide myself the best I could from passing fans, as I waited for someone to come open the door for me.

Paul finally arrived just minutes before the concert was supposed to start. “I couldn’t get away without seeming suspicious. I had to get Denaun to call me so I could pretend to have to step out.”

Security guided me to the front row without being spotted by Marshall. The other fans in the front row were ecstatic to see me, and I agreed to take pictures under the circumstances that nothing would be posted to social media until after the concert.

The lights went down and the audience went wild. The familiar beat to Marshall’s opening song started playing as the spotlight on stage lit up where Marshall would emerge. When he did, the cheers were so loud I could barley hear his voice.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I watched him perform. He looked so in his element, the way he did whenever he was working on music. I wondered if he’d even see me there in the front during the show. Even if he didn’t, Paul was going to get me backstage to surprise him at the end of the show.

During the first point of the show in which Marshall and Denaun had a banter with each other and the audience, the fans surrounding me started to yell together to try and get their attention.

“What are y’all yelling about down here?” Denaun asked, although he definitely knew what it was about. “They’re saying for us to look down there.”

Marshall’s eyes trailed to the group that was still yelling in my ears, finally landing on me.

“Oh shit!” he said, not realizing his mic was still raised to his mouth.

I smiled at him, longing to hug him tightly and to kiss him for the firs time in months, but I knew he wasn’t a fan of PDA. Instead, I waved and blew him a kiss and watched his face brighten with excitement.

“We’ll talk about this after the show,” he stated. “Can one of the security bring my girl backstage? I can’t focus while she’s here, she’s too distracting.”

The same security as earlier helped me to get backstage while the concert continued. I watched from the sidelines, now getting a perfect view of both Marshall and all of his fans as he performed. I loved when I was able to go on tour with him because I loved to watch the excitement of the fans as well as all the heart and soul Marshall put into his performances. It was always a rush, even though I wasn’t the one participating in the concert.

Before I knew it, the show came to an end and Marshall came rushing off stage. He had me in his arms within seconds, lifting me off of the ground and kissing me with so much force it made me dizzy. Around us, those who were in on the surprise were laughing at his reaction.

“I thought you were delayed!” he said once he finally put me down.

“The opposite, actually,” I responded. “We finished filming early, so I decided to get an earlier flight to come and visit you!”

“But how did you...” He trailed off as he looked up at Paul, who had what could only be described as a shit eating grin on his face. “You helped her with this, didn’t you?”

“I thought you deserved a good surprise,” Paul responded with a shrug. “When she called, I answered. I got Denaun in on the plan, too, so he could help.”

“So did everyone know except me?” Marshall asked.

“Basically,” Paul replied with a shrug.

I giggled as Marshall hugged me again, quickly capturing my lips with his once more.

“Does this mean you’re coming on tour with me now?” he asked.

“If you still want me to.”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do! I can’t tour without my favorite girl.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek once again. Marshall threw an arm over my shoulder and started leading me back to his dressing room. Paul and Denaun started following at first, which caused Marshall to pause. “Could you guys give us some privacy?”

“Man, in the dressing room?” Paul groaned. “We’re gonna owe this venue so much.”

Neither of us were listening at this point. Marshall whisked me away, closing the dressing room door behind him and locking it.

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches. 

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now. 

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

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Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.” 

_

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

__

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

_

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

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☆

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[apixrl]

DROWSY.

levi ackerman x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.4k

song: before i close my eyes // xxxtentacion

note(s): soft levi lives in my head rent free and that's perfectly okay he can stay for as long as he wants to

Your hand pressed against your back as you stretched, stifling a yawn that echoed through the hallway. You swore you could hear your joints wailing out in distress, every step feeling as though you were dragging a weight behind you that was five times your size. Your bed was calling out to you in more ways than you could count, the idea of snuggling under the covers absolutely heavenly.

It had been a long and tiresome day, to say the least. After waking up early and in bright spirits, you made the decision to go on a long morning jog. To ready yourself for a presumably easy day. But those words came back to bite you when Captain Levi dropped you and your comrades into an intense training segment that lasted all morning. Then proceeded a heavy clean of headquarters in the afternoon. Ordered to rid the underside of the tables of dust and to clear those sneaky corners of muck that had festered far too long. To put a long story short; you were about ready to drop dead on the floor by the time evening rolled on by.

You loved Levi with all your heart, but unfortunately, your relationship with him didn't come with any bonuses. Yes, you saw a softer side on occasion, but the man never allowed bias to take over during work hours. You were treated the same as the others; a soldier in the ranks. A member of Levi's squad. When you did right you were praised and when you did wrong you served the consequences. Levi would set you on a thirty lap run around the camp perimeter if he saw fit, and there was no getting out of it. As much as you could complain, you knew it was for the best. When it came down to it, Levi was your superior as well as his partner and there had to be some line between the two.

Plodding along the hallway, your bedroom door up ahead was your saviour. You could practically taste the sweet rest waiting for you on the other side. Though just before you could reach your salvation, a voice from the neighbouring room stopped you in your step and tore you away from it.

"Y/N,"

Levi.

It would be lying to say you didn't whimper, so close to a good night's sleep yet so far all in one go. But you weren't so selfish that you'd ignore your lover's call because you were simply exhausted. Yes, you considered it... but resisting the urge gave you credibility, right?

Regardless, you exhaled a sigh knowing it would be wrong not to respond. That man you called your partner had ears like a cat anyway. He probably heard you make your way down the hall or noticed your shadow under the door and had sensed your halt upon his call. So dragging your eyes away from the vision of your wonderfully made bed (Levi having been the one to tuck the sheets in that morning since he was the last one up. So no wonder you were fantasizing at the idea of collapsing on there) behind the door of your room, you set your gaze on the door to Levi's office instead.

You realised it was open just a tad, explaining Levi sensing your approach so easily. Pressing your hands against the wooden frame, you pushed it open and popped your head around the door, forcing your eyes open no matter how much they pleaded to close against the candlelight.

As expected, Levi was seated at the chair of his desk. Neck-deep in papers that he'd been working on most of the night. One shorter pile to the left and a taller one to the right - one pile waiting to be looked at whilst the other sat completed. You wondered which one that was... and prayed for Levi's sake it was the tallest pile to allow him a good night's sleep.

His greyed eyes didn't look up upon your entry, something you just managed to notice through the strands of wispy black locks atop Levi's head. That seemed to indicate he was focused on the task at hand, especially from the way his hand efficiently worked at the pieces of paper like it was on autopilot.

"Yes, love?" You asked, resting against the door for a brief moment as your tiredness caught up with you. If you had reacted to it a second later you believed you would have tipped over from loss of balance, and you were relieved when Levi spoke up once more - his voice jolting you upright.

"I need you to take some papers down to the Commander for me," Levi stated, a certain tone in his voice indicating his own form of tiredness. But you knew that rarely stopped him and his work, the man willing to stay up until the early hours of the morning just to get it finished.

His words made your body panic, unsure if it could muster a journey all the way to Erwin's whereabouts. You had barely walked up the stairs of headquarters well, let alone travelling back down them and then all the way back up again.

"It can't wait until tomorrow?" You tried, chewing the inside of your cheek gingerly. From the way Levi glanced over his wad of papers, grey eyes filled with doubt, you knew it was a longshot. "It's just late, that's all. You need to rest,"

"No," Levi ceased all action, slouching down in his seat briefly as his fingertips held the bridge of his nose. His version of a short break and a way to bury his annoyance down. It appeared to be one of those nights, where he was swamped with work and didn't have the opportunity to simply 'head to bed'. "I'm still nowhere near done, and I don't have the time to take the ones I've already looked at to Erwin because of that," It was there his hand propped up, elbow resting on his other which has splayed over his chest. He motioned you over, eyes skipping between you and the seat opposite him until you got the message.

You were delayed in realising, feeling guilty at your inability to proceed Levi's words. You heard them, but fatigue seemed to seize hold and throw them out the window before your brain could comprehend the meaning. You hoisted yourself off of the doorframe, letting the hinges squeak the door shut behind you as you made your way to Levi's desk. You then sat yourself down, hands pressed to the chair arms as your attention steered to your partner.

"Okay... so which pile am I taking?" Was your question, forcing a small smile to at least seem interested. The black-haired man straightened up, eyes skimming over the papers on his desk and seemingly on the floor too. That made your brow raise, head tilting to the side ever so slightly in wonder. What was behind the desk?

Levi proceeded to push his chair back with his feet, his head quickly disappearing under the table as if to grab something. You rested your cheek in your palm as you waited, a hint of a frown as you waited. Your assumptions were correct as, after a few seconds of scuffling around, Levi reappeared from under the desk - standing up to place yet another pile of paper wherever his desk had the space to hold it.

"This one," He addressed, exhaling heavily once he was comfortable in his seat again. Just when you thought that was it, Levi pushed the taller pile of papers forward as well, and it would be wrong to say you were joyful of the sight. In fact, you were very much dismayed, the sight of the multiple piles of papers meaning more than one trip.

Suddenly you wished the shorter pile was the finished one.

"And this one," Levi spoke with little character as per usual, gazing upon the piles of papers like they were nothing more than a pile of dirt. Clearly, he had experienced little joy going through them, but work never got done whilst complaining. The only words ringing in his mind to convince Levi to get his head down and focus. "You'll probably need to take two trips,"

"You don't say," You commented and sighed to yourself. For hours you had awaited your mattress and now look at you, even further away from reaching it as before. It was a big shame you woke up in such an energetic mood and was ending the day feeling like you couldn't lift a finger. "And if I cant find Commander Erwin?"

"He should be in his office," Levi returned. "But if not, place the right pile on his desk," He then gestured to the left, hand pressing on top for emphasis. "This one will need sorting, however. Just separate the tags in the stack and the drawer they belong in is on there. It shouldn't take you too long, just make sure the files are in the right place or Erwin won't be pleased. Oh, and try not to drop them, please? I'd rather not lose four hours worth of work because of your two left feet -," Levi was cut short by a sound he was not at all expecting. A snorting noise caught him off guard, but when he looked up at you in question the answers quickly came pouring in.

It appeared in Levi's ramble you had grown bored. As there you were, head lolling forwards as your arm tried to prop it up, eyes closed and snoring away to your heart's content. Levi quirked a brow at your behaviour, then scoffed lightly. The man couldn't say he was surprised, of course you would nod off to sleep exactly when he needed your help. At a time where he was swamped with things to do and an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt.

"Y/N," He tried after a minute or so passed, Levi frowning at the lack of response. If anything, the snoring grew louder. It was there he tried again, a little more firmly and loudly but still, nothing.

Typical.

Levi sat there in silence and disbelief, watching your frame rise and fall with each intake of breath. Meanwhile, you simply slept on without a care in the world, but it's not like he could leave you there. Leaving you sleeping in such a way was bound to cause a nasty neck and backache the following morning. So with a sigh, Levi hoisted himself out of his chair and walked around his desk to your side. Then he knelt down to your level, hand landing on your shoulder to give you a gentle but firm shake.

"Y/N," Levi spoke, a little softer this time, all whilst trying to nudge you awake. It appeared you had only lightly nodded off, as, after three or four shakes, you stirred out of your little nap. Your eyes shot open to meet Levi's observing you closely, a hint of a frown to his face as he did. In your state you barely noticed though, too busy trying to shake off your drowsiness but failing miserably as your eyes merely drooped more.

"Levi?" You mumbled tiredly, lifting your gaze towards your lover, puzzled over why he was so close to you. "What is it?"

"You fell asleep," Levi said with hesitancy, glancing away from you for a second before he continued. "Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Yes... everything's fine," You reassured, sending him a reassuring smile. Levi narrowed his gaze, prompting you to keep going. "It's just been a long day, that's all,"

"I see," Levi nodded, noticing your lack of attentiveness and sleepy demeanour. All of which you tried to force back through your smile. But Levi knew you better than that. He could see straight through the façade just how you could see straight through his, acting as though you were fine when it was truly quite the opposite. That was enough for Levi to suspect something was up, and that little switch in his head that differed between his role as Captain and partner flipped in an instant.

"Sorry... y-you were saying something before I dropped off weren't you?" You asked and pointed to the papers on the table. "Something about them?"

Levi turned to look at where you gestured, seeing the papers that still needed taking to Erwin. He contemplated still asking for your help, but it was obvious from just the way you looked alone that you were long desperate for rest. So exhaling a small sigh, Levi reluctantly cast his gaze back onto you and shook his head.

"No, don't worry about it," He allowed his hand to leave your shoulder and moved it to your face. Where he tucked a few loose strands of your H/C hair behind your ear, continuing. "It can wait until tomorrow,"

"Are you sure?" You asked through a yawn, leaning into the hand that Levi proceeded to support your cheek with. The subtle graze of his thumb over your cheekbone relaxing you to the point sleep nearly stole you from him once more.

As much as he disliked tampering with his organised routine, Levi knew sending you on errands whilst so tired would do you no good the next day. Perhaps he had pushed you a little far without realising, the thought running through his mind later on in the morning. You'd been lagging behind your comrades more than usual. Much opposing to you typically being at the front of the group and urging them on over the other way around. Whilst it wasn't as obvious in the afternoon, the strain in your expression as you scrubbed the floors and countertops had peeked its way through to him. Levi knew you in and out, and the frustration displayed ran much deeper than that of germs and bacteria. That was blatant now more than ever, so the least you deserved was a good night's rest. Just because he could run on little hours of sleep didn't mean you could.

"Yeah," Levi admired you under the dim light of his office after he spoke. Your inattentive gaze somehow continued to hold such focus as you looked back at him. The way you smiled with such love and yearn. How your cheek felt warm in his palm like he was holding the entire world. Which he was really. He was holding his entire world.

"Oh... okay," You said and your eyes drooped shut, not reopening. That brought Levi to act, blinking out of his daze and pulling himself to his feet with a sharp inhale.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," He said and slipped his arms around you, lifting you into their secure hold. You didn't protest, too tired to make a sound as you adjusted to the new position. A comfier position that ensured security and safety. One hand supported your back as Levi's bicep acted as your pillow and his spare arm hooked under your legs. You could feel the ever so gentle thump of Levi's heartbeat close to your ear, much opposing to his regular temperament - curt and firm and even quite harsh at the most.

Levi carried you out of his office, using his foot to open the door as he proceeded to venture down the hall to your shared bedroom. The place you had been going to before you were called to his aid. You kept your eyes closed the entire time but didn't nod off just yet, the bobbing motion of Levi's walk both drifting and stirring you from sleep. It wasn't long before Levi was pulling back the sheets whilst he only just managed to hold you with one arm. You made it easier by wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, giggling lightly to yourself when you almost slipped. Somewhere in Levi's silence, he found it amusing. Perhaps not verbally placed, but you sensed it nonetheless. Still, he downplayed it with concern, his hand pressing against your back to hold you closely against his frame.

He placed you down with care, hand only leaving your back once it rested on the mattress. Sliding it out, it returned to the sheets as he placed them back over you. Meanwhile, you watched through half-lidded eyes, following where Levi's gaze trailed. Mainly sticking to the sheets he tucked in for you out of the goodness of his heart, though flickered back to you on occasion. His eyes contained a warmth that opposed their normal grey colour. A warmth that he usually failed to place into the spoken word and resorted to showing it rather than saying it.

Eventually, Levi finished, his hands stopping their skilful movement and pressing into the pillow on either side of your head. He was silent for a moment, observing your tiresome state and realising just how fatigued he was too. He battled the urge to collapse on the bed beside you, pull you into his arms and fall fast asleep. To ignore his duties for just one night. Give himself a treat and spend the night snoozing away like the everyday citizen. But Levi knew that was irresponsible. He had been irresponsible enough leaving the paperwork so late. It also wasn't the life he had been fated to lead, regardless of how pleasant the idea may be in the subconscious of his mind.

"I still have a lot of work to do," He uttered no louder than a whisper, exhaling deeply in an apologetic sigh and hating the idea of traipsing back to his office to work. "I'll have to join you later but I'm guessing you'll be asleep,"

"It's okay," You hummed, head tilting to the side as an innocent smile formed on your face. "Do I get a kiss good night, at least?"

Levi couldn't fight the small chuckle that escaped him, head proceeding to hang forwards and shake too and fro at your words. He truly felt he didn't deserve you and the love you gave him. Always so understanding, never complaining about his packed work schedule. How you made him feel steady and kept him sane. Perhaps it was because you were a soldier too and knew how time-consuming the job was, but Levi was grateful for all of it. The man met your eyes, a certain radiance in them that he'd refrain from showing to anyone else other than you.

"You're twenty-nine years old and you act like a child," He remarked with no ill intent, the laugh that elicited from you music to his ears.

"Yeah, and you chose to -," You were cut off, Levi leaning forwards to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You hummed in approval, forgetting the words you planned to say and instead enjoyed the display of affection. Levi lingered longer than usual, an indirect apology for the fact he had to leave you with the bed half cold. You didn't question it, knowing Levi's work never truly stopped and granted him a break. The fact he'd even paused just to tuck you in comfortably was enough to satisfy your needs, whether Levi would believe that or not was up to him. But your eyes fell closed, both from bliss and sleep catching up to claim control.

Gradually your lips loosened on Levi's, indicating you had nodded off. He opened his eyes and pulled back in question, watching your head tilt faintly to the side as your pillow held its weight. Levi exhaled deeply, leaning down to plant one final kiss on your forehead. Then he hoisted himself off of the bed and walked to the door.

"Good night, Y/N," He said once there, glancing back at you one final time. From where he stood, you appeared merrily at peace. Finally grateful for the embrace of your bedsheets after a dragging day of nonstop training. Levi did feel somewhat bad for being a cause for your tiredness, knowing that he could sometimes be cruel when playing his 'Captain' role. But he couldn't favour you just because of his feelings, and the fact you rarely made that an issue provided him relief like no other. Still, Levi's guilt asserted as he closed the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Why... it wouldn't be terrible if he let you sleep in a little bit past the wake-up call, would it?

[jaypsnax]

Art Fight(and not) Things !! Welcome to the grey canvas show. Premature posting for over half of them and late posting for the rest, but reasons for that below the cut. As well as some context for each.

1st is a ref I made for my sona, which has yet to be put up. Been delayed due to working on other things and still not having a name. 2nd is a NB visibility Floofty I kinda just.... cobbled together? Not sure if it’s all that great, *and* it’s late, but... well. Hrgrhrhgrhgrhgr 3rd is the start of the AF things with @snakjomo‘s Journalist, whom I’ve become very fond of in my time consuming Bugsnax content. Their design might be subject to change, but I’ll love em either way <3 4th is Quillda Tiddlything from @calliopepreforms who is ADORABLE, I love her cute lil stubby legs, hair, and oversized glasses. She’s like prime pick up and cuddle material, absolutely amazing. 5th and 6th are both @cheesesteakphil​‘s Orlifa Featherbean (sure do draw lots of journalists, huh?) and the first I got a bit too ambitious with while I hope they don’t mind the slightly shippy content of the second >.> If not then We Are Shaking Hands On Appreciating Floofy

So! Additional context... well, frankly, the Art Fight work hasn’t exactly been going swimmingly. I’ve been trying new things and have Sort Of had ideas, but it’s been just as much sitting still as moving forward, frankly. And I’d felt bad that it seemed like I had nothing to show, while getting frustrated with the inability to properly finish anything. Iunno, I’ve gotten impatient and also in some weird way showing stuff might help my brain move forward. I hope it doesn’t come off as... lazy or anything like that :l 1st image has already been pretty explained. I drew it shortly after the previous reference for a commission because I just wanted to do something new. It’s a little samey in expression and not as neat in terms of composition, while lacking in details like the headphones and lil cassette player, but I figured I could pair them together to shore up on any missing bits. 2nd also pretty self-explanatory, and shows a trend I have with expressions for SURE. Like, left corner of the mouth up type beat. I’m tryna break outta habits with this stuff, but it is Not Easy. That bow tie kicked my ass too. And I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with what I came up with, ultimately, but I didn’t want to wait too long either. Even though NB Visiblity Day’s already passed us up regardless. Floofty’s existence means a lot to me and I had to do *something*, y’know? 3rd has a bit of extra detail in that I meant for it to be a sequence. Like Buddy and Filbo sitting at the campfire and all that with a side of Gay Realization and such. The good stuff. Unfortunately, I’d been struggling a lot with composition and have No Idea have to do backgrounds. To the point where I couldn’t come up with anything additional. What’s there is ok, but the missed potential is horribly frustrating. Just hope it’s alright enough. Lighting’s kinda scuffed too, I know. ...I should stop looking so closely. 4th is yet another thing that doesn’t need too much explanation beyond “haha tiny journalist :)” tbh. It’s really not the best little sketch, but I also felt bad not including it? Have To Express The Love And If I Don’t I Die. 5th and 6th are a whole load because I originally started with the first bit from suddenly being struck with the idea of Orlifa in that comfy denim jacket from their ref in snow or smthn. While having a lil detail of when you do that like... exhale from the side of your mouth in the winter thing in mind. Got pretty experimental with the coloring and shading and things like that, which has been a learning experience for sure, even if I’m not 100% of the result. Backgrounds are not and will likely continue to not be my strong suit, but I’m hoping to get better about it. Probably not the best idea to be trying to go all out during a time limited event, however I uh... just care a little too much ahahhh... Had even been trying to take up painting to do a piece of Egg’s(Snakjomo’s) Neme and Cath. Or one of them, at least. SO much brain hurty. Anyway, with that second sketch I just thought it might be neat to do more than one thing for them. I like drawing interactions I know they like Floofty, so.. one thing led to another and there’s that. *Had* to do something with Orlifa for that sweet sweet Floofty Enjoyer and NB Solidarity. Then uh... that’s that. There’s other works, but they’re not really Bugsnax related, so I opted to omit them. While a lot of this stuff is sketchy af and ultimately unfinished, I hope they’re worth at least a little to everyone who got something. Might not be all there is, but my pace is gonna be horribly slow. So (maybe) stay tuned for any of that.

[theelvenhaven]

Elves Reacting To Your Period

Imladris

Elrond

Elrond is an ellon expert knowledge of healing, humans and had a sibling who chose a mortal life. Let alone making Imladris a haven for all races and walks of life- that were peaceful, of course. So you wouldn’t be the first menstruating human he’s been around. He is completely and utterly supportive yet subtle and discreet knowing that this is a delicate time for you. As well as possibly embarrassing to make a tremendous fuss over it.

Elrond discreetly brings you pain relievers, has soothing teas prepared for you, checks in on you when he has the time available. The Healer in him brings him to fret over you some, and should your pain be severe, he is quick to alleviate it. He’s had thousands of years to assist with such things, and you being his partner, he will more than happily help you. He will also make sure any menstrual products are there at your immediate disposal. 

Elrond is very gentle with you, being sure to provide you with the emotional and mental comfort that you might need during the day. Making himself far more available through your period if he can help it, wanting to make sure you have the proper support you need. Saving any physical comforts for later when you two can be alone properly and uninterrupted.

Glorfindel

This warm ball of sunshine isn’t entirely clueless about humans and their menstruation cycles. He has spent little of his time around it or reading about it. While logically he knows you menstruate, it surprises Glorfindel the first time he encounters it with you. Glorfindel is worried he has hurt you somehow or another, even if the placing of blood on your clothes and sheets show that he couldn’t possibly have hurt you.

Glorfindel is quick to try to get you to a healer or a healer to you, wanting to make sure you are in fact okay. Though when you explain to him that partially, you are okay and that the bleeding is normal; he is quick to simmer down. The ease with which you speak of it is what brings him to trust you on it, and he attentively listens to you. Glorfindel also asks you a lot of questions about it, as it is human men he is used to being around, so his knowledge about your reproductive health is not extensive. He is also quick to help you clean up any sheets or clothes that need to be taken care of, or take over gathering the items while you clean and situate yourself.

Glorfindel will do what he can to take some time off during your worst days of menstruation and is unfortunately not exactly tactful about it at first. You will have to tell him if it bothers you, in the event you find it embarrassing, as he has no shame in announcing it. Because he will straightforwardly tell them “Y/N is menstruating I am afraid I am unavailable until further notice.”. Once you tell him, Glorfindel will keep that talk between you, him and the Healers if need be. When he can’t be there with you, he instead sends a healer in to check on you and bring you the things you need.

Erestor

Erestor is extremely knowledgeable and has spent a copious amount of time absorbing everything there is too in the library. Even on healing subjects, no matter how gruesome or unusual they may seem to him. But with dealing with menstruation... Well, that is a completely different story. Erestor won’t make a massive fuss over you being on your period, but he is entirely flustered by what you are going through. 

At first he genuinely doesn’t know what to do. He never imagined he would have to deal with a menstruating human. Even when he started courting you. But Erestor is very technical and by the book- literally here. So he does what he thinks anyone should do, and goes to reference his books quietly and away from prying eyes.Erestor is extremely discreet about helping you, keeping the matter very private. Don’t mistake this for him being ashamed of you, he is far from ashamed of your bodily function. Erestor is just a very private ellon. 

He places a few orders for a dozen or more every month, for pain relievers to be kept in your shared chambers at all times. Stashed away in your desk drawers too so they are readily available and you or him aren’t having to haul off to the Healing Halls all the time. Quietly he will consult Elrond- the only other elf he will tell about it- if he feels like he isn’t doing enough until he gets the hang of helping you. If your pain and discomfort is severe, Erestor- while one for privacy- will go with you to the Healing Halls and explain the matter to them. Diligently sticking by your side and listening intently for care instructions and how to help you further.

Lindir

Lindir is completely and utterly flustered when he discovers that you are menstruating. It is not that he is doing it to make you feel bad- which only makes him feel worse when he sees his embarrassment is distressing you- it’s that he just doesn’t know what to do. Seeing the blood on the sheets and on your clothes makes him feel faint as are you hurt? But then you explain its your period?

Of course he knows what a period is from what he has overheard when coming to see Elrond in the Healing Halls. But that doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable about it. He is stammers and stutters asking questions and is bright cherry red trying to figure out what to do next. Despite all this fuss he has stirred up, Lindir is really supportive. Just the first few times this is what you will encounter. With him profusely apologizing for embarrassing you or distressing you. 

Trying to help somehow, nervously going down to the healers or Elrond for the things you need while you tidy up. Elrond swore the first time he came to him and had to talk to him about it, that he was going to faint over the ordeal. Elrond made him sit an extra ten minutes until he could calm down and send him back to you. On his way back, Lindir sends for someone to fix you your favorite meal and may grab a flower or two as an overly sweet gesture to apologize with the pain reliever in hand. In time, every time you have your period, he gives you a flower with your first meal after he sees how happy it makes you the first time.  

Elrohir

While Elrohir is used to being around humans, them being menstruating humans is a completely different subject. As it is, he is already pretty protective over you and your well being, especially since you’re human and considers you to be more fragile. So when you wake up and are bleeding or have bled through your clothes and maybe even on him, worried is a very simple way of putting it. He certainly makes a fuss over it between you both!

While being such a great healer himself, he is ready to give you an exam from head to toe and figure out why and where you are bleeding. When you tell him what your period is, and its purpose, Elrohir’s visibly relieved that no, it is not life threatening. And grateful that no he didn’t sleep through you getting hurt- as he is a heavy sleeper. Though he voices his concerns that you are now physically uncomfortable. But like his father, Elrohir is quick to use his skills in healing to good use to help ease your pains and discomforts. Making and bringing you tonics and pain relievers and anything you need to ease the nuisance of your menstruation. 

Elrohir will prefer that you take time off from any work and take time off his own duties to be with you when he’s in Imladris. Like this goes without question and there is no making him change his mind, every single month. Without fail Elrohir takes that week off to be with you. Even if you tell him you will be fine, Elrohir is taking the time off regardless and will absolutely even go as far as to delay his leavings with the Rangers until the time has passed. He’s happy to hold you and kiss all over you and lounge around with you if that makes you feel better. He’ll read softly to you, or comfort you through such tough emotional difficulties, and most definitely not skip over any whims you may have for food. 

Elladan

Like Elrohir, he isn’t used to be around menstruating humans at all. Though he is far more laid back compared to his brother. So rather than making a huge fuss about your menstruation, Elladan will ask you seriously if you are okay and carry on as if it were not really a big deal. Making a few light hearted jokes to keep your mood up if he can tell it is negatively affecting you.

Elladan will help you clean things up without question. The sheets are dirty and you’re embarrassed? No big deal, you can’t help it. Elladan just carries on normalizing these instances for you entirely, as he just wants you to be comfortable with him. I headcanon that while Elladan does and can heal, making tonics/pain relievers aren’t his strong suit and he will definitely ask his brother to do so for you. 

Elladan is laid back, so if you need anything from him you can most certainly tell him and he will do it without question. You want alone time because you’re furious? No big deal, he will back in an hour or two. You want him all to yourself all day? You’ve got it. It embarrasses you to go to the healing halls for menstruation products? Say no more, Elladan is already halfway down the hall to get it for you. 

Bonus:

Haldir

Haldir is no stranger to blood or humans and their customs and bodily functions. So when you menstruate the first time while together, he completely and totally expected it to happen. It was inevitable, but that doesn’t mean that he knows everything you need. Haldir knows that pain is something that generally seems to be an issue for menstruating humans and is at least prepared for that much.

He asks you what all you need while bringing you a vial of pain reliever he has stored in talan or on his person specifically for you. Telling you not to fuss with anything other than yourself, if it's like a bedroll or comforter you’ve bled over. The ellon knows how to get blood out of fabric and will first handle the list of things you need and then tend to the stained fabric. Haldir will go and fetch the things you need without batting an eyelash, and he just brushes any of the healer's concerns aside. 

Even if they offer to help, he just shrugs away their words, knowing you’ll go to them if you need it and that there is no sense and making a big deal over something so normal for you. Haldir will listen to all of your woes about it, comforting you even in his more subtle ways however he can. Holding your hand, rubbing your back, and in private holding you close. Haldir though will just tell you flat out to do something that will help you if he knows you are putting it off or have forgotten. Unperturbed by the conversation or needing to help you when he’s around and not on patrol.

* * * 

tags:

@saviorsong​ @lilmelily​ @dicksoutformtl​ @fandomhoe101​ @icarus-fell-in-spring​ @iwenttomordor​ @red-riding​ @elarinya-nailo​

[tohellandbackanthology]

WE FINISHED SHIPPING OUT ALL PHYSICAL ORDERS (and other important info about your package)!

Hi guys! That’s right! On June 19th, we officially wrapped up packing more than 800 orders of To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology and immediately got drunk and partied actually we just talked about the impossible housing market in Vancouver. Barring three orders which were still missing phone numbers, by now everybody else should’ve received a tracking number with their book on the way! 

While we’re relieved that one of the hardest parts of the job is now done and over with, we know that our project is still far from over. With that in mind, we’d like to outline some important info via this handy FAQ about what to look out for as you wait for your package to arrive.

**When are digital books shipping out?**

Right now! As promised, now that we’ve finished shipping all physical books, we’re now switching our focus to digital copies. Please do note that we’ll be shipping digital books in batches, so not everybody is going to get their book at the same time. Why are we doing this? Because sometimes emails bounce and we want to make sure we catch those when they happen. By sending the books out in batches, we can better keep track of these issues.

We will be sending out digital books in the following order: Indiegogo/Big Cartel digital-only backers first, and then everybody else. We feel this order is fair because those of you who didn’t order a physical book have now been waiting a long time and we want to be sure you receive your books at the same time as people begin receiving their physical copies in the mail.

We aim to complete shipping all digital books no later than July 11, but we are working fast in the hopes of finishing by July 5th. 

**I didn’t receive my tracking number!** 

We had multiple checks in place to ensure that we covered every order*** so if you didn’t get an email from Canada Post, please check your junk/spam folder and see if your email might have landed there. If it’s not there either, please message us at tohellandbackanthology@gmail.com and we’ll resend you your tracking number. It’s always possible that there might’ve been a typo in the email address that we had on file for you, and if that was the case, then the email containing your tracking number wouldn’t have reached you. That said, even if Canada Post’s email didn’t reach you, you should have received an email from Indiegogo or Big Cartel also indicating your tracking number as we inputted tracking info into these sites too! 

*** A select few packages don’t have tracking numbers. If you purchased a tier that was a merch + E-book combo on Indiegogo (“I’d Rather Have You”; “Cursed or Not”; “I Always Come When You Call”) and live outside Canada and the United States, it was unfortunately not possible for us to generate a mailing label with a tracking number because your parcel was too small. Instead, please keep an eye on your mailbox. Your envelope parcel should reach you within 4-6 weeks.

**The only thing my tracking number says is ELECTRONIC INFORMATION SUBMITTED BY SHIPPER :( When will Canada Post pick up my package?**

All orders were picked up by Canada Post on June 21, 2021. If your tracking still doesn’t show ITEM PICKED UP BY CANADA POST, contact us immediately so we can figure out what’s going on.

**My package didn’t arrive! It says ITEM BEING RETURNED TO SENDER! Help!**

Please contact us IMMEDIATELY if this happens so that we can reroute your package before it’s too late. If the package is returned to us, we get charged for its shipping. Then subsequently shipping has to be paid again to resend it to you! That’s 3x shipping and it’s not good, for either us or you! Please don’t delay a second if this happens. Tell us right away because we are determined to get it back to you! In the words of @justholdingstill, “Over my dead body are they sending it back to us.”   

**When will I receive my package?**

From the point that your tracking displays the message Item picked up by Canada Post, you can expect that:

Canadians will generally receive their packages within 2-4 days, but it can be up to 7 days for remote regions. 

Americans will generally receive their packages within 10-14 days. This includes Guam and Puerto Rico.

All other countries will receive their packages within 4-12 weeks, but we have noticed that these packages are coming WAY faster than that, usually within 2 weeks. Down below is a breakdown of how quickly certain countries have received their fastest package:

Argentina: 15 days 

Finland: 8 days 

Germany: 10 days 

Italy: 16 days 

Mexico: 10 days 

Norway: 18 days 

Russia: 15 days 

United Kingdom: 21 days but so far, this seems to be an exception—only one package has arrived as of today.

All other countries: No package has reached its destination yet that we know of

**I have my tracking number but it’s not showing any movement! Is my package lost?**

Canadians and Americans should have regular updates to their tracking information every couple of days, but please be patient—things happen, packages get rerouted, or sometimes have to sit for a little bit in customs or a sorting facility before moving on to their final destination. 

Likewise for our international backers, you will most likely get regular updates to your tracking information until your package leaves Canada. At this point, you will receive the following notification: International item being forwarded to destination country. From this point onward, you won’t receive any updates to your tracking information for a long time. This is completely normal and it just means that your book is on a boat making its way to your country. After it arrives on shore, you may or may not get more tracking notifications—it will depend on how the next carrier processes your order. In general, for all the international countries that have received packages so far, they have had full tracking upon reaching shore.

**When is my package considered lost? What should I do then? How much time do I have to contact you?**

Canadians should wait 14 days from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

Americans (including Guam and Puerto Rico) should wait 21 days from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

All other nationalities should wait 12 weeks from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

Please don’t contact us before that. We won’t be able to help you earlier than this. We have to talk to Canada Post about your parcel and they won’t take further steps until the waiting period is over. 

When you contact us, please give us the following information via email at tohellandbackanthology@gmail.com: 

Your full name

Your shipping address

Your shipping phone number

Your shipping email

Let us know where you’re an Indiegogo or Big Cartel backer

You have four weeks to contact us after the ‘package-is-officially-lost’ date. For example, if your book was picked up by Canada Post on June 1 and your home address is in a country other than the United States or Canada, you will wait 12 weeks to see if your package arrives. In this example, your package is officially considered lost on September 1. You have four weeks to let us know. In this example, you have until October 1 to tell us that your package is lost. If you tell us after October 1, unfortunately we can’t help you! We have a timeline in place for the official end date of our project and this deadline helps keep us on track to donate our remaining funds to our charity of choice, Wish Vancouver, in a timely manner. Not to mention we’ll be selling off our extra books and if you take too long to contact us, there might not be any remaining books for you to have a replacement!

**My tracking says that my package was delivered but I can’t find it!**

We encourage you first and foremost to ask your neighbours and anybody else who lives with you or around you to see if they might have received it for you. Please also contact your postal service to see if they might have held it for you at the post office. Finally, please keep an eye on your tracking and please try your absolute best to be there to receive it so that there is no chance of your package being stolen. If your tracking information declares that it was delivered, we consider it delivered on our end too and as much as we would like to help you, we’re not a business and as such, our funds are limited and we can’t be responsible for stolen packages. If your package does get stolen though, please let us know and we’ll talk to Canada Post regardless. All our books are insured and if Canada Post agrees to pay the insurance amount, we’ll put aside a book for you from our extras sale. You will still be responsible for paying the full amount of shipping. If Canada Post denies the insurance amount, we can still put a book aside for you but you will have to pay the full amount of the book and shipping. 

**Have any other questions that come to mind?**

As always, please don’t hesitate to shoot us a message! We always strive to get back to you within 48 hours or less, but please note that justholdingstill, casthewise, and pray4jensen/60r3d0m are heading out on a mini vacation to Vancouver Island from June 30 to July 4 so you might not hear from us as promptly at that time! Unfortunately we won’t have cell service or WiFi.

Aside from this, thank you again for your patience and support. We can’t wait to see photos of your books (and shelves and pets and plants!). Be sure to tag us when you do post!

With love,

Your TH+B mods

[hermannsthumb]

I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is 

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

--

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

--

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

[shadoedseptmbr]

meet cute pt 3

In honor of MELE coming out this week, I’ve polished up a series of ficlets I’m calling Meet Cute: All Aboard the SR1.  

Pt 1 here:  Anderson 

Pt 2 here:  Joker 

And here’s part 3: Karin Chakwas

meet cute pt 3 

Even in the flurry of activity that precedes the launch of a new fleet darling, Karin Chakwas takes pride in the fact that her medbay is a haven of peace and respite.  The corporal from the base clinic has delivered all of her requested supplies and she’s sipping a cup of tea and mapping out their appropriate storage so that she can have everything to hand. 

Once away, she’ll have a well trained field medic by the name of Alenko, the staff Lieutenant, as her main back up but he’s not due for another thirty minutes.  He’d pinged her omni to assure her that he’d be in place to help her with the squaring away.  She appreciates it. Not only will he be more effective if he understands her layout and storage methods, she can also check him off her list.

Everyone will have to submit to a thorough physical once they’re away, but she has three patients aboard that will need some special attention.  Alenko’s arrival will mean she can take his baseline scans to compare to his records and make sure she can keep tabs on his migraines and anything else his implant might get up to.  

Jeff Moreau had already submitted to his first exam, fidgeting next to the medbay when she arrived.  He was...a bit more stoic about the scans than she had expected from the notes in his file.  Fascinating case history.  Apparently Anderson had made his cooperation with her a requirement after some earlier adventures that she will have to pry out of one of them.  She was glad to have arrived early to get him in since she very much doubted she’d be able to wrest him from the cockpit until the initial shakedown is over, at the least.  

So that will just leave Shepard.  Lieutenant Shepard, last Chakwas had seen her; in need of some burn gel a couple of ships ago. Lieutenant Commander now.  Shepard’s latest mission had exposed her to some unfortunate toxins and the base medical clinic had sent over the records and a request to monitor her blood chemistry for the next week, to ward off any nasty surprises.

Better to get it over with.  No telling how many meetings and last minute report filings Shepard will have in the next day or so and getting her in now will allow for any delay should the cruise get exciting.

The commander answers her ping with an efficient ping of her own and, five minutes later, the bulkhead door whirrs open.  “I literally just stepped on board, Doc, you couldn’t let me stash my gear?”

“Once you don’t have to carry your bag, Commander, I very much doubt you’ll have a moment for me.  All I need is a quick scan.”  

Shepard nods her head and strolls to one of the beds, cooperative as always and a pleasant change from Karin’s usual patients.  “Not a bad setup.  Bigger than the Shenyang, anyway.”

“Hmm. I do miss the interior windows, though.  This design is rather claustrophobic.”

“Turian. They tend to be pretty practical on materials usage.”  Shepard hops up onto the bed and lies down.  “Pretty cushy.  Might bunk here if I can’t find a corner to sling a hammock.”  

“The pods are quite cramped,” Karin sympathizes as she starts up the scanner.  “I’m surprised I have a private bunk on a ship this…” she hesitates over her word choice.

“Streamlined?” Shepard raises an eyebrow.

“I was going to say compact but streamlined is more politic.”  

“Eh.  The pods aren't too bad. Too quiet, though.  Adams showed me a little cubby down below Engineering.  I might grab it; wedge in a desk, if the captain doesn’t object.”  

“I think Captain Anderson would let you sleep in the cockpit he’s so pleased you took the position.”

When Shepard doesn’t answer, Karin glances down at her silent, still patient, Shepard shrugs when she realizes she’s being observed.  “I got orders.  I just follow them.”  Rubbing her long fingered freckled hand over the top of her closely shorn head, she asks,  “So, am I going to be sprouting an extra kidney or bleeding green or anything more exciting?”  

The monitor beeps as it finishes and Karin makes a quick account of the data streaming across her omni.  “No, it all looks clear.  Healthy as always. You’re free to go, Commander.  I’ll see you in...two days.  Unless you develop any sort of…”

“Rash, headache, blurred vision, skin irritation between digits, discharge, damaged fingernails…”

Raising her hand, Karin stops her. “All right, I see you’ve been given the lecture.”

Shepard smirks, “By the medic on the Pragia and the doc on Arcturus.  Yesterday.  Everyone on board gonna get the special treatment?”

Affirming, Karin nods. “Just like on every other ship I've served.  I need…”

“A baseline from which to extrapolate.”   

Shepard’s almost got her accent down and Karin has to smile at the Commander’s innocent expression even as she chides,  “Now, why do you ask questions to which you know the answer, Commander?”

Her smile twists a bit.  “‘Cause there’s just so much detail in how people tell me things I already know, Doc.  Anderson wants us all hands on deck to meet the crew in twenty.  I’m headed up to the cockpit, if you need me again.  See what I can see.”

Karin dismisses her and the Commander is moving at speed when she hits the door.  Fortunately the turians have allowed for such things and the door sensors already have it open enough for her to slide through.  

Sighing, she returns to her tea and requisitions. The captain has his routines and she’s sure she’ll get used to them again, but she had hoped to have more put away by now.  

Her omni alerts her, a blinking message she’d missed while busy with Shepard.  Lieutenant Alenko has just cleared the airlock.  Well enough time to get his scan in, too.  Excellent.

She does like a smooth start to her shakedown cruises.  Bodes well for the rest of the tour.  

Just before she picks up her cup, Karin pauses, wondering why she suddenly feels like knocking on wood.

[evanescentdawn]

WOW this got much longer than expected, and basically a full-blown fic idea that I desperately want now

(might add more to this since it doesn’t hold all of my thoughts yet and I’m nowhere finished it)

the idea is: ritsu accidentally confesses to teru when he didn’t even want to confess. he doesn’t like teru at all. but of course, teru hears nothing of that. he completely misunderstands, and thinks that ritsu is in love with him.

things escalate.

they do end up falling in love, in the end, though. <3

ft. one-sided terumob and Other Ideas

this manhwa summary/plot hit me out of nowhere, like I just recalled and went, oh my god, this would be the perfect idea for riteru

imagining Ritsu that accidentally confesses to teru. it’s completely by accident, and because a series of events that too complicated to explain. the problem is that now teru is convinced that Ritsu likes him, and nothing that Ritsu says will see as anything but that

“oh, brother-kun. I never knew.” teru says, with a bright smile. “is that how you act with your crushes? where you just shy all the time.... I almost got the wrong time”

this is all going to fast for ritsu to swallow. too fast for to ritsu to deal with. he’s still stuck in the moment where his own mouth betrayed him. “no...” he manages to get out, but it’s all already to late.

every time that ritsu tries to object, teru is going to think that he’s been shy and embarassed which is horribly not true. he hates that teru thinks is, doesn’t want teru to ever think that. the idea of him in — in —

just thinking of it, repulses him.

he tries his everything to correct this misunderstanding. (he fails)

omg, I just remembered! I was thinking about my other wip, where teru does misunderstand about Ritsu asking him out on a date or smth and then, while I was thinking about I was like... what if it was a confession? and then I recalled that manhwa

anyways! oh my god this would definitely get to mob at one point. but first all, thinking about Teru’s thoughts regarding all of this

he’s like of course, little brother-kun likes me. I’m me. but unfortunately for him, teru is already in love with someone else. mob. well. I was thinking that teru doesn’t like ritsu back, but teru being in love with his mob instead also sounds fun

teru looking at him with a pitying look, teru agreeing to week-date and giving Ritsu some of his time to deal with all this. Ritsu being baffled at all. like who the hell...

and just dislikes teru more, because the ego and the audacity he has... just what. the fuck.

Ritsu has never said anything, teru is just running with this and Ritsu is aware of how he likes his brother, so he tries to use that to get out of this whole mess. “but what about—”

teru hasn’t realised that his love for mob was that obvious and goes, oh, and acts all more pitying towards ritsu and is like Ritsu is all heartbroken about his. and going this is all makes sense now. ritsu likes him, and that’s why he tried to intervene with his precious time with mob. it’s all very understandable now.

it’s not understandable.

ritsu does not like him

ritsu is not heartbroken

teru is missing all the points. he just hated teru presence there, and wanted to be the one to spend with his brother then. and he hated how disgustingly shameless teru was around shigeo.

but of course, ritsu doesn’t get time to explain. he doesn’t get time to do anything. he has to go home, wondering, how did fuck this happen, why teru. blames on the elder woman who was there and had to speak then, and interrupt him him at that time, and blames reigen because actually this was all his fault. he wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for him. teru wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for him. the elder woman wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t him. clearly, the fault of mis-timing and him tripping of his words all falls on reigen.

he goes home, dark-faced and clutching the handle of his school bag, with a more deep distaste of reigen

oblivious to all that was occurring, and because of his simple act of telling mob something, reigen feels a ice-cold shudder at the back of his neck.

(perhaps, he just got cursed)

ritsu goes home, exhausted by everything, and sees mob there. sitting and looking happy, and expectant when he sees mob.

after a moment, ritsu asks his usual question of, how did your day go?

mob excitedly tells him how he managed to do this thing in the body improvement club which would seem like a trival thing to any person. but ritsu knows about his brother and his struggles and how this is a improvement. also yeah, I did say that mob says it excitedly but felt like I need to express how it sounds monotone and like it’s anything but exciteding and you weren’t someone that knew him you wouldn’t see how obviously exciting he is

at least one of them had a good day. “that’s good. that’s an amazing achievement, brother.”

mob beams.

ritsu feels worse at the fact that he can’t put more enthusiasm at that and hates teru even more, and reigen, and this whole situation

he goes to sleep.

he has a undisturbed sleep to the degree that when he wakes the next time, he can ALMOST delude himself that nothing. absolutely nothing happened.

teru appearing that morning disturbs it. he had forgotten about teru uninvited morning drop-ins despite how he doesn’t live in the same school as them and his house isn’t close to them

(oh my god, this just reminded me of haru. and now I’m thinking about a mp100 khr au which AAAAA would be so good.)

teru is the same as every morning. he’s dressed and dazzling with his bright yellow aura, way to early in the morning, and up in shigeo’s presence as his brother tries to go about his morning routine of getting ready for school.

just got struck by the image of: mob, sleepy, and brushing his teeth in the bathroom while teru stands in there with him and talks about stuff and admires himself in the mirror. it would be so perfect

ritsu is annoyed by his whole existence. he busies himself with getting though, and spends him lowkey (highkey this is ritsu after all) in awful anticipation of whatever teru is going to say about the confession

no, no, no, Hold on wait. ritsu WOULDNT busing himself with getting ready. he would be doing anything but that. he wouldn’t be able to relax and get ready in the house, when teru is here and everything unknown. and especially when teru is here and he talks a lot.... and might say something to his brother...

yeah, no, ritsu is taking no chances. he’s up in teru’s presence and trying to take him from his brother, and just making sure that he doesn’t say something.

.........which of course oh my god horribly makes this misunderstanding even worse

(will teru even learn that it’s misunderstanding? is it more better for him to never know. so what if it was based on a lie? ritsu will fall for him anyways.)

before this, I was thinking that teru doesn’t say anything and ritsu is almost able to relax when he gets a call, and then, a date dropped on him. because of course, having the tense/anticipation built up while teru is the same as always and acting like he doesn’t know anything, until the moment that they are saying goodbye and mob is out of the frame —

doesn’t even GIVE time for ritsu to be aware of anything, or be prepared, when he turns to him after saying goodbye to mob, and with a smile, “

did I say a call before? well. not a call anymore. it’s said in person, with a wink, and a smile. “gonna collect you after school”

ritsu is left........ idk actually. how would he act after that?? how does ONE act after that??? after the

wait, oh my god. yes, teru would definitely also drop in the fact that ritsu focusing on him all that time, and how did he never knew.... telling ritsu how his actions helped to grow this misunderstandings

it would be PERFECT

jeez. this is getting really long and totally a full blown fic idea. do I stop here and do little time stamps? or do I continue.

im continuing.

ritsu wishing that teru doesn’t appear. ritsu technically having no school, shit I forgot. what club is in again? whatever that school thing is. yeah, that. having no meeting or anything to do there there, but ritsu trying to find something to do. only to delay the time.

but, undisturbed by ever, standing in all his dazzlingly glory, teru is waiting for him there while he’s in conversation with others

in contract, ritsu looks weary and time and wishing to be nowhere but here. and wishing that he didn’t take those extra duties, because it was tedious and trying and the fact that teru is here and is still waiting after that....

teru directs a bright smile to ritsu when he notices him, that ritsu has to slightly squint at,

oh my god. that just remembered me of that tumblr post that goes on about “zy was like the sun” descriptions and how they would be squinting or smth. and that’s definitely teru and Ritsu. oh my god, I need to write that scrne

anyways, back to the story. I don’t think that they would go on a date this time around. maybe, something had happen. I was thinking along the lines that teru wasn’t here because of ritsu, but because of mob and plans they had but that went to poof that morning because of reigen or smth. after all, ritsu is the one who likes teru and teru isnt.

actually. maybe that doesn’t happen this scene but I WOULD LOVE a moment where ritsu misunderstands and teru immediately corrects about that, like how he wasn’t here for him or that he wasn’t waiting for him or smth. and that his life/thoughts doesn’t resolve him (implying that Ritsu’s does resolve teru) and honestly, he should know, that this whole setup is because ritsu is the one with the feelings and teru is here and being a good person and indulging him out of pityness

ritsu seethes. none of that is right. and he hates teru’s condescending attitude. like the AUDACITY of this man. (he’s also very, very embarrassed about his mistake which I imagine would him make go the mile in never mistaking teru’s actions; which wouldn’t in favour for teru when he does fall for ritsu and his actions become more genuine in the nature that it’s for love but ritsu has that iron wall up)

so like, going back, where was I? yes, them walking home because there’s enough time for date. that works better for this situation. mmh, but I was thinking about whether teru would be waiting that long for him. or maybe, because he said so and so he did wait. or maybe, that teru has some other plan now and doesn’t have time for that date or smth

either way, ritsu is glad. ritsu is happy. ritsu is very relieved that

(oh no, another fic idea. from that meme(TM) where teru falls the downstairs, and reigen asks why ritsu is happy, because he never is in reigen’s presence and shou goes; teru fell the downstairs. and now I’m thinking about how the fuck did teru fall the downstairs. properly because of mob. definitely because of mob. and ritsu love for his brother and resolve that his brother is the best person grow because of this)

anyways back to what I was saying. ritsu is relived that he did that club activity thing.

what he isn’t happy about that teru is here, and still walking him home. doesn’t he have better stuff to...? and then, at time, teru asks him when he fell for him and

things click in place.

teru is here because he wants to get off more on the non-love that Ritsu has for love because he has that much of an ego

“I don’t.” ritsu says. which, of course, teru replies with amusement and saying that he doesn’t have to hide now. he knows. which makes ritsu go, urghhh in frustration and digust.

just looked at the time and I swear I started writing this somewhere in 9pm and now it’s 10pm. whoops.

anyways, teru asking ritsu questions about his love for him and ritsu saying, “no, I don’t love you” and

“no I don’t — what the hell? what [specific-thing-about-teru-that-teru-expects-ritsu-to-notice] no I haven’t. why would I??????”

and teru going, hmm, “guess your love isn’t that strong” and Ritsu bafflement,

and teru definitely asking him about what about he loves about him, and Ritsu going “nothing” and teru laughing, “you got humour” but ritsu is not joking

(now whether the teru knows ritsu actually doesn’t love him or he doesn’t is never addressed. I love it being ambiguous more)

they eventually reach ritsu’s home, and teru has a good satisfied ego-stroke from that conversation while ritsu just looks Tired

skipping over to fun date shenanigans! what types dates would they go on?

of course we gotta have cinema date!!! I have been thinking of ritsu having “likes human drama” in his character profile a lot and while I don’t remember what it said for teru, he does...like gossip right?? I’m actually unsure about that as we’ll BUT ANYWAYS teru loves to give his ideas on stuff

and anyways thinking about how ritsu expected to having the worst time, and it starts off as awful. like about how he doesn’t want to be here, and the movie that teru chooses doesn’t look good, and teru picked up the love seats for them

and anyways thinking about, how ritsu is not optimistic about anything and is not here to enjoy himself but as the movie starts....as the movie continues in.....

he gets INVOLVED. he finds that this is straight up his genre

and teru asking him how the movie was afterwards and talking about it, and immediately refuting whatever he says and offering an alternative that teru refutes and that one part in the convo where they

oh my god STRAWS. DRINKS STRAWS. Ritsu getting a specific drink that he likes and that teru side eying it, and going, huh, I haven’t that before, it good? and Ritsu nodding and teru just going for it and drinking it as well from the other side

...because it’s a couple drink or smth and Ritsu PAUSE

and teru acting like it’s totally a normal thing.

(oh my god, new idea: fake dating!!! them having to act like a couple to get into something because of something and getting all-couple things!!!!)

(this reminds me of my other fake dating idea that I want to write, which oh my god would fit with this one I just got)

(riteru fake dating is just So Good. So Perfect heart starry eyes)

gonna stop here, because stuff. so much ideas though!!! still buzzing!!! god, I love them so much and this is gonna be FANTASTIC

but ending off on, teru doing the arm around shoulder thing for ritsu like all the girls he had dated. oh my god, yes.

also...thinking about....mob and him learning through teru but ritsu doesn’t know yet and mob just Dropping on ritsu on time and Ritsu having a flashback through all the times that he had gotten back from date with teru and filling the blanks of

wait. would teru tell mob? would teru want mob to know this.

[hattywatch]

T. Jost - Dog Day Afternoon

A/N: No one asked for this. It’s just a small meet-cute. It’s been a while, be gentle!

“Nooo. No!” A gentle tug on the leash brings the labradoodle back to your side, “We do not poop on lawns in this neighborhood, mister!” You’d be absolutely mortified to be caught bagging up poop off of the pristinely manicured lawns in this community, so you bend down and give Cooper a satisfying scratch behind his ear and let him gently tug you towards the end of the block. 

He’s one of your favorites, so well behaved and affectionate when you visit him. His humans are out of town for the weekend, and you stop by a few times a day to exercise him and give him his meals. If someone had asked you when you were in high school if you saw yourself picking up after people’s dogs to pay your bills you’d be confused to say the least. But, the fact of the matter is you’ve opened your own business with five girls working for you, and you rarely have to deal with humans on the day-to-day, so it’s actually kind of a blessing in disguise.

This particular gated community has been your bread and butter as of late, full of well-to-do families who don’t take vacations, they holiday. It’s a marked difference. They’d pay anything to have their treasured pet pampered in their own home and not stuffed into some grimey kennel with 20 other dogs. The best part is they all talk, so you’ve been able to turn 1 client into 15 in only a month. Cooper was the one that started it all. 

You’re nearing the end of the block, coming up on the grassy park that caps the cul-de-sac when Cooper finds a street sign to relieve himself on. You have one headphone in, so you don’t quite hear the heavy footfalls before you see the men jogging up beside you. 

The blond one is broad and shirtless, he looks like Thor incarnate. His running partner is younger, with curly hair and biceps that strain the sleeves of his t-shirt, which is damp with sweat. Of course, it’s at this time Cooper finds a patch of grass to poop on and you wish you could throw yourself into the picturesque lake to your right as you start unrolling the bags you keep in your pocket. The men smile as they pass though, everyone in this town is polite to a fault. 

______

Three days later you haven’t given them much of a second though. 

Today you have Daisy, whose dainty name would be more fitting on a dog half her size. The dopey husky can hardly control her own body, tail smacking against you as you try to get her harness on before you lead her through the streets which are starting to become familiar. 

Daisy lives 5 doors down from Cooper, and it really is so convenient, allowing you to maximize your profit with minimal travel time. She’s still being leash trained, so you grab a handful of treats and shove them into your pocket and hope that “heel” is something she can be coerced to learn. Today you wind your way past the park, up and down the curving streets, intent on this being a “walk,” not a “pull,” like Daisy seems to prefer. 

You pass your favorite house, stark white with a red door and a blooming rose bush on either corner of a wrap around porch. The porch swing is occupied by a pretty blonde woman holding a small baby. She looks up as Daisy barks and you smile and give an apologetic wave. The woman smiles back and you see the beautiful, blond man from the other day hop out of the truck in the driveway. 

He smiles and waves at you as well before walking up to the porch and kissing his wife and baby, sitting down next to her on the swing. 

It warms you up to your toes to see that this couple isn’t too jaded by the beautiful home they have and the affluent community they live in to enjoy the little things. 

Daisy barks again and you see that she’s making herself at home at the edge of their driveway, and you grimace before grabbing the bags from your back pocket. The couple doesn’t seem to mind and gives you another wave when you pass by, intent on getting Daisy back to her house so you could move onto the next client.

______

On Sunday, your only day off, one of your girls calls in sick, so you throw on some leggings and flip-flops and drive over to walk a fluffy pomeranian named Precious. 

She’s a demon. 

She’s yippy and aggressive from the moment you walk in the door. She can, however, be plied with treats, so you arm yourself with a handful and hope you can tire her out so she’ll be easily swayed back into her crate without too much chaos.

She lives across the street from that white house with the red door you love so much, so at least that’s one plus on Precious’ side. You get to admire the home from close up. Making your way down the walkway trying to control the spawn of dog-satan, you catch a glimpse of a shiny new jeep parked outside. 

The driver looks familiar, he’s handsome… And he’s staring right at you, which is awkward, as you’re pretty much still in pajamas and Precious has not stopped her shrill yapping since she’s been put on her leash. 

“Hey there,” he’s not talking so much to you as he is talking to the ball of fluff dragging you down the walk. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t pet her, she’s a bit cranky this morning,” you tell him while he’s mid-squat. He shoots back up and smiles and you finally recognize him. The curly haired friend who was running with the blond from earlier in the week. He’s more handsome up close and it’s making you a little antsy. 

He laughs and it suits his boyish face, “Fair enough, I’m pretty crabby when I have to wake up early on the weekend too.” You smile and try to pull Precious closer to you, lest she start nipping at his ankles. 

The red front door across the street opens, and that golden couple steps onto the porch. They wave at you and you wave back, smiling tightly, a little uncomfortable trying to pay attention to the beautiful man in front of you and the little fluffy ball of rage between you. 

When he notices you waving, he looks over his shoulder and waves ridiculously back to them as well, a big goofy grin splitting his face, “Is it okay that I park here? I can move if it’s not.” 

“No, no, go ahead. No problem at all,” you smile genuinely this time. He says thank you and holds his hand out, “Tyson, by the way. I’m Gabe’s friend,” he thumbs over his shoulder at who you assume to be Gabe.

Still nodding, you give him your name in return before blurting, “Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around here before,” before you can shut your stupid mouth and he smiles impossibly bigger. 

Gabe, who you have identified as the blond dad from the house across the street helps you save face when he shouts, “Tyson, c’mon we’re going to be late,” as he remote starts his truck from the front door, bouncing his tiny baby on his hip. 

Tyson ducks his head at being called out and smiles one last time before waving and heading to a waiting Gabe, “See you two around.”  

Gabe gives you a big grin as he backs out of his driveway and passes you and Precious, still huffing at your feet at the delay in her walk. You walk her the opposite way they drove off in, not trying to encounter any more broad chests and pretty faces before you’ve had your morning coffee.

______

Friday is a busier day, you have 6 walks back to back in your new area, plenty of families going on a long weekend trip for memorial day weekend. You start your day off with Cooper, followed up by Daisy. They’re getting used to their routes with you and their walks are enjoyable. The next four are with Rocky, Lucy, Maggie, and Duke who are all newer clients. 

You’re up to Lucy when you pass Gabe’s house for the first time. There’s music coming from the yard and a few extra cars line the sidewalk, so you assume he’s hosting a party. If you look for a familiar, shiny jeep who could blame you? 

It isn’t there though. 

You’ve almost forgotten about it by the time you’re walking Duke, a tiny little yorkie who is veritably ancient in dog years. He still has some pep in his step though, and you shuffle through your playlist to find some appropriately happy music for the occasion as you turn a corner. 

With your head down, thumb scrolling skillfully through your favorite Spotify playlist, you jump when you hear the sound of a horn. Duke gives a little bark and you look up to see who the offending party is.

Tyson’s body is half out of his window waving, where his car is parked on the corner across the street.

He hops out and walks over to you, peering at Duke with a little confusion.

“You could probably save yourself some time if you walked all of your dogs together. How many do you have?” He laughs and starts squatting down to Duke’s level while looking up at you for permission to pet. 

“This one’s friendly, you can pet him,” is what you say, because your brain is starting to lose higher functioning the more his shorts creep up his bent legs, revealing the thick, muscular thighs underneath.

Once given permission, Tyson becomes the equivalent of a floppy golden, all sunshine smiles and praise for Duke. “Who’s a good boy?” he coos as he holds Duke’s head in his big hands, simultaneously rubbing under his chin and the top of his head.

He stands up and turns his smile on you, which makes your stomach swoop a little bit, not that you’d admit it. “You should come to Gabe’s house when you’re done walking all of your dogs. He’s having a little party; he said he invited all the neighbors.”

“That sounds nice,” you begin, knowing you shouldn’t and can’t., “but unfortunately I have some more work to do this evening.” 

The smile on Tyson’s face doesn’t falter when he shrugs, “Okay, maybe next time.” He bends down to Duke one last time and uses a higher-pitched sweet voice to say, “See ya, buddy!” before standing up and jogging back over to his idling truck. He hops in and waves before driving back towards Gabe’s house. 

Duke looks up at you, unimpressed, “He’s cute," you sigh. The yorkie just wags his tail and tugs you over to a maple tree to do his business. 

______

It’s a week later when you’re trying to coax Precious down the driveway that you see the pretty blonde walking towards you smiling with a stroller. You know she’s Gabe’s wife, but she’s waving to you in a way that says she wants to talk and you wind the leash around your hand so Precious doesn’t get any ideas. 

“Hi! You’re (y/n) right?” she waits for you to nod and say ‘that’s me’ before continuing, “Oh awesome! I’ve heard so much about you from the neighbors. I’m Mel, I live over there,” she points to the house with the red door that you know to be hers, “We have plans Friday night and we need someone to come and take Zoey out. Would we be able to book you?” 

She looks ecstatic to have run into you so you pull your phone out and check your calendar, “Let’s see, I will actually be in the neighborhood around 7, and I’m free around 7:45, does that work for you?” 

“Ah! That’s perfect. We’re just so excited, because it’s the first time we’ve been out since the baby,” she beams down at the little girl in the stroller, “Mom and dad need a night out, ya know?” She’s smiling so brightly and she’s so sweet, and you don’t know, but you do get it somehow. 

You type her name and address into the calendar on your phone, “I’m sure. You guys totally deserve it, babies are a lot of work!” 

Mel laughs, “I had no idea just how much work! But thank you so much for fitting us in. The sitter will be there with her, so just knock and they’ll let you in and show you around,” her eyes are lit up and you’re actually excited to help her get a free night out with her husband, “I’ll text you and just save my number and we can work out all the details. I just have to get her home to feed before she starts fussing! Thank you again.” 

She’s a whirlwind when she types your number into her phone with fast thumbs, but she has her timing down, because you can hear the baby starting to whine as she crosses the street to her house, right on schedule.

_____

When Friday comes you finish two walks and end up on the porch of the big white house with the rose bushes flanking it. You knock three times and step back to wait for the sitter to let you in. 

Surprisingly enough, Tyson opens the front door. 

He’s smiling, like always, with his right eyebrow raised in confusion, bouncing a giggly baby in his arms. She’s in a pink onesie, covered in what looks like mushy carrots, and Tysons white shirt doesn’t look any better. 

“We weren’t expecting company, were we, princess?” He nuzzles his cheek across the top of the baby’s peach fuzz head and she squishes her eyes shut, babbling happily. 

“I’m not really 'company' perse. I’m just here to walk Zoey,” you rock gently from foot to foot, hoping he’ll let you in and you can get your job done without looking like a total fool. 

"Don't you have enough dogs of your own?" He laughs but steps aside to let you through the front door, the inside of the house is just as nice as the outside. 

"Oh. Those aren't mine," you pull a biscuit out of your pocket and click your tongue, trying to coax Zoey out of her hiding spot under the kitchen table. "I'm just the dog walker." Zoey crawls towards you ok her belly, unsure and skittish. 

"That's a good girl, c'mon mama." Tyson hands you her leash off of the back of a kitchen chair and you can feel his eyes on you as you snap her harness together. 

He nods, bouncing foot to foot, keeping the baby happy, "That makes more sense. I thought you had like, 6 dogs. Gabe told me I was an idiot." You look up and his face flames, luckily the baby chooses that very second to spit up onto the burp cloth slung over his shoulder. 

"Oh no, baby girl," he coos at the infant, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm going to take care of this, don't leave without saying goodbye," he winks and walks through the kitchen, leaving you in a whirlwind, Zoey whining at your feet. 

"Let's go girl."

_____

If you didn't know better, you think, as Zoey noses along the bushes down the block, distinctly uninterested in doing anything at all, you'd think you were being set up. Except you don't really know better.

You think back to the mischievous glint in Mel's eye was she stopped you for your number and Tyson's surprised face when you showed up, apparently unannounced, at the door. 

The more you think about it the more flustered you get, not dressed to woo a potential suitor, and more likely than not, coming back with a bag full of Zoey's poop isn't really the way you prefer to meet men. 

You dig into your pocket for some chapstick and maybe stop in front of a tinted car window in an attempt to curtail your hair into something halfway cute. It's a lost cause. 

Zoey walks listlessly at your side, she's well behaved, but clearly has no business to do, so you head back to Mel and Gabe's house. She looks excited as you make your way up the porch steps and barks at the front door. 

Tyson steps outside and shushes her softly. "Shh girl, please. I just got the baby to sleep." 

"Do you want me to bring her into the back until she calms down enough to go inside?" You wrap the leash around your hand and pat the top of Zoey's head. 

"Nah," he pulls the baby monitor out of his back pocket,  "I was going to sit on the porch for a little anyway, it's nice out. Want some coffee?" 

You say okay and sit on the porch swing waiting for Tyson, not entirely sure how life has led you to this moment on the pretty wrap-around porch of the house with the red door. 

He comes back out and shuts the door quietly behind him before handing you a cup and sitting next to you on the swing. You're quiet for a pause, but then you giggle into your mug. 

"Did you really think all those dogs were mine?" Tyson looks up at you, smiling goofily back over his own mug. 

"Yeah, I totally did. Told Gabe I was going to see if his pretty neighbor needed help walking all of her dogs. Mel finally figured out it was you and they had a good laugh at my expense." His feet are solid on the porch rocking you back and forth while Zoey dozes in front of you. 

Your ears warm at the compliment. "Thanks." 

"I don't have a dog or anything, but maybe I could get your number in case I wanted company for a walk? What's your schedule look like?" You let your leg slide towards his on the swing so your knees knock. 

Smiling and pulling your phone out of your pocket, you hand it over, "I think I could squeeze you in."