#Diploma Display Frame

[giftingproducts]

Frameless Certificate Frame: Let Your Achievements Shine

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[universityframesinc]

https://www.universityframes.com/diploma-frames/marshall-university/3050

[miniseokminnies]

hashtag black heart —- l.sm

𖦹 pairing: lee seokmin x f!reader 𖦹 theme: camboy!seokmin, roommates to lovers 𖦹 w/c: 2.8k 𖦹 warnings: 18+ MDNI, online dynamics, oral sex [f. receiving], pet names, praise kink, lots of whining, embarrassing moments, one awful date (not with seokmin), unprotected sex (that's a no no) 𖦹 a/n: shout out to that anon that pitched something similar to me a while back but i lost the ask ;-; huge thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for jumping at the opportunity to beta this monstrosity for me 𖦹 tags: @gyubakeries, @seungkw1, @myhimbomingi

You should really stop letting your friends convince you to do things.  The decisions they talk you into are questionable at best.  Like that time Soonyoung convinced you that it would be easy to raid your parents’ liquor cabinet and go on a “bender” before walking across the stage at graduation.  The problem with this plan was that your older brother had already tried it and replaced the alcohol with apple juice successfully.  This didn’t stop Soonyoung from swearing he was drunk and embarrassing himself in front of your entire class and their families while taking his diploma from your principal an hour after sipping warm apple juice from the mouth of a whiskey bottle.

Soonyoung (and his girlfriend, Jenna) was once again the driving force behind your poor decision today as well.  He knew this “great guy” from one of his dance classes in college and seemed to think the two of you would really hit it off.  After confirming this with Jenna, who agreed that he was a nice guy with similar interests to you, you hesitantly agreed to go on a date with him.  

 That’s how you ended up in the most awkward situation you have ever encountered.  After almost an hour of disappointing heavy petting, he came in his pants and drove you home. He told you to call him, as if that would ever happen. You slid your keys into the lock and did a quick check of your apartment to see if your roommate (another person Soonyoung introduced you to) was home.    

Once you had confirmed that he was not home, you slipped into your room and locked the door behind you.  Quietly, like you were keeping a secret from even yourself, you settled under your covers and unlocked your phone.  You click on the folder with a little black heart beneath it and swipe past three pages of apps before you get to the one you’re looking for.  The page loads quickly and you scroll through the homepage, full of cam boys on full display until one in particular catches your eye. 

He wasn’t live, you never seem to catch him as he kept a strange schedule.  You didn’t mind, it somehow felt less shameful to watch the recordings of his live streams than actually getting off to someone touching themselves on the other side of a screen in real time.  The page was active recently, the newest video having an indicator saying that it was streamed three hours ago, while you were out on your terrible date. 

You tap the video and your screen is filled with the view of his toned abs. The other thing you like about this one in particular is that he remains completely anonymous.  His face is always out of frame, apart from a few videos where you caught a glimpse of his lips, these were your favorite ones.       

You watched the screen intently as he lifted his hand and trailed it down the sea of tan skin in the frame, moving lower and lower.  His long fingers wrapped around his stiff cock lightly, and you hear his breath hitch behind the camera as he begins to stroke himself slowly. The sounds of his pleasure went straight to your core, you could feel the heat begin to pool in your stomach.  The man on your phone began to swipe the precum from his weeping slit and work it down his shaft.      

You placed a hand over your own breast and tweaked your nipple over your shirt.  The cam boy on your screen whined breathily as you both worked yourselves up.  You watched him as he sped up his strokes, and your mouth went dry as the arousal dripped in your panties. Your fingers trailed down your own body, just as the man’s did a few minutes ago, painfully slowly.  Your fingers dipped into your underwear.  More noises were coming from your phone now, and you’ve watched this man enough to know that he was getting close.  

His hands were so pretty, so gentle and slender, you just knew he would be able to reach places inside of you that you couldn’t.  You inserted two fingers into yourself and sighed.  Pumping slowly, still working yourself towards your high, you looked back at your screen.  He was fucking up into his fist now, sloppily chasing his high.  At the visual you all but threw your phone on your bed in favor of using that hand to stimulate your own clit.  You could still hear the sound of his skin and his breathless moans from your phone speaker, and at this point, that was enough.  

You began to lose control and buck your hips to the rhythm.  The coil in your stomach was tightening and threatening to snap.  Your own moans bounced off the walls of your bedroom as you rock yourself against your fingers and circle the bundle of nerves. The coil snaps as your sounds mix with his, your vision explodes into fireworks as your orgasm ripples through your body.  You ride your fingers through the pleasure.  

After a few minutes of this you grab for your phone to exit out of the video, but not before looking at the man on the screen, spent and covered in his own cum.  The visual is almost enough to make you want to go again, but you forced yourself to close out and go get cleaned up.   

You returned to your room a few minutes later and began to scroll through your food delivery apps, since you could not be bothered with cooking tonight.  The problem was that absolutely nothing you could order sounded appetizing right now.  You let out a frustrated sigh and flopped back on your bed.  You stared at your ceiling for several minutes.  

A series of knocks on your bedroom startled you.  

“Y/N!” Your roommate called.  “I’m making dinner, want in?” You scrambled up and unlocked the door.  His hand was still raised from when he knocked.  

“I very much want in.” 

“Okay,” he laughed.  You have lived with him for the last six months, before that you lived with Soonyoung.  When he and Jenna got serious she asked him to move in and he practically jumped at the opportunity.  He was a considerate roommate and an even better friend, so he stayed until it was time to renew the lease.  You were worried about affording the apartment by yourself, so he came up with a solution for that too.  The solution was named Seokmin, and you had no idea who he was.  

Luckily for Seokmin, you tend to just go along with things Soonyoung suggests, and you had no other friends needing a place to live.  So, Seokmin it was.  He was a good roommate.  He mostly kept to himself, but there are some days where he invited you to dinner in the living room. 

“What are we having?” You ask, leaning against the counter.  

“We have a frozen pizza.” He shrugged.

“Perfect!” You exclaimed sarcastically and moved to preheat the oven. 

“Movie?” 

“Sure, pick whatever.” You rifle through the fridge, “Beer?”        

“You read my mind,” he called from the small living room.  You grabbed one for each of you.  He was sitting on the couch flipping through movies on Netflix.  Plopping down next to him you held the bottle out to him.  You watched him wrap his fingers around the neck of the bottle, the grip looked familiar.  Almost as if you saw those fingers around something else just an hour ago—

“Oh my God!” You gasped.  

“What?” He turned to you frantically, “What happened?”   

“I–” you sputtered, “The Queen of England died.” 

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at you, “Like three years ago.” 

“Yeah,” you scrambled up off the couch, “Crazy! I’ll be right back!” You didn’t give him time to respond before you were practically running to the bathroom.  You threw on the sink and splashed water in your face.  Okay, so, you just touched yourself to a video of your roommate, a video that he uploaded online, one of many.  Your shy, considerate, admittedly cute roommate is a camboy, your favorite camboy.   

You avoided Seokmin for the next week.  You could not look at him, now that you knew what he sounded like when he came.  When you did catch glimpses of him, before hurrying away to your room, you were more and more sure of the fact that it was him.  His gorgeous lips were burned into your memory from the first time you saw them.  You’re honestly surprised you didn’t put two and two together earlier.  The fact that you knew he only ever went live when you weren’t home, that didn’t help his case.    

You pulled your knees to your chest and opened that folder with the black heart.  Against your better judgement you went straight to his page, something you hadn’t done since that day.  You scrolled through all of the streams, his body looking delicious in each one.  You squeezed your thighs together, you cannot be doing this right now, or ever again.  The sound of a key turning in the front door of your apartment made you throw your phone to the other end of the couch as if it was hot to the touch.  Seokmin spotted you before you had the chance to run from him this time.  

“Hey!” He exclaimed and scrambled to close the door as you attempted, once again, to escape him.  “Wait!” You turned back to him slightly, hearing his pleading tone.  When you caught a glimpse of him, the look on his face matched his tone. “Did…did I do something wrong?” He wrung his hands together.  

“No, not at all.” You assured him, barely above a whisper.  

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” He looked as if he might stomp his foot, like a petulant child.  “I just felt like we were really starting to get used to each other, and maybe even…maybe we were friends. Then you found out the Queen died, and you’ve been weird!” 

“I know,” you mumbled looking at your feet on the carpet.  

“You know that you’ve been weird?” He took a step toward you.  

“No, Seokmin, I know,” you unlocked your phone and held it out to him. His eyes widened to a size you had never seen as he took in the sight of his own body on your phone screen. You watched him scroll for a few seconds, making sure this was really him, before he looked up at you.   

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he clutched your phone in his hands and you had to stop your thoughts from wandering.  “You let me move in without knowing me, and I brought this into your home.” You shook your head as he continued, “No seriously, this was so disrespectful of me and if you want me to move out—wait…” You could almost see the gears turning in his head, “How do you know about this?”     

“I—” Your mouth felt dry, you wanted to run away. 

“Do you watch my videos?” He tried to sound confident but the scarlet blush creeping up his cheeks gave him away.   

“I, uh, may have seen one or two…”

“When was the last time,” his confidence was rising now. 

“Um..the day I ‘found out’ the Queen died…” You muttered. “Right before you got home…” You whispered, the heat rose in your cheeks.  He blinked at you for a moment before crossing the room over to you.  

“Did you finish?” His eyes turned dark and his voice lowered.  You nodded up at him, you weren’t sure how he got this information out of you when just a moment ago both of you were too embarrassed to even look at each other.  It didn’t matter, though, not with the way he looked down at you, and how three words made you wet.

His nimble fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he dragged you back to the couch.  He sat you down gently and sank to his knees in front of you.  You spread your legs for him to shuffle closer to your clothed core.  “I started this whole thing to gain confidence, you know?”

“You..you seem pretty confident now..” You were distracted by the vision in your head of him parting your folds with his tongue.

“Well,” he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, “my roommate I’ve been crushing on since I moved in has seen me get myself off, and she liked it.”  

“Mhmm,” you pressed your thighs together, “and?”   

“Well,” he began to slowly pull your clothes down your thighs, “if I would have known the times I heard her trying to keep quiet were already because of me, I would have offered to help her out.”   You didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about him hearing you before he had your bottoms off and fluttering to the floor.  

He spread your legs apart and settled on the floor between them.  He leveled himself with your dripping cunt and licked the first fat stripe.  A gasp ripped from your throat at the contact.  Your vision from a few seconds ago became a reality as he ran his tongue slowly through your folds.  Your hands found his hair, and he hummed contentedly into your heat.  HIs arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you closer to him, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.  The new closeness brought his sharp nose into contact with your clit, eliciting a lewd moan from you.  

He dipped his tongue in your entrance experimentally as his nose continued to stimulate the bundle of nerves.  You felt like you might explode.  Everything was Seokmin, his mouth, his fingers gripping the plush of your thighs, the way his moans into your cunt mixed with your own.  You felt like you were about to break.  He could tell.  You bucked your hips to meet his face, chasing your high.    

You came undone as Seokmin was tasting you.  He would drink it all up if he could.  Reluctantly, he tore himself away.  You swore you almost came again at the beauty of his mouth and nose covered in the essence of you. His pupils were blown out, almost covering the brown of his irises.  You leaned forward and kissed him, deep and hard, you didn’t even care that you could taste yourself on his lips.  He whimpered against you.  

“Let me take care of you, Min,” you whispered.  

“No.” He shook his head.  You pulled back and looked at him, confused. “Use me.” He begged.  This man was on his knees in front of you, begging.  

“What do you want?” 

“Make me your toy,” he said breathlessly, “use me like you do when you watch me, please?” His eyes were big and round.  You nodded and pushed him onto his back on the floor.  You climb onto him and straddle his hips.  He was overwhelmed already, looking up at you.  You ground your hips down onto his hard cock and he let out another whimper.  Leaning forward you trapped his hands above his head.  

“Leave those there while I undress you, pretty boy,” he nodded eagerly and you moved to remove his pants and boxers.  Once free, you took in the sight of his pretty cock in person for the first time.  Seokmin’s hands were big, so you never realized just how big he was elsewhere as well. You swiped some of the precum that was drowning the bulbous head and worked it down his shaft.  “Ready?” 

He nodded again, you were half convinced that he couldn’t form words.  You lined yourself up above him and slowly sank down on his cock. 

“F-fuck…” There was his voice.  He took the word right out of your mouth.  The stretch was delicious, he fit inside of you perfectly.  You gave yourself a second to adjust before he was whining and begging you to move. You rocked your hips experimentally, and he felt better inside of you than originally thought.  He was already thrusting up to meet you.  

“Eager,” you remarked. You moved up and down, feeling each delicious drag against your walls.  Seokmin, ever eager to please, left his hands above his head as he was told.  “You can touch me.” You breathed.  His hands flew to your hips and began to guide your rocking on his cock.  “You’re such a good boy, waiting for permission.” He whimpered at your praise.  You could feel the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching.  

“Baby ‘m gonna cum,” he sighs.  The familiar sounding sighs sent you hurtling toward your own high.  His thrusts from under you became sloppy and quick.  Your second orgasm washed over you in waves, and you felt like you were floating.  Quickly after yours began, Seokmin came undone, and he released hot white ropes inside of your spent cunt.  

He pulls you into a kiss and lays you down on his chest.  The apartment is quiet as the two of you come down from your highs.  After a few minutes Seokmin breaks the carefully crafted silence, “Baby?” 

“Mmmm?” You hum.  

“You knew that the Queen was dead, didn’t you?”   

[moongreenlight]

More childhood best friend!Gaz headcanons because I cannot stop thinking about him

He’s your valentine every single year. Started as his dad trying to teach him proper etiquette when he was young and just never stopped. A bouquet of flowers on your stoop and a cheap card he scratches a note into. Never signs his name. Just ends ‘xx.’

He chaperoned your first real date in high school because your dad paid for his tank of gas. The guy you were keen on never called you back after. It took you until you were seventeen to realize that it was probably because Kyle was sitting on the same side of the booth as you and spoon feeding you bites of dinner.

He also ruined your first real relationship when he beat your boyfriend to asking you to formal (a full two months early). You tried to explain that it didn’t mean anything, but he just couldn’t understand. Kyle said it was for the better while you sobbed into his shoulder. “Tosser can’t cope with the fact he’ll always be second place. Better not to waste your time.”

His basic training was 26 weeks away from home. He went immediately after picking up his diploma. It was the most miserable summer of your entire life. Spent primarily waiting by the mailbox for the postman to deliver your daily letters back and forth. He’s started signing off “Garrick. x.”

Both of your families went to his graduation, but his mother insisted you were the one to tap him out. You barely recognized him, like the summer where his family took a month long vacation and he came back a full four inches taller. He’s bigger now, his shoulders permanently rolled back, but he still carries himself with that same cool ease.

He barely stays long enough to say his hello’s to everyone until he takes you back to the car and lays you out in the backseat. Griping the whole way about how “you’d be in a hurry, too. Couldn’t even get away with a wank in the shower.” And “s’your duty to the country. You wanna thank me for my service, don’t you?” You swear the two of you fit easier six months ago, but now he’s cramped between the seats. Caged in tight. His head bumps the window each time he snaps his hips into you.

You seriously considered moving close to base when you found out he was being permanently relocated after joining the task force, but he wouldn’t hear a word about it.

So you settle on sending each other disposable cameras back and forth. You’ve got a picture of him on a mission in Amsterdam framed up in your hall. He’s got a cigarette hanging out of his big, toothy smile, posing like an overexcited tourist in front of a lingerie shop with a display window that made your ears hot when you first saw it.

He called you a few days after his incident with the helo in Urzikstan. Boasted his adventure with only a whispering tremble on the soft underside of his tough facade. Carried on until you wretched dryly into the receiver. Working yourself up into sick with worry even though he promised he was fine, just sticking to the ground for a bit.

Even though you’re seeing him less nowadays, he’s still somehow coming between you and any romantic pursuits you make. You chalk it up to coincidence most of the time, but a blind eye can only be turned so far.

He seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re on a date or a one night stand. Sending texts and pictures that could be misconstrued as flirty to someone who didn’t know the dynamic at just the wrong moment every time. And there was the one time where he sent flowers to your desk at work just a few days after you’d said something about a coworker getting sweet on you.

It happened so often that you eventually decided that the dating scene just wasn’t for you. Resigned to focus on work and friends. Adopting a new mantra of “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

You’ve got no idea why Kyle is so pleased to hear about the conclusion you’ve come to. Or why he’s suddenly coming back home for a few weeks.

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 3

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner!Javier Pena)

Word count: 2,895

Summary: It's not a date. Just a lawyer and his client celebrating her divorce...

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! No smut in this chapter. Rom com vibes. AU. Reader wears a dress and nail polish. Mentions of eating food and drinking alcohol. Mutual pining AND mistaken for a couple 😊. Love bombing. Divorce. I'm just pretending I know what lawyers do and that divorces are quite speedy. Dave is multi-lingual because I say so. Also, hints that all is not well between Dave and Carol? (c'mon, when do we ever paint them as truly happy?)

Author's note: "You can't blame yourself for the choices you made when you were too young to know better." 💜

Series Masterlist

"What does the L stand for?"

Dave realizes you're asking him a question and he looks up from his file, a smile flitting across his face. "Pardon?"

It's the first time you've seen him since that fateful day at the museum. After catching up on your plans to divorce Javier and citing every reason why you desire to be forever parted from your husband, Dave had invited you to his high-rise office the following day, where you are now, sitting across from him at his desk.

"Your card says 'David L. York," you remind him, a pink-polished finger running over the smooth white business card.

"Liam," he says, a small blush creeping up his neck. You smile when you notice it, aware of how attractive he is when he blushes.

"David Liam York," you say to yourself, liking the roll of it off your tongue. "I like it. It suits you."

His head is down, perusing the paperwork before him, but he smiles at your compliment. "Wish I could say I'd chosen it myself."

It's quiet again as he goes over the fine print, and you wander over to the window of his office, smiling to see your bookstore/bakery right across the street. There's a rush today for cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting. You'd give anything to be there instead of here, making your divorce a reality.

For now you silently glance around, interested to catch glimpses of who Dave is. Framed art lines the walls-- abstract shapes painted in bold blues and greens-- far from the childishly geometrical shapes done in primary colors found in most offices, along with his diploma from Harvard, proudly displayed next to a photo of Dave with the mayor.

"I handled his third divorce," he says, and you realize you've been staring at his photo for too long. You shake yourself from your thoughts.

"Everything's in order," he continues, pushing the papers away at last. "All you have to do is sign and the process server will bring it to Mr. Pena and he'll be served immediately."

"Is the process server attractive?" you ask, only half-kidding. "My husband can't resist a beautiful woman, and he won't know what hit him once he's served."

Dave allows a little laugh at this. "Sienna is a very pretty young woman. I think your husband will have to pick his jaw up off the floor before he realizes his gorgeous wife is divorcing him."

The initial prick of jealousy over Sienna's looks makes way for a wave of emotion when Dave calls you gorgeous. He realizes he's overstepped and tries to fix it, but you brush it off.

"I'll keep in touch with you during this process, but I advise you to just try to take your mind off it. Do something you enjoy, hang out with people who care about you. And I strongly advise you to ignore Mr. Pena should he call or try to see you. From everything you've told me he sounds like a garden variety narcissist. What you're doing right now is the right thing," he assures you.

Right then it's on the tip of your tongue-- you're privy to a mere outline of the goings-on within Javier's club. While a large part of you just wants to get the proceedings over with, a deeper, baser instinct desires to make the bastard pay for his crimes. You're the only one with any insight as to the illegal activities.. at least, the only one willing to talk. And though it's not his money you're after, your need for justice wants his dark deeds to come to light.

Admittedly, you struggle with the idea once you actually open your mouth to tell Dave. It's there on the tip of your tongue, but a deep-seated loyalty bars the way for your words to exit. You hate that you can't be the type of petty everyone thinks you should be, but neither does the good citizen in you dare to show herself.

'My ex-husband is involved in illegal doings, please raid his place of business' just doesn't sit right with you.

"What is it?" Dave asks, sensing something is on your mind. The thoughtfulness of his gaze nearly makes you melt. His touch rests softly on your upper arm.

Everything previous thought buzzes through your brain on repeat, a mental coin flips but you don't let it land.

"It's just been a lot to deal with today," you explain tiredly, your hand resting on his on your arm. Dave's touch tenses slightly before taking it away. "This is all going to be worth it. You're doing the right thing," he reiterates.

You tell yourself that as you leave the office, your paperwork signed and ready to go. Of course you're doing the right thing. That's why you feel so shitty.

You can tell Javier's been served when a never-ending procession of gifts arrives at your home. You don't know how he got your new address, but the gesture of flower arrangements, stuffed animals, boxes of jewelry, and Shari's Berries (which you end up eating a few of just because they're delicious).

He doesn't bombard you with texts or calls, but leaves notes along with his gifts. His chicken-scratch handwriting barely legibly asking you to come back, to reconcile, to please stop the divorce process because you're breaking his heart.

If you were a weaker woman you would cave in easily, but you refuse to move the line you've drawn in the sand. You give away his gifts, make mini bouquets with the gorgeous flowers he sends and you give them away to your customers. The jewelry is the only stuff you give back, knowing its value is worth far more than the others.

Only when you're alone at night do you start to have second thoughts. The days keep you busy, revolving around your business, your family, the activities you never really got to enjoy while you were Javier's wife.

But when you curl up onto the left side of the bed as if awaiting someone else to fill the opposite side, and when you accidentally make enough food for two instead of just one, you realize being single is an adjustment, and it's taking you a little longer to get used to.

The mediation that follows is quicker than you'd expected. Neither of you want any of the other's business profits. Though Javier's club is more lucrative than your little bookstore/bakery, you take great pride in it being your own income.

Across the table in a small meeting room in Dave's law office, you are keenly aware of Javier's eyes on you, as if he's mentally willing you to look his way, to sway your opinion, to change your mind. What if he pulls some Jedi mind trick and gets you to rip up the papers and go back to him, rewind everything you've done and sit in a purgatory of your own making while he does whatever pleases him?

And damn it he looks good. His hair is neatly styled, forgoing the usual messy curls and longer sideburns. He looks like he could be the opposing counsel. And he knows it, the way he returns your glance, a dare within his dark gaze.

"So it's come to this," he says, fingers drumming on the table. You recognize that habit: he's dying for a cigarette. He's just as anxious about losing you as you are about losing him. And then you wonder if he's wondering if you've told on him, given the authorities the info that would grant a search warrant and risk putting his ass away for years.

It's quite a powerful thing to see him try to hide his relief when the meeting comes to an end and he realizes he's safe. Because of your mercy.

Next to you, Dave is a grounding presence, a gentle reassurance that you're doing the right thing for yourself, your sanity, and your broken heart.

Afterwards, even with the formalities out of the way Javier still has the gall to go to you, take your arm, try to bring you to a secluded corner near the elevator bank. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Dave, waiting, as if looking for a signal from you that you need him.

"You're really ending us, mi corazon?" Javier whispers, his lips close to your ear, his wisp of breath sending a little shock to your system.

"Javi, this was a long time coming," you extricate yourself from his grip.

"C'mon.. you can't forgive a one-time thing?"

"Are you an idiot or do you just have selective memory?" you huff. "That was far from the first time.. you were never faithful to me. And I deserve better."

"Baby," he grasps your arm once more as you try to leave. "I'm a shithead. I know, baby. But I need you. Only you can make me better."

You recognize his pleas from the notes he sent with the gifts. The man could never be faulted as a writer, but it's sad that he can't even learn new pickup lines.

"Oh Javi.." you cup his face and for a moment he looks hopeful. The woodsy scent of his aftershave lingers, reminding you of mornings you shared as a couple. "If I didn't make you better in all our time together then I must not be the miracle worker you think I am."

Walking away from him feels good, freeing. Dave is at your side as you step into the elevator, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, gesturing you in like the gentleman he is as you walk away from your very first love.

Dave has meetings the rest of the day, but he treats you to dinner at an Italian place he thinks you'll like, a celebration of putting the finishing touches on your divorce.

Valentina's is the kind of restaurant that has an old-fashioned feel. Red and white checkered tablecloths adorn the tabletop and Frank Sinatra songs play over the speakers. You and Dave are given a booth near the back, somewhat private with a good view of the rest of the place.

And there it is again, his hand resting on your lower back, the heat of him pressing through your black and white polka-dot dress.

"Are we celebrating something today?" the waiter asks in a thick accent. He's around your dad's age, pleasantly plump, attired in a crisp maitre'd outfit.

"No," you answer immediately. "Well.. yes."

"First date?" the man guesses, and you and Dave glance at each other, color rushing to your faces.

"No," he answers. "We're celebrating her divorce."

The maitre'd smirks. "She is divorced, and now you get to be with her, yes?"

The look on Dave's face and the particular shade of red that he blushes is going to stay on your mind for awhile. Especially when he speaks to the maitre'd in Italian, quick and musical in his low, soft voice.

"What did you tell him?" you ask with curiosity, leaning forward with your chin resting on your hand.

He pauses, obviously taking in the sight of you. "I told him your heart is broken and I'm doing the best I can to fix it." Another pause as he sips some water. "Because you're my client, of course."

That doesn't stop the waiter from coming back with a small vase of roses and baby's breath to decorate your table after he takes your order, presenting the wine Dave suggested with a flourish, pouring both your glasses with the ruby liquid.

"I'm guessing you didn't learn Italian in law school," you say slyly, taking a sip of wine.

"I like languages," he admits with a smile.

"You'll have to teach me some."

"I will," he nods. "If you keep me on retainer." A conniving little smirk curls the corners of his mouth upwards and for one insane moment you wonder how he would taste right now if you kissed him.

"How many women have you done?" you ask, then realize how wrong it came out. "I mean, how many female clients have you had?"

Despite your embarrassment, Dave answers honestly, without poking fun. "Women tend to hire female lawyers, and men tend to hire men. I guess it's about strength in numbers.. but to answer your question, not many. Why? Do you think you won't use me again?" he feigns a little worried look.

"Funny," you chuckle. "Do I get a discount if I've used your services before? Some kind of punch card? My fifth divorce is free?"

"The only way you'll have a fifth divorce is if you marry and divorce that idiot over and over."

"Of course," you play along. "But what if we're just like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton?"

"At least they had the sense to only marry twice."

Dave leaves to take a business call and you're left alone for a moment. You catch snippets of the song playing over the general ambience. "Just One of Those Things" by Ella Fitzgerald plays, the lyrics drawing your attention: 'a trip to the moon on gossamer wings'. It somehow perfectly describes your marriage to Javier..

When your food comes your mouth can't help watering. Dave returns soon after, apologizing for leaving you so long, though it was only a few minutes.

A few tables away a man with his date gets down on one knee and proposes. When the woman says yes the restaurant bursts into applause. You and Dave clap, smiling politely at the happy couple. You wish you could feel the joy they feel. Instead, nostalgia washes over you in a sickening wave.

"Javier proposed to me at Olive Garden," you tell Dave, who's digging into his veal parmigiana. He raises his brow, shaking his head.

"There's nothing really wrong with Olive Garden."

"I had to talk him out of Buffalo Wild Wings first."

"Oh."

He only met the man a few moments back at the office, but he has a good idea of the man you thought you married. You were young and impressionable, he was suave and mysterious. There was nothing for you but to fall madly in what you thought was love.

"I don't like him," Dave says. "I didn't like him the minute he walked through the door."

Something about the way he says it warms you, not only because he's on your side, but because the damsel-in-distress part of you loves having a champion. "You have better judgment than I did all those years ago.."

He smiles tenderly. "You can't blame yourself for the choices you made when you were too young to know better."

"Well.. how do some people get it right the first time? Why did it work out with you and your wife, but not for me and Javier?"

Dave doesn't know how to answer at first, sipping the wine in the crystal glass before him. He glances down at his gold wedding band, wishing he could be blatantly honest with you and tell you he and Carol have their own issues and every day seems to feel like an uphill battle, but right now it's more important to him to give you faith.

"It wasn't always perfect. We've gone through our share of problems," he admits. "And I know you probably see me as someone in the business of tearing families apart. Which I do, most of the time," he adds with a grimace. "But I've also learned what not to do. When I go home at night after a long day of court appearances, mediations, mountains of paperwork, I'm just glad to be with my family. My work helps me appreciate them more."

You manage a small smile. If he can persist, so can you. And he's around such negativity all day. You have your books and your sweets and so you expect life to always be so simple. "I think I look for the good in people, even when it's not there. Either I'm stupid or simple."

"You're neither." His hand is on your forearm, a gesture of comfort. "One day you'll fall in love again and it'll be even better the second time around. Because it'll be the real thing," he adds.

There's something incredibly special about this moment, one of the few times you feel okay with going a little beyond the bounds of a client-attorney relationship. But the moment ends abruptly when the waiter sends a couple of violinists to serenade you during what is in no uncertain terms, not a date.

You'd like to believe Dave. You'd like to think you still possess an unfulfilled 'happily ever after' for yourself, locked away for just the right person. But you're alone in your home, with no one to greet you or ask how your day was. Admittedly, the world feels less warm now that you're apart, gone your separate ways, your transactional relationship over.

It's not just that. The whole world has changed, modified itself to grow away from you, leaving you like a plant in darkness. Love songs aren't about you anymore. You can't relate to their brightness, only mourn it.

Javier was the first person you ever fell in love with. You have no idea that the bigger challenge will not be falling out of love with him, but falling in love with yourself.

dividers by @strangergraphics & @saradika-graphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal @sunnytuliptime

@mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk @almostfoxglove

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647 @milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

@misstokyo7love @ppascalq

[cyber-dump-171]

Prologue: Missing

Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

Masterlist | Chapter 1 →

Word count: 3.2 k.

WARNING: N/A

Note: thank you for stopping by and reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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“Excuse me, coming through".

You walk down the dim corridor, the sound of telephones and mundane conversations muffled by the large window that separates the common office from the rest of the rooms. You take a quick glance inside and notice that it is emptier than usual, with only a couple of agents sitting at their desks filling out forms, watching the television broadcasting the evening news, or chatting with their cubicle neighbors.

You continue, carefully hugging the old box tighter as you slip past some of your father's co-workers, who greet you quietly before resuming their conversation, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cigarette smoke clinging to their shirts wafting through the air. You're thankful it's not a stupidly strong cologne like the one James Blanc, one of the junior officers, wears. He puts on too much and it always makes you sneeze.

It reminds you of your male classmates who shower themselves in body spray after gym class, the smell making you dizzy as you sit inside the suffocating classroom.

After a few minutes of walking down the dull, gray hallway, you finally reach your destination, stopping in front of a worn wooden door with a silver plaque that reads a familiar name in faded letters: "Det. Pembroke”. Behind the doorway, you can hear a male and female voice, the latter sounding distressed, though you can't discern what they're talking about. Balancing the cardboard box on one arm, you lift your free hand and rack your knuckles against the solid material.

"Come in, door's open", replies a gruff voice after a couple of seconds of silence. Grunting and mentally begging yourself not to drop the heavy package, your hand quickly finds the handle and turns it urgently, the old wood creaking loudly as the door swings open, giving way to a simple yet messy office.

Tall rectangular metal cabinets and bookcases line the dark green walls, with various certificates and diplomas filling the empty spaces. On the right side of the room is a large display cabinet with various comic book figurines, knick-knacks, trophies and photo frames, displaying some of your family's memorabilia and achievements. On the opposite side of the office, under a rectangular window, is a wooden table with small drawers containing a small coffee pot and water dispenser. 

Your eyes sweep around the room and settle on your father, who sits behind a metal desk, with piles of documents, dirty mugs, a cup full of pens and pencils, and an old laptop taking up space on the surface. Behind it is a large map detailing the geography of your city, Kotohira. You take notice of several colored thumbtacks mark certain areas, though you can't see exactly where they point to.

He lifts his head to acknowledge your presence and his slender finger points to a table hidden in the corner of the room. “Put it there, kid. Careful with that, it's important,” you nod quickly at your father's words and head for the cabinet, pushing aside the manila folders to make room for the box. 

You place the package down with a quiet sigh, using your now free hands to wipe the dust from your button-up shirt, your legs burning as a reminder that it's been hours since you've sat down, too busy running errands and fetching documents around the station. 

Your father's eyes focus again on the woman sitting across from him, and he clears his throat as he continues. “Mrs. Enma, please don't worry, my men are working full-time to solve this case,” he reassures the woman, who nods silently at his affirmation.

Your gaze is drawn to the figure, an old woman you recognize as your upstairs neighbor who lives in apartment 305, Saeki Enma. You have bumped into her and her husband several times, either in the building's elevator or the nearby supermarket. It's strange to see her like this, with her usual warm smile and cheerful laughter replaced by a chagrined expression and puffy red eyes.

However, her reaction is understandable, as her only grandson is now the ninth person to go missing in the last month in Kotohira.

Saeki shakily reaches for her small black leather purse sitting on her lap, her small hands pulling out a beautiful baby-blue silk handkerchief, dabbing the corner of her wrinkled eyes to wipe away the rest of her salty tears. Her lips quiver as she looks down.

"Thank you, Detective Pembroke. My little Yuuken means the world to me, he's a kind and responsible boy. Oh my God... he must be so scared," she breaks down after glancing at the file in front of her, the picture of her grandson quietly staring back at her.

Her hands cover her eyes as her body shakes, the sound of her sobs echoing off the walls of the quiet office. Your father immediately gets up from his swivel chair and places a comforting hand on the old woman's back, while you run to the water dispenser, fill a glass, and hand it to her with a comforting smile.

Saeki accepts it with a sniffle, her trembling hands wrapping around the transparent glass as she sips in silence, her crying ceasing. A few minutes later, she calms down and sighs, gently patting your father's hand as a sign of gratitude. And suddenly, her eyes widen as her attention turns to you. 

"Oh my, (Y/N)! It's good to see you, what are you doing here? I apologize that you have to see me in this state," she laughs weakly, and you can still hear a hint of sadness in her voice. You suspect she's trying to distract herself from the grief of losing her grandson.

In return, you offer a small smile and a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please don't worry, Mrs. Enma. It's good to see you, too." Your father suddenly slaps a hand on your shoulder with a toothy smile, causing you to jump in surprise as you turn to look at him in confusion.

“Kiddo over here had no plans for the summer, so I dragged them to the station to help out” - bullshit, you did have plans! You were going to spend every day inside, locked in your room with the air conditioning on, sprawled on your bed, and enjoying your free time. Hell, you'd even bought so many books and comics to read during the break! Now they're just going to sit there, gathering dust.

As Saeki finishes her glass of water, she lifts her head to look at the clock, whose hands point to the current time, 8:43 p.m. “My God! I apologize for taking up so much of your time, Detective Pembroke. My husband will be worried, I should be getting home,” she gasps in surprise. As you help Mrs. Enma out of her chair and pick up her cane, your father heads down the hallway, shouting for a nearby officer to help escort Saeki home.

In a matter of seconds, you hear a pair of footsteps running toward the office, and suddenly a young blond policeman stands in the doorway, nervously greeting your father. You remember that his name is Renart, a French cop freshly graduated from the police academy near Chichibugahama beach. The officers at the station call him "Croissant Surfer.”

Renart escorts Mrs. Enma out of the office, but not before she thanks your father again and gives you a warm smile as she bids you farewell. Your father promptly closes the door, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Nine people... nine people just gone," he whispers.

As you walk to the desk, your eyes scan the missing person's report. Yuuken Enma, a second-year student of Hibari Municipal High School disappeared this afternoon after leaving the Ishimoto gymnasium at around 2:30 p.m. He was reported missing by his grandparents who explained that Yuuken failed to pick up his phone and had never arrived home at an agreed hour.

According to witness reports, he was last seen by his fellow kendo club member and first-year student, Koito Saya. The two of them were training for an upcoming kendo match which would take place after summer break ended. 

Koito explains that Yuuken left practice early because "he was feeling unwell and he had to help his grandmother prepare some things for the Tanabata Festival.” The first-year student stayed in the gym for another hour of training, and when he left the facility around 4:00 p.m., he found a keychain from an action figure that belonged to Yuuken on the floor. Minutes later, the Enma's called the police station.

Your fingers grab the corner of the paper and turn the page to read some additional details about the case. This Yuuken boy... the two of you stood together at the bus station, but you never really spoke. You went to different schools, and his appearance and aura communicated that he didn't want to be bothered, so you left him alone. Besides, you're not the most outgoing person, so you never really made a move to befriend him. You only knew of his personality from the comments of neighbors and even your parents; a "charismatic and determined young man.” 

Your eyes land on an evidence report detailing the footage from the gym's surveillance camera. Your eyes widened as you remembered the conversation you overheard in the records room about two days ago about the recent missing persons cases.

According to the officer, all of the nine disappearances have been caught on CCTV, but you can never see who is taking them or where they are going because the recording always glitches.

He described in detail the disappearance of Fígaro Koskela, the young heir to a Finnish jewelry empire, who was walking home from a party organized by his classmates. He's alone, it's the middle of the night, he's strolling down an alley near some residential houses, when all of a sudden his head whips around as he hears a strange noise, the policeman describes the sound as that of a loud roar followed by a cry similar to that of horses.

Figaro's expression morphed into one of shock and bewilderment, paralyzed on the spot as his blue eyes did not look away from where the sound came. At that moment, the camera stops and the footage goes black. Suspiciously, the camera reactivated itself hours later as police arrived on the scene and neighbors peered out their windows and doors to see what was going on.

The officer explained that all the victims disappeared in the same way: they were alone in Kotohira, they heard something, and the camera footage went black, adding that the people who were near where the victims disappeared never heard anything strange. But he also points out that none of the victims have anything in common. Age, appearance, socioeconomic status, even where they live, nothing.

You're jolted out of your trance as your father clears his throat and walks past you, taking a seat in his chair, before turning to face you, the lack of sleep and stress evident due to the dark circles under his eyes. "From the looks of things, I don't think I'll be leaving the office anytime soon. Do you think your mom can pick you up?"

Normally, you would walk home, since the police station is not that far from the apartment building. That, and the night air feels good on your skin, plus, it gives you some time alone to think and take some pictures of the sky and wildlife.

However, because of the recent disappearances, everyone in Kotohira is on edge, including you and especially your parents. This morning, you even received some messages from a few of your school friends who were outraged because their parents wouldn't let them go on their annual trip to the beach for fear that their children would be the next victims.

You nodded at your dad’s request before taking the seat that Mrs. Enma had previously occupied and wasted no time dialing your mother's phone number. Frankly, you were tired and hungry, having accidentally skipped lunch to help the Chief's secretary organize a mountain of paperwork that needed to be archived. Seriously, these guys are a mess.

After a few dials, you hear the sound of the phone picking up and your mother's cheery voice answering from the other end. "Hello, honey! How's my baby doing?" you see out of the corner of your eye as your father chuckles, having heard your mother's cooing over the loud volume of the phone. "I'm fine, Mom. How was your case?"

You can hear your mother gasp in surprise before she giddily recounts the details of the latest case she took on. "Oh, you bet your ass I won it! You should have seen the look on that idiot Howard's face when they declared my client innocent. That asshole always takes the side of dirty money," you laugh lightly at your mom’s colorful words; she has had a fierce rivalry with Vanguard Legal Services’ best attorney, Howard Waltz, ever since college. They even work at competing firms.

Your mother spends a few minutes telling you more details about the case before asking you why you called her. You tell her about Yuuken Enma's recent disappearance and that your father won't be able to take you home due to the heavy workload. 

"Yuuken has disappeared!? Oh, poor thing, I hope they find him soon. Don't worry, darling, I just left the office, I'll be there in about half an hour," after exchanging a few more words, you hang up the call.

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You hold your head in your hands, it feels like someone is violently sticking a sharp needle into the left side of your brain and your eyes won't stop throbbing. 'What the actual hell happened? I was doing fine a minute ago.’

Your father had left after the Chief knocked on the door and told him that they were going to have a brief meeting to organize a search party for Yuuken and share some updates on the case. Seconds after they departed and your dad bid you goodbye in case you were gone before he returned, your terrible headache suddenly appeared, and now you feel like you're going to throw up.

“O, thou who were guided by the dark mirror”.

"What was that!? Hello!?" you yell, the chair legs squeaking loudly against the floor as you quickly stand up, your eyes scanning the room trying to find the deep voice that just spoke. Your heart is beating fast, your breathing labored as your hands immediately find a fountain pen sitting on top of some papers, grab it, and point the tip outward to use it as a makeshift weapon. 

‘Are the rookies pulling a prank? Or am I hallucinating? Damn it! This fucking headache is driving me insane!’ You lower your head to look at the gap between the door and the floor, but you don’t see anyone standing outside or hear any movement from the hallway. Before you can continue to examine the room any further, your phone vibrates and the screen turns on, displaying a recent message from your mother alongside other notifications: "I'm outside." 

You waste no time getting your things, slinging the messenger bag over your shoulder, grabbing your sweater off the back of the chair, and throwing the pen away, landing behind your father’s chair. You're tired, you're hungry, you don’t want to deal with whatever prank somebody’s pulling on you, and you want to take care of this headache before it turns into an excruciating migraine. 

You make your way over the door, making sure you stomp your feet as hard as you can to warn whoever is hiding and pulling your hair, to start running before you catch them and kill them. You twist the doorknob and open the door quickly, only to find... the hallway completely desolated and eerily quiet.

This is strange... even if everyone was working, you would hear the noise coming from the offices, but, there is no sound at all. You can’t even hear the wind blowing outside or the droning songs from the cicadas. Your stomach twists into knots, a feeling in your gut screaming at you that something is wrong. You need to get out of there now.

“Let thy heart’s desire reflected in the mirror take thee by the hand”.

Yeah, no, this is no prank. Whatever's going on here is some paranormal shit. 

You don't waste a second as you bolt from your father's office, running down the hallway as fast as you can, never looking back for fear of something coming after you. You groan as your headache begins to worsen, your head now throbbing and your ears ringing loudly as you begin to hear a chorus of unintelligible voices inside your brain.

“In me. In them. In you.”

You pant as you run past the common office, your eyes widening as you find the entire room empty, all the equipment turned off and the chairs scattered around the room as if everyone had suddenly gotten up and gone home. The deep voice rings louder in your head again, its words feeling like mockery. ‘What the hell is going on? Where did everyone go? Dad, please be okay!’

“We all have very little time left.”

"AGH, JUST SHUT UP!" you shout, hoping the voices will go away, but they only get louder by the second. Thankfully, you reach the entrance of the police station, your eyes widening in relief as you find your mother's gray car parked right outside. Swinging the glass door open, you dash towards the vehicle, panic running through your veins.

"MOM! PLEASE! IT'S ME! OPEN THE DOOR!" you slam your right hand against the window as you yank hard at the handle of the locked car door. But as you duck your head to look inside the car, your breath is cut short and you feel your heart come to a screeching halt. The driver's side is empty, not a trace of your mother inside.

You slowly back away from the vehicle in utter disbelief, the voices having stopped, but you don't even notice, too preoccupied with the sudden disappearance of everyone around you. Your attention, however, is drawn to a hellish sound coming from your right. A loud roar, creaking wood, heavy wheels rolling on the pavement, and the whole cacophony accompanied by the cries of horses.

You feel frozen in place as your head turns to the side and your eyes widen at the sudden appearance of a funeral carriage drawn by two elegant horses coming at you at full speed. 

You want to run, to escape from this hellish scene as quickly as possible, to run into your parents' arms. ‘This has to be a nightmare. This isn’t real!’ Every single muscle and nerve in your body is screaming for you to move, and yet something is holding you back. You close your eyes in fear as the sound of hooves comes closer and closer.

You feel nothing as the carriage crashes into you.

“Welcome to Night Raven College, young soul”.

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Tag list:

@rotknox

[gumballavocadoharry]

Estrangement 2:

*This is a continuation of the emotional trauma that Kaitlin is suffering from yn and Harry. Note that mentions and depictions of mental and emotional neglect are displayed here.*

I waited impatiently for that diploma to be mailed. When is that paper coming? It's been 2 weeks? I pondered to myself. I picked my dry lips, peeling off the important layers that brace me against a bloody sore lip from peeling off to much of the lip skin.

I heard the sound of a heavy vehicle pull up not too far from the house. I raced downstairs in hopes that the awaited piece of paper I desperately wanted to cherish would be here. I opened the front door where I was handed a large letter and package from the mail man. "Enjoy you're day miss." He said with friendly smile. "Thank you."

I went back inside and darted to my bedroom to see if this was it. It ended up being more than what I bargained for. My diploma and cap and gown came at the same time! I leaped out of my skin when I carefully opened the letter carrying my future job security ticket. I read it proudly, making sure not to miss a single word of my attainment. I excitedly took the black cap and gown that I sprung for eagerly and carefully pulled over my lavender shirt and blue stoned washed jeans. I gazed at myself in the mirror feeling an overwhelming sense of pride. I stood boldly in the mirror as my triumphant smile glistened through the empty pieces.

I knew only one person would want to see such an accomplish, so I called in Kira to my bedroom. She trailed in unsuspecting until she saw me in my graduate uniform. "Katie!" She gleamed before hugging my thigh. I picked her up and held her on my side as I took a picture of the two of us. The only two people who mattered in this very moment. I set my little sister down and continued with my boasting pride. I would be handed another degree, that would be framed and only attainable at the ceremony that I was desperate to attend. I pictured myself walking on stage after being handed my trophy in a brown framed picture case that was protecting the piece of paper inside. My lips stung as they formed a memorable smile. My eyes blinked back the tears forming in the corner of them as not to wet my gown with any salty waterfalls.

I constantly checked the school homepage to see the due date of my ceremony that was soon to come. This Friday. That was the day of one of the most important and meaningful events of my life. I had to be there. It was set.

"The ceremony starts at 5," I said beyond everyone's bedroom doors as I was already packing away my dress and cap and gown for tonight. Kira bounced up and down with excitement, as Kameron was coming out of his bedroom. "Five?" He questioned rubbing his eyes from his choice of dim lighting bedroom. I nodded firmly. "Yep, be ready." 

Mom and Dad stumbled out of their bedrooms looking emotionless as expected. On Kim's high school graduation, you should've seen them: cheering, clapping, whistling with their fingers to grasp her attention as she was handed her diploma. I admit I was deeply proud of my older sister as well, but it still stung that they were nothing like that for mine. As a matter of fact, one of the most painful memories I'll have is hearing Kylie's voice asking dad where he was going, only to swiftly turn from the stage for me to see him getting up and not coming back until another student was accepting his diploma.

Mom just stayed on her phone the whole time, partially confused as to what was going on around her. But I tired hard to shake that thought off. After all I was doing this for Kira to watch, otherwise I would be going to the ceremony myself. 

The time came when I was already dressed in my cap and gown and everyone shuffled themselves into the car. Dad was deliberately holding us up until Kylie who was coming out late as well, ushered him out. He begrudgingly settled himself into the car as if it was a waste of time, pulling time out of his busy schedule to do something that he hated to do so much. I shook my head at the two passengers sitting up front, one in the driver's seat and the other in the passengers. "Thanks Kylie." I whispered discreetly to which she replied with a smile and a wink.

We drove until we reached the Thomas Hall where the ceremony would take place. I leaped out of the car and ran to the auditorium where I was ushered to the backstage where all the other graduates were taking place. I grew anxious about what was to happen on stage. I would never want to embarrass myself while thousands of people looked on. I wanted to be proud of myself.

The school official came out onto the stage and started the ceremony. I stood dubiously as the speaker was announcing names and handing out diplomas. I glanced over in the audience to see Kira smiling in awe and Kristopher filming it on his phone. I smiled gently at them before turning back to the stage. In the corner of my eye, I could see dad sitting there impatiently with a surfeited look on his face. Mom was no better, gutsy rolling her eyes and checking her phone. 

Soon enough it was my turn to accept my diploma. I couldn't even turn to the audience to see my parents faces, I couldn't be bothered to look at such fallacious expressions as I was receiving something that meant a lot to me. "Miss Kaitlin Styles, a top of the class honor student who has written exceptional papers! We are all very proud of you here at Berklin's digital university!" The speaker said while looking from me to the audience of people clapping. I took my diploma and shook his hand before being invited to give a speech.

I cleared my throat and looked squarely into the audience, eyes focused on my family, especially Kira who was intent on hearing every word spoken. It was a fluke my parents were still in their seats, actually wanting to pay attention to the speech I was about to give.

I took a deep breath and spoke true words from the heart.

"First I'd like to take the opportunity to thank everyone for being here and for being given the chance to accept something very dear to me," I swallowed before speaking with determination.

"I want to thank only a few people who have personally been a consistent support system for me through this happy and challenging time. They were always there for me when I needed them the most and they have always been kind to me, even when I hadn't been the most kind to myself. The first person is my little sister Kira who is here today...she is actually a big reason why I am on this stage tonight. For her. Never underestimate the power of kindness and real love. Real love is attentive, kind, patient, considerate, strong and reasonable and it never falters due to a personality or a difficult situation...and I will forever be thankful to her for showing me that I was never alone in this world. The second person is my other younger sister Kylie who has been supplying me with little nudges to help for things to go my way, like tonight how she was able to usher everyone into the car for this special night," I chuckled along with the audience.

"She had always been a best friend to me and has never failed to show that type of compassion ever. I have learned important lessons from these ones...to not remember the ones who have turned away from you with a cold shoulder, but to remember the ones who did help you along the way." I stepped down and watched as everyone gave a standing ovation for me as I walked off the stage with tears streaming from my face. 

Kylie and Kira cried as I made my way around to their section, only to my parents looking almost ashamed. Their faces were red and anguished, yet they still clapped loudly as all eyes were on me making my way down to where the rest of the other graduates were. Kris, Kim and Kam clapped loudly too as they saw me exit the auditorium.

The frozen smile on my face spelled volumes. It wasn't about to go anywhere even when it attracted attention from the other graduates who chatted with me while I waited for the ceremony to be over. It finally ended with everyone getting their diplomas and celebrating. My family came and found me, with Kristopher giving me a side hug along with Kimberly and Kameron. Kylie ran to me with proud tears streaming down her face. She held Kira tightly in her arms as the both kissed my cheek with immense affection. 

I glanced with my peripheral vision towards my parents who were coming up to us. I wanted to excuse myself, maybe in a way of reprisal for how I was treated by them for years. But I didn't...today was a fresh start for me. "Kaitlin....we just wanted to congratulate you for a job well done." My dad sheepishly said, looking around everytime his eyes met mine. Mom put a silent hand on my shoulder, that I had no intention to rub off. I licked my lips before pursing them. "Thank you," I swallowed hard and sniffled. I forced a pursed smile and continued on with the with the afterparty. 

Later that night, when we came home, I went straight to my room and packed away my diploma and cap and gown. Of course there was no party at the house because my parents only seemed to show interest in me when their names weren't mentioned in my speech as people who were there for me. No surprise for me at least but I wasn't interested in a pity party for them after everything they've done. Nothing would change fate's design for me.

I got started packing things early, late into the night putting away my curtains, my laptop, my clothes. Then the items on my desk were being packaged nicely and put into the moving boxes along with my jewelry and perfume, dainty things that needed to be packed with special care. I made it on minimum sleep, and in the morning I finished where I had left off.

I had sealed a deal working for a blog that would pay a very decent amount and I was to start in two days so that meant I was leaving tonight. My mom walked past my room every now and then seeing more and more things being packed away. "Kaitlin....breakfast is ready." She said almost choking on her words, holding back a guilty conscience racked with tears of realization. "Oh thanks....but I think I'll pass." I knew I didn't have to say the last part, but it made my stomach turn seeing at how it took a graduation speech for them to finally reconfigure their choices as parents. A little too late for that now.

I barely even so much as glanced at my mother's face because I was so busy trying to pack up everything. I waited till she went downstairs to give Kira her goodbye gift. I knocked one last time on the oak colored door that separated Kira's bedroom from the hallway that was right across from Kameron's room. The door opened as I entered the princesses pink room decorated in butterflies and pastel rainbow stickers, the bed that held a pink glittery canopy over it and the yellow rug with a toy horse and fairy barbie dolls scattered across it. "Kira...I'm going to be leaving very soon as you know right?" She nodded, already gaining watery eyes and hung onto me a little tighter.

It broke me to see her about to cry as I was hasten to cry myself. I held her cheek in my hand softly. "I-I want you to have this so that way we'll always be close." A lump in my throat appeared that made me internally hyperventilate with sobs. "It's a reminder...t-that I-I'll always be your big sister." I hugged her tightly before finally give way to the sobs that were choking me. We both cried as the realization of what goodbye really meant. I gifted Kira my book of poems and even wrote a special story and poem for her in my last page. I pulled away and looked into her red glossy teary eyes. "This is for you to read at bedtime okay?" I sniffled, desperate to cry again.

"I love you Kaitlin," She hugged me again crying. "I love you too." I said with shaky voice that cried weakly into her arms. I pulled away one last time and walked back to my room. The white bedspread with orange flowers on it, the gray and purple covers that tucked me in every night and the earthy poster I had hanging on the wall above my bed were all packed and ready to go. All the pictures, desk, decorations that I personally hung with the mellow help of a towering Kristopher, were all taken down and packed in the brown moving boxes. Even the light switch cover that was customized for me was packed. Everything I owned was somewhere in a box.

I sniffled looking back one last time at my bedroom where I watched the sun rise, the sun set and the afternoon blue sky and blazing balmy sun that frowned down at the green grass and pink and yellow flowers that laced the front lawn in all it's glory.

I bit my lip and packed the last box before sealing it up and going downstairs to pull my car around. My family was at the table eating breakfast in a mundane silence. I pretended as if they weren't there and went to garage and pulled my car around to the front before going back inside, ready to fit some boxes into this CRV. I went back and fourth, putting boxes in my car and then shooting upstairs to get another one, then another one, then another....then none.

Everything was set. My parents were sitting on the couch while everyone else sat in the dining room, eye glued on my parents. I was nonplussed with what was going on when my parents ushered me to sit across from them.

Memories of the last conversation sitting across from my dad flooded my mind. The despondent thought was only an example of my ambition to leave. "Kate, we wanted to tell you that we're all going to miss you and that....." My mother started to cry. "You can stay if you want. You don't have to leave."

I compressed my lips together looking coldly into their eyes. "I don't think it's really up for debate now." I interrupted. My dad charged in. "Kaitlin....we do love you...and we admit we really messed up. We're sorry and we can try to make this right if we all work together-"

"Goodbye." I said getting up and started to walk away. Dad bolted after me and begged me not to go. "Katy please!" Dad allowed for tears to stream down his cheeks. "I know we can't give you that time back.....but...please allow us to make this better?" He choked. I looked at him, then mom and then towards everyone else before shaking my head. 

"Exactly. Time that was precious and worth spending every minute and effort and energy into me was never used. For a long time I had thought there was something wrong with me....like I was never meant to exist...but then I realized that circumstances and peoples actions are not your own, no matter how responsible someone tries to make you for them. You have not even begun to be parents to me, sure everyone else you were perfect...but not to me. So please, let me walk away and use the rest of my life to be happy....that is what you can do."

Dad let me go, somberly ceasing this fight. You can't fix what's broken all the time and sometimes walking away is part of starting over. It was time to let go....so I picked up my suitcases and walked to my car...and then driving off to something better.

My life. My fresh start.

Hope you guys really liked this angst story!!! Sorry if it's not as good as the first part!!!

[rayshippouuchiha]

Skull has a scrap book of all the science journal articles where oodacko is tearing apart Verde and reborn

Skull not only has a scrapbook that he flips through when he's feeling down, he's got all of Oodako's degrees/diplomas/awards/certificates framed and displayed in his private airship. He is beyond proud of his partner.

[oneforthemunny]

graduating tomorrow!! how would eddie react to watching reader walk the stage?

congrats angel!!! a huge accomplishment and I'm proud of youuuuu!!!

I mean you know they all would be so so so proud of you.

cowboy!eddie's bringing you a bouquet, probably gonna do that loud ass yee haw whistle (even tho they said not to cheer he doesn't care!!!).

rockstar!eddie would tell everyone that his girl was smarter than them and he means that with his whole heart, chest, and soul. like he could be looking at einstein and would be 100% serious when he said you were smarter than him.

older!Eddie (bc he's such a dad and old man and I love him) is taking your diploma immediately to get it framed. you would've just tucked it under your bed but he wants it displayed! picks a pretty frame out and everything bc he's so proud.

janitor!eddie sobs. I mean, no shock there. but he does in fact sob because he's so proud.

mafia!eddie has a million guys posted up and he dresses down, but if you think he doesn't have some big ass present for you, you're out of your mind. he spoils you, absolutely and entirely. he just wants you to let you know how proud he is of you!!

modern!eddie live streams it. he screams so loud, nasty looks be damned. baby he's having a watch party!!!

bouncer!eddie is also screaming at the top of his lungs. he and ellen got there so early (bc they all show up!!) and they're cheering so loud. close the bar to celebrate you that night with greasy bar food, bad karaoke, booze induced competition on darts and pool.

congrats again babe!! enjoy your day!!!

[leftyywrites]

Death x Taxes

Somethings you can't escape, Death, Taxes, Bureacracy. - J.Cole

In the grand cosmic joke that is existence, Death had discovered an immutable truth far more terrifying than mortality itself: bureaucracy is the only true immortal. They sat at their desk - a masterpiece of Nigerian craftsmanship from three centuries ago, when time meant something and artisans poured their souls into their work - contemplating this revelation while drowning in a sea of tax forms.

The thing about existing beyond the boundaries of time that no one mentions in the brochures (not that there were brochures) is that infinity doesn't exempt you from paperwork. If anything, it multiplies it, like a hydra of administrative duties - cut off one form's head, and three more sprout in its place, each demanding attention in triplicate.

"EXCUSE ME," Death said to the empty office, their voice carrying the weight of a thousand closing tomb doors, "BUT HOW EXACTLY DOES ONE CALCULATE DEPRECIATION ON A SCYTHE THAT EXISTS OUTSIDE OF LINEAR TIME?"

From atop the filing cabinet, a ragdoll cat named Taxes opened one eye and offered the kind of judgment that cats have perfected since the dawn of time. Death had named it Taxes because, like its namesake, it was both inevitable and remarkably annoying. The cat had wandered into Death's office three years ago and, in a display of cosmic irony, simply refused to die.

Death's scythe - currently serving as history's most elaborate letter opener - gleamed in the artificial light, its blade decorated with stickers of Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and Lucky the Monster Hunter. Sometimes, when you've been shepherding souls since the dawn of creation, you need to find joy in the small acts of rebellion against your own image. The stickers were a reminder that even the most final of entities could choose to be something more than their job description.

They picked up their Billy and Mandy calculator (a conscious choice over the standard-issue Supernatural Revenue Service model) and began the existential task of accounting for eternity. The drawer labeled "BUSINESS EXPENSES" told a story far more human than anyone might expect: movie ticket stubs from every screening of Ghostbusters (filed under "professional development"), coffee shop receipts from countless hours spent watching mortals live their beautiful, fleeting lives, and a collection of novelty t-shirts bearing slogans like "Grim Sleeper" and "I am NOT the skeleton detective, we just look alike."

"YOU KNOW, TAXES," Death mused, addressing the cat who had now knocked over their "Existential Muggage" mug (a Secret Santa gift from Madam KoiKoi. I rooted for Lucky, I think she found out.), "PERHAPS I SHOULD NOT HAVE STAYED IN THAT HARVESTING CLASS WHEN I FOUND OUT IT WASN'T ABOUT PRODUCE."

Taxes, flicking her tail in a gesture that conveyed the feline equivalent of "No shit, Sherlock."

The truth about loneliness is that it transcends mortality. Death had started collecting receipts not for tax purposes, but as proof that they existed beyond other people's endings. Each piece of paper was a anchor in time, a reminder that even the eternal could create moments worth remembering.

Death's gaze drifted to their framed certificates - diplomas from the Underworld School of Grim Reaping, honors in Advanced Scything and Ominous Monologuing. Back then, being one of the Four Horsemen had seemed like the ultimate career path. No one mentioned the paperwork. No one ever mentions the paperwork.

The sound of BoJack Horseman played quietly in the background - a show about mortality and purpose that Death found oddly comforting. They turned back to their stack of forms from the Supernatural Revenue Service, each envelope bearing the ominous seal of a raven clutching a quill pen. Even in the realm of eternal entities, bureaucracy reigned supreme.

"IT'S NOT THAT I DISLIKE MY WORK," Death continued, their voice softening. "THERE IS A CERTAIN POETRY IN BEING THE PERIOD AT THE END OF EVERY LIFE'S SENTENCE. BUT SOMETIMES..."

They trailed off, watching Taxes stretch and resettle, the cat's simple existence a reminder that life finds its way even in the office of Death. Perhaps that was the point - not the grandeur of being Death, but the small moments that made existence worthwhile: a purring cat, silly stickers, coffee shop visits, and yes, even the paperwork.

"AH, BUT WHAT'S DONE IS DONE," Death said, squaring their shoulders with newfound purpose. "WE ALL CHOOSE OUR ETERNITIES, DON'T WE? EVEN IF MINE COMES WITH A WITHHOLDING TAX."

And so Death returned to their forms, understanding that perhaps this too was part of the great cosmic balance - that even the end of all things needed its paperwork in order, its receipts filed, its existence documented. After all, what was bureaucracy if not humanity's attempt to impose order on the chaos of existence? And wasn't that, in its own way, a form of immortality?

[giftingproducts]

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[kitxvoss]

do you display the things you have from the resident sale? or what do u do with them?

Hi! We definitely display them-- in our living room, we have all the odds and ends we got from Kit's office like decor pieces and family photos, and we hung Bell's giant office painting above our couch. We also got the two yellow/gold pillows from Kit's office couch as well as the smaller pillows from Kitbell's bedroom so we paired those together and put them on our couch!

We call our office the Kit Voss museum, we have her diplomas and letter from her dad on the wall....and then we got shadow boxes for two of her shirts and framed images of her in them.

We got mannequins for her wedding dress and her lab coat. (Her wedding dress is so tiny I genuinely struggled to get it on the mannequin!)

[wondernus]

˗ˋˏ When We Meet Chapter 3 ˎˊ˗

synopsis: there is only so much forgiving and forgetting you can do when you end up getting stood up by your date over and over again. so when you're stuck between the best friend, the first crush, and their mysterious roommate whose existence seemed like a myth, you can only hope the decision you've been making is the right one.

pairing: kmg x reader

chapter tags: food mention, present-day, mingyu's first appearance

wc: 2k

message from nu: :-) mingoo finally here but also not really. - nu

previous | masterlist | taglist | next chapter

A crash sounds from the floor above you, and a muffled voice yelling he’s okay quickly follows. The crash isn’t big enough to cause a reverberation large enough to wobble one of the paintings hanging above the television in front of you, so you ignore it and continue vacuuming the thin red textile rug under your feet.

The living room space is tiny, but it feels like the interior came straight out of an Ikea showroom — and to be fair, most of the interior did thanks to Minghao’s job at a commercial bank. There is the grey sleeper sofa with the outstretched chaise that ends so close to the white lacquer television storage cabinet that you could reach over for the remote instead of standing up. Framed photos and paintings form a gallery wall above the television, the photos picturing memories made since university. There is a photo of DK, Minghao, and you grinning together at graduation, each clutching empty diploma books in your hands. Cast off to the side is a paid photo from an amusement park rollercoaster ride with the fourth person’s face — an ex —covered and replaced with a picture of a famous actor that the three of you all agree to be charming. A blue fortune teller and two origami frogs sit on the windowsill next to the row of fake plants in their pots and vases.

Maneuvering the vacuum back to its corner, you’re careful not to knock over the two rolled yoga mats leaning against the wall when you pull its plug. While looping and retracting the long vacuum cord, your eyes wander to the hanging calendar to the side of the staircase. It’s a calendar of some random family that made it to the shelves of a nearby thrift store that the guys thought was funny enough to buy and hang in their home as if they were a part of the photographed family. Important dates are marked with red permanent marker: utility bill due, rent due, Wi-Fi bill due, company dinner… Then there’s a date circled many times over and then crossed out and drawn on the correct date. Mingyu is coming back.

It’s been about two years since graduation. You’ve managed to not fall out of contact with your college friends — even regularly grabbing brunch at fancy hotels with those who stayed in the area. Work is near your childhood home. The only thing that seemed to change is DK — or at least his name.

DK, or rather Seokmin now as stated on his business cards, thumps down the stairs with a giant cardboard box in his arms. He sets it on the sofa and collapses on open the spot next to it, sighing loudly with his arms stretched out like he’s making a snow angel.

If it hadn’t hit you then, then it surely hits you now: Mingyu is coming back. All this preparatory work for someone whom you don’t know, for someone whose humidifier sits in the corner of the hallway closet collecting dust, for someone who clearly makes your friends happy…you can’t help but feel excited for your friends. And you can’t help but feel excited yourself.

Kim Mingyu’s stuff sits in their tiny townhouse like the objects on display in a museum after only being used for about a month or two. The owner, who couldn’t give up an opportunity for working abroad after graduation, is finally able to transfer back. For good this time. You’re sure you’ve memorized every single photo in that household, especially those of Mingyu and the stories behind them. How he towers over his two roommates, holding up bunny ears behind his friends’ heads. How his shiny silver braces catch the light when he stops what he’s doing to smile for a photo. How he made them take a picture together that first day they met in the dorms. In just a few days you’ll be able to meet him in person. And maybe tell him sorry for accidentally breaking one of his ceramic plates.

Minghao quickly follows after his friend, bounding down the stairs, car keys jingling in his pockets. He stops in front of Seokmin and pulls his keys out of his pocket, waving them in front of his face.

“Let’s go.” He lightly slaps his friend’s knee twice. “I’m driving.”

Seokmin groans in response, letting his body slide down the sofa like a piece of butter on a hot skillet. He lands with a thud in between his friend’s legs, and the friend simply crosses over his friend’s body to make his way to the kitchen where you’re standing behind the island sink with an amused look on your face.  

Minghao places his arm on your right shoulder and leans into you, his floral cologne engulfing your senses, “Promise me your next boyfriend won’t be as lazy as he is.”

“I heard that,” Seokmin calls from the floor. “You can’t hide anything in our place. Not even your snacks that your friend brought back from China for you. It’s too small.”

The man standing next to you sighs and pats you on the shoulder twice before making his way to the front door. He tells you to text him your lunch order. Lunch will be on him today.

“Are you going to tell him he’s still wearing his froggy headband?” you ask Seokmin after Minghao closes the front door behind him.

“No.” Seokmin finally pushes himself off the floor and stares downwards at his old stained t-shirt. He frowns while lifting up the hem up his large tee past his bellybutton, inspecting all of his various stains, kind of embarrassed to venture in public wearing old clothes next to Minghao (even while he’s sporting the bright green cartoon froggy headband). Turning to you, he tells you that he’s going to run upstairs to quickly change before heading out. “Answer my phone on the counter if Mingyu calls. Hang up if Hao calls,” he instructs you from the top of the bannisters.

The sound of Seokmin’s soon to be shared bedroom door closing rings throughout the townhouse, and you are alone to yourself. Picking up his abandoned cellphone, you bring it to the living room area so you can look through the box of unwanted items the guys are thinking about donating. You know you wouldn’t mind taking a couple of Minghao’s old clothes — he would probably even give you styling tips if he had time. However, in the cardboard box are old second-hand college textbooks that they bought from a friend of a friend of a friend and a couple of hand-made tie blankets and gifts from exes. To be honest, the thought of throwing away that paid amusement park rollercoaster photo is extremely tempting, but the guys insist that the memories that the three of you share (and the price of that photo…amusement park items are heavily overpriced, but it works because people will pay for them) heavily overweigh a stupid ex whose face could easily be taped over by someone better looking.

Plus, the guys reassure you, your self-worth is much higher than whatever you lowered yourself to with that last ex. It’s about a year since you last dated anybody and even you know to never settle for less.

Fingers gloss over the knots and fringes on the fleece tie blankets, feeling the smooth fabric that’s slowly falling apart at its hand-tied knots. It’s a shame the guys are throwing away the projects, but the blankets don’t, as Marie Kondo says, spark joy. And to be honest, you don’t think the guys ever enjoyed receiving the blankets with the tacky and bright patterns. It was a weird time: both Seokmin and Minghao coincidentally dated best friends.

A familiar marimba ringtone plays from the phone in your lap and you bring the phone up to your face. Mingyu’s name flashes on the phone owner’s lockscreen and there’s a picture of him from probably his first year to go along with it. Freshman Mingyu, baby-faced and only eighteen, smiles back at you, awkward and thin-lipped, waiting for somebody to answer the video call.

It’s exhilarating thinking about meeting Mingyu for the first time. It would be no worries at all, a chill call. At least that’s what you assume from your fragmented idea of Mingyu composed of the different stories you’ve heard about him. You were also pretty sure you could recognize that man anywhere because of all of the pictures and videos of him that you’ve seen over the course of the last few years. And with a large breath in, you answer the call.

“Seok,” a deep and tired voice immediately mumbles from offscreen. There’s a slight lisp present, just as the guys have described. “Did you double-check to see if my humidifier still works? If it doesn’t then I have to find a way to ship the one I’m currently using over to our place within the next few days. Or do you think if I bought an extra checked luggage it would be cheaper?”

The room is dark, most likely because the owner lives on the other side of the world. You can assume his phone is leaning against something on his desk. There’s not a lot to see — most of Mingyu’s stuff is already being shipped back home on a plane or a boat. A lit table lamp sits on the floor next to his bed, the nightstand probably sold or gifted to somebody else. You hear the familiar rumble of a closing desk drawer and then see a hand reach for the phone.

“Seok?” The audio crackles when Mingyu picks up the phone and brings the phone up to his face.

Then you see him for the first time. Kim Mingyu. His tanned face glows under his dimmed bedroom lights. Black hair damp, dripping, and pushed back from his shower. The man who wears a navy blue silk top with a pearly white trim, who quickly adjusts his thick wire glasses to see you better, looks nothing like the young man from Seokmin’s Mingyu contact photo.

“Oh? Hi, you must be-”

You instinctively end the call before he could greet you, slamming the phone onto the couch like you’re using a fly swatter, feeling like you accidentally stumbled upon something you weren’t supposed to see. Heart beating fast, you sit there wide-eyed in shock.

If this Mingyu is the same person Seokmin and Minghao have been referencing to for years, then they have some serious explaining to do.

Seokmin walks into the living room while adjusting the baseball cap on his head, asking if Gyu called. He trades places with his cellphone, sitting down where you slammed it on the couch and unlocks his phone to look at the follow-up text that Mingyu sent.

“You hung up on him?” your friend snorts while reading his friend’s message. “Did he say something stupid?”

“No,” you mumble to nobody in particular, “just stupidly handsome.”

“Hmm.” Seokmin tilts his head side-by-side as if he’s weighing his options. “Not sure about the handsome part. But ‘stupid’ I can agree with.”

You see him again when Seokmin returns his call, clearly this time. Plump rosy pink lips and deep smile lines that dimple his cheeks even with the laziest smile. Eyes are always looking at the center of his screen, never in the corner. They widen then shrink into comfortable semi-circles when Seokmin casually adds that you’re single after suggesting that the two of you meet when Mingyu comes back.

“Great.” Mingyu smiles while waving goodbye to the two of you. “It’s a date.”

You, awfully dumbfounded after the call and who is now stumbling towards a fuming Minghao’s car, cannot comprehend how that man is single. You just can’t.

Copyright © 2023 Wondernus. All rights reserved.

[lpmurphy]

Spring in Tchakova Park

Read on AO3

Master List

Chapter Playlist

Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Complete 5/7/24)

Chapter Eleven: Conversations

Violet offered up her office for her impromptu meeting with the head of Spartan Research. They rode the lift up to her level in uncomfortable silence. Doctor Keyes’ eyes remained fixed upon the doors ahead of her while Violet silently climbed out of her skin, bouncing on her hip with arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her stomach churned as she picked at her nail beds. It felt like her stomach had dropped so far into her ass that she could shit it out. The eyes of her staff followed her as she led Keyes down the hall to her office in tense silence. Violet was sure the whispered rumors she planned to spend the rest of the day avoiding underwater at the Ponds would commence as soon as her office door shut behind them.

She stepped into her office before Keyes, suddenly aware of the cluttered state of her desk. Yesterday’s coffee mug rotted in its lipstick stained mug beside the scattering of protein bar wrappers that had taken up residence on the tabletop. Rings of water circled the tabletop, left behind by the iced coffee she picked up on her way in that morning. Not only was she sure she was somehow in deep shit for making kissy faces with the UNSC’s greatest weapon, but she looked like an absolute slob. 

She swept the wrappers into a drawer and quickly wiped up the moisture with her sleeve before she gestured to the chair across from her. Keyes looked around her office as she entered as if documenting every little thing from the framed pictures on Violet’s desk to her diplomas hung behind her. Violet felt sweat trickle down her back, desperately chalking it up to her run down to the hangar and not the way she was being seemingly observed by her boyfriend’s boss.

“I apologize. I’m usually a lot tidier than this,” she lied.

Keyes sunk into the chair across from her, Violet still caught in her perspicacious stare as she sat behind her desk. Violet pushed her pad to the side. John’s unnoticed parting message still blinked on her screen. A tense silence fell between the two scientists as Violet brought her hands together on her desktop and picked nervously at her thumbnail. Violet cleared her throat before she met Keyes’ eyes with a smile that shook slightly.  

“How can I be of assistance, Doctor Keyes?”

“I’ve been a Spartan short at curfew the past three nights,” she said plainly, watching Violet’s fingers gnash at the bed of her thumbnail, “I’m assuming the little display I witnessed before Silver Team’s deployment would answer where Master Chief has been sleeping?”

“I am so sorry,” Violet began, her thoughts moving quicker than her mouth could, “That was incredibly inappropriate. I assure you it will not-.”

“Answer my question, Doctor Harris,” she interrupted, adding with a polite smile, “Please.”

“Yes,” Violet squeaked out. A jolt of pain shot up her arm as she clawed away at the soft flesh.

Doctor Keyes nodded and leaned back into her chair. Violet’s heart pounded as the woman looked over her again. They had to be the same age, if not Violet her senior by a year or two, but she felt pinned down by the gaze of the fellow doctor as if she were a naughty child called into the principal's office. Granted, she had grown up under the piercing stares of a principal when she misbehaved as a child; but Miranda Keyes’ hard expression gave Jane Harris a run for her money. Violet swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she opened her mouth to speak. Doctor Keyes raised a hand and Violet’s mouth snapped shut. You’re so fucked, Harris, she thought, so entirely fucked. She wondered if her dad would have time that evening to help her update her resume.

“I’m already aware of your…” she paused, searching for the correct word. “Situation with Master Chief.”

The statement brought her reeling thoughts to a hard stop. “How?” 

It wasn’t as if they had been hiding it purposefully, nor had they discussed the nature of whatever it was that they were doing. She had come to enjoy the quiet nature that came with the privacy of getting to know the man behind the armor. Her John; the one that she only got to see. The man who played with her dog while she made dinner, whose shoulders shook when he laughed, who would kiss her on the train as they rode to her stop. She had enjoyed having that one thing that belonged solely to them, and she hoped that he had, too. If it were to end now at the hands of the UNSC, at least they would have that. And it would belong to only them. She knew for certain that walking through the park to her building would never feel the same.

“Kai told me,” Keyes said. Violet resisted the urge to scoff. The doctor’s mouth quirked up into a smile, “She’s a bit of a gossip. She means well, believe me, but you can’t trust her with a secret if it’s not a matter of galactic security. I think she knew of your existence in his life for, oh, I don’t know, four minutes before she came barreling into my office to tell me? It wasn’t exactly what I meant when I told him to find a hobby, but hey; it’s a start.” 

Violet nodded. Keyes' eyes remained still locked onto her. Violet twisted her fingers, her thumb raw and spotted with blood. She recalled the time her sister had run to her mom to tell her that she caught Violet kissing a boy at school. The feeling in her stomach then was similar to the one that sat there now. Kai, you beautiful little snitch, she thought. 

Keyes leaned forward towards Violet and rested her arms against the edge of her desk, Violet no longer feeling as if she had control of the environment as she sank back into her own chair. Silence hung heavy between the two as the women considered one another. The bright chirp of Violet’s pad cut through the silence to remind her of the unread messages that sat upon it. Keyes’ eyes flicked to the screen to read over John’s message before turning back to Violet with a small smile. 

“You’re not in trouble, Doctor Harris. Consider this a conversation between colleagues.”

Violet felt herself deflate like a balloon into her seat at the statement. Keyes' smile spread as the botanist’s shoulders dropped. She glanced towards the pad once more before continuing. 

“When I took over the program, it was important to me that I didn’t make the same mistakes as Halsey,” She bit out her mother’s name, every letter laced with bitterness that made Violet’s chest tighten. “I felt as if this was my opportunity to make amends. The Spartans have spent their whole lives being treated like anything other than human; just cogs in the war machine. My goal was to find the people under all of the armor and drag out the sense of self they lost when they were taken.”

“ Taken? ” Violet felt her heart drop another few inches at the word. 

“He hasn’t told you?” Her expression softened slightly as she regarded the horror written across the botanist’s face. Violet’s picking ceased at the word. “I can understand; it’s a bit of a sore spot.”

“What do you mean taken ?”

Violet listened as the woman told her the tale of stolen six year olds and flash clones. She hadn’t noticed the wet that slipped down her cheeks as she listened. Horror knotted in her stomach as she thought back to the first evening he had stood in her apartment. Of the way his eyes had lingered on the picture of her at that age; playing in her mother’s garden with Katie in the glittery fairy wings she refused to take off until bedtime, hugging Cocoa the family Labrador. A sinking feeling settled into her as she recalled the heaviness she had noticed settling into him as he stood there. Six had been a year of play and make believe, of first grade and playing with friends on the playground. She hadn’t known fear other than the dark and the monsters under the bed that her father would check for before tucking her in. There had no fear. No terror. She woke in her bed every morning with the innocence that should have belonged to him at that age, too.

She thought of him, of them all; little and afraid. No one checked for monsters under their beds. No one kissed away their tears when they skinned their knees. They became soldiers before all of their baby teeth had fallen out. Primed and prepped for war as their parents lowered their tiny caskets into the ground. 

“Are you alright, Doctor Harris?”

Violet wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand with a wet breath. She kicked herself for allowing herself to become so emotional in front of the fellow doctor. She straightened up and nodded, hoping something polished and professional would leave her mouth as she responded but her reply only came out a watery whisper. 

Her voice caught, “He was a baby .”

Keyes gave her a small, sad smile in return. She nodded, “They all were. It was… a blow when they found out last year. Especially to John and Kai.”

Violet couldn’t imagine who wouldn’t feel that blow. Doctor Keyes leaned forward onto her desk and sighed before she continued, “John carries more anger and pain than a thousand men could bear. He has spent his whole life fighting; this responsibility is all he’s known. From the moment my mother laid her eyes on him, his life became this war. But since he’s met you, there’s been this peace to him. I think he’s been searching for that for a while.” 

Keyes took another long look around Violet’s office. The gesture felt less clinical this time. There was a softness to the way she glanced between the potted pothos plants that climbed along her shelves and her eyes fell on the framed photo Violet had put on her desk of herself holding Sadie as a puppy; Violet mid-smile as she held the fluff of black and white fur in her arms. It was kind; caring. Loving almost. The doctor leaned back into her chair with a seemingly satisfied sigh. 

“Beats the last crush he had,” she stated with a casual shrug. She twisted slightly in the office chair, “You seem perfectly normal compared to the last one. Thank god, I don’t think any of us could handle that again.”

Violet head cocked at the statement curiously, “The last one?”

“I guess that was before you came to base. She ended up being an alien spy and tried to kill us. It was a bit traumatic for us all,” Keyes said with the same casualty as one would restate the evening news. 

“Oh. Cool,” was all she managed, unsure if she had heard her statement correctly. She repeated the word several more times as she blinked at the doctor as her words settled in, her mind reeling as she searched for a response appropriate for the absolutely bat shit information. But she struggled to come up with something worthy of her boyfriend’s dating history.

“I had an ex cheat on me with his cousin once,” she blurted out in an attempt to relate. Regret flooded through her the instant the words left her mouth. She trailed off, every part of her consciousness screaming at her to shut the fuck up as Doctor Keyes’ eyes widened slightly. “It was a second cousin,” she amended weakly. Her voice dropped to a mumble as heat climbed up her back, “So, I can get the whole crazy ex thing...”

Shut the fuck up, Violet.

A tense silence fell between the two again. Violet wished that she could slip under her desk and disappear. It seemed that it was Keyes’ turn to mull over the confession of romantic history with the tilt of her head. Violet’s neck burned, her fingers returning to her fingers as embarrassment bubbled thick in her gut. After what seemed like an eternity, Doctor Keyes leaned forward with a nod and gestured to Violet’s monitor, seemingly content with letting the botanist’s statement go.

“The care of Spartans is an entirely complex matter. I will have my team send over a file on basic requirements for Chief’s keeping for your viewing,” she stated. “Approved meal plans will be sent over to you by the team dieticians, along with a writeup on optimal sleeping patterns. I’d prefer if he slept on base two to three times a week to keep him integrated with the team.”

“Wait,” Violet said cautiously. She watched the young woman stand from the chair,  “You’re not going to-.”

“Make you terminate the relationship?” Keyes finished for her, the shadow of a smirk on her lips, “Doctor Harris, we have learned that when Chief is set on something, he doesn’t take kindly to the word no . This saves us all a headache, believe me.”

Keyes pushed in the chair as she stood behind it, considering Violet with one last long look. Her eyes dropped to the photo of herself and Sadie again with a soft smile. Violet stood as well to watch as the doctor made towards the doorway with a parting nod. She stopped and turned to Violet, “Doctor Harris?”

“Yes, Doctor Keyes?”

“Go easy on him,” she said, her expression softening as she looked back at Violet from the doorway, “This is all new to him.”

Violet nodded and offered her a small smile before she turned to the doorway again. However, Keyes paused in the doorway where she stood for a moment before she turned back to Violet with a quizzical look, “With his cousin?”

“With his cousin.” Violet repeated with a chuckle. 

Doctor Keyes inched back into the room, intrigue creeping across her face as she pulled the chair back out and settled into it. She pointed to the coffee maker behind Violet, “Does that work?”

“Sure does.”

She peeked at the chrono over Violet’s door. “I have fifteen minutes,” she stated as Violet turned to switch the machine on. She blinked hard and repeated again, “His cousin?”

Violet smirked and turned back to the fellow doctor, “I know. So long story short-.”

---

John stood in the cockpit of the ship, the Pelican eerily silent. The team had all slunk off to their respective corners of the ship after their departure from Reach that morning to prepare for cryosleep, and for whatever waited for them on the other side of their jump through space. He had found his way back up to the cockpit, escaping the giddy looks Kai had given him since they left the hangar and Vannak’s suggestive waggles of his brows. To his relief, Riz had seemed to be the only one who remained focused on the mission at hand. 

He stood behind the unmanned chairs. Cortana served as the Pelican’s autopilot as she hurled them through space in silence. He crossed his arms, his eyes fixed ahead, the hum of engines filling the small space. He took in the fleeting moments of silence, knowing that it would end promptly as they entered the atmosphere of the planet they were sent to. The whisper of her hand still lingered in his own in the hours since he saw her last, the ghost of their parting kiss on his lips. She had been hesitant of the stares and whispers but he didn’t entirely mind. People had stared at him since he was fourteen. She was worth every one of them. 

The silence was broken by Cortana’s voice in his HUD. John forced back a groan at the sound of it. 

“Everything alright, Chief?”

“Just fine,” he grumbled out. 

“I beg to differ. Since we have departed Reach, your dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin levels have all raised noticeably. The same is to be said for your cortisol and adrenaline, which is probably why you are demonstrating increased irritability with the team. It may also explain your restlessness and why you are currently in the cockpit instead of preparing for cryo.”

“Get to the point,” he grumbled. Cortana appeared beside him in a flurry of blue light. She clasped her hands behind her back, looking up at him with the tilt of her head.

“Could this have anything to do with the lovely botanist you kissed goodbye? You know, the one you still won’t let me meet? It’s quite rude of you, actually. I believe Violet and I would get along swimmingly if given the chance. After combing through her social media, I’ve devised a minimum of 52 talking points based upon her interests and hobbies.”

He turned to the hologram beside him, visor blocking the roll of his eyes before he returned to the windshield of the cockpit. Fuck, he hated when she was right. The thing in his chest twisted and dropped into his gut as soon as her fingers left his and was replaced by a hollowness that he hadn’t realized had been there before. He returned his eyes to the glass, focused on the glow of the compressed multidimensional space around them, willing Cortana to take a fucking hint for once in her installation. However, she continued to chatter as she turned to match his gaze and stepped beside him.

“I must say, Chief, she really is beautiful. Being that I am not human, I am unable to relate beauty to the specificities of current societal standards. However, I find that Violet’s face possesses the preferred symmetry that most humans would relate to their biological assumptions that symmetrical things are inherently more pleasing. According to the measurements I have been able to collect-.”

“Enough, Cortana.”

She was right for the second time in that conversation, he thought. She was beautiful. The twosome stood in silence for a movement. John hoped she would disappear as quickly as she had come and leave him to his thoughts while he could still indulge in them. But instead, Cortana stood beside him, following his gaze out into the nothingness of space. 

“Would you like to see her?” Cortana asked. She met his raised brow as he turned to look at him with a cheeky grin.

“How?” 

“‘How?’ Please, Chief. You insult me. From what I can find in the personnel logs, it appears that Doctor Harris’ last access scan was into Greenhouse #2 at 5:32pm tonight. She has not scanned back out. All it takes is a quick tap into the greenhouse security cameras, lover boy.” 

He turned to the AI once again, the quizzical expression he wore hidden behind the helmet. “Are you recommending we spy on her?” 

“If that’s what you would prefer to call it, yes.” 

“No. That seems,” he paused, “intrusive.” 

“Have it your way then,” she sighed, disappearing with another flash of light . 

He remained where he stood, the silence returning as Cortana ceased to speak. The deafening silence roared through him, broken up by the occasional thunder of footsteps or chime of the control systems. He returned his eyes to the space outside of the ship, watching out into the nothingness. 

“Cortana?”  

“Already on it. Coming into your display momentarily. You Peeping Tom, you.”

Security footage flickered into his HUD in an instant, filling it with images of the lush greens of the Jungle. Violet’s music blasted into his ears. Cortana quickly adjusted the volume of the video footage. John wondered how Violet had  come away from the last thirty years of her life without any hearing damage. She stood over the work table, her lab coat thrown over a stool, her uniform shirt smeared and dotted with soil. Hairs stuck out from her tight bun and curled in the humidity, twisting her bangs and sticking to her face. She sang along loudly to the nearly pornographic lyrics of the rap song that blasted through the speakers, dancing as she turned between a monstera plant and the work table with full hands to push a box aside with her foot. Takeout boxes littered the tabletop. Violet set down the pot she carried to scrape at the bottom of one with a pair of chopsticks and bring the remaining contents to her mouth as she looked over her pad, tapping out a response to a message with soil stained fingers. 

“Goodnight, Doctor Harris! Headed out soon?”

She looked up to wave to the horticulturist who raised a hand to her as they passed by, “Goodnight! Nope, I’m here for a bit longer.”

“On a Friday? No plans?”

“They got canceled. Have a great weekend!” She called as they passed to the exit with a smile before returning to her work and dove her hands into the pot the plant sat in. A look of contentment returned to her face as she worked, still dancing slightly where she stood to the vulgar lyrics. 

“Would you like me to turn it off?” 

“No,” he said quickly. He watched her wipe her palms against her pants before picking up a trowel, “Leave it.”

As he watched her with her hands deep within the pot and soil smudged onto her cheeks and that goddamn smile that could guide him through the darkest pieces of himself, he realized one thing; that home knew no physical shape. It knew not the bounds of Cortana’s definitions, nor the confines of four walls and a door he always had to check was locked when he left in the morning. It did not exist in the lights on the pond that beckoned him like a lighthouse on stormy waters. Home was in the way she looked at him. In the echo of her voice as she sang along to her songs in the kitchen. In the smell of strawberry shampoo and in the feeling of her hand gripping his to her chest as they slept. Home existed in the arms of the girl he met by the pond. The girl who saw him. Who found him in those deepest pits of himself and pulled him into the light. Home was in Violet Harris; and he would follow her light to where she led. 

He couldn’t wait to be home.

---

It was late when they arrived back to FLEETCOM several weeks later, the skies inky black as they cleared the atmosphere and started their descent. Summer had fallen over the city in the time he had been gone, the air still hot and thick as the heat persevered into the night. It greeted them with a blast of sticky humidity as they walked off of the ship. Mjolnir removal and debrief pushed the hour well past midnight before they returned to their quarters. Kai flopped down onto her bunk with an exhausted sigh instead of heading to shower off. 

He didn’t bother with a shower before stripping off his techsuit and changing quickly in an attempt to not waste more time. Vannak chuckled as he passed by where John sat on the edge of his bunk on his way to the showers.

“You smell like shit,” Vannak called over his shoulder as he passed.

John rolled his eyes and laced up a boot, “You think you smell any better?”

“Fuck no. Difference is I’m not the one headed off to my little girlfriend’s house.”

John rolled his eyes. He stood and made his way to the door, unwilling to waste another moment. Riz waved from where she laid on her bunk, her eyes on her pad, Kai already asleep in her own bunk still fully dressed. 

“Tell Violet we said hi,” she called without looking up. John raised his hand in a quick wave before turning into the empty hallway. 

The walk to her apartment was drenched in humidity as he crossed the city. Sweat clung to his body as he traveled through the winding paths of the park that led him beside the pond. Her building blinked into view from between the trees, the windows dark and silent in the late night hour. The waters of the pond were deep purple and still under the midnight skies, smooth waters empty of the geese that had retired to wherever they nested for the night. 

One window spotted the surface, glowing gold in the darkness. John followed the kernel of light to the white stone face of her building. One light shone from the dark building; the fourth floor corner unit that overlooked the pond, its planters and pots overflowing with green on the balcony. The blue light of her entertainment center flashed occasionally to throw shadows against the sliver of living room wall he could make out from where he stood. Cornelia Street was silent as he crossed to the white building, the locks of the entrance doors clicking as he neared to pull open unlocked doors. 

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t mention it. Welcome home, Chief.”

His shoulders relaxed as he neared the last door on the right. The familiar numbers stamped into the door stared back at him. It felt abnormal to return to this. To a place other than the quiet of the barracks. But that hollowness filled in his chest, heavy and warm as his fingers lingered on the knob. He stood in front of it, waiting for the blink of green light that would announce Cortana’s locksmithing. When there was no twist of the lock, John raised an eyebrow.

“You going to get that?”

“It’s already unlocked.”

“Violet,” he sighed, pushing open the door and stepping into the dark entryway. 

Furry ears perked up at the sound of the opening door. Sadie slept on the living room floor beside the couch. She spotted John and lifted her head from the hardwood, nose twitching and her tail drumming against the floor happily as he stepped in quietly. He could make out a slip of rich brown hair on the arm rest and neared to find Violet sprawled out across the sofa as she slept. The entertainment system was still on, blaring at a deafeningly loud volume as two women in miniscule bathing suits screamed at one another on screen at a poolside over something trivial. One threw her drink into the face of the other with a string of obscenities.

Sadie stood with a stretch and yawn to monitor John while he slipped off his boots by the door. He pulled the door shut and locked it behind him with one hand, the other pressed to the wall as he unlaced his boots. The dog bounded over to him, her sleepy silence gone as Sadie let out an excited howl as she trotted to John. 

Violet startled awake at the noise with a gasp and mumble of obscenities as she pulled herself up. Bleary eyes glanced around the dark house for the source of the howling. The sleepy, panicked expression she wore faded the moment her eyes rested on him in the entryway and that smile he had thought of for weeks split her face. 

“You left the door unlocked,” he stated, shaking his head as he kicked his boots into their place beside the electric pink running shoes. “We’ve talked about that, goose. I need to know you’re safe when I’m not home.”

Home. What a strange word. 

That Violet smile didn’t leave her face as she pulled herself up over the back of the couch to cross the living room in a matter of steps. 

“ Lecture me later,” she said breathlessly. She threw her arms around his neck when he opened them to her, pressing her to his chest. Soft lips found his jaw to pepper it with kisses as his fingers traced down the soft fabric of her tank top. 

“I missed you so much,” she whispered. John leaned down so that her lips could find his own. Small hands slipped to his face as she kissed him, her body pressed to his as Sadie jumped on their legs excitedly. Violet released him after a moment, her nose wrinkled as her lips separated from his own.  

“What?” 

“I am thrilled to see you. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been waiting for this for weeks,” she said. A giggle escaped her lips as she brushed her fingers through the stubble of his cheeks, “But you smell awful.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers, enjoying the brush of her nose against his, “I wanted to get here as soon as I could.”

Violet smiled before she pressed another kiss to his lips.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” she said. That heated glow returned to her eyes as she tugged at his shirt and bit her lip, “I believe you promised me a full physical inspection.”

[heroofpenamstan]

🥀☘️🌵 for fion!

thank you kindly for the ask! xx i accidentally went all out, i am so sorry!

a kind warning: fion and his canon are a tad dark, so please kindly heed the triggers: hints of substance abuse, graphic depiction of illness, mentions of blood and violence, hints of dysfunctional relationships.

🥀 [WILTED ROSE] How good is your OC at meeting deadlines? What motivates them?

fion is great at meeting deadlines; meticulously, methodically. one (1) missed deadline will mess up his schedule, which, in turn, will cause ire to bubble forth at being delayed, disrupted, at seeing the plastic clock strike 5.13PM above his head—an ugly, uneven number—will make the leftover food sitting for days on end in his fridge taste that much fouler—fion needs to meet his deadlines, lest he risk displaying the angry, burning layer just beneath his skin. there is next to nothing that motivates him, though. roberta used to push and motivate him the most, back when he paid her more mind: to help them—her—achieve a mellow, smalltown fame, after assisting on a blossoming college diploma; to feature their first and only article—her work, not his—in the Wayhaven Press, ( "boxing and chess aren't exactly points of interest to most, handsome." ). to help them—him—pick the blood and the grime from beneath fingernails, to join the police force—"to make sure they never find out, fion"—, to prevent early ruin for them both. nowadays, it's fear and anxiety over his loathsome mother's pack of mutts sniffing and suffocating him that motivates him the most.

☘️ [SHAMROCK] How passionate is your OC about things they love/hate?

fion is extremely passionate about the things he hates—the creaky wooden plank beneath his bed, mrs. andrews upstairs, roaches, rebecca, the mayor, the mayor's offspring, crinkly documents, toothaches, rebecca's stupid phone calls, too hot or too cold coffee, that one differently colored tile in the bathroom, being stalked by rebecca's stupid unit, bobby's newly-dyed hair—"you look like my mother"—, vinegar, adam. it takes next to nothing to get him irritated these days, to see his jaw clench and his fists tighten; his weakened heart furiously beat against his ribcage. however, when it comes to the things he loves, obsession and blinding devotion quickly follow. he's displayed it as a child, with his father rook and the chess books left behind, the same three songs burnt into a cd titled "to my fion", a rook and a pawn drawn with black permanent marker that has been scratched over two decade's worth of use. he had loved bobby, that much he knew; he wouldn't have risked it all for her, otherwise. even when there's seldom trace of her left in their once-shared apartment, he'll still find her there, on his—theirs—couch, asking for crumbs, and receiving a loaf for less than a kiss. he doesn't love nate, not yet, if ever, but his thoughts are consumed by him, constantly; penetrated, unwillingly, by the vampire's persistence and unwanted—fucking unwavering—acts of kindness. fion, however, likes to see himself in nate—the crudeness underneath their shared farce,and fion loves nothing more than to see adam grate his pearly, shiny, lethal teeth with every innuendo tossed his friend’s way. the way his dark brown hues had glaze over a bloodied kiss forced upon his mouth in the most dire of curcomstances. it had intoxicated him like nothing else: not the confiscated drugs nor the alcohol rushing through his bloodstream.

🌵 [CACTUS] How physically resilient is your OC?

fion is, surprisingly, resilient. despite his skinny frame and weakened health, years of boxing, before he dropped a weight class or two, had done him a service; his strikes are unforgiving and brutal, and his body is used to receiving two of those in turn.