#I almost missed my stop. I gathered my pens and pencils back from the kids and picked up the post-it confetti from the floor

[anonymusbosch]

sometimes i feel like extending the kindness you can, when you can, is the only thing there is

[jjyusmile]

enchanting | hwang inyeop

pairing: badboy!hwang inyeop x {gender-neutral} reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings: suggestive nature, alcohol, an almost accident, fwb if that makes you uncomfortable!

word count: 5.1k

taglist: @katinthemoon

A/N: happy true beauty season finale day! I hope you enjoy this dedication to our favourite second lead <33 give inyeop lots of love on his socials because he deserves it!! 

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you couldn’t help but think to yourself.

was it the way he walked? the way he held his head so high that his fluffy hair almost touched the clouds? was it the way he thought the world revolved around him? his cocky aura screaming ‘look at me! look at me!!’?

and yet, he was nothing like you had imagined. saying that second “yes” completely warped your world – how much longer can I stick to this friend with benefits thing?

the thought spurred a memory of how you first met. somehow… you ended up in his clutches. he was the boy who wandered the corridors, his disciples in toe, and nobody could touch him. except somehow… you did. well, kind of.

you remember it clear as day. it was a thursday night, your fluffy socks rested against the hard wood of your coffee table in front of you as you chatted on facetime to your parents. when your stomach grumbled, so loud that maeum, your fluffy chow-chow, lifted her head from against the armrest with curiosity as to wear the sound came from. such inquisitive eyebrows for a nonchalant pup that barely batted an eyelash unless you were filling her dinner bowl.

“even we heard that…” your dad’s smile filled the screen, a light teasing in his tone. you thought to yourself when the last time you ate was… it hadn’t been today.

“why don’t you head out and grab something good for yourself from the convenience store? I know you don’t cook for yourself, my baby.” your mother’s disapproving tone caused your eyes to roll -- miles away and she still nagged about the fact you ate nothing but instant noodles if you could be bothered.

“okay, ma. I’ll go do that. thank you for your concern.” short and snappy, your patience wore thin. probably because she was right and you were absolutely ready to devour some food.

a few air kisses later, and you were gliding the zipper up to just beneath your nose, the sherpa material insulating all heat it could as you brace yourself for the bitter cold. maeum’s tail wiggled excitedly in anticipation, her harness wrapped snuggly against her fur. “come on then,” you giggled at the way she span around energetically as you unlocked your front door. she practically knew the route to the convenience store by now… for a 6-month old chow, she was very intuitive.

out the door. down the hall. press the call button and wait for the elevator with patience. get into the elevator (you had to carry her if it was too busy but she didn’t mind too much). leave your apartment complex and turn left and keep going until the bright lights of the store appeared with a ‘fresh food prepared daily’ sign like a saving grace.

the owner didn’t mind of maeum came into the store, often bending down to give her treats and pets. maeum always leaned into anyone’s affection. it was her favourite time of day.

your airpods blasted your hype playlist, something you did when you needed self-reassurance. walking out of the store, maeum in toe, you rummaged through your bag of snacks, pulling out one of the many samgak kimbap you picked up. the crisp evening put you off sitting outside with a hot meal, plus maeum would attract too many people for your isolated personality to handle. the coo’s and aww’s often got worse as the night went on.

it wasn’t too long of a journey home, but something about the evening air caused you to walk slower and appreciate the serene surroundings. high school kids stumbling out of the noraebang that you often frequented in your days. being drunk on sugary snacks and endless cokes while you sang your little heart out. the snack in your hand tasted almost nostalgic as you remembered the nights you sat for hours outside the convenience store, hoping a kind stranger might sneak you a bottle or two of soju. those were the days you had friends to hang out with, but since you moved closer to seoul for university, they hadn’t bothered to keep in contact. you spent your days sitting alone in class, hoping your professor wouldn’t tell you to pair yourselves up. you were the only person that sighed in relief when they mentioned that they’d pre-assigned partners.

a low growl sounded over your music, with maeum halting in her tracks. it was only as maeum barked so loudly that you paid attention to what was happening. the bike headed straight for you. the rumble of its engine overwhelmed you as you realised you had stepped into the road without checking for oncoming traffic. yelping, you jumped back, pulling maeum abruptly, just quick enough for her to be missed. but it sent you flying onto your ass, a dull throb aching at the impact.

“are you okay?!” a shout from the direction of the motorbike filled your ears, the engine shutting off and footsteps getting closer.

“I’m fine,” you huffed, using your arms to twist your body with difficulty. your tailbone really throbbed as your face morphed into instant regret. you were turning to face the person clad in a helmet and biker jacket that hugged their body tightly in the frosty air.

“umm - I wasn’t talking to you.” you could just make out their eyes in the gap, slightly squinted in apprehension. when they turned their attention to maeum, you realised that look wasn’t for you. maeum, who sat sweetly with her tail wagging, front paws perched on their knees began to lick the helmet off them, only finding purchase in the gap that showed their mysterious eyes. traitor.

it was only when you heard the low chuckle that your attention turned back to the owner of the bike, heart stopping in its tracks for a small second. they reached out to ruffle the abundance of fur that framed maeum’s face, carefully checking for any scrabs or marks from the almost accident.

“hey there, friend! i’m sorry I almost hit you,” their tone emphasised the frown hidden by their helmet. it was only then did they reach up to lift the helmet off their head. and the breath you were about to let out hitched in your throat.

this mysterious biker wasn’t a stranger. he was the notorious bad boy that walked your universities halls, his minions in toe and never batted an eyelash to anyone who showed an interest in him. the one whose name you feared would be called out after yours in pairing for a class project. the one who probably didn’t even know you existed.

he was hwang in-yeop. and your bulging eyes that almost fell out of their sockets told him that you knew that already.

but, little did you know that the moment his leg flung off his bike to check you were okay, he realised who you were too. the one who sat at the front of the class with their pencil knocking in a continuous rhythm against the desk, a sound he realised rang inches louder in his mind compared to the rest of the class. he noticed the way your eyes glistened as you focused on what your professor was saying. he also figured out you never paid attention to anyone else, you sat alone with no intention to allow anyone into your bubble unless they were forced to. he actually hoped his name would be called out after yours.

his question of concern died in his throat when he saw it was you. those glistening eyes still sparkling despite the obvious annoyance in your expression. so he trailed off to pay attention to the adorable fluff beside him, luckily he adored dogs.

your embarrassment flushed in the apples of your cheeks, the heat almost melting the rim of your glasses that rested against the bridge of your nose. “maeum - come on, leave him alone.”

you lifted yourself up, trying not to show the pain. gathering your spilt snacks back into the bag, you stood up stretching your legs. but it difficult not to look at inyeop. his head was tilted slightly as he gazed up at you, this time the apprehension focused on you. was he concerned? he should be! he almost knocked you over!!

quickly, he stood himself, handing maeum’s fallen harness back to you.

“thanks,” you took it back quickly.

“you’re welcome.” his attention was still focused on maeum, who was jumped up at the bag in your hand hoping there was something inside for her.

the silence was excruciating. in the two years you’d known each other, this was the first time any contact had been made. and it was almost unbearable.

“uhhh- thanks again, sorry we almost got you into an accident,” you tried again, reaching into your bag to pick out a snack to give him as a peace offering. although he annoyed you, you realised you should’ve been looking where you were going - at least for maeum.

he took the can that laid flat on your palm slowly, afraid you were just teasing. but you let him take it without reluctance.

“do you- uhh…” he started.

“hmm?” your head raised sharply to turn your attention to him, the snacks in your bag long forgotten.

“do you… do I.. know you?” he tried again. if he was nervous, you could barely sense it. although he was stumbling over his words, his eyes were narrowed in scrutiny, analysing your every feature. he knew exactly where he knew you from, the flick of your pen ringing in the back of his mind. any excuse to keep you beside him longer.

“probably… you’re in my criminology class. although I doubt you’ve ever actually paid attention to anything in that class, let alone me.” 

he scoffed, eyes rolling up into the heavens. you really were bold. “that’s quite the assumption.” a smirk so prominent it has sketched its way into your brain, all the way down to the subtle shading of the dimples that outlines the corners of his lips.

you ignored him, focusing on maeum for a moment as she sat beside your feet in a fluffy ball, eyes glittering expectantly at inyeop. you followed her gaze, landing specifically on the creases that lined his eyes as he analysed you. you huffed. “which way are you headed?”

he tilted his head to look over your shoulder at his bike sitting idly on the side of the road. “well, before I was interrupted I was on my way to a party.” and then his eyes met yours. “why? do you want to come?” his signature smirk appeared, the one you caught glimpses of every so often.

you hesitated, the thought of being anywhere remotely sociable filling you with dread. you became nervous in seconds “I- uhh. I was going to say I’d treat you to dinner because of the accident I almost caused…” you were shy, you admit. he couldn’t understand how someone who can barely look him in the eye could be so bold.

your offer caused his heart to do a single backflip; that was more of a reaction than any other, he couldn’t recall this kind of reaction from anyone else. to say the least, he was intrigued by the person who sat at the front of class. “do me a deal.” 

“hmm? a deal?” shimmering eyes, etched into his mind.

“you treat me to dinner, and I’ll take you to the party.”

he was met with silence, searching your eyes as you lulled over the thought in your head. right now?

it was almost like he could read your mind. “we could make it a recurring thing… you can make up for me almost hurting not only you but this gorgeous ball of fluff” your heart leaped when he crouched down to rub between maeum’s ears with affection, even more so when he looked back up at you. “… and I’ll teach you how to be sociable.”

“oooh! kinda like a friends with benefits thing?!” you grinned, excited by the fact that you may not have to feel so alone anymore.

his grin widened at your exclaim, certain you weren’t sure exactly what you had just said… “sure… like friends with benefits… are you in?”

and that was how you ended up in the clutches of the notorious bad boy. 

»»——————————-——————————————-««

those around you witnessed a flourishing friendship; you were attached at the hip. your five o’clock walks by the beach were met with his bubbly personality, maeum pleased with having someone else to chase the waves with. you finally had someone to sit beside in class, his signature smirk plastered on his face as the whispers of students wondered who on earth their designated bad boy was sat beside.

it got to the point that you remember the little things. he always ordered extra cheesey tteok because you always added extra onto your own. you packed extra heat packs when you knew he’d be joining you. he started turning up three minutes early because he knew that was how long it took you to get from your apartment to the lobby, where he’d be waiting for you with an extra coffee for you in hand. he knew to wear an extra sweater to the party because you always left without a jacket and would complain of the cold despite the countless shots you had consumed. you noticed that when his foot began to tap as the horrifically drunk girl in front of him continued to run her hand down his bicep, he wanted out, so you always stepped in to play the jealous ex.

as the little things  continued to build up, your feelings flourished alongside them.

not that you ever did anything about them.

until one night it was clear that things weren’t as they used to be. inyeop had dragged you into an unoccupied room at the party, away from the sleaze who was hitting on you.

“what the fuck are you doing?!” you cursed, something you didn’t usually do. it must’ve been the alcohol that coursed through your veins, and the slight haze that the drunk guy’s breath washed over you.

“what am I doing?! what were you just doing out there?!” he grabbed your arm again, you swayed slightly, trying really hard to focus on his eyes.

you smiled at his tone, it was flittered with desperation. “why… what was I doing?”

he couldn’t fight off the annoyance that washed over him at the light smirk that graced your lips. you had been spending far too much time with him, his cockiness was starting to rub off on you.

“you were literally throwing yourself all over that guy!! everyone was watching you!!!” although he knew you weren’t stable on your feet, he shook your shoulders with emphasis.

and the moment you may have changed everything. his face was so close to yours that you could feel his exasperated breath against your cheekbones.

“were you watching?” you shot back.

his eyes widened so much his eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “what…”

it came out as a whisper, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. his eyes began to glisten, the only hint of innocence he could ever show. you turned his world upside down more than he could have ever imagined.

“I was just having fun, yeop.” your taunting was over.

his head shook abruptly like he was trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. your finger reached up to tap the tip of his nose, the bright smile forming on your lips was impossible to not mirror.

he sighed drastically, a giggle escaping your throat. “can we just go back now… I’ll drop you home. I want to see maeum.”

 and like that, you were being dragged out of the house quicker than your feet could keep up. along the way, he had slid his leather jacket over your shoulders as he always did. the walk home was silent as you matched your steps along the path. the low hum of the city began to sober you up, inyeop quietly singing to himself.

since that first party on the night he almost crashed into you, inyeop made it a habit to walk you back. at first, you thought it was because he parked his bike outside your apartment complex. you soon realised there was a caring side behind his bad boy facade that kept everyone else hooked. they clearly didn’t see the soft bean that was for your eyes only. he had become your best friend, and he cared about you just as much as you did him.

he sensed your aura change from beside him, head turning to see the smile light up your face. “what are you grinning about?” his own lips quirked in response to your happy expression.

“not much… just remembering the night you almost sent me and maeum flying.”

he halted abruptly. “hey! you admitted that night was entirely your fault!”

you held your hands up in mocking surrender, “okay! okay… I did admit that…”

he went silent for a moment. and then said something that shocked you; not because of ill intentions, but because you finally realised that that night didn’t just change your life.

“I don’t regret it.”

his eyes were genuine. and you returned the small smile he offered in silent appreciation for one another.

and then the heavens opened.

the mad dash to your apartment was filled with laughter and shrieks from you both. feet slapping against the puddles on the ground as you passed through the lobby doors. your hair clumped in damp strands over your eyes as you began to ring out your damp clothing. inyeop’s jacket became heavy on your shoulders.

“you can’t go home in that. come up for a minute while it settles and you can dry off a little.”

his eyebrows wiggled suggestively in response earning a shove from you.

maeum was overly excited to see inyeop. almost as if you were scotch mist. as he crouched down to give her affection, you headed for your cupboard, pulling out a couple of warm towels for you both to dry off.

you found inyeop lying on his back by the front door, shoes half off with maeum lying on top of his chest giving him her utmost attention. he was mumbling away to himself and giggling.

“what are you laughing about?” the towel landed on his face, earning a scowl from his raindrop stained face.

he then started laughing to himself again.

“what?!” you exclaimed.

“nothing!” he defended, the smile still evident on his lips. you waited, eyebrow raised in questioning.

“it's just… what you said down there got me thinking about something.” you waited again, the silence beckoning more of an explanation for his madness.

he shrugged his sweater off, pulling it from the scruff of the neck over his head. one small flutter.

he proceeded to rush the towel through his hair, biceps flexing in the process. two small flutters.

the whole time, his eyes never flickered from yours. it was the ultimate taunting staredown that caused the third flutter.

you broke the silence first. “thinking about what?”

he neatly folded the towel and placed it over the back of the chair to dry off, his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions. in two quick strides, he was stood in front of you, toes touching and fingers reaching for the dry towel you held tightly in your clutches.

quietly, he ran the towel through your hair, careful to focus on drying it completely so that you didn’t get a cold. from just below his chin, you had the perfect view of his features as his eyebrows etched in concentration. you were dying to know what exactly was going through his mind. you cleared your through in an attempt to drag him out of his thoughts.

“well. downstairs you said something that reminded me of something you said before.” you nodded, indicating for him to elaborate. “when we first met, the night you walked out into the road. you asked me if we could be friends with benefits.”

a deep pink flushed in your cheeks as your hands flew up to cover them. his eyes met yours as the embarrassment washed over you. gotcha.

“I did not say that?!” you tried but the bellow that came from inyeop proved just how much he was enjoying seeing his best friend squirm. he knew back then exactly what you meant, but the thought that anything more could ever come between you haunted him since that day.

“that was what… half a year ago now. you were so innocent back then.” his hands dropped from drying your hair, but not within brushing under your chin quickly in taunt.

you were annoyed. you knew inyeop enjoyed teasing you but surely this was too far. your thoughts drew back to early that night when he pulled you away from the guy you had flirted with because you saw him watching. when you teased him, it was the only time you’d ever seen him hesitate. and you enjoyed it.

“I’m not innocent anymore,” you taunted. eyes narrowed into your own, inyeop focused on read your thoughts as he tried not to react. but he couldn’t help it. for the last few months, you played with each other until you almost crossed the line. but the thought of crossing the line, even just once, left a dull burning in his stomach.

“is that right?” he retorted, eyebrow raised as his face seemingly inched closer to yours.

“mmhm.” it was all you could say. your nose filled with the cologne he was wearing, it was a mix of warming vanilla, swirls of cinnamon and just… him. “how enchanting,” you muttered lowly, he didn’t hear anything.

he was too focused on the way your eyes flickered between his, searching for some kind of each. you were in the same position, you always were. seeing which one of you broke first. but he also knew it would be him. so then came his next words.

“okay… prove it.”

a gasp escaped your throat, a mixture of shock and a sudden craving for touch. “what?” it came out as a whisper.

“prove you’re not innocent. maybe we can expand on that friends with benefits deal we made.” he wasn’t holding back. he had done for far too long, constantly tiptoeing on the tension that could light up this entire apartment building.

your fingers inched closer to him, both for support in your knees that were about to buckle, but also with the overwhelming desire to make contact. his white tshirt clung perfectly to his torso. one night couldn’t hurt.

“okay,” you agreed. but held your hand up to his face quickly to stop him from leaning in. “but! it’s a one time thing. you said you could teach me things so we’ll treat it as that.” excuse after excuse poured out of you before you could stop it, fear that your feelings would multiply the moment his lips met yours.

his lips quirked slightly as he nodded in agreement. but as soon as he got a taste, it was like something was yelling from within, a burning desire that laid idly for so long threatening to overflow. his fingers grappled at the curve of your jaw to keep him grounded. your own pulled at the hem of his shirt, a silent begging for the moment you had both thought about but never acted upon.

your body flushed against his, he barely let go to pull his shirt over his head with one hand, the other planted in a grip at your waist. your lips parted momentarily only to be chasing after one another the moment the white material met the floor. he guided you blindly, knowing your apartment by the back of his hand, your lips locked in a desperate embrace.

the moment your knees hit the end of the bed, you fell backwards hitting the comforter softly. inyeop stood over you, quietly taking in your appearance below him. his eyebrow quirked with his signature smirk making an appearance.

“you sure you just want this to be a one time thing?” his fingers traced up your thigh in taunt.

you groaned and pulled him down to you, “shut up.”

and the night went on, whispers of affection, lips tracing across the plains of each other's skin as he showed you how the gods lived, and you proved to him your innocence melted away at the flick of his fingers. you decided then that you were wrong. it couldn’t be a one time thing. because the moment his lips reached for your own, any unease washed away as you were met with the melting pools of his eyes. 

this was something only the two of you shared. the subtle touches and flirtation from the previous months finally adding up.

the clock flashed in the darkness, indicating that you were approaching the fourth hour of the day. inyeop’s fingers traced down your sides subconsciously as he pressed delicate kisses into your shoulder. you had laid in silence for what felt like hours, basking in each other’s warmth and sudden bursts of giggles as you reached for each other. you were wrapped up in everything about him - his delicate touch, his intoxicating scent, his plush lips that barely left any part of your body untouched.

it was him that broke the silence, pulling you to turn into his embrace, noses brushing as your heads rested against the same pillow. “that was fun.”

you giggled against his lips, his bluntness causing flowers to bloom in your chest. “it was.”

he exhaled slowly, fingers coming up to push your bangs away from your eyes, fingers grazing over your eyebrows. he realised his fingers moved subconsciously to smooth out the frown lines that were usually there… but were far from it in these early hours of the night.

“what do you think… about all this.” he questioned, hoping you didn’t regret the last few hours.

“it was… interesting.” you giggled as the worry on his face faded at your response. “we could… uh- make it a thing.”

“a thing?” he wiggled his eyebrows for the second time that night, suggestively hinting to you.

“yes, a thing.”

“like.. our thing?” his the pads of his fingers wandered the high points of your cheeks until he met your lips, brushing over them nonchalantly.

“sure. our thing.”

he was mesmerised by how your lips moved under his touch, silently scolding himself for not being this bold sooner. you were merely adding another layer onto your friendship, no strings attached.

but his eyes focused solely on your lips, the way they curved when you smiled, only at him. “how enchanting.” he whispered.

and that was how your arrangement began. best friends outside of these four walls. best friends with a twist the moment you stepped in through the door.

 you often found yourself making excuses to remain in your apartment. simply sitting together and reading was enough for you, subtle touches coming with time as you tried to focus on the page in front of you.

but, trying to get his attention once he was engrossed in a book was difficult. you never expected the so-called bad boy to be a softy for mysterious quests and fending off evil. then again, that was one of the raging stereotypes inyeop constantly diminished. 

maeum rested her head against his shoulder as she laid across the top of the sofa, tiny beige fur tickling his neck as she stretched out but he didn’t mind. maybe if you gave attention to maeum he might get a little jealous?

your intense stare, that was supposed to be for her, was often warped by the way his eyebrow quirked at a funny line, or his jawline sharpening abruptly as he stretched his neck from sitting in the same spot all day. his fingers grazing your ankle didn’t help the situation at all. until he caught you staring.

he lifted his head that was previously buried in Legends of Condor Heroes, his hand falling to his lap as he turned to you. his head hit the back of the sofa when his gaze pooled into your own; they glistened, his eyes, something it took you a long time to notice. he’d tell you it happened the moment you said yes… but you’d argue that it was there all along, the walls he built up disguising it from the world.

“what are you looking at?” he quipped, eyebrow raised as a subtle smirk rested on his lips. the way the corners turned up right at the edges formed a fuzzy feeling right in the pit of your stomach. and that’s why he did it - inyeop lived for the reaction he got from you.

“nothing,” you turned your head back to your own book. legs sliding back to your chest as you wrapped your arms around them; your chin rested against your knees while you tried to focus on the words on the page. you had his attention now – bingo.

a sudden jolt almost knocked you off the plush cushions, inyeop had lifted your feet to drape them back over his lap “where they belonged”. the novel he was so concentrated on before was now placed neatly on the armrest, the dog-ear bookmark on the corner resembling maeum’s. a small smile washed over his features when he realised what you were doing, fingers reaching up to tuck your fallen strands behind your ears. you weren’t expecting it; he barely flinched when he pulled you closer. you could see why everyone at school constantly stared, he wasn’t on the weaker side. it was growing more difficult to fight off the rush of emotion that came over you and swelling in your chest each time his eyes crinkled, intensely gazing into your own; his bad boy persona was diminishing little by little before your very eyes.

this arrangement made subtle touches toward each other a very normal thing. you found it difficult to keep your hands to yourself, especially in public. moments as you were walking down the street, your fingers would gravitate toward his.

“hi.” the crinkles around his eyes becoming deeper as he smiled. “someone wants attention.”

“aren’t you supposed to be going on a date soon?” you quipped, remembering that he wasn’t just yours to share.

he hummed, finger coming to his chin exaggeratedly as he stared off to the side in pretend thought. he did, but he knew where he’d rather be.

in response, your book was flung across the room, but not before he delicately folded at the corner of the page you were on. his fingers gripped onto your waist as he inhaled slowly, eyes wandering over your features like it was the first time he ever saw you. 

“fancy a quick one?” that signature smirk was hard to say no to.

»»——————————-——————————————-««

A/N: part 2? ;)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.

Note: I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

Well, that’s what people like to believe. You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand. 

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room. 

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him. 

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career.

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit.

Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world.

He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran.

His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived.

We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin.

Interviewer: “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”

Steve: “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”

Interviewer: “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”

Steve: “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable.

I: “Only to save it,”

S: “I do what I can.

I: “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”

S: “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”

He looks around, proud of himself, of his home.

I: “Any hobbies?”

S: “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.” 

I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen.

I: “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”

S: “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”

He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place.

I: “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”

He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium. 

S: “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.” 

I: “Thinking of settling down?”

S: “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”

This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands.

I: “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?” 

S: “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”

I: “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.” 

He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response.

I: “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”

He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling.

S: “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”

I: “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”

He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one. 

S: “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”

His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind.

I: “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”

His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers.

S: “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”

I: “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”

S: “I agreed to talk about me.”

His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself.

I: “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”

He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice.

S: “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”

He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even.

S: “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”

I: “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”

S: “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?” 

He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him.

S: “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again.

S: “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”

The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected. 

I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement. 

And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help.

So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.

[escapewriter]

Hey There Delilah

pairing : seungkwan x reader

synopsis : if only you got his address right, maybe he wouldn’t have been that salty.

genre : fluff, humor, slight angst

word count : 3.3k

warnings : none

posted : 01/16/21

a/n : IM SO SORRY THAT I HAVENT UPDATED THIS FOR A MONTH. BUT I GOT INSPO BECAUSE HIS BIRTHDAY WAS COMING UP SO HAPPY SEUNGKWAN DAY!!!!

TAGLIST : @vibecheckvernon @beomiebear5 @lightoflife @skylions-den @noniesgirl

won’t let me tag : @pandora1834

send me an ask/dm if you would like to be on the taglist

pieces of love masterlist // playlist // main masterlist

“Do you have to leave so soon?” Seunkwan pouted as he held your hand and rolled your luggage in the other. “I mean, you have time to stay a little longer.” He looked down at your intertwined fingers, slightly swinging it.

“You’re telling me this now? If you told me earlier, I could have gone later but I already got my ticket and we’re literally standing in the middle of the airport.” His mouth fell open as you giggled, releasing his hand to cup his face in your palms. “Don’t worry, Kwan, I’ll be back before you know it. And remember our deal, okay? Only letters.”

He sighed but repeated your words in a defeated tone, “Only letters.”

//

“Man, fuck these letters.” Seungkwan groaned in annoyance as he crumpled the 5th piece of paper into a ball and threw it into the trash bin. Jun looked up from his phone where he was seated on the couch, a concerned, yet amused, look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Can’t spell their name right?” Laughing at his own joke, he didn’t notice his friend swiftly turn in his chair to glare at him, shutting him up with a cough. He cleared his throat and nervously sat up straight, “Seriously, what’s wrong? Don’t know how to spell something or what?”

“No that's not the problem, and even if it was, I wouldn’t be asking you how to spell something.” Seungkwan turned back to his desk, resting his head on the wooden table. “I haven’t gotten a letter in a month. Do you think something’s wrong?” Jun hummed again, listening as he scrolled mindlessly on his phone.

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, they’re probably just busy. I mean, New York is a busy place and they gotta pay attention to some things, I guess.” Seungkwan turned around again, looking at the coffee table Jun had his feet propped up on.

“I don’t think I did anything wrong. I’m saying, maybe something is wrong.”

Jun looked up, eyes staring at Seungkwan’s furrowed eyebrows, “Wouldn’t their family tell you though? I honestly don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Just write the letter and ask them what’s wrong and if they don’t reply, then... there's your answer.”

“Aren’t you such great help.”

//

Seungkwan slammed the pen on the desk, finally finished writing the letter to you. He doesn’t really know why you stopped sending letters; it was usually a one to two week delay. Nevermind that, Seungkwan is sure that after you get this letter, you will definitely reply to him.

“Jun, can you read this for me? See if it sounds good?” He turned to the male who was eating on the small table, holding out the letter for him to take. Reaching over, Jun retrieved the letter from Seungkwan’s grasp, scanning the neat handwriting before reading:

Hey there,

How are you? Are the people treating you nice there?I sure hope they are because you’re too kind for this world. What’s it like living there so far? I’m sorry for all these questions, I’m just curious because ya know, it's New York City!

So… it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a letter from you, but maybe you’ve been busy. I mean, this internship, it’s a big deal so I wouldn’t want you to worry about sending letters all the time. Plus it probably keeps you occupied so don’t worry about anything, I’m just glad you’re happy doing what you love.

Anyway, uh, I heard back from Vernon. He said that he can show you around since he’s in town visiting with his mom. I don’t know if you’ll get this in time, but maybe he’ll contact you about it!

I really miss you. I know it was such terrible timing for me to have confessed. Just two weeks before you had to leave. Ah I wish I could’ve done it sooner. Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. Don’t overwork yourself and stay safe, okay?

Remember, time square could never shine as bright as you. I know it’s cheesy but I’ll always say it because that was my best pick up line ever. Okay, now get back to work! I’ll see you soon! I’m counting down the days!

From, Seungkwan

Jun put down his arm that was holding the letter and looked at Seungkwan who was munching away the food on his plate, “‘Time square could never shine as bright as you?’ MAN, and I thought Mingyu was the cheesy one in our group.”

Glaring at the elder, he snatched the letter from his hand, muttering something under his breath. “It’s from a song. An inside joke you wouldn’t understand.”

Jun took a sip of his soda, sighing as he set the can on a coaster, “Well, whatever it is, cross your fingers in hopes that they mail you back,” He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans, “I’ll take my leave, gotta go cleanse my apartment.”

Seungkwan nodded, looking at the letter in his hands. Of all the things, it had to be letters.

//

“Seungkwan, get up.” He mumbled in his sleep, trying to shoo away the intruder that was waking him up. “Seungkwan, have you gotten mail from them yet?” He groaned again, not aware of his surroundings as he rolled over, arm hitting a hard surface beside him. “Man, you really are a pain. Anyway, I have a letter for you.” Seungkwan shot up, squinting at Jun who towered over him in his bed.

“You have a what for me? I’ve been waiting for almost three weeks for one, did one finally come in?” Jun’s eyes widened, not realizing sooner that he didn’t receive a letter from you.

“Oh, uh, you see, um, I was just… kidding.” Seungkwan narrowed his eyes before making a frown and crashing back head first into his pillows. “Seungkwan, come on man. The letter probably got lost in the mail or something. You never know.”

Sitting up, he stared at what’s ahead of him; a bookshelf. The shelf had various books, photo albums, picture frames, etc. Mainly, it had a picture of the two of you hanging out the day he finally confessed — just two weeks before you had to leave. He doesn’t remember that night, though he wished he did after staring at the photo for so long now.

“Seungkwan! What are you looking at?” Jun leaned over, trying to take a glance at what his friend was eyeing, though it appears it is something that won’t make him feel any better. “Okay, enough is enough. You helped me during my break up, so I’m gonna help you through this letter drought, okay? Okay. Now, up you go!” Jun lifted the man from his bed, dragging him to the middle of his bedroom before plopping him down on the rug. “You're not gonna help me out Seungkwan? Come on, please.”

“What if they met someone,” Jun thought for a moment, hoping what Seungkwan said didn’t turn out to be true. He had to stay positive and make sure his friend does too.

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Now get up and wash up, we’re going to get food.” Seungkwan sighed, finally deciding to listen to his friend.

//

“Jun, I know you meant to go out to get food, but I didn’t think that I would pay for it AND we eat it at my place.”

“It’s the thought that counts, and thank you for paying. The food? Muah.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes and put a piece of meat into his mouth, staring at the desk that was against the wall. He eyed the papers, pens, and pencils; a wave of sadness crashing over him. He couldn’t help but think that you actually had moved on. All the doubts he had in the beginning when you left resurfaced as he thought that maybe you just used him for those last two weeks you had spent with him. But why would you do something like that? It didn’t make any sense, but maybe Seungkwan doesn’t really know you.

“Hey, Seungkwan what’s the date today?”

“Not sure, why?”

Jun hummed, noticing that Seungkwan hasn’t been keeping track of the days recently, so he decided to keep this valuable information to himself, “No reason, just wasn’t sure.”

//

Seungkwan sat at his desk, thinking about how he should start the next letter to write. He used to write every week to you, but now he hasn’t written to you for over a month. He swirled the pen in his hand, attempting to gather words to form a sentence in his head. Finally, that imaginary lightbulb lit up, his eyes sparkling with ideas.

Hey there,

How’s New York City treating you? Have you taken care of yourself? Eating all your supplements?

Scratching his head, he scribbled on the paper and decided to use this as a rough draft and to rewrite it later.

How’s New York City treating you? Have you taken care of yourself? Eating all your supplements?

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re safe over there. It’s getting more and more difficult for me to go so long without seeing you and hearing your voice. I miss you.

He thought maybe it was too cheesy, or maybe he was so in love he couldn’t control it. Nope it was too cheesy.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re safe over there. It’s getting more and more difficult for me to go so long without seeing you and hearing your voice. I miss you.

Taking a small sip of his coffee, Seungkwan closed his eyes, thinking about the situation he was in. He used to be so good at saying all the right words in his letters but now he couldn’t even find anything to say. He doesn’t even know if you're reading them or not. That hurt his pride a bit because of how much time and dedication he spent to write and think these out to send to you, only to not get a letter in almost two months. That’s the crazy thing about love; one would do anything for the person they love.

Snapping his eyes open, he checked the time only to find that it was no use because the clock was broken. The ticking of it irritated him and it always felt like it was getting slower and slower.

Focusing on the paper in front of him, he decided that if you weren’t going to send any letter, then he wasn’t going to either. It sounded like a great idea, but it was also bad at the same time. He didn’t know why, but he chose to ignore the bad part.

//

Jun could sense that Seungkwan was feeling a bit better than usual, but that's what freaked him out the most. Seungkwan hasn’t been this active ever since he got his first letter from you, so he guesses that his friend received a letter. Jun wanted to ask, but the fear of the thought not being true made him hesitate and not ask at all. He didn’t want to see his friend in despair again. After all, you are coming home in a few hours.

Seungkwan hasn’t felt like he has right now since a few months ago. It could be the weather, the feeling of the air, the food, anything. He just knows that today is a good day.

“Jun, what are we gonna do today? I’m feeling great so we should go out.” Jun pursed his lips as Seungkwan looked at his friend, waiting for an answer. Jun looked up in thought, but his mind just wandered back to his bed or the couch because he was feeling a lazy day.

“I don’t know, I’m not really in the mood to… go out.”

“Why? Are you feeling okay?” Seungkwan raised his hand to touch Jun’s forehead, only for Jun to smack it away.

“I feel fine, I’m just a bit lazy is all.” Jun thought to himself, thinking about how you’d for sure want to see Seungkwan and to talk to him about everything. Well, that's what he thinks and hopes. “Can we stay here for a bit and then head out?”

Plopping down next to him, Seungkwan turned on the TV, clicking through the channels before keeping it on one show. “Let me know when you want to leave.”

//

Seungkwan soon fell asleep on the couch, laying on his right side. Jun looked at him and then to the clock. He set a reminder on his phone before you left on when you would come back and what time.

It was currently 3:10pm and on his phone, it says you arrived at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. The airport is quite away and you probably are feeling tired after the plane ride, but Jun can’t help to look back every time he hears a car go by, hoping that it’s you to see Seungkwan.

He sighed, glancing at his sleeping friend before getting up and placing a blanket over him. He’s had it rough for the past couple of months, the thoughts of his brain eating him alive. Oh how he knew the feeling all too well.

Hearing a car door shut, Jun peeked outside, seeing you approach the house. Quickly and quietly, he opened the front door and closed it, meeting you halfway.

When you saw him, you immediately smiled, “Jun!” He raised his hand up to his lips, shushing you.

He began to whisper, “Where the hell have you been?” You eyed him weirdly, but shrugging as it was only Jun in front of you. “Do you know how much pain Seungkwan was in? He’s been waiting so long for you to reply.”

You were confused, “What do you mean? I was the one waiting for him to reply back to me. I came here to see what was wrong.” Jun sighed before signaling you to Seungkwan’s home.

“You go in. He’s asleep on the couch and will probably wake up hungry.” He gave you a soft pat on the head, “Glad to have you back, now I’m gonna go. Also, he’ll probably get mad, so don’t mention me.” You giggled before giving him a small hug.

“Thanks Jun.”

//

Seungkwan groaned, sitting up as he looked around the room, trying to spot Jun. Finding him nowhere, he sighed thinking about how he never went out. Turning to put his feet down, he lifted his arms to stretch, a yawn escaping past his lips. Mid yawn, he sees you at the doorway from the kitchen with a tray. He blinked a few times, not sure if you were really there or if it was just Jun. He rubbed his eyes as you came closer and set the tray onto the coffee table.

“About time you woke up, I’ve been here for an hour.” Seungkwan said nothing, his mind still thinking that this was all just a hallucination. He glazed over at the clock on the desk and saw that it was almost 4:30pm.

He heard you clear your throat, his mind now processing that you were indeed actually there with him in the same room. You began to walk around the small table, “I made your favorite soup,” Sitting down next to him, you looked into his wide eyes, “Why are you so surprised? I should be the surprised one here.”

Blinking a few times, he finally said your name. Lifting up his hand, he caressed your cheek lovingly as you smiled bitterly. But then he remembered how you never responded to him, and how you had the audacity to come into his home as if nothing was wrong.

He narrowed his eyes, taking his hand away from your face before standing up abruptly, “Why didn’t you mail me back?” Your eyebrows shot up and so did your legs, but wanting to one up him, you stood on the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing, Seungkwan! I haven’t received a single letter from you.” A shocked look flashed over his features as he looked up at you.

“What do you mean ‘haven’t received’ a single letter? I sent a few asking you why you didn’t respond. But what did I get? N. O. T. H. I. N. G.” You glared at him, not believing the words you were hearing. You sent so many letters with no information as to why he didn’t respond back to you.

“Really Seungkwan? You want to play victim?”

“Victim? I am the victim!” You scoffed, getting off the couch and walked around the table to put some distance between the two of you. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re accusing me of not responding when I did.” You rubbed your temples, pacing in front of him as you took small glances at his messy desk filled with crumpled papers. You walked over, picking up a ball and unfolded it, reading what he wrote before tossing it aside.

“I told you I wrote. And I did stop, I admit, but that was only because you never responded. I did write to you.” You looked at him, trying to think about what went wrong before an idea popped in your head.

“Seungkwan, what was the last letter you got from me?” He looked around his desk, scanning the messy area before pointing to the only neat pile. You picked up the letters, reading each date and word on the envelopes. However, you immediately knew what the mistake was.

You sighed and closed your eyes, biting your lower lip in frustration. Turning to Seungkwan who was sitting on the couch and eating the food you prepared, you debated if you wanted to hurt your pride by telling him what you did wrong.

He looked at where you were standing with the letters in your hands, as clear sadness in his eyes. You thought about the pain you may have caused him because of one stupid mistake. If only you got the address right.

“Okay Seungkwan, I know what happened, but hear me out.” His eyes narrowed, but he motioned you to continue, “So, when we write letters to each other, we put our address on it, right?” Nodding his head, he took a sip of the warm soup, “Well, the people I was working with moved me to a different department which relocated me to a different city which was far from my apartment.”

You watched his eyes, seeing the expression that tells you he knew nothing about it, “Yeah, you knew nothing because in the letter that I wrote to you, I put the wrong address. I put a 5 instead of a 6.” You looked down, too ashamed to face him and his hard eyes. Seungkwan was surprised, he didn’t know how to process the information, so all he did was laugh.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are.” You let out a soft laugh, hiding your face in the letters. “But I have a question still,” He tried to look at your face, but couldn’t see anything except your nodding, “If we wrote our address, why didn’t you just look at my old letters?”

Placing the letters on the table, you let out a loud groan, softly stomping over to the couch and sitting right next to him. Leaning against his shoulder, you sighed, “Like you said, I can’t believe how stupid I am.”

Seungkwan laughed, moving his arm to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, catching his familiar scent that you missed so much.

“Seungkwan?” He hummed, loving the feeling of having you in his arms again, “I’m sorry I got your address wrong.” He smiled, rubbing your back as a soothing gesture.

“I know. But just remember I’m never letting you live this down.”

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Idiots ~ H.D.

A/n: God I love requests when people KNOW my branding!!

Request: “Hamish duke x male reader we’re the reader is a magician but can’t tell when someone is flirting with him and hamish trying to get his attention” by anon

Word Count: 3800+

Masterlist

Once upon a time, two boys sat at a table together in a little coffee shop. One of them went on and on and on about something and the other watched him with an expression that channeled both confusion and adoration. Everyone looking on had the same mixed expression, but this time with different emotions: charmed amusement, and frustration.

See, Hamish and Y/n were adorable and obviously in love and those who didn't even know them looked at them and saw a couple and smiled because young love. Because young love gave everyone hope. Because it was fresh and pretty and admirable and kind of funny when you thought about all they were going to go through, imagining it with a happy ending of course.

Unfortunately, for those who did know them, Hamish and Y/n were really fucking annoying.

They were obviously in love with each other - or at the very least attracted on some level. Y/n always listened to Hamish ramble, even though he obviously had no idea what Hamish was going on about most of the time. Likewise, Hamish dealt with Y/n's severely annoying ability to not perceive literally any attempt at flirting Hamish threw at him.

Don't get me wrong, Hamish was trying. REALLY HARD. He's been trying since they first met. Hamish had been forming a friendship with this girl- the only person who could keep up with him when he talked about his field and major. But there came a moment when he noticed that she lost interest in him and what he was saying, even as she talked and joked along in time. The day he'd met Y/n, the boy had been talking to that girl that Hamish was sort of becoming acquaintances with. He used to know her name, but she had been quickly forgotten when Hamish had noticed how Y/n never lost interest in him, even though the poor English major was obviously way over his head trying to understand what Hamish was saying.

Long story: the girl and Hamish stopped talking in favor of Hamish giving Y/n all his attention. He preferred to be cared about and he appreciated the effort Y/n was giving, even if he couldn't deliver with any results. He liked that he could go on and on about anything - even things outside of school - and Y/n would listen without complaint. There was something so genuine about Y/n. It drew Hamish in a lot. After a while, their conversation drifted from Hamish talking and Y/n listening to Hamish trying to get as much information about Y/n as he could. Y/n was willing to talk about a lot, and where he was hesitant Hamish recognized the line he'd drawn and let it be. They were only friends for five and a half months, but in that time Hamish had developed very deep feelings for Y/n. Which had lead him to try his hand at flirting.

At first he'd thought Y/n wasn't interested, but then someone had made a joke about them being a couple and Y/n had gone along with it without hesitation. Which seemed to Hamish as if he didn't mind the idea. He had looped in a classmate on a promise he'd do the kid's next assignment. The kid had flirted with Y/n, getting the same complete lack of understanding Hamish did. It seemed that despite Y/n being super affectionate and kind, and even though he was quite smart if Hamish gave the time and effort to help him understand, Y/n was the single most oblivious person Hamish had ever met. At some point Y/n had decided that no one would ever like him, or maybe he'd accepted flirting in some other form. Whatever it was, Y/n did not pick up on any common form of flirting at all.

Hamish tried for two months. TWO. MONTHS. He gave up and even tried straight up pick up lines. Y/n's response had been to return with pick up lines of his own and then to say, "I love that we can joke around like this. It's so refreshing, when everyone around here seems to be so gloomy and shit these days."

Hamish was at his wit's end. He was ready to just take a leap of faith and tell Y/n his feelings straight out and take the hit if Y/n rejected him. Before he could, unfortunately, he found a blue rose on his desk one morning as he prepared for his TA period. He'd looked around to see what it could possibly mean and after several hours and dark holes and wrong paths, came across the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. Instead of confronting Y/n about his feelings, he decided to go to this thing tonight. It seemed interesting and might give him time to clear his head. He enjoyed new things and learning opportunities. Something fresh to figure out might even clear his head and help him with this whole Y/n predicament.

That evening as Y/n and him did their usual afternoon studying together, Y/n seemed upset about something. Hamish wasn't going to prod about it, as he'd learned that Y/n only shared his thoughts and emotions when he was ready to, but it was setting a weird mood.

"Hamish?" The blonde boy looked up, expecting Y/n to finally share. Whatever he'd been expecting, what Y/n said next threw him off. "Don't go tonight."

Hamish's eyebrows came together. "Don't go to what?"

Y/n pursed his lips before looking at the colored pencils he'd been doodling with. They'd found that if Y/n took a few seconds every once in a while to do something other than homework, he had a lot better time studying. That didn't seem to be what he was thinking about now. He picked up a blue pencil and reached over, handing it to Hamish. "Will this one be okay to use on your notes? I know you're peculiar about how you organize them.”

Hamish didn't highlight his notes. He stapled them by units and had a different folder for each of his classes, but that was it. If he really needed to remember something, he would use blue pen instead of black. He hated using pencil though- it faded and smeared.

However, despite the oddity, Hamish was not confused about the message Y/n was sending. There was only one thing Hamish was doing tonight, as they'd made no other engagements. And the only way Y/n would know about it...

Y/n was part of the Order of the Hermetic Blue Rose. And he was telling Hamish not to come to the whatever it was.

In Y/n's eyes, Hamish saw a plea for Hamish to avoid the thing altogether.

"It'll be fine," Hamish said slowly. Y/n's level of code and secrecy lines up with the Order. After all, they were kind of like the Illuminati, if the Illuminati were real. It was super secret and most people thought it a big joke. Hamish had thought it a joke himself before he'd gotten that rose. He'd only heard of it in passing, mostly when homework "went missing" and people joked about the Order whisking it away, or someone wasn't in class and people played with the idea of them having crossed the Order. If Y/n was apart of it, he would never say it in any way.

"No," Y/n argued. He seemed to think for a second and Hamish realized that he was trying to deliver a message to Hamish. "Honestly Hamish I think this class is bad for you. You seem to struggle with it a lot. Maybe you should just drop it. I've been... meaning to tell you for a while now."

Raising an eyebrow, Hamish tried to figure out what Y/n was saying. Did he think this would be too hard for Hamish? That he wasn't smart or tough enough? No, that wasn't in character. Y/n always encouraged Hamish to do things even when Hamish himself set a limit. He decided to test the waters, push back a little. Try and get more information. “I mean it's not that bad. I've been enjoying it."

Y/n frowned. "I took it last year and it almost ruined my transcript. I know how much you care about your grades- it might really hurt them. Dangerous stuff you're playing with here." Hamish's eyebrows came together. Before he could ask, Y/n stood and gathered his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." He gave a tight smile, fear in his eyes. What was he afraid of? He left and Hamish gave only a small nod.

Was the Order really so serious? I mean honestly it was just a bunch of college kids. Were they... cruel? Maybe it was more of a gang than some powerful organization. Maybe Y/n was in trouble.

Well that meant that Hamish absolutely had to go. He needed to know what was going on and how to help Y/n, if he could. If he couldn't, at least they'd be able to watch each other's backs.

So he did.

And before anything happened, a weird ringing sound took over his entire mind and the next thing he knew he was in a room he sort of recognized but had no memory of. Naked. Covered in blood.

The next time he saw Y/n, surprise surprise, actually wasn't when they were all attacked by those they'd been closest to the last six months. And by they, he meant the three other people he also kind of recognized but, yet again, had no memory of. No, it was actually a little after he discovered what the Order really was and found out he was a werewolf. Alyssa Drake of all people popped out of nowhere, promising to give their memories back. And as she talked to Jack and tried to convince him to trust her, Hamish spotted Y/n next to her.

He became human and put a robe on, coming into the room. He felt a lot of emotions. They pushed him to blow right past Alyssa and Jack, straight to Y/n. Hamish pinned him against the wall, anger seeming to have taken the most hold for now. Y/n looked terrified, but when their eyes met his expression softened. Hamish got the impression that Y/n was not afraid of him, but something else. It made worry boil up and he pushed it down, trying to keep hold of himself.

"Tell me you weren't sent to watch me. Tell me you aren't one of them, Y/n."

The room was very quiet as the others came in, everyone watching. Y/n searched for the words for a second. "I- Hamish, I'm part of the Order." Hamish stepped back and Y/n's eyes watered. He seemed to be more panicked now. "I didn't become your friend just to watch you like the others though! We weren't ever supposed to meet or talk, not like we did. The- the girl I was talking to the day we met. SHE was supposed to watch you. But you started ignoring her and seemed to take to me better, so I- I- I hate it now, but back then I was just doing what I was told."

"So you took my memories?" Hamish demanded. "That didn't strike you as wrong?"

"Okay first of all," Y/n snapped. "I didn't even know who you were for like two and a half weeks after we started talking, okay? When they told me, they introduced you as some incredibly dangerous monster who was hellbent on killing everyone who used magic so even if I had, it would have been in self defense because I thought you were dangerous."

Lilith stepped forward. "If you had?"

Y/n huffed, straightening his clothes. "I didn't ever dust you. By the time they told me who you were, they only told me because I was talking to someone about this guy that I-" he cut off, and Hamish shifted upon seeing the blush rise up his throat. Lilith and Alyssa both wore the exact same look. They knew exactly how Y/n felt. "I was friends with." It was then that Jack's eyes went wide with understanding too. "They tried to convince me to stay away because of what you are, but all you've ever been is funny and smart and really talented and snarky as hell." He huffed in amusement. "I was always kind of impressed with you, your sass is like next level it's amazing." Everyone in the room felt the oddity of the warring emotions of everyone else with the weird sort of light and humor Y/n brought to the table. They wanted to smile, but there was too much else going on. Y/n cleared his throat, trying to not default to humor. Hamish cursed himself for being concerned- he knew that Y/n struggled a lot with being emotionally vulnerable. "Anyway, I don't know who did it or how or when, but they never even asked me to. They thought that we had stopped talking for the most part. I never talked about you again at least."

"Until now," Alyssa spoke up. "He confronted me. Begged me to help because he said I would understand since I was... friends with Jack. I told him about my plan to come here and help you guys and he was more than willing and ready. We were hoping that together we might be able to convince you."

The Knights got quiet, all listening to each other. But it was clear that everyone but Randall was nearly completely convinced, and Randall didn't care enough to argue. If  his friends were going, so was he.

They all lined up and Alyssa dusted them. At first they panicked but when they all woke up with their memories completely returned, Hamish's eyes immediately landed on a very hopeful Y/n. He scrambled to his feet, trying to find his words. "You lied to me." Y/n paled. He seemed to be terrified again, but this time Hamish knew immediately why. He was scared of losing Hamish.

Again.

"Hey guys! How are we doing?" Y/n was smiling as usual. It was dazzling to Hamish.

"Better now that you're here."

Y/n laughed. "I know you've been having a hard time with homework, but have you really been so miserable without the comedy relief around to lift the mood?"

Everyone exchanged looks. Everyone but Y/n, who was as always oblivious to everything. Hamish had struck out again.

The first memory was the easiest to swallow.

"Hey Hammy."

"You've been spending too much time with Randall," Hamish sighed as Y/n greeted him upon entering the Den. Y/n laughed. "Maybe you should be spending more time with me."

"Miss me?" Y/n teased.

Hamish looked up from his book, locking eyes with Y/n. "Yeah. Maybe just us? Tonight? Dinner? Movie? Something else?"

Y/n shrugged, his expression unchanged. "Yeah sure dude. I'm starving, and the new-" Hamish stopped listening after that. His message had gone unreceived once more.

He could remember everything, and yet he found himself mulling over the ones about Y/n the most.

"You should wear that shirt more often. You look very good in it."

"Thanks man."

And-

"You free later? I was thinking maybe we could get better acquainted."

"And see I was sitting here thinking we were already best friends." Y/n’s frustratingly beautiful laugh rang out again and Hamish felt his shoulders slump. "Yeah I'm down to hang. Anything for my best buddy."

Then there was-

"Hey Y/n nice pants. They'd look great on Hamish's floor."

"Very funny Lilith," Y/n hummed as he read a book. Hamish shot her a death glare as he sat next to Y/n, his arm draped over the back of the couch they both sat on.

"Not a joke," Randall chimed in. "I think they'd really match the walls. Maybe try it out?"

"I would have to take them off to do that, and I don't see the point of going all the way back to my dorm to get another pair of pants for me to wear just so we can see how these look on Hamish's floor. Total waste of time, especially when I have to have this book read by tomorrow for class."

Eventually Hamish had just turned to pick up lines.

"Hey Y/n, can you hold this?"

He held out his hand and Y/n went to take whatever he was holding, only for Hamish to interlock their fingers. Y/n laughed and didn't drop his hand, even as he rolled his eyes to dismiss what was happening. "Now who's been spending too much time with Randall?" After Y/n looked the other way, Hamish frowned and dropped his hand.

Attempt after attempt after attempt....

"Kiss me if I'm wrong but dinosaurs still exist right?"

Y/n didn't even blink. "Dinosaurs do exist, silly. Well, their bones do. We can go the museum to check them out if you want to?"

Hamish huffed. "What about the kissing me part?"

"Well you were wrong, so I'll have to pass," Y/n reasoned calmly. Hamish glared at the opposite wall so Y/n couldn't see.

He had tried everything.

"You remind me of my homework, because I'm going to slam you on my desk and do you all night."

Y/n burst out laughing. "That's a good one! I haven't heard that one yet. Did you go on some weird kick and look all these up? You've had a load to share lately."

Hamish sighed. "Yeah. Randall got drunk and shared them all with me. I thought they'd make you laugh."

Until he'd finally just said it.

Hamish stood in front of Y/n, desperate. At this point, even his friends thought Y/n was a hopeless case. Maybe they'd been wrong. Maybe Y/n didn't like Hamish. Maybe he was just trying to be polite. "Will you go on a date with me Y/n?”

Y/n smiled at Hamish. "Lose to Cup Pong with Randall again?" Hamish didn't even waste the time to come up with something. He just turned around and walked away, ignoring Y/n's familiar laugh behind him.

He'd been sure that Y/n just wasn't into him. Until:

"If we die today, I need you to know that I love you."

"I love y-"

"No." Hamish grabbed Y/n by the shoulders, his eyes boring into the other boy's. "The Order is probably going to kill us today, or the next chance they get, now that they know about us.  Even if it's not today. I can't die without you knowing that I've legitimately fallen in love with you and it's driving me insane."

Y/n's eyes were wide and earnest, but before he could respond Vera and him had to face the magicians outside who had found the Den, and after there had been too much going on... He hadn't even gotten to get Y/n alone before his memory of Y/n had been taken completely in one go.

Hamish remembered everything. He remembered scheming with Randall, who knew Y/n the most of course because-

Randall was the first to move after they all woke up, dazed and trying to process all their new memories. He, of course, tackled Y/n in a hug immediately. They were both crying. "I'm sorry I forgot you."

"I knew you'd come around," Y/n reassured. "We're brothers man. You can't get rid of me even though you totally want to."

Leaning away, Randall laughed as he wiped his tears. The pair had been a duo for as long as any of the pack had known either of them. Randall was the one who acted like an idiot but was super smart. Y/n was the one who everyone thought was super smart because he got great grades and knew fun facts, but who was actually a total idiot in the sense that he had absolutely no people skills and misread almost every situation and made everything either really fun or super awkward. With help from Hamish he'd been able to figure it out a little. That's how they'd all met. Hamish had told them both about the Knights, but only Randall had been chosen by one of the furs. They'd all been friends until...

"Wait, you're part of the Order?" Hamish voiced.

Y/n sighed, Randall's arms falling away from him. "Alyssa came to me before. She begged me not to tell you, because if they didn't dust you then they were going to kill you. I figured it would be better to have you guys forget me than to be dead, at least until we could figure... something out. I told mom that something really bad had happened and you had disowned me. Said-" He blushed. "I said you and Hamish were together and I'd made a move on you. She was PISSED and left it to me to fix. I was just glad she didn't mention me to you at all. She's been mad at me for ages and demanding I figure out a way to fix it, so when Alyssa had the idea to just work with you guys instead of doing what we were told... I was all for it."

"He joined the Order so they wouldn't wipe his memories," Alyssa continued. "Because all of last year's additions had been... eliminated one way or another, we needed more people anyway. And since Y/n already knew about magic and you guys, it was only too easy to convince the Grand Magus to induct him."

Hamish stood and Y/n did with him. Randall immediately got protective, but Y/n placed a hand on his shoulder and he calmed. Not that he could take Hamish... maybe. Now Y/n was curious, but this wasn't the thing to be worrying about right now.

Hamish opened his mouth to speak, and from the look in his eyes Y/n could see what he was thinking. So he skipped the pleasantries and rushed to him, pulling him close by the back of his neck so their lips could press together. Everyone else, despite everything going on, cheered. After everything they'd been through and all the hardships they'd faced, finally - FINALLY - Y/n had figured his shit out.

When Y/n pulled apart, both boys were grinning. "I've been being your friend for the last few months so that when I finally found out a way to get your memories back, they wouldn't question it when we got together because goddamnit Hamish, I love you too. And I hope you still feel the way you did then, even knowing that I'm part of the Order. That I... I know magic, and use it." He looked like he was ready to get rejected.

"You still know nothing," Hamish whispered. "The fact that you could feel me miss you back and you still think I would chose any other relationship or person over you or let anything get between us... How can you be THAT stupid?"

Y/n socked him on the shoulder. "Asshole."

Hamish just grinned before hooking his finger in Y/n's belt loops. "Your asshole."

"Damn right," Y/n whispered, smirking.

Lilith reached over and chucked a pillow at them. "OKAY OKAY! We do have shit to deal with other than your guys' love life." She was right. The boys parted and everyone got ready to do whatever they had to next to make the scales balanced again. To make it all right.

But as they all headed to the the temple, Y/n leaned over and added, "I owe you a date."

Hamish just smiled at that. "More like you owe me ten."

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you are my dad (boogie woogie woogie)

summary: five times logan accidentally referred to virgil as his dad, and two times he purposefully referred to virgil as his dad

(OR: a birthday fic for the lovely @lovelylogans​ set in her STELLAR gilmore girls au!)

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNALISE!!! if y'all haven't read the sideshire files you're missing out, it's so soft and good and wonderful and i promise you will love it

cw: illness, alcohol, drunkenness (but none of these are angsty, it's all fluff) 

wordcount: 2819

read it on ao3!

(occasion the first: the nineteenth month of logan’s life) 

“You can never tell anyone about this, kid. I’ve never done this in front of anyone and I never will again, you understand me?” Logan, strapped into his portable high chair, stares at Virgil while chewing on his Jupiter teething toy, not saying anything. Virgil assumes that it’s an agreement and slides the hair elastic off of his wrist. 

Carefully, he gathers all of his bangs into one hand and slips the elastic around them, twisting and sliding and twisting again until he has a little unicorn-horn ponytail sticking off his head and a clear line of sight. “Alrighty. What do you want for breakfast, Lo, huh?” 

Logan slobbers on his teething toy and kicks his little bare feet vigorously. He drops the teething toy on his tray and loudly declares, “BA!” 

“Bananas?” Virgil guesses. He’s never been as good at interpreting Logan’s variety of noises as Patton, but Logan waves his little arms and lets out a long string of baby nonsense, so Virgil assumes he must be at least somewhat on the right track. “Okay, kid. You get bananas now, and I’ll make us some chocolate-chip banana pancakes. Deal?” 

Logan slaps his tray and picks up his teething toy again. Virgil pulls open the fridge and carefully fills one of Logan’s sippy cups with apple juice, settling it into the cup holder slot. Logan immediately abandons his toy and begins to nom on the spout to get some juice. 

Virgil slices up bananas and sets a little plate onto Logan’s tray, along with a small plastic kiddie fork. Logan lowers the fork towards the slices of banana with the fierce determination of a child attempting to win a toy from a claw crane game. Virgil huffs out a soft laugh and returns to the kitchen counter. He moves through the motions of pancake batter, throwing in banana slices and chocolate chips, and he’s completely in the kitchen zone. Logan’s happy chewing noises and babbles become a soothing background noise. 

He’s jolted away from his pancake batter abruptly when he hears Logan wail. 

Virgil whirls around, whisk dropping on the floor and splattering pancake batter everywhere. Logan is crying, holding one hand out, and his little pointer finger is red. “Oh, you - did you bite your finger?” 

Logan sniffles and cries, holding his hand out. “Paaaaaaa!” 

Virgil winces. “No, kid, Papa’s not -”

Logan makes grabby hands at Virgil. “Pa! Paaaaa, papapapa, paaaa, paaaa!” 

Virgil freezes. “I - you - am I Papa?” 

“Paaaaaaaa!” 

Virgil carefully takes Logan’s tiny hand, leaning forward and carefully kissing his little red finger in the way he’s seen Patton do millions of times. “There we go, Logan. I - Papa kissed it better, so we’re okay, right?”

Logan sniffles. “Paaa . . .” 

Virgil carefully offers him a disk of banana. “You want some more banana?” Logan wipes at his little eyes, leans forward, and carefully takes the banana chunk in his mouth. “There we go. You’re okay. It’s okay, Logan.” 

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the second: logan’s junior year of highschool) 

Virgil is really sick of walking into the Sanders house and discovering a sick Sanders (pun very much not intended, thank you, Patton). 

He nudges the front door open, arms laden with takeout containers of meal-prep for the week and bags of groceries to re-stock the kitchen and two cardboard drinks trays full of to-go cups. Patton’s not home, off at some kind of business conference, and he’d promised to take care of Logan. 

(Take care of our kid, Patton had said, and Virgil had been caught so off-guard by the pronoun our that he’d barely remembered to agree.) 

So he has lunches for Logan for every day of the week, groceries so that he can make his own dinners, and a stock of smoothies full of hidden nutrients for study breaks. Virgil kicks the door shut behind him, struggling to not drop any of the things he’s holding. 

“Logan, you wanna come help me with your meals and shit?” 

There’s no immediate answer, which isn’t worrying in and of itself; it is almost 7:30 AM on a Saturday, and Logan is a teenager. Virgil sets the drinks trays and takeout containers on the kitchen, drops the grocery bags on the floor, and goes to lock the door behind him. He hears footsteps behind him. “Sorry if I woke you, but -”

He turns to face Logan and almost drops the keys. Logan is wrapped up like a burrito in his thick quilt, dragging it along the kitchen floor like a cape. His eyes and nose are red, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair looks like Remus’s after a late night of partying. He sways in the doorway. 

“Logan?” Virgil asks, keeping his voice soft. 

“Virgil,” Logan rasps. “I . . . believe that I . . . may be ill.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Virgil says. Logan blinks at him, once, uncharacteristically slow. 

“Could you please stop the room from spinning? And - and perhaps you could - could do me the favor of - of catching -”

Logan pitches forward, and Virgil lunges to catch him. He feels Logan’s forehead and swears with how hot it is. “Alright, buddy, back into bed with you.”

“Y - you brought me . . . groceries,” Logan manages. “I . . . we have to -”

“You do not have to do anything except get your ass back in bed,” Virgil says. “I’m calling Jean and leaving her in charge for the day, she can handle it. I’m staying here with you.” 

“Y - no, you - go t’ work -”

“Over my dead body, kid. Come on, back to bed.” Logan takes a single step and his knees immediately buckle beneath him. Virgil doesn’t think twice before scooping the Logan burrito up into his arms, shifting so that Logan’s head rests in the curve of his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

He maneuvers Logan back into bed, tucking him in and taking his temperature. It reads 101.1 - hot enough to warrant concern, but not so hot that he needs hospitalization. Good; Virgil’s had his fill of seeing Sanders boys in the hospital. He soaks a washcloth in ice-cold water, and Logan hisses when he lays it on his forehead, swiftly transitioning from a hiss of pain to a hiss of relief.  

“Stay here, kid. I’ll bring you something to drink in just a second, okay?” 

Logan makes a weak, pained noise from his bed. “Papa?” 

It takes every ounce of self-control Virgil possesses not to bolt or flinch or scream or otherwise negatively react. He knows this is Logan’s fever-addled brain speaking, he knows it doesn’t mean anything. “Yeah?” 

“Papa, I don’ - I don’ feel so good,” Logan whimpers. “Papa, I - I think - I think ‘m sick, Papa.” 

“Yeah,” Virgil says, approaching the bed and gently brushing a hand against Logan’s cheek. “Yeah, you are, kid.” 

“Don’ like it, Papa.” “I know. It’s gonna be okay, Logan.”

“Papa, not - not gonna leave?” Logan sounds so small and fragile, and Virgil remembers the first time a tiny bundle of baby was placed in his arms and the first time he met those vibrant indigo eyes and the first time he knew that he would give anything in his life for this child and his happiness. 

“No, kid. I’m not going anywhere.” 

*~*~*~*~* 

(occasion the third: logan’s senior year of high school) 

“You Sanders men wouldn’t have a proper diet or a proper sleep schedule without me, would you?” Virgil sighs. He’d worked a late shift at the diner today; when Patton had picked up dinner for himself and Logan, Virgil had kissed him quickly and told him not to wait up. 

Now, carefully shutting the door behind him, he’s beginning to think that he should have told Patton to pass the message on to his son. 

It’s nearly midnight, and Logan is slumped across the kitchen table. The table is covered in a mountain of SAT prep books, all of them annotated in Logan’s cramped, increasingly sloppier handwriting. Logan has blue and black pen marks smeared all over his face, his tie is askew, and he’s creating a small puddle of drool as he breathes in and out. 

“Aw, geez,” Virgil sighs. He toes off his shoes and leaves them in the tray, carefully dropping his coat and apron into a heap. Logan makes a soft snuffling noise. “You gotta get sleep, kid. How are you supposed to take an exam if you can barely keep your eyes open, huh?” 

He carefully closes all of the books and piles them up neatly on the table, slides the pen from Logan’s hand and fills up his pencil case, piles the post-it notes in place. It takes some maneuvering, but Virgil finally manages to pick up Logan. He stirs in Virgil’s arms. “Whhmmmm?” 

“Hey, kid,” Virgil murmurs. “We’re getting you to bed, okay?” 

“Need t’study, Papa . . .” 

Virgil’s heart clenches as he carries Logan to his room. “You need to sleep. You won’t pass the exam if you fall asleep in the middle of it, will you?” 

“No, Papa . . .”

“Don’t burn yourself out. Take breaks, let your body recover. Isn’t it you who told me that the brain stores and processes information when you sleep?” 

“Ye, Papa . . .”

Virgil carefully settles Logan on his bed, pulling off his tie and belt and shoes and glasses. “Sorry, Papa,” Logan yawns, eyes still closed. Virgil pulls the folded blanket from the foot of Logan’s bed and tucks it around him. 

“Don’t apologize. Just sleep, okay?” 

Logan is asleep again before Virgil’s even left the room. 

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the fourth: the aftermath of logan’s twenty-first birthday)

“Who knew my boyfriend was a lightweight?” Roman laughs. His second beer of the night is half-finished in his hand, and there’s a barely-buzzed but very-drunk Logan curled in his lap and lazily kissing his face. Virgil, the designated driver and therefore sober, would be slightly offended that his basically-son is making out with his boyfriend in front of him, but it is Logan’s twenty-first birthday, and they’re all chaste kisses along Roman’s jawline. 

“I wasn’t expecting it, based on the stories Patton’s told me.” 

“Do tell!” Roman says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I will not,” Virgil says. “You need good healthy role models in your life, and if I tell you stories about shenanigans you’ll never take Patton seriously again.” 

He finally manages to pile two giggly drunk teenagers into the back of his car and pull away from the remnants of Logan’s party. They’re whispering conspiratorially in the back seat. Virgil turns on his music on a low volume and keeps his eyes on the road. 

It takes Roman approximately seven minutes to finally kiss Logan goodbye and stumble down the driveway to his house. (Logan does not make his job easier by clinging like a starfish and begging for “jus’ one more kiss, please?”) Virgil nods at Isadora when she opens the door, and she offers him a nod in return as she ushers Roman inside. 

“I - I love him,” Logan slurs, yawning and leaning forward so that his head bonks against the driver’s seat. 

“I know.” 

“No, you - I - I love him, Daddy. I love him.” 

Virgil adjusts his rearview mirror and laughs softly. “I know, Logan. I think all of Sideshire knows you love him.” 

“They do?” Logan hums. “Do - d’you think Roman knows I love him, Daddy?” 

“I’m sure Roman knows,” Virgil says. 

“I should tell ‘im more, Daddy.” 

“You can tell him everything you want tomorrow. Right now, we’re going home, and you’re drinking a bottle of water before you go to bed.” 

“The - the human body is seventy-five percent water, Daddy. Ex - except Roman’s body. His is just made of muscle and pretty.” 

Virgil barely manages to contain the laughter bubbling in his throat.

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the fifth: logan’s sophomore year of college) 

You have: three new voicemail messages! 

First message: Saturday at 1:17 AM 

“Daddy - Daddy, ‘s me, ‘s Logan, an’ I think I’m jus’ a tiiiiiiiny bit drunk? I wanna make a - a - a snack , but not like Roman, cause he’s a snack but I don’t - uuuuuuuum . . . what . . . was I askin’ you? Dunno . . .” 

Second message: Saturday at 1:27 AM

“Daddy, ‘m sorry, got distracted cause - cause Roman is jus’ - jus’ so pretty - but I hada . . . a . . . question! Yeah, that’s the word. I wanna make those muffins you make, the ones with th’jam in the middle, an’ - but I don’ remember the recipe - how - how d’you put the jam in the muffins without cuttin’ ‘em in half? I don’ understand . . . I’ . . . call m’back, kay?” 

Third message: Saturday at 2:48 AM 

“Uh . . . Daddy . . . how d’you get batter stains outta y’r clothes . . .”

(“Virge? You okay?” 

“Logan leaves the weirdest drunk voicemails.”)

*~*~*~*~*

(plus one: the aftermath of logan’s graduation from chilton) 

“You really did that, huh, kid?” Virgil asks. Logan looks at him, mortar slightly askew, eyes bright and happy. He’s holding his diploma, and Virgil reaches over to ruffle his hair. He gently pulls Logan into a hug, and Logan holds on perhaps slightly tighter than normal. Virgil isn’t judging; he’s holding on tightly as well.

“Did what?” Logan asks. “Graduated? Were you expecting me not to?” 

“No, of course I knew you’d do that.” Virgil feels the lump creeping up his throat. “I - I just - aw, hell, Logan -”

“Are you crying?!” Logan asks incredulously.

“No, shut the fuck up,” Virgil hisses reflexively. Logan laughs, and he sounds watery too, so Virgil lets it go. “I just - you - I -” Logan waits patiently while he takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. “Good speech,” he finally settles on. 

“Oh,” Logan says, voice small. “That.” 

“You - you called me Dad.” 

“That I did.” 

“Was that on purpose?” Virgil asks. He holds his breath a little, not sure what he’ll do if Logan says no. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Logan says -

“Yes,” Logan says. “Of course it was. You may not have contributed to my genetic makeup, but - but you are my dad, Virgil. In every way that truly matters. You and Dad raised me, you kept me fed and healthy, the diner is my second home. You’re my - you’re my dad.” 

Virgil hugs Logan tightly, one hand gently gripping the back of Logan’s hair and the other squeezing around his waist. “You are my son,” he whispers into Logan’s hair. “In every way that matters, you are my son.” 

Logan takes a deep breath, and then, so quietly Virgil almost misses it, he whispers, “Eight, dad.” 

Virgil inhales, shakily, and exhales, “Sixteen, kid.”

*~*~*~*~*

(plus two: the aftermath of virgil asking logan’s permission to propose)

Virgil curls his hands into fists on his jeans, staring very intensely at Logan’s sneakers. “I promise,” he says lowly, “that I’m not trying to intrude on your life. I know how important Patton is to you, I know how important you are to him. And I know it’s archaic and kind of sexist to ask for someone’s hand in marriage as if I’m asking permission for someone’s property, but - but I - you’ve put up with so much instability in your life, with your shitbag of a sperm donor -”

Logan snorts at the reference to Christopher, and Virgil lets the corner of his lip quirk up into a smile before settling back into Serious Mode. “- and I would never want to make you feel like you have to accept me. I’m not trying to marry Patton because I think I have to, or because I think I deserve to marry him, or - or because he owes me something. I want to marry him because - because I’ve spent so long loving him, and so long being loved by him, and we’ve made a home together and a life together and - hell, we’ve raised a kid together - and i just -”

“I’m sure this is all just one big insurance scam,” Logan jokes. Virgil wheezes, and Logan reaches out to take his hand. 

“Virgil.” He pauses, and then, “Dad.” 

Virgil’s head jerks up, and Logan smiles softly at him. “I know that you would never propose if you weren’t completely serious. I appreciate you coming to make sure that I would be alright with this marriage, because I know someone asking you this question if you were in my shoes would help to ease your anxiety about the transition.”

“That was . . . very emotionally astute.” 

Logan smirks. “I know.”

“Brat,” Virgil laughs. He blinks, and suddenly his face is wet. 

“I appreciate this,” Logan repeats, “but Roman and I have literally been planning your marriage since we met. You do not need to worry about my opinion in this matter. If it will ease your mind, though, yes, Dad, you have my blessing to propose to Papa.” 

“You haven’t called him Papa in years,” Virgil says. 

“I haven’t had another parent to call ‘Dad’ in years, either.” 

Virgil couldn’t stop himself from hugging Logan if he tried. “Eight,” he says, and Logan hugs him tightly. 

“Sixteen, Dad.” 

[angstyaches]

Hey can you write something where Rin feels really shitty all day, but no one notices until she’s talking to someone and suddenly faints or something. If you can’t do it, it’s totally fine Thanks!

Hey anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this request, but thank you very much for sending it! Sick girls are a lot harder for me to write than sick boys, but Rin deserves the love just as much as any of them.

This is UNRELATED to the current ongoing Ouija Board series, and takes place before Shayne being motion sick on the train. (You’ll see where I place it in the masterlist.) Fun fact: The friends-helping-spaced-out-friend-find-their-desk was inspired by something that actually happened to me in college.

CW: anxiety, exertion, academic pressure, bullying, toxic friendship, fainting, sickness

Rin had honestly made an attempt to look at what number desk belonged to her on the way into the exam hall. The problem was that she’d focused so hard on the task of looking at the busy diagram of names and numbers, that she’d forgotten to complete the task of internalising the information she actually needed. Now she was wandering down an aisle at random, hoping to light upon her own name as she glanced at the tags on front of the desks.

She came to a stop eventually, her heart sinking into her gut, sweat gathering in her palms. She’d stayed up until almost four a.m., but she hadn’t thought she’d be quite this tired and unable to focus. Her legs ached and her chest and throat felt tight, but she shook it off as just tension pooling in her body in anticipation for the exam.

Rin jumped as hands touched both her elbows, and she almost yelped right there in the exam hall. She glanced from side to side to see that it was just Charlie at her left elbow, and Shayne at her right.

“Where are you off to, idiot?” Shayne asked. “Your desk’s at the other side of the hall, a few rows behind mine.”

“Oh,” she said, numbly nodding her head and fidgeting with her pencil case. Her throat stung when she spoke, and then again when she attempted to swallow.

“What, did you revise so hard your brain came loose?”

“Shayne,” Charlie hissed, but Rin didn’t mind. It was the first time she’d been insulted by a friend and actually felt somewhat warmed by it. Charlie’s and Shayne’s hands felt so strong under her elbows that she knew she could have leaned a lot harder into them than she was currently.

Her feet felt a little steadier now, though they had nothing to do but go on auto-pilot for a few minutes. The boys even sidestepped her through a random row of desks for no reason other than to avoid walking her past Katie. Rin’s head might have been floating somewhere up in the clouds, but she was present enough to realise what they’d done, and she had a silly little smile on her face by the time they lowered her into her seat.

“Hey,” Charlie grinned, crouching on the floor next to her desk. Rin blinked and tried to focus on his face, tried to let his bright blue eyes and his smile ground her a bit. “You’ve got this, okay?”

Rin nodded, swallowing thickly despite a harsh scratching sensation in her throat. She wanted to say thank you, and maybe offer some encouraging words in return, but couldn’t choke anything up. She just wanted to put her head down and have everyone in the hall be quiet. She twirled the strands of hair she’d left loose from her ponytail, after not feeling bothered to braid it or put it up in buns. She couldn’t even remember if she’d washed it yesterday or the day before, because she’d barely slept or looked at anything but books in that time. She tugged at the streak of white hair at the side of her face, wondering how much whiter it would go once these exams were over. She couldn’t remember thinking about much else, but suddenly the bell rang, and the papers were being handed out, and Rin’s world was spinning, and it felt like the beginning of the end.

-

Oh, god, what the hell just happened?

Rin staggered up from her desk, glancing around as a hundred other students got up from theirs. Her head was absolutely swimming, her throat ached, and her shirt had become clammy against her skin since the exam started. The only evidence that she’d actually written something in the past two hours was the fact that her fingers and wrist ached from holding her pen.

She shakily picked up her things and shuffled a few rows back. The air in the hall felt thick, and everyone seemed to be far too close for comfort, no matter how much she tried to sidestep them as they left their desks. Luckily, Shayne hadn’t left his yet, and he looked up in surprise as Rin pressed her hands on his desk.

“Well?” he asked, tucking his pen behind his ear. “How’d it go, wiz kid?”

“How did – what?” Rin lowered her head. It felt like waves were crashing in her ears, making the sounds of the exam hall fade in and out. Her eyes didn’t feel like they were all the way open.

“The exam,” Shayne said. “Sylvia Plath came up, like you guessed. I was surprised you didn’t start jumping up and down.”

“Plath,” Rin mumbled, pressure building in her head as she tried to focus. I am sliver and exact. No, not sliver; silver. Fuck. Had she written any of that on her paper? Had she written “sliver” instead of “silver”?

She pulled her glasses off and pressed her hand to Shayne’s desk again, leaning even more weight on her arms.

“Come on,” Shayne sighed. “We all know you have nothing to worry about, Rin.”

“No, no, Shayne, I-I –” Rin grunted as her legs went out from under her. She managed to catch herself somewhat on the edge of the desk, gripping the wood and pressing her forehead to the backs of her trembling hands. Her glasses clattered across the desk, her knees aching sharply as they hit the floor.

She felt hands on her almost straight away, and she panicked, thinking she was being pulled to her feet. No, she wanted to say, but all that came out was a whimper. She was just going to fall again; she was sure of it. Her fingers were starting to slip from the desk, so she would drop like a ragdoll if someone tried to hoist her up.

“I’ve got you, relax,” they were saying, and she no longer felt like she was being tugged. Just supported. “Rin? Holy shit. Holy shit, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say something?”

Rin mumbled wordlessly, feeling a shoulder move in to rest against her cheek. She leaned into it and winced at the sudden relief of not having to hold her head up anymore. She eased her fingers off the edge of the desk, arms slumping heavily into her lap. She almost laughed at how ridiculous she must have looked, like she was out-of-body and watching someone perform physical comedy.

“Oh my god, Rin?” A soft, slightly pinched voice came through the white noise. Charlie Bear. “Shayne, what – what happened?”

“I don’t know, she just dropped. Can you get some of these idiots to back off?”

Shayne, she thought, and she tried to say his name because his voice sounded so close, but her own sounded like it was coming from somewhere else. Someone else.

“I don’ – don’t feel well.”

“Oh, you think?” Shayne leaned in a little closer, his body warm and soft and solid as even more of the energy leaked out of Rin’s.

“Is she okay?” came another voice that Rin recognised, and it made her feel chilly. She suddenly wondered if she was taking up way too much space, causing a scene. She probably hadn’t needed to faint at all. Maybe she’d just been desperate for some attention. What was she like, lying on the floor with some boy holding her up?

“I think me and Charlie can handle this, thank you very much, Katie.”

“Just get her up already,” Katie hissed. “People are staring.”

Am I making a show of myself, Katie?

“Just fuck off, okay?”

Rin turned her head to bury her face in Shayne’s chest, wishing it would all go away, wishing she could just sleep, wishing she could get back the past two hours and stop panicking that she’d failed the exam from lack of concentration, wishing the room wasn’t so damn hot, or – or was it getting colder?

She opened her eyes as a cool breeze blew soft baby hairs across her forehead, sighing as the was easing into a sitting position. The detail of the tiny stones in the tarmac was so vivid it made her eyes hurt, and the flaked green paint of the bench was almost psychedelic. Lowering her eyes dizzily, she realised her glasses were back on her face, but she was missing a shoe. When she glanced around for it, she saw it in Shayne’s lap as he sat with her head against his shoulder.

“Wha’ – what happened?” Rin mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Shayne said. “You got a bit wobbly back there, but Charlie’s just bringing his dad’s car around. We’re gonna take you home.”

Tears stung Rin’s eyes and she began to compulsively shake her head back and forth, which only made her dizzier. She fought back a sob, knowing how much it was going to hurt her already aching throat, but it bubbled up from her chest anyway, dry and deep and whistling.

“Hey, it’s alright –”

“No, no, no – no, no – it’s not okay,” she whined, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the ground to stop rocking back and forth. She gasped for air between words, feeling like her lungs and throat were being alternatingly squeezed and prodded. “F-failed – failed the exam – I’m gonna – I’m not – I can’t –”

“Okay, look, this probably won’t sink in right now, but you’re gonna be fine, Rin. It’s just the winter exams; they don’t count for shit.”

Rin whimpered, the sound tearing at her throat.

“And, look, I’m sure you did fine. I mean – you, functioning at ten percent, are still better than most people at one hundred.”

Shayne was right; it didn’t sink in right then, but the tone of his tone was enough to calm her a bit anyway, and she turned to press her face harder against his shoulder to block out the afternoon sunlight, clamping a hand on his knee, just to have something to hold onto. Her arm trembled with the tightening aches setting into her muscles.

By the time Charlie came to take her from the bench to his car, she was almost unconscious again, and couldn’t lift her leg by herself when Charlie asked her to. He ended up lifting it into his hand so he could slide her lost shoe back on, and somewhere in her fever-addled brain, Rin wondered how she’d gotten even luckier than Cinderella, to have not just one, but two Prince Charmings to take care of her.

She wobbled and groaned when they stood her up, but at least the anxiety had quietly crawled away, leaving her sighing gratefully every time a hand cupped her elbow, or nudged at the small of her back to make her change direction.

When she finally settled in the back of Charlie’s car, Rin’s bones had more or less turned to jelly. Shayne positioned himself with his back against the door and let her put her head on his chest. He put a hand to her shoulder to make sure she didn’t flop over with the motion of the car. She opened her eyes at one point, gaze falling upon Charlie’s reflection in the rear-view mirror as he frowned slightly, focusing on the road.

I am silver and exact, she thought, closing her eyes and letting herself drop off.

[slippinmickeys]

Of the Eight Winds, Part 6

This is part six in who knows how many from the prompt from @sunflowerseedsandscience : “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn’t cheat (because sorry that’s not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.”

Links to parts one, two, three, four and five.

1

Mulder’s mother-in-law was sick. Terminal cancer, from what Scully gathered from the little he talked about it. He was gone a lot, accompanying Lauren back and forth between her parent’s house in Newport News and the hospital and home.

Their basement office felt cold, empty without him in it. She felt like every small noise she made echoed off the walls. One Friday, she left early, unable to stand it any longer.

She went home, but felt alone there, too. She drifted out into her neighborhood, the warm sun of the afternoon laying long shadows through the streets.

There was a farmer’s market set up a few blocks from her apartment— an entire block’s worth of a street closed off, with tented stalls lining both sides of the road, selling everything from fresh eggs to flowers to jewelry.

She was looking through the selection of breads and baked goods on the edge of one of the stalls when she felt a light tug on bottom of the sundress she had changed into. She looked down to find a small black feline paw had reached through the bars of the cage in the next stall and had hooked a claw into her dress. Her laugh alerted one of the women working the rescue group’s stall, who rushed over to help release her from the kitten’s grasp, with an “oh honestly, Trouble.”

“His name is Trouble?” Scully asked, laughing.

“Her,” the woman said, smiling at the little black fluff affectionately, “she’s sweet but has an excess of personality.”

“How old is she?” Scully asked.

“Ten weeks,” the woman answered, then narrowed her eyes, seeing a prospective cat rescuer suddenly in her midst. “Here,” she went on, handing Scully a feather-on-a-stick cat toy, “play with her. She’s a hoot.”

Scully bobbed the toy about Trouble’s head, who took one swat at it and then jumped into the air and caught it, growling like a dog. Scully laughed, delighted.

“She plays fetch, too,” said the woman, who was still hovering nearby.

“You’re kidding,” Scully said, tugging on the feather, which Trouble refused to give up.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” the woman said, “wadded up paper ball. And when she brings it back, she drops it better than my retriever ever does.”

Scully was thoroughly charmed.

“You in the market for a new friend?” the woman asked with a smile.

“Oh! No, not really.”

“Well, we’ll be here if you change your mind. Our rescue group has a stall at the Farmer’s Market on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

Scully smiled at the woman and turned away, thinking of buying a bag of apples and a bouquet of flowers.

“Miss?” the woman said, and Scully turned back to look at her, “Trouble won’t be here long. The cute ones get adopted quick.”  

Scully smiled indulgently and walked on. On her return trip through the market to head home, carrying a bag of greens, two cartons of strawberries and a small bouquet of yellow calla lilies, she saw a small girl playing with Trouble and a slightly larger orange tabby kitten. The girl’s parents were standing a few feet away and the girl turned to them. “I want the orange one,” she told them.

Scully was insulted on Trouble’s behalf. It was no fun coming in second. She veered back toward the cage and stuck a finger through the bars. Trouble rubbed her face against her finger and sat down, purring.

“Can I get an adoption application please?” Scully said then, and found that the woman was already behind her with a clipboard and a pen. The woman winked.

Two hours later she tumbled into her apartment laden with her haul from the farmer’s market, twenty five pounds of kitty accoutrements and a cardboard cat carrier that had little black paws popping out of the holes in the top.

She opened it up and looked down at its lone occupant, who sat, looking back at her, as prim and proper as a posy. She looked like a ball of black puff with two green eyes, as round as the moon.

“We’re going to change your name, Trouble,” Scully said, “A friend of mine once told me about self-fulfilling prophecies.”

2

Scully didn’t go to Lauren’s mother’s funeral, but she did send flowers. She tried to strike the right tone with the arrangement, somewhere between work acquaintance and best friend, and leaned into one that was more on this side of ostentatious than not.

She got a thank you card from Lauren, but it was written in Mulder’s scrawling hand.

3

Scully had voiced a craving for a mid-afternoon latte, and the day was bright and clear, the first in almost a week. He volunteered to accompany her to a nearby coffee shop.

He waited in the back of the shop next to a stack of high chairs and a small creamer station dusted with spilled Sweet’N Low and cinnamon. He watched as she gave her order to the barista, laughing at something the girl had said as she handed over her money. Her face shone amongst the other patrons, brighter and clearer than anyone else’s. It was like she alone was in focus, everyone else in the world walking in an ill-defined blur.

Why had he waited so long, he wondered. Some misplaced sense of loyalty? Things with Lauren had always gone from bad to worse, waiting certainly hadn’t made them better. It wasn’t to spare Lauren’s feelings. It certainly wasn’t to spare his own.

Scully turned from where she stood in line and caught his eye. She smiled at him with a radiance that hit him square in the solar plexus.

How many years had he wasted? How many breaths had he taken, how many nights spent alone in a bed of two?

He smiled back at her, a delicious ache in his chest.

4

Their first meeting with Skinner after Mulder informed him of their relationship was a budgetary meeting. Kimberly smiled at them in a knowing way when they walked into the front part of Skinner’s office, at which Scully blushed. Mulder wondered vaguely how much Skinner and his assistant talked.

Just before Skinner adjourned the meeting of roughly ten people, he said “Please consider this a reminder to make sure your current address, emergency contact information, and any other pertinent personnel file data is updated and filed with Human Resources.”

Mulder shot a look to Scully, who shot a look back.

The skin at the base of his left ring finger was bare but indented with years long pressure.

5

One morning, Mulder woke up to find Blackwell sitting on his chest, the end of her fat, fluffy tail twitching slowly up, keeping time like a metronome. The cat regarded him coolly for minute, then yawned once and flopped down to lay atop him, purring gently.

Scully awoke about ten minutes later and cracked a sleepy eye to look at the domestic tableau before her.

She smiled.

“She likes you,” she said.

“I have a way with women,” he rumbled, scratching a nail under the cat’s chin.

“I’ll remember that the next time she needs her claws trimmed,” Scully said, stretching.

Mulder considered the animal.

“Why did you name your cat Blackwell?” he asked.

“Have you heard of Elizabeth Blackwell?” she asked back. He shook his head. “She was the first woman to graduate from Medical School in the United States,” she said.

He nodded, running his hand along the velvet coat of the black cat.

“Perfect,” he said. Blackwell purred. So did Scully.

6

He had dreams. Terrible dreams. He dreamt that he hadn’t made it in time to the top of Skyland Mountain. He dreamt that Melissa had been shot dead in Scully’s doorway. Dreams where he showed up at the hospital to visit Lauren’s mother and found Scully in her bed.

In the mornings, he woke to find Scully next to him and pulled her close. She generally woke when he did this, but never once complained.

7

Blackwell had stopped growling when playing with toys after a week or two of living with Scully, but would still occasionally play fetch. Mulder was so taken with the idea of a dog-like cat, he offered to open an X-File on her and swore he would teach her tricks.

True to his word, as the years passed, Mulder taught Blackwell several, including a high five, “speak” and a version of “play dead” in which he would pull an imaginary service weapon (complete with correct form and safety procedures) say “bang” and over she would keel. True her status as a feline, Blackwell would perform these tricks only five times out of ten, which Scully did have to admit, was pretty good.

On a lazy Sunday morning when Lily was nine months old, Mulder, Scully and their daughter were whiling away in their rumpled bed (Mulder with a book, Scully with a crossword, Lily with an orange teether) when Mulder set the book down on his bedside table and turned to Scully.

“Lily and I taught Blackwell a new trick,” he said.

Scully set down the newspaper and pencil where Lily couldn’t get to them and turned toward him.

“I’d like to see it,” she said, smiling.

“What do you think, Lil?” Mulder said to the baby who babbled a bit in response, a string of drool sliding down to soak into her already damp onesie.

Mulder nodded, pursed his lips and whistled.

A light tinkling sound came down the hallway, and Blackwell jumped up easily onto the bed and sauntered up to Mulder to give him a gentle headbutt.

Scully clapped softly.

“She comes when whistled for now? I’m impressed.”

Mulder pet the cat affectionately and then looped a finger underneath the cat’s collar to bring it up and over her fur.

“And check out the new accessory,” Mulder said.

Scully clicked her fingers and Blackwell walked over to her.

“A new collar, I see,” Scully, said, eyeing the new black collar with equal parts humor and distaste -- it had a repeating pattern of alien heads and ufos.

Mulder nodded as Blackwell sat in front of Scully and then he thrust his chin up and towards the cat.

“That’s not all,” he said, “check out the hardware.”

Lily made a grab for the cat, but was scooped up by her father who lifted her to his shoulder as Scully leaned down to take a closer look at Blackwell’s new collar. Where the bell usually was, hung a platinum ring with three diamonds and an aged patina. Scully sucked in a breath and fingered it, flicking her eyes to Mulder, who looked at her with affection.

“What do you think, Scully? Make an honest man out of me?”

Blackwell sat patiently as Scully unhooked her collar and slid the ring off of it. She held it in her palm, her eyes shining.

“Was this…?” she said, and Mulder knew what she was asking.

“It was the ring I gave to Lauren,” he said, “it was my grandmother’s. She returned it to me a few months ago. She thought you should have it.”

Scully smiled sadly.

Mulder rushed on.

“I understand if you would rather not wear it. I’d be happy to buy you a new one. But I wanted to give you the option. Mulder women have been wearing this ring for close to a hundred years. It maybe doesn’t have the best mojo, but…”

“I love it,” Scully said, as Lily reached up and patted at Mulder’s cheeks. Scully slid it over her finger and it seemed to fit perfectly.

“So is that a yes?” Mulder asked, nuzzling their daughter’s head.

“It’s a yes,” Scully smiled. “And Mulder?”

He looked at her.

“I don’t believe in mojo.”

8

They buried Blackwell under the dogwood tree in their backyard, eleven year old Lily crying into her mother’s shoulder. Eight year old William, who had inherited his mother’s stoicism and his grandmother’s stiff upper lip stood next to them, watching his father blankly as he patted the soil flat with the back of a shovel.

“She was good cat,” William said somberly, and Mulder reached out and pulled him into a hug. He could feel a wet spot start to soak into his shirt.

“She was, buddy,” he said, and swung his eyes to Scully, who was absently rubbing Lily’s back, her eyes still on the ground. “I think maybe we should celebrate her life with ice cream, what do you say?”

William snuffled loudly, wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Vanilla, dad?” he said on another sniffle, “chocolate is bad for cats.”

Scully finally cracked a smile.

“It’s what she would have wanted,” she said, and tucked a strand of bright red hair tenderly behind Lily’s ear.

A blossom detached from the tree and fell gently to the ground, landing softly on the freshly turned earth.

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

I am Machine: Chapter 2

Alec had opened his eyes, feeling heavy and groggy like he just woke up, wait.... Did he actually fall asleep without meaning to? He had tried so many times to fall asleep but he never succeed, he actually felt like he woke up and he didn’t remember hearing the animatronics wake up.

He pulled the blanket apart and he blinked then his face was hit by light.

No. No. No.

He was in a different room, someone moved him.

He was stupid, he didn't think he'd fall asleep, he didn't think anyone would find him.

He was in a bigger room, one he hadn’t seen before. He was in a sofa chair, he saw a desk with some various items, like a pile of paper, a cup with pencils, pens, markers, some books stacked in a neat pile, a stand was there and Alec noticed a piece of paper was on the stand, he narrowed his eyes when he saw black scribble on the paper, trying to make it out. Wait. Those were musical notes.

It was a piece of music, with the notes in a order, some unintelligible words below each written note, maybe they were lyrics?

Alec didn’t understand music, it didn’t really interest him, his sister on the other hand seem to have an interest in learning a musical instrument, but she couldn’t decide which one. Alec would rather listen to music then create it.

There was a black wardrobe that seemed strange, firstly, it had a padlock around the handles, Alec immediately tried to reason why the wardrobe would be locked, but he could only think of bad reasons.

He saw a bookshelf with three separate shelves, one had books, other had small items that seem to allude to whoever was in this room, they liked to create/play music. The items included reeds that would be used for instruments like clarinet, and saxophone, some guitar picks in a small clear container with a post it note attached that said: “STOP STEALING THESE UNLESS YOU WANT TO REPLACE THEM BONNIE, SIGNED L.A”. The bottom shelf had things like spare blankets, three pillows all stacked in a neat tower and a small black box with a pad lock on it.

Alec had seen on the opposite side of the room was a big bed, it had a messy pile of blankets and pillows all within a pink colour palette. Must be a woman, Alec thought, the note that was L.A was most likely the intitals of their name.

He had barely moved, he heard something, he looked and saw a door, the handle was turning, he immediately threw the blanket over his head and hid himself, he was unsure who or what it was.

He heard the door open and close, he slightly moved and peeked out enough to see a little, he saw a man, a strange man, with white and pink hair, he was wearing a white long sleeved shirt, he was slightly chubby, not in a very overweight way, more looking cuddly honestly. He had black pants and his shoes were clicking as he walked like he had metal on the soles of them.

He walked to the bookshelf, he kneeled down and picked up the small black box, he had pulled a key out from his pocket, and jammed it into the padlock, opening it, Alec was surprised to see he just pulled out a pair of what looked like silk white gloves. He put the box down and walked over to the locked wardrobe and also unlocked that, his white gloves in one hand, he reached in with his other and pulled out a black case.

He walked over to the bed and opened the case, Alec watched him pull on his gloves, then he reached into the case. Alec wondered what he'd pull out, a human skull? A weapon?

Nope. He lifted it up and Alec saw a violin.

God Alec had become so much more jumpy now. He hated it.

The man positioned the violin and gently lifted up the bow, he then slightly adjusted his position then began to play a soft, gentle tune, with the notes he played slow and in a small loop of what Alec heard was five notes all together, played equally and in a rhythm.

After a few minutes of the playing, Alec and the man heard a knock, Alec knew he heard it also because he stopped his playing.

He put his violin back in his case, walked to the door and opened it.

“Oh Lefty! Good you got my message! Come in... I wasn’t doing anything important, just playing violin....”

Lefty had stepped in, the man move at such an angle that Alec saw his face completely and recognised who he was.

His title was the Music Man, but he was certain that wasn't his real name. He was the only human performer, Alec had seen him in the pizzeria on the day of Hazel's birthday, he was just walking about entertaining kids, with a spring in his step, a smile and.... He was definitely carrying around a ukulele on the day. One of his big draw ins was the fact he would play a different instrument everyday.

In fact he was almost certain he saw him giving him a strange look at some point before Hazel decided to go into the Wind Tunnel. Like he knew what he did and was frowning disappointingly at him. He could be imagining it, he did know he had seen him wandering around, he probably made eye contact with Alec at one point and that was it, nothing strange about a man who worked at a pizzeria.

“I know you don’t like leaving the pizzeria but before I left I found something you may be interested in.”

“Music Man” walked closer to Alec, who covered the little gap that let him see and stayed still.

“It's a Lonely Freddy...” Alec felt like he was lifted off the ground.

Stay still, his mind said. So he did just that, when his blanket was pulled away he saw Lefty and the “Music Man” close up.

“I remember how you hated these, but this one doesn’t seem to work!” Alec saw Lefty's face turned to visible disgust, he bared his teeth which Alec swore looked like real sharp bear teeth.

“Now, now Lefty, don't look like that. Like I said... It doesn’t seem to work...” He turned Alec in his hands looking at him, he grabbed his hand and forcibly pulled back before releasing it, “I thought we got rid of all these but it seems like one had slipped through for quite some time! It's missing the hat... But other than that, it seems.... Okay? Maybe dusty, I did sneeze when I picked it up. Didn’t we get rid of all these things four months ago? Hey, Lefty what was wrong with them again? Making some weird noise screeching noise that disturbed people? And they kept being broken by kids rough housing?”

Lefty didn’t say anything, but he nodded.

“I swear the concept was silly, it was a cure for an “unwanted child” which should never be the case! Every child should feel happy! I wanted to ask Jeremy if we could bring in a Plushtrap animatronic to play games with the lonely kids, I know we have one in the backroom and it's just gathering dust... It's not doing anything! I figure we should use it!”

Lefty nodded then made a gesture that seemed to say “up to you”.

“Not in a talkative mood? Or are you worried Mini Freddy be listening in?” “Music Man” turned Alec back and he was face to face with them again.

Lefty rose up one hand and shook it side to side which was “kind of” gesture, he also was softly nodding.

“These things were creepy in my opinion.... Always bugging kids... A robot wanting to be your best friend? I mean, zero offense to you or any other animatronic but.. Something about the Lonely Freddy always made me scared to leave my three nephews under the age of 10 alone with it....” His face filled with dread for a second, “And you agreed with me unlike the other staff! I swear to god, I was born with strange hair and the other staff treat like a nuisance! I only am the Music Man part time... You know me Lefty! My passion is in music! I love Freddy's but I don’t want to keep working there when no one will even bother to address me as Lewis Anthony, heck, they could even call me Anthony and I'd be happy with that!! I don’t mind little kids calling me Music Man or even Maestro, but the staff can’t be bothered calling me by my real name, can you see why it's infuriating me?”

Lefty made some hand gestures, he seemed to communicate in sign language.

“That's why I'm telling you first I'm going to be turning in my one month notice tomorrow, so they'll have plenty of time to look for a replacement if they want. I can’t tolerant this blatant bullying, yes I understand, they don’t like me because I'm mixed, they don’t like me because they've figured I'm polysexual, they don’t like me because I speak different languages in public, they don’t like some music styles I play.... I've worked there for eight years, I shouldn’t be treated this way.... If he still alive, he wouldn’t let this slide...... Anyway back to this... What would you do about it?”

Lefty reached and grabbed Alec by his neck.

“Oh you’ll take it back? Good... I was worried if I left it in the recliner chair that Mr Hippo was going to sit on it.... Maybe it's an okay one? I know some weren’t making that strange sound.”

Lefty turned around and opened the door.

“Oh you're leaving. I lost track of time, you have to be back on stage before the night watch arrives. Have a good night,” Lewis smiled at him.

Here, have chapter 2, I'll eventually make a cover for this story and write some relevant info about it.

Previous Chapter (First Chapter) | Next Chapter

[skeeter-110]

Don't Worry Darling (I'm Right Here)

Chapter Two: You'll Never Hunger Again

By: Skeeter_110 for @joyful-soul-collector

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds (mentioned), Michelle Jones (mentioned), Flash Thompson

Summary: Going back to school after everything the past month was weird for Peter, but he was glad for it. He was glad things were going back to normal, even though the new normal had tony being his actual father now. Unfortunately, the normal also consists of Flash being his usual dick-self. 

“Do you have everything you need? Books, pens, pencils, paper, backpack, lunch money?” Tony rambles, Peter chuckling at how the man seemed even more nervous for Peter to go back to school than Peter was; which was saying something because Peter was basically a nervous wreck to be going back. 

It’s been another month - making it two whole months since Peter’s been to school - and Tony and Peter were finally settled in just enough for them to feel ready to send Peter back to school.

Tony was able to gain temporary guardianship pretty easily and now they were currently in the middle of the adoption process. They’ve even managed to find the storage locker that held all of Peter and May’s belongings, and transferred what would Peter wanted over to his room at the tower. Tony reassured Peter that the rest would stay in that locker until Peter was eighteen and figured out what he wanted done with the rest.

Peter’s also been working on getting caught up school-wise since he no longer had to worry about where he was going to stay or if he was going to be able to eat.

Tony quickly explained to the school what happened - leaving out the very intimate details about Peter being homeless thanks to the abusive douche that the managed to get arrested - and the school agreed to allow Peter time to grieve and to catch up. 

Tony and Peter both have determined over the weekend that he was now all caught up and ready to start going back to school. 

“Yes, Tony, I have all of the schools supplies that I need and I’ve already packed my lunch so I don’t need lunch money.” Peter answers, not even bothering to hide his amusement. 

“Alright, hot-shot, I’m just making sure that you’re all set.” Tony teases back, ruffling Peter’s hair as he walks around the kitchen island.

“I’ve got everything. I should be fine.” Peter says, sounding a bit unsure at the end.

“Hey. You will be fine, it’ll all be fine. Just remember that there’s no real expectations, and if it gets to be too much, feel free to call me and I can come get you. There’s nothing wrong with only going for half a day.” Tony reassures, rubbing little circles into Peter’s shoulder for comfort. 

“I know it’s just going to be weird falling back into a normal schedule after so long.” Peter shrugs.

“I understand, Pete. And, again, if it all becomes too much, the offer of calling me and leaving early is still on the table. No one will think less of you if you need to come home early.” Tony repeats, Peter giving the man a genuine smile. 

 Not for the first time in the past month, Peter marvels at how lucky he got with having Tony in his life.

“Well, we better get going if you don’t want to be late.” Tony says, causing Peter to shove the last spoonful of cereal in his mouth and put the bowl in the sink while Tony grabs his keys.

“Alright, Kid, lets go get your learning on.”

*   *   *

The day was actually going a lot better than peter thought it would.

Falling back into his classes was a lot easier than Peter was expecting. He managed to catch up enough at home to understand what was going on during lecture, and having Ned and M.J there for support helped a lot too. 

Now, it was time for lunch, which Peter couldn’t wait for because his stomach was growling like crazy.

Over the past month, Tony would constantly be feeding Peter snacks and meals to try and get him to gain back the weight he lost. Peter had gotten so used to this that, by the time lunch actually rolled around, he was starving.

Peter also knew that finals were coming up fairly soon and that - because he hasn’t been in school for the past two months - he should probably be spending this time studying while he can. Which is why he thought it would be a great idea to set his lunch up in the library before going back to his locker to grab his books. 

Key word: thought.

Because now, as he walks back into the library towards where his lunch was sitting, and saw none other than Flash Thompson sitting at the table - Peter’s lunch missing - he no longer thought it was a great idea.

“Oh, Parker, was this your spot?” Flash asks, although the shit-eating grin he was wearing proved that he already knew the answer to this question. 

“Can you just tell me where you put my lunch?” Peter questions, not really in the mood for Flash’s games.

“Well, I was just trying to do my part in keeping the school clean and I thought it was trash so I got rid of it.” Flash tells him.

Peter just sighed and hung his head a little because - of course- of course something something like this would happen. The day was going by way too smoothly for something not to happen.

Peter plopped down at another table and began opening his book, hoping that if he got lost in his studies he could ignore the aching hunger he was feeling.

*   *   *

So, turns out, trying to ignore your hunger just makes it worse.

For the rest of the day, Peter was completely restless. He tried focusing on the lectures since was just barely caught up, but all he could think about was how hungry he was and how much his stomach was growling. 

At one point, it got so loud that even Ned heard it. Thankfully, the teen had an extra granola bar and gave it to Peter to snack on. The only problem was that it seemed to make the situation worse. Now that Peter’s stomach got a little taste of food, it was freaking out and growling even more. 

By the time the last bell rang, signaling that the day was done, Peter felt completely nauseous. His stomach stopped growling a long time ago and now he just had terrible hunger pains. At this point, Peter didn’t even feel hungry anymore, he just felt sick.

What didn’t help his nausea was the memories that came with this feeling. Peter had hoped that he would never have to go through the feeling of extreme hunger again when Tony came and found him, and feeling it right now just made Peter feel all panicky. 

Logically, he knew that he would have food once he got home - that Tony would have something either cooked up or ordered in and ready for when Peter got home from school - but the survival side of Peter’s brain that he developed was screaming at him

It was making him spiral. All he could think about was that he was hungry, he didn’t have food, and it was making him believe that he wasn’t going to get any food any time soon; which didn’t help with the panicking, which also didn’t help with the nausea. 

Peter was just grateful that it was time to go home. He had to keep reminding himself as he packed his bag up that Tony was here to take him home where it was safe and that he would get to eat soon. 

As soon as he had all of his books in his bag, Peter shut his locker door and all but ran out of the school, not even bothering to say goodbye to Ned or M.J. His brain was just screaming for him to get to Tony. He just needed Tony. Tony would make it better.

“Hey, Kiddo. How was your-” Tony begins to greet once Peter opens up the passenger door, only to get cut off by Peter all but throwing himself on him. Tony instantly wrapped his arms around the teen, holding him close and allowing him to get all the comfort he needed in the moment. 

“Do you want to talk about it right now?” tony asks, rubbing Peter’s back when all he did was shake his head. “Alright. We’ll talk about it when we get home then; because we do have to talk about it. For now, how about we go out to that little diner we went to a little while back.” Tony says, patting Peter on the back one last time.

Peter just sighed as he reluctantly pulled away and buckled up.

the entire ride there was filled with Tony talking about anything and everything in order to get rid of the thick silence that consumes the car. Peter couldn’t bring himself to really respond; not when almost every move made the pain in his stomach feel worse.

Peter was so caught up in his spiraling thoughts, it wasn’t until Tony lightly grabbed his hand that he realized they were finally sat down in the restaurant. Peter slowly looked up, only to look right back down when he saw Tony’s concerned look.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on in that mind of your, Underoos?” Tony asks, absentmindedly thanking the waitress when she brought them their waters. Peter just shrugged, looking back down and watching the condensation roll off the side of his glass. “Alright, well, lets start small; were you able to fall back into your classes easily?” Tony prods.

“Yeah. M.J and Ned helped out a lot.” Peter mumbles, guzzling down his water in hopes that it’ll fill him up until their food comes.

“Okay, so classes went good then?” tony questions, trying to figure out what the problem was. Peter gave another nod before steeling himself with a deep breath.

“Flash stole my lunch today. I didn’t want it to ruin my day, since it was going so well, but I guess I underestimated how hungry I would be because of it.” Peter explains. Tony knew that the teen had more to say, but that was when the waitress came and began setting their food down, so he figured he would give Peter that moment to gather the rest of his thoughts. 

"It just- It reminded me of when I was staying in the warehouse. How I was constantly hungry and never knew when I would eat next and - I don't know - I guess my brain just went into panic mode." Peter continues, Tony giving him a sympathetic look in return when he saw the boy's eyes filling with tears.

Tony knew what Peter meant. When he came back from Afghanistan, he was unsure of everything. For a while he would always be waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him, for him to wake up back in that cave and have his entire rescue be all a dream. He knew what it was like to have even the slightest thing trigger those feelings and send his body into panic and survival mode.

Tony slowly got up and sat next to Peter, wrapping his arms around the teen and hugging him close. Peter took the opportunity to snuggle close and get the comfort he so desperately needed at that moment.

"I understand that sometimes it's hard to believe, but I promise that'll never happen again. You don't ever have to worry about not being able to eat again. And the next time something like this happens, please call me, Buddy. I'll be there in a heartbeat." Tony says, rubbing the boy's back in attempt to soothe him.

"I didn't want to bother you." Peter whimpers, lifting his face out of the crook of Tony's neck; although he didn't go far, he just laid his head on Tony's shoulder.

"You could never be a bother to me, Pete. Even if you needed something as simple as needing a pencil, I want you to call me. Especially if it's about something that's bothering you." Tony informs, Peter nodding to show he understood.

"For now though, why don't we enjoy our dinner and figure out what we can do about this Flash kid." Tony says, reaching over the table and dragging his plate over to where he was. He figured that it would be better if he sat next to Peter and ate; he figured they both could use the comfort from the close proximity.

"Hey, Tony?" Peter chimes in before they dug into their food.

"Yeah, Pete?"

"I love you." Peter whispers, laying his head back on his father-figure's shoulder. Both of them just sat there for a bit, almost as if they were waiting for the other to do something about this. It was the first time either one of them said those words out loud despite the fact that they both very clearly felt love for each other.

"I love you too, Pete. So much." Tony whispers back, trying to blink the tears that formed away as he buried his face in his kid's curls. "So much."

[alltherestisdrag]

2 and 40 from angst prompts with any ship of your choice 🥺🥺👉🏻👈🏻

This is probably my favorite prompt req I’ve written so far huh, hope you enjoy

Wrote this while listening Wasted Time by CLOVES so you can listen while reading if you want, the rhythm matches well

XOXO

2. Don’t fuck this up. and 40. You crossed a line. | Branjie

Vanessa was whomping up the files while she was trying to find the right ones for the meeting. She had only ten minutes left until the appointment, and she knew that she had to use the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. And obviously climbing up three floors in a pencil skirt wasn’t in her field of interest.

“Fuck,” she mumbled when she dropped a bunch of important papers onto the floor. “Fuck, I don’t wanna mess this up.” She tucked the escaped papers into her red folder and kept looking for the indentures. She knew that she put it around, but where was that?

Brooke and her coworkers had always told her that she had to be more organized because at some points her printer wasn’t gonna be with her, and eventually they were right. She was about to lose her mind.

When she heard the door knocking, she wanted to get under her desk and disappear, because god, she had no time for talkative coworkers nor visiters at that point.

“Come in,” she said, almost whispering and wishing not to be heard.

And there she was, in her amazing navy-blue suit, hair tied tightly in a ponytail, sleeves rolled and always ready to work her ass of. The most hardworking and idealistic boss in the world.

Also her flawless girlfriend.

She let out a deep breath when she saw that it was no other than her, and continued looking for the papers.

“You supposed to be at the auditorium, baby,” she mumbled when she could find one more missing paper and smiled with relief. “We’re gonna be late otherwise.”

When she couldn’t get an answer from Brooke, she tilted her chin a little bit and found her deadly gaze. She knew that look, but mostly, she wasn’t getting her share of that.

When a worker fucks up something, Brooke would breathe down their neck and yell her throat off until the things get better.

Or if someone would object her morals, she wouldn’t get disturbed by kicking their asses of the building.

That was her, and Vanessa was known as the one always going easy on her, that was why they could merge like puzzle pieces. Someone had to tolerate for a perfect relationship.

“What?” She asked, and gulped. “I’m trying to find one more file, and I’ll be there. Don’t wait for me.”

Brooke’s face was staying still without any movement when Vanessa could finally gather all of the papers. She exhaled loudly and tucked the stack under her arm.

“What?” She asked again. “Why are you looking like that?”

Brooke pointed the clock on the wall, and tied her arms on her chest. She could clearly see that the blonde was mad, and she wasn’t looking like the sweet woman in her bed at all.

Vanessa was late, too late.

“Shit,” She whisper-screamed. “You know I don’t get late, baby. My watch was miscalibrated, I completely forgot about that!”

Brooke rolled her eyes and tremulously moved on her place. “We’ve been waiting for you to come and start the presentation for thirty minutes, Vanessa. Those are businessman. They’re not waiting for a play date.”

She was right, and Vanessa knew that. That was why she crushed onto her place as she talks like a stranger.

She wasn’t used to those manners since they’ve first met. Brooke had always been so kind on her, knowing that her stress levels wouldn’t take otherwise, and now this, this was so humiliating.

“I accept no fucking excuses after this point. We almost made it and you’re being stupidly unprofessional. I won’t take that.” She almost yelled, and made Vanessa jump slightly.

“‘M sorry, baby,” She mumbled, and tucked her hair behind her ear, asserting her gaze through the windows. “I’ll be there in two. Can you give me a second?” She bit her lips, praying for Brooke to calm down by hearing the pet name a little bit. But she wasn’t taking even one step back.

“Don’t fuck this up, Vanessa,” she eyed her from head to foot as if she wasn’t looking at her girlfriend, and immediately left Vanessa alone with her shaky hands instead.

She had to make it up to them, and then make it work.

***

“What else I could do, Plastique?” She drove her hands down her neck and grasped her own shoulders, trying to warm up her frozen body. “I literally put the best I could’ve done. Now everyone is saying that the broken contracts are completely my fault? Just because I was late? Fuck no! ‘M not taking that-“

Their words got interrupted by the door opening harshly, making the taller girl jump in her place. Obviously they were all gonna get their shares of Brooke’s boiling rage.

“Plastique, out, give us a minute.”

For the first time, seeing Brooke wasn’t relieving for Vanessa. Because she knew that the thing they were gonna talk about was too serious.

They had literally lost thousands, and she knew how grumpy Brooke could be when the things go wrong.

Usually, she would be the one who makes her relax a little bit, but at that point, all the weight was on her shoulders.

“So,” she said. “Hope you’ve understood that even a little bit of unprofessionalism can make us lose thousands of pounds, right?”

Brooke wasn’t a kind of person who throws all the weight onto someone and blame them all the way; and Vanessa knew that she could see that it wasn’t all her fault. But at the end she was mad, and Vanessa was stepping onto one of Brooke’s nerves, that was obvious.

“Yeah, and I said I’m sorry. That was an obvious fault,” she mumbled. “So you’re here to read me down?

Brooke sat onto Vanessa’s desk, and caged Vanessa onto her chair. “You think you have privilege over me?” She said, and a chill ran down the younger girl’s back.

“You better be joking right now,” She smiled fakely, and drove her hands onto the table to grab Brooke’s hands, but she didn’t let her do that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vanessa whispered, knitted her eyebrows and looked right into Brooke’s eyes. She was so serious.

She shaked her head and buried her face down her hands. “So you’re basically saying that I’m just like the others to you?” She spitted, even herself couldn’t believe a word she said.

“Don’t warp the point,” Brooke said, and played with the pens in the rack, obviously trying so hard to not to yell. “I’m saying that your professionalism dissapoints me a lot.”

Vanessa laughed as if she was turning crazy, and sticked her long nails into the leather of her chair. “What are you gonna do?” She asked. “Fire me just because I accidentally showed up late? Oh god... Brooke, I feel like I don’t know you anymore. What’s wrong?”

Brooke stood up and started walking through the huge room with an amazing sea view she had given to Vanessa, ‘her’ unprivilaged, unprofessional Vanessa.

“I don’t know if I can put all the money in place,” she tousled her blondes and bit her plump lips. “I- you literally fucked it up this time, Vanessa.”

Vanessa wanted to disappear at that point. She had never felt so unfairly disparged in her life.

She would never believe in the world if someone said to her, Brooke was gonna be the one who does that. She was feeling broken and downtrodden.

“Why?” She asked the first gross thing came into her mind, immediately regretting after letting it out. “Just because I didn’t come here with my family’s money like you?”

That was harsh, Vanessa knew that when Brooke turned to her with an incredibly offended gaze.

Even if the company had passed to Brooke after her family, Vanessa knew that she was working her ass off to show them she deserved it, that was why she was so certain and merciless at some points.

Vanessa knew that, and she knew that that was the worst thing she could bring on during a pre-fight.

“You crossed a line,” Brooke whispered. Her eyes were filled with tears. “I thought you were the only one who could understand my effort but I guess I was wrong, Vanessa,” she continued, every word making Vanessa regret.

“All I needed was bursting out after a thunderstorm but now I feel like ‘I’ am talking to a stranger, thank you very much.”

Vanessa wanted to beg for her to forgive her when she had heard those word leaving Brooke’s lips with the most broken tone.

She may had not fucked up with being late for the meeting, but she surely did fuck their relationship up.

They both did, just because a nervous workday.

Maybe they shouldn’t have worked together from the beginning, as all their friends said, maybe they shouldn’t have mixed their professional life to their love life. Maybe it was all a mistake, Brooke thought.

They were both feeling devastated, just by hearing two hurtful words from each other.

“I didn’t mean to say that...“ Vanessa tried to fix, she really did, she would never give up on someone who comforted her anytime she needed. She wouldn’t give up on someone who she loved, loved a lot, loved enough to memorize every moment she had spent with her, loved enough to get ready to propose, loved enough to remember every word she had heard from her...

And those were the only words she’d gotten from her, that she wanted to forget with all her heart.

Otherwise, all the thing was gonna get so irrecoverable, and Vanessa had never thought her future without Brooke. She would get into an emptiness, lose her job, lose her love, lose her all life.

She needed Brooke, so she tried, tried her best.

“Brooke, baby I’m so sorry,” she stood up and got in front of Brooke in no time, and tried to hug her and make her sobs stop, but she was unsuccessful. Brooke pushed her away, and wiped her leaked mascara under her eyes.

“I don’t wanna hear no more words,” she said. And turned right into Vanessa’s eyes with a resentful look. “I think we did a mistake,”

Vanessa didn’t want to hear the rest. She didn’t want to throw her heart away in two minutes, she was too weak to continue without her. She wanted to turn the time back, and keep her mouth shut while Brooke keeps yelling at her.

“I think we did a huge mistake,” But Brooke continued. Making her girlfriend tear apart with her words. “Maybe these should never have happened. Maybe we-“

Vanessa couldn’t take heart no mode and interrupted her. “Please...” She tried fo fondle Brooke’s cheeks, but Brooke was making herself seem too far to reach.

“Please,” she said and held onto her shoulders instead. “You know I didn’t mean to say that, I would die instead of hurting you, Brooke, baby, please-“

Brooke shaked the younger girl’s hands down her shoulders and gulped. “I’ve never felt so disappointed in my life.” She whispered and tucked her hands into her pockets when she couldn’t find a place fo find to put them on.

Normally, they would easily find Vanessa’s fingers as if they belong to each other, so it felt different, Vanessa thought.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa whispered, and bit her lower lip. The heavy regret was almost making her heart stop. She would rather losing everything else in her life except her, she would rather being yelled by Brooke all day, but she could never stand being a stranger against Brooke ever again.

She wanted the time to stop, as she reached and held Brooke’s hands. “I’m so sorry.” She repeated. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

But Brooke pulled herself back in no time once again. That was their last touch at that point, and they were both crying their feelings off.

Vanessa looked at her beautiful, nearly flawless face and thought of all the times they said beautiful words to each other, Brooke caressing Vanessa’s face on their corner couch, sometimes finishing bottles of good wine and getting drunk together...

They were too good to be finished in five minutes. They were too good to be done.

But Brooke’s words were saying the right opposite, an uncertainty slapping their faces with pain. Vanessa thought she was about to faint when she’d heard those last words.

“I think we need a break. Pack your stuff, you’re leaving.”

[avidfanficwriter]

Barbie (Chapter 12)

Chris Pine X Reader.

Summary: What started as a simple date ended as a failed romance. Or has it truly failed?

Warnings: Cursing, as per use.

Author’s note: This chapter is short, i know. I’m sorry. Next chapter is definitely going to be much longer. 

Tags: @mitaputri0412 @wolflhards

Masterlist

It’s clearly an overreaction or coincidence, it’s a coincidence, a really oddly timed coincidence. You keep telling yourself as Chris succumbs to slumber, the doctor warning earlier that the medication he was given might make him drowsy. 

Beau was crazy but he wasn’t that crazy. He wouldn’t try to kill Chris to win the girl... to win you. There was no way.

Slowly, you moved away from Chris, clenching your jaw as he groans in pain when his head lays flat on the pillow. You leave the small area and search for the doctor, hoping to shed some insight on your wild belief.

"Doctor Valdez?" You say, finding him at the nurses station.

He greets you with a tired smile. "Did your boyfriend need anything?" He asks.

"No. He's fine, asleep." You take a deep breath. "What happen to the other driver?" The question comes out quicker than normal, you save yourself by asking another. "Are they okay?"

The doctor raises an eyebrow and looks down at your body, noticing your favoring one side more than the other. "Are you hurt?" He asks.

"Just a sprained ankle, is all." You respond, giving him a smile.

"Have you gotten it looked at?" Suddenly, he's giving you his arm and helping you over to an empty 'room' where he doesn't wait to help you sit on the bed and look at your leg. It's swollen and blue, worse than it was earlier.

"When did you do this?" He asks.

"A day ago."

He nods, gently applying pressure to spots on your ankle, awaiting a reaction. "The other driver fled the scene." He says without a second thought. "You really shouldn't be walking on this."

"They left?"

"I'm going to recommend you get a brace and keep ice on it. No strenuous activities." He smiles, pulling out his prescription pad. "I'm going to write you a prescription for some pain pills because something tells me you may not listen to my suggestions." He quickly hands you a piece of paper and smiles. "The person who was driving the vehicle seems to have fled the scene, the police were here earlier speaking to your boyfriend."

"Oh..."

"No strenuous activities." He repeats and quietly leaves, giving you a small nod and wave.

It was Beau. It had to be Beau. There was no one else in the world that had a green challenger who would have hit Chris and left the scene.

You’re therapist, whose name you’ve finally learned is Joseph, taps his pen on the cushion of his chair. Inhaling deeply he lets his eyes drift to the window every few seconds watching as the birds gathering nesting supplies. It’s your last session, session number three, court ordered session number three technically and according to Mr. Joseph; the most he's learned about you is: “You’re as uncooperative as a toddler.” Which you find insulting at the end of the day but have no argument to change his opinion.

He repeats that phrase nearly every session, once at the beginning and then at the end when the little bell chimes letting you know the session was over. Yet even with that dangling over your head, he still managed to sign off that you were 100% on your paperwork. "Therapy often works better for those who seek it versus those who are forced." He doesn't want to keep you here if that's what you don't want, even watching him sign off on the work, he told you so. "Now that this is signed, you're more than welcome to leave... If that's what you want." Of course that last statement made you refuse to leave, believing it was a trick. One foot out the door and suddenly the paperwork would have disappeared.

It’s tenth time in five minutes that Joseph has looked out the window and the seventh time his pencil has clashed with his notepad harder , “Do you want to be here?” You are the first to speak out of annoyance, your tone rude and hostile.

Joseph’s eyes meet yours with a hint of curiosity, “Do you?” 

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t shrink me.” 

Joseph chuckles, biting the eraser on his pencil. “Anything I say as of now, will have no bearing on your life after this session.” 

"What do you mean?"

"You're paperwork is sign, clearing you of any mental incapacity. Anything you say from now until the end of the session stays between us in a separate file for my eyes only."

“Why is that?” 

“Y/N, every time we discuss the events that occured at the hospital, you deny everything or I'm given some half-assed excuse. It wasn’t as bad as it seems, people overreacted, you were at fault; the excuses go own.” He shakes his head and lets out a deep breathe. “I can’t help you.”

“You’re giving up on me?” The drop of your voice is evident, it feels like a break up. He doesn’t respond for good reason, it’s a death trap. There is no good response or way to make any response end this conversation on civil terms. “Just like that? You’re just leaving?”

Joseph let out a deep sigh, tossing his pencil and notepad onto the coffee table between them. “Are you going back to Beau?” He asks, defeated. 

“What?” 

“Given everything that has happened, tomorrow morning when you wake up will you be alone... or with Beau?”

Your mouth quivers, the air around you fills with static, the hair on your arms standing and your body suddenly getting cold. “I-” The sentence never finishes not that there was much a sentence to finish. You didn’t know the answer anymore than he did. Your experiencing a internal conflict, how dare he ask that question. You're an adult, fully capable of making your own decisions even If they were the wrong ones.

Joseph rises to his feet, adjusting his sweater. "That's why I can't help you. No answer is worse than one." He returns to his desk, turning off the bell and begins focusing on his computer. "You're more than welcome to see yourself out." He adds in a distant tone.

That's it. He's kicking you out, stabbing the knife even further into your back and leaving you to bleed out on the floor. Maybe it's the feeling of dread in the room or the urge to not end a conversation like this but you speak.

"I can't be... without him."

"Impossible." The typing stops and he looks up to meet you, his brown eyes starring uncomfortably into your eyes. "A man like that, what he's done, it is more than possible, necessary even that don't need him."

"You don't know-"

"Him? What he is? You're scared out of your mind to speak about him, any mention of him and you turn into a small mouse who defends him. That man locked you in your hospital room where you were admitted because of him only to threaten you more." The volume of his voice grows louder with each word, his anger bubbling up inside of him at your refusal to see the bigger picture. "He's going to kill you. You're lucky he hasn't already."

You're fist collides with Beau’s solid wooden door, loud and hard. Using every fiber of your being to slam into the door as hard as you can. As expected, the door opens quickly revealing a bruised Beau with the trademark cigarette behind his ear and a slight smile on his face.

"Hi." He says like he's innocent as if he hadn’t been expecting you to show up.

"What the hell is wrong with you! You asshole!" You shout slamming your fists into his chest and forcing him to stumble. You enter his apartment, continuing your assault on him, barely doing any damage aside from garnering the surprised look on his face. “You could have killed him!” It’s a miracle there is enough strength and will power in your body to do this, prior to the accident you would have chickened out. You wouldn't have even made it to his apartment.

You explosion doesn’t last long, all it takes is one heavy hand on your wrist and you’re frozen, fear courses through your body. Finding yourself stuck in the abundance of past memories all ending badly.  “That’s not a way to say hi ta’ someone.” He whispers, sending chills down your spine but it’s not threatening; oddly enough. 

“Y--you’re one to talk.” You’ve lost your strength. 

“I always kissed you when I came home.” 

You scoff, “Yeah, you're right. It was always nice to kiss your after you were done kissing someone else.” 

Ignoring your comment, he redirects the conversation. "What happened to us?" His tone is troublesome, his voice falters. It reminds you of the boy you met years ago, the sweet loving guy that stole your heart not the monster he became.

You had to fight the urge to drop your guard, to give into his charade. It’s a slippery slope one that at any given moment you could find yourself in his arms, telling yourself that he’s changed.  "Beau..." You intend to say with anger but it falls from your lips softly. 

“You and me together, we were good, yeah? Gonna get married, put a few kids in ya.” 

“And how did you expect to do that? Conjugal visits?” You remark in a low voice, the sarcasm fails to come through. 

“For you, I would’ve stopped.” The amount of sincerity in his voice is almost believable. "You can't go back ta' him." He whispers, dropping his eyes. "I'll change for you. I miss ya'. I never should've fucked up. Never should've hurt you." He caresses your cheek, trying to be as lovingly as possible.

"Beau." You say sternly, pushing at his shoulders to gain more distances between you two. "You crashed into Chris's car. You could have killed him."

"I didn't.."

You shake your head. "Where's your car then? How'd you get all these cuts on you?" You find the strength in both your voice and body, managing to push him away. This could work, you can do this. You try to stand taller, trying to hold your ground as much as possible. 

"Deal gone wrong."

“Right.” You mock, letting out a little laugh. “And let me guess someone stole your car. Right?” He nods. "You just told me you were sorry that you were changing and now you're doing deals? God you're pathetic."

You shouldn't have said that. You really shouldn't have said that. Panic runs through you at the sudden change of his behavior, he straightens, swallowing hard and there is a dark cloud that appears in his eyes.

Apologize. Just come out with it. Say you're sorry and leave. Go back to the hospital. Go anywhere. Your mind shouts at yourself, desperate to protect you from whatever consequences you may suffer because of your lack of brains.

In a split second, his hand grabs your wrist again, threateningly now and tugs you inside, forcing you against the nearby wall as he slams the door closed. "I'm pathetic?" Beau asks, grinding his teeth. "Pathetic?" His face is inches from yours, teeth gnawing at his lower lip and breathe heavy of nicotine.

"I..." Your voice is caught in your throat. The simple letter word barely sounds like one, it resembles more of a gasp than anything.

"If I'm so pathetic, ya' really think everything that happened just did?" He asks, cocking his head.

"Wha--?" Another failed word.

"Running inta his ex? Place being robbed? Boy toy getting cut? Gifts at ya' door when he's in ya bed?" He asks with a wicked smile. "Getting inta a wreck?"

You can't speak, you don't even know where to begin or how. He did it. He did it all.

[haechanin]

Thief

 a/n: hii so its my first( and probably the last) time writing something in english or in general so i have no idea how this will turn out anyways so im sorry for this in advance

summary: in which y/n keeps losing her highlighters and someone unexpected finds them

word count: 2.5k

genre: fluff (at a cringy level)

warnings: umm idk low self-esteem? and its kinda rushed im so sorry for that

I rummaged through my pencil case for the umpteenth time, still not being able to find my pen.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…For god’s sake this the fourth time this week and it isn’t even Friday. I’m going to be broke because of this.”

After my sudden outburst, Heejin lifted her head up from the book she was reading and looked at me. When she saw the pencil case in my hand, she realized what my problem was and started laughing, almost wheezing. 

"I'm serious Heejin. My parents are angry at me for spending too much money this month. I don't understand how I seem to lose every pen I've bought. I mean there has to be some logical explanation for this."

She continued laughing, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye and said, “There’s nothing to explain Y/N. It’s just your irresponsibility showing.”

I glared at her and huffed, “This isn’t funny okay!? By the way, I'm not irresponsible; I'm a perfect student." 

She gave me look saying she didn’t agree with me but didn’t make a comment. The bell rang, signaling that the class was about to begin so we got off the table and headed to our classes. 

Right when I got into the classroom, I was greeted with the sight of Na Jaemin. I began to feel the blood rushing into my cheeks and tried to hide my face by looking down. It has been months since the school started yet I still can't get used to being in the same class as him. One time, I was distributing exam papers, and I began stuttering because he thanked me.

 I could feel that I was standing for too long, so I immediately looked around for a seat and just to my luck it was right in front of Jeno and Jaemin. I started cursing to myself under my breath and began to walk towards them. They abruptly stopped their conversation and looked at me when I got closer, just like it has been for the last two months. Whenever I walk or sit next to them, they stop what they're doing and go silent. Heejin told me that it could be because of him having a crush on me, but I shut her down by saying that there were many popular and beautiful girls out there, so why would it be me out of all the people?

Feeling awkward and flustered, I sat down and wished for the class to begin and save me from this situation.

The class went on with me trying to keep my eyes open every 5 minutes and finally ended. I quickly gathered my stuff and exited the room, hurrying to my locker. I opened the locker and began to fill my bag with the books I needed to study from, for tonight. Just as I was about to close the locker, I saw a piece of paper and grabbed it, thinking that it was important. After that, I made my way over to the buses and went home.

Once I got home, after having dinner, I started studying. Half an hour into studying, I got bored and looked around. Suddenly I remembered the paper and began to search my bag, thinking that it had the homework on it. I took the folded paper and opened it.

Bet you’re wondering about your pens. But don’t worry; you don’t have to buy new ones anymore. Tomorrow after lunch, check your locker cutie.

- Your secret admirer

I scowled, thinking that this was a joke from Heejin, and threw the paper into the bin.

“Why am I friends with you?” I thought to myself.

Next morning as soon as I saw Heejin, I told her about the note. I showed her the note, and she said she didn't know what the note was about and that she didn't write it.

“Are you serious? Who else knows about ‘my little issue’ other than you? It has to be you.”

“Well sorry to disappoint but it wasn’t me, so I don't know who wrote it.”

“Someone is pranking me for a reason I don’t even know why. I mean I don’t even talk to anyone other than you.”

“Hun, why are making assumptions? Maybe they like you, but they’re scared of rejection." 

I frowned, “Oh come on, I doubt anyone knows who I am. Nothing is interesting about me.”

 “Oh don’t be ridiculous; everyone would like you. Have you seen yourself? With those chubby cheeks,” she pinched my cheeks and said, “ even the world’s most cruel man would melt because of you.”

 I began blushing, and my frown turned upside. "Okay but kidding aside, who could've written that note?"

“Maybe you can wait during lunch to see the person?”

I nodded thoughtfully and went to my locker.

The day went on pretty fast, and lunchtime came. Just as I was about to leave the class, curious to see the mystery person, my teacher stopped me.

“Miss Y/L/N, where are you going? Did you forget that you are supposed to take the quiz you missed last week?”

 My eyes widened, and I froze.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Oh right. I’m sorry Mrs. Kim, I forgot that for a moment.” She laughed at me, and I could only smile painfully.

Well, there goes my plan.

“Well, what happened? Did you see who it was?”

“Ugh, no. My stupid ass forgot that I had to take a quiz today.”

Heejin started laughing at me and said, “Don’t worry. I mean it’s not that important anyway. It’s just a paper. Now let’s go, we have to get our books. or else we’ll be late to class.”

I nodded sadly and we went to our lockers. When I opened the locker, I saw a pink highlighter and a note.

You’re so cute when you’re confused you know. Trying to find who I am ha~ I'm sorry, but I can't reveal who I am yet. For now, you have to settle with the highlighters. Expect to see more of these. Have a good day cutie.

-Your secret admirer

I felt myself blushing and quickly looked around to see if anyone was around but saw no one. I grabbed the highlighter and smiled. Heejin saw this and began to make fun of me.

I hit her on the head and said, “Oh shush, we’re going to be late so come on.”

A few days have passed and every day I got a new note and a highlighter. I was beginning to develop feelings towards my admirer, so I started to forget about my crush on Jaemin and became more comfortable around him. I no longer stuttered while talking to him. (Like thanking and congratulating. It’s not like we’re close; we don’t talk a lot.)

Next week on Tuesday, I received a different note.

I've returned every pen I've taken from you, so this is my last note to you cutie. Check your desk.

- Your secret admirer    

Feeling hopeful, I hurriedly closed my locker and went to the classroom. But to my luck, no one was in there Feeling a little sad I walked over to my desk and saw a bag. But my sadness immediately faded away when I opened the bag. Inside the box, there was a box filled with cookies. Smiling, I took the box and saw a post-it on it.

Here are some cookies for you my love.You’re getting curious than ever, aren't you? Well, you're getting closer to finding out who I am. Meet me at the gym tomorrow at 1 pm. Have a good day and enjoy eating the cookies beautiful!

-Your secret admirer

I smiled widely and began eating the cookies.

Who are you?

Tomorrow came, and I couldn't be more anxious. I spent the all of the morning worrying.

What if this is a joke? What if they don’t really like me? Should I not go? But what if it’s true?

I couldn’t stop thinking so I didn’t pay attention to any of the classes. Having enough of me dozing off, Heejin kicked me from my back.

“Ouch!” I whisper-yelled.

“What was that for?”

“Stop thinking about irrelevant things and concentrate on what the teachers are saying. You’re going to end up wanting my notes and I’m not going to help you. Don’t cry to me when you fail exams!”

I looked at her with angry eyes but turned to the board since she was right.

Finally,I thought when the lesson ended. I got up from my seat and looked at Heejin.

“You can do this y/n, there’s no point in worrying because everything will be fine. Trust me.”

“But what i- ”

“No buts! I’m going to go to the cafeteria, and you're going to go to the gym. That's it. I'll be in the laboratory, waiting for you after lunch.”

I looked at her wearily, but she only winked at me and left. I quickly went to the bathroom to make myself look presentable and headed to the gym.

Here we go.

 When I got to the gym, I immediately searched around for my admirer. However, I couldn't see anyone.

Maybe they’re late, so I should sit and wait.

I went to the bleachers and sat there. But I still couldn’t relax because of the little voice in my head. I began to feel like crying after 10 minutes and got up to leave. Clearly, no one was coming.

What did you even expect you loser? Did you really think this was real?

Just as I was leaving, I heard a voice, shouting my name.

“Y/N!”

I turned around and saw Jaemin. I was shocked as to why he was panting and talking to me.

“Yes? Are you okay? You look like you’ve been running miles.” I said with a little chuckle.

He crouched, trying to catch his breath and tried to say something but couldn’t do it because of his heavy breathing.

"Okay, maybe you should sit and wait for a moment. Come with me.”

I grabbed his arm lead him into the bleachers. After a few seconds, he finally managed to calm down.

“So what’s the matter? And why are you looking for me?”

“I’m so sorry y/n, I was going to come straight here, but the professor didn't let us leave."

I looked at him confused and tried to understand what he was getting at.

“Umm, okay but what does that have to do with me?”

He looked at me funnily and said,

“I thought I told you to meet me here. I thought you read it.”

I sat there looking at him confused and then it hit me.

Na Jaemin, the person I was crushing on since the start of high school, was my admirer.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

I was staring at him blankly and trying to convince myself that this was not real. Suddenly I felt someone shaking me and I turned back to reality. Jaemin was staring at me, worry written all over his face. After looking at his face a bit more, I finally opened my mouth.

“You...Note…It was you?” It came out more like a question.

“I’m sorry,” He looked down and,

“, if you were waiting for it to be a different person. I understand if you don't feel the same and I'm sorry for stealing your highlighters."

At the sound of my highlighters, I suddenly turned back to life.

“Wha- How did you even steal them? How did you get the idea anyway?”

"It was Chenle’s idea.”

My ear perked up at the mention of the mischievous junior.

Why am I not surprised?

“But clearly, didn't work. I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'll just go."

He suddenly got up, and I panicked. I got up and took his arm, turning him around.

“Wait you little shit, where do you think you’re going after stealing my precious highlighters?”

“I’m leaving since you don’t return my feelings.” With that, he continued walking.

"Who said I don't like you?" I said a bit loudly. He stopped in his tracks and stayed there like he was glued. Without turning to me, he asked,

“Are you…by chance saying that you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? I have been crushing on you for years. I’m not going to just let you slip through my fingers while I have the chance.”

He turned to me shocked, and suddenly his face broke into a broad smile. He started running towards me and lifted me.

"WOAH!" He twirled us around, and I began to feel dizzy from the whole turning.

“JAEMIN PLEASE STOP I’M HUNGRY AND CLOSE TO THROWING UP!”

He stopped turning and put me onto the ground.

"Sorry, I'm just delighted"

"Yeah, I can see that." I said while trying to collect myself and looked at him. He was staring at me with that big smile of his, and suddenly I felt something on my lips.

He was kissing me. Jaemin was kissing me. And I was standing frozen.

He pulled away and looked at me then grabbed my cheeks and squeezed them tightly.

"You're so cute I can't believe you're mine!”

I stood there my mouth agape, still trying to comprehend the situation.

“Let’s go I’ll buy you something to eat since we’ve been here for 15 minutes now.”

He grabbed my hand and took me to the cafeteria. We sat next to a window and ate silently. However, I was aware that he was staring at me every 10 seconds which made it harder to swallow the food.

“You know, I’m still kind of pissed that you stole my pens.”

“Are you serious? We started dating and that’s all you can think about?”

“Who said we were dating?”

He stopped eating and looked at me crushed.

“What do you me- ”

“I’m kidding Jaemin you can relax but still, do you know how much those coasted me? I had to buy new ones every week.”

"I'm sorry, but it got us together in the end huh?"

“Yeah but you still have to make up for them.”

He suddenly took his wallet out. But I stopped him.

“By taking me out to a proper date.”

He smiled at me and leaned across the table and then cupped my face between his hands. He looked into my eyes deeply and leaned in for a short yet sweet kiss. Just as the kiss began, I heard the voice of my best friend.

“OH MY GOD Y/N WHAT THE HECK?”

I stared at her startled and then looked at Jaemin apologetically.

“Meet me at the end of the school in front of my locker okay?”

He nodded and hugged me and then left.

I looked after him smiling lightly but jumped when a hand hit my arm. I turned to Heejin in surprise.

“You got some explaining to do honey.”

a/n: yOOO this was shit im so sorry

[ahgaru]

[Day6 Fic] Don't Stop The Rain

Who missed me on Tumblr? Lol. No one, ofc. But in case you were one of the Once/Twice series readers (That Young K x Reader fic, Once is a coincidence twice is not), or you don't read on other platforms where I posted this (ao3 or aff), here's another Day6 fic. Only this time, it's Jae x Reader. And I'm not sure if it'd be as good as the other but hope you'll enjoy.

Pairing: Jae x Reader (Fluff) Word count: 2,271 Characters: Day6 members, minor mention of Got7

I remembered an anime scene the moment I woke up with the guy and girl sharing umbrella, then I saw a twitter post right after that a rain + umbrella is romantic but.... What if the guy isn't kind at all to share his umbrella with you? 

Chapter 1: Umbrella

It's frustrating when it's raining and you don't have your umbrella with you. But that frustrating moment could turn into a romantic one when there's an attractive guy holding an umbrella beside you--like those in books, movies or dramas, where the guy would offer to share his umbrella. A new love could bloom--or not.

"Aw man, it's raining real hard," the silver-haired guy utters after a groan before glancing at you "You don't have an umbrella?"

"Huh?" you flip your head to look at him, a bit startled, and you can't help but adore his tiny eyes covered by his silver hair. He tilts his head waiting for an answer "Uh, no," you shyly respond with a hope of him to offer his, or at least share it with you.

"That sucks," he just shrugs before looking ahead again and finally taking a step out of the shed.

"What the actual--" confounded with what just happened, you try to gather every ounce of self-restraint to not throw a shoe on him "What a jerk"

Letting out a sharp breath, you hug yourself because it's getting cold and step back so you won't get wet from the rain. You look up to the gloomy sky as you bite your lower lip to stop it from quivering.

It's been almost 10 minutes and you're still hugging yourself, looking down as you wait for the rain to stop.

"Hey! Here," you suddenly heard a not-so-familiar voice. Looking up, you see the stranger from before towering over you with his left arm stretched, holding a spare umbrella.

Maybe he's not a jerk after all. Trying to hide the small smile on your face, you gesture a small bow of gratitude before stretching an arm to reach for the umbrella. "Thank--"

"Woops," he pulls back his arm before you could even have contact with the umbrella. "It's not for free, though" Your forehead furrows "Nothing's free in this world, Lady"

You exhale a sharp breath of surrender before rolling your eyes, "Fine. How much should I pay you for it?"

"Uh-uh", he moves his left index finger left to right as a 'no', "I don't like money. How about a coffee? Since it's cold anyway. Oh! But I don't usually drink coffee. How about a lobster, maybe?"

You squint your eyes in disbelief, "Foget it" A lobster for an umbrella? Man, that's an expensive exchange. I take back what I said. He's really a jerk. A total jerk.

"Okay, then how about chicken? There's a nearby chicken place over there. And I swear, I swear, Man, their chicken is to die for"

"Why don't you just die for it then?"

He shrugs, "I'm sure I'm not the one who'd be dead if I can't go home tonight. I don't have anything important with me that need not to get wet," he eyes the folder, between your chest and arms, containing a lot of files that you need to attend to later. Mr. Park, your boss, would surely kill you if you won’t finish the revisions and of course, if you get those drafts wet and damaged. “I’ll go ahead then.” He says before he turns to take a step away from the shed.

Making a tighter grip on the folder, you take the offer, “Fine! Chicken it is.”

With a wide smile painted on the stranger’s face, he turns around and paces back to finally give you the umbrella he got from a convenience store, a few-minute walk away from the park you’re at.

You walk behind him, struggling a bit with your things, while he, on the other hand, is humming cheerfully as he take small steps with his free hand in his pocket. You glare at him with every bit of annoyance from your system. He doesn’t have a plan on helping me, does he?

“Stop glaring, Missy. I can feel you shooting daggers on me.” He chortles softly “Remember, I just saved your little ass”

“Whatever! And F.Y.I. Mister, my ass ain’t little”

With a smirk on his face, he looks at you over his shoulder, his eyes travel from your head to feet and finally rested on your face. Your eyebrows furrow more.

“Can you not?!”

He sniggers causing his shoulders to move (and causing your stomach to flip and your blood rushing) as he finally faces you and walk towards your side. Your raise a brow and he answers it with a shrug.

“Go,” he motions you to continue walking “I’ll walk beside you. You might go elsewhere to escape if I walk before you.”

Rolling your eyes for how many times now, you sigh and start walking again. The edge of his lips raises again as he take a glance on you without you noticing. He’s so tall that you need to tilt your head almost 75 degrees just to look at his face when he’s just a feet away from you.

He suddenly takes the folder from you which causes your eyes to widen in surprise.

“You walk so slowly. And you might drop these papers and blame it on me and won’t give me that chicken that I want”

You scoff. He’s just so unbelievable, isn’t he? But somehow, you didn’t regret going to the chicken place with him because, yes, he’s actually telling the truth. Their chicken is really to die for.

You both keep eating and your mind becomes busy on thinking of whether to ask anything, say something or just continue to be quiet. You eye him not so subtly and you can’t help but curb yourself from smiling. He looks like a kid enjoying his favorite meal.

You also don’t know if it’s a relief or not that he isn’t saying anything either. You’re about to open your mouth to say something—maybe to ask his name, whether he lives around—but he stands up and utter his thanks before winking at you.

“Gotta go. Next time again”

“There won’t be any next time

He shrugs “We don’t know anything about that. Who knows? We might see each other tomorrow again and the next day after that, and the day after, and the—“

“Whatever. Just go”

He beams, even his eyes are smiling, which causes your heart to make a loud thump. What the heck was that? He mouths ‘See you’ before finally leaving the place.

You finally let go of the breath you don’t know you were holding. You put a hand on your chest and feel that your heartbeat is beating wildly. Why does he need to be cute? You shake your head to erase the thought. No, that’s not right. I mean, why does he need to be a jerk?

“I—“, you get startled by the sudden voice and there he is again standing beside the table. He looks at you a bit with mirth from being surprised. You exhale sharply before glaring at him. “I forgot to tell you, just in case you’ll try finding it later, I’ll take the umbrella with me. It’s stopped raining anyway"

With mouth agape, you just look at his back, your eyes following him as he walks towards the exit. You shake your head again. He’s really unbelievable.

After taking a shower, you take a seat in front of your computer. As if on cue, your phone rings. Your boss is calling you to tell you that he’ll give you until before you live for work tomorrow for the revisions instead of giving it to him first thing in the morning.

You didn’t have a chance to speak because he ended the call right after he told you his concern. You stare at your laptop for a minute, trying to absorb what just happened. You take your phone again to call someone.

“Wonpil!” You exclaim the moment the person on the other line answered “Mr. Park extended my deadline for the revision. And he told me to just rest tonight.”

There was a long pause before he utters a word, “Mr. Park? The Park Sungjin?”

“Yes. He gave me until before I leave for work tomorrow.” A cough can be heard from the other line. You’re pretty sure that Wonpil, your Animator best friend who also works in JYPSoft, is surprised by what he just heard. The CEO, Mr. Park Sungjin, can be approachable and nice but for him, a deadline is a deadline.

“For real?” He confirms in disbelief “But the 3D artists need your concept tomorrow for them to start modeling the characters”

“I—I don’t know. Shall I just ignore it and work for it tonight instead of resting like he said?”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, you called another person.

“Dowoonie,” you bite your lip for a second “Did Mr. Park call you?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Aren’t you going to work with the characters tomorrow for the new game we’re making?”

“Yes. And the non-organic modelers will also do the assets. We would also like to start right away so they’d be textured and give them to the riggers so the animators could work on them as early as possible, too. Why? What’s the matter? You’re having a hard time with the concept revisions?"

You let out a long sigh before shaking your head as if he can see you. “No, no. It’s nothing. Anyway, thank you. I’ll hang up now.”

Forgetting about the call, you pick up the stylus and move the drawing tablet closer to you.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Erase.

Scratch.

Flip.

Scratch.

You groan as you put your stylus down and slump your upper body and arms on the table. Without permission, someone’s face enters your mind. That slender young man, with his mischievous smile, silver hair, tiny eyes—his overall features that make him look as if he jumped straight out of a comic.

You sit back straight and move the drawing tablet away. You take a blank paper and a pencil and start scribbling. Your hand moves as if it knows exactly what it needs to do. Sometimes, you feel more comfortable drawing traditionally than digitally. You feel more of you are invested to it. That’s why every time an idea comes to mind, paper and pen are your best partners.

You start striding towards Mr. Park’s office the moment you dropped your things on your desk. He is quite surprised to see you peeking through his office door.

“You still have until 5pm. What makes you come here?”

“I’m actually done already, Sir”

He furrows his brows and motions you to continue. You walk towards his table and place the revised concepts. When he sees the first page, his eyes squint before he takes a look at you.

“Why does this character seem familiar?”

Your heart suddenly starts beating fast. “Pardon, Sir?”

Mr. Park just smirks and shakes his head. He… smirked? “You can go rest for today. You can go to the Rec room, grab some coffee, have a date or whatever”

“Sir…?”

He lands a glance on you again. This time it’s a firm glance. “You heard me. Now, go before I change my mind”

The moment you step out of his office, you go straight to Wonpil right away to tell him what just had happened.

“He told you to go to the Recreational Room, where you can play or chill, when you actually need to meet a deadline today?” He asks “Are you sure? I mean, yes, we can go to the Rec Room anytime we want especially when we need our minds to rest and gather some creativity but not on the day of the deadline. You know that”

“Exactly! That’s why it’s weird. He even told me that I can go grab some coffee or have a date or whatever”

Wonpil suddenly grabs your arm and leans closer to you to whisper, “Maybe he likes you? And maybe he’s hoping you’d ask him for coffee?”

“What? That’s ridiculous, Pil”

Brushing aside your best friend’s remark, you spend the day trying to work on more concepts even when you don’t know if your revisions were already approved or need a few more revisions again. The CEO didn’t tell you anything. And it’s almost time for you to leave work but he hasn’t called you for more modification or change. Maybe it was approved?

 You open your bag and check your stuff, taking the umbrella out of your bag, getting it ready just in case it’s raining again. You don’t exactly hate the monsoon season. You don’t really dislike the rain either. It’s just that, sometimes, it really is a hassle.

You are about to leave your desk, bag already slung, when Wonpil calls your attention causing you to put your umbrella on your desk.

“Dowoon said they’ve already worked on with the new characters for the Fortday. So I think the new concepts were approved?” He shows an assuring smile before tapping your back “Now, go ahead. I’ll stay for a little bit more”

You happily walk out of the building. You’re only strolling for 3 minutes but it’s already starting to rain. You halt for a bit, look up to the murky sky and heave a sigh. You open your bag to get your umbrella but it’s nowhere to be found. That’s when you realize, you forgot to get it back from your table. With another sigh, you walk fast towards the shed where you also took covering from the rain yesterday.

“Told ‘ya! We’ll meet again”, the silver-haired asserts with a smug.

Chapter 2: Chicken

Also on: * AsianFanfics * archiveofourown * twitter

Fics masterlist: Daelisix’s Fics

[gwenore]

Inheritance. Chapter 1.

Summary: Jim Lake Jr. never knew his father. On his sixteenth birthday however his father... or more precisely what his father is, would change the young teen’s life forever. His own life thrown into turmoil and danger, his history teacher offers guidance and to teach him how to fight the trolls who will now come for him... not to mention their champion. The trollhunter. 

Jim had always really hated his birthday. It was always the one day out of the year that he wished that he could sleep through.

His sixteenth was no different.

It had admittedly not started to badly, with Toby coming over for breakfast and his mom having left a note… and not having attempted to cook him anything, luckily. His mom vowing that she would be home on time today and that they would watch a movie and have a good dinner together or simply order a pizza. Whatever he felt up for in the moment.

So as far as this had not really that bad.

What Jim did not know was that this would be his worst birthday to date.

It started slow. Just as he was starting to look at the blender wondering how it would taste. Why on earth would he eat a blender? He couldn’t eat a blender…?

Well… he guessed that was just some of those intrusive thoughts that one have from time to time. He did not tell Toby of course… bit hard to explain that he wanted to eat a blender. He just tried to stay a bit away from his blender.

Just in case.

The bike ride to school was uneventful… even if the bike did look rather appetizing as well. So far it was looking to be a rather normal day which would be over soon enough.

Right now he was sitting in history class, listening to Mr. Strickler drone on about… something. He was distracted, trying his best not to eat his pencil.

Behind him Steve was kicking his chair, all the while trying not to attract the teacher’s attention, as Strickler was the teacher with the least patience for his actions, and the teacher he most feared.

Jim bit his lip annoyed, a slight growl exiting his lips. Toby simply glanced over at him, sighing softly, knowing how much of a pain the ass Steve could be, but how much annoying he would be to deal with if  they confronted him. Like threatening to beat them up after school.

Jim knew this well too. But this day… it somehow angered him more than usual.

With one more kick to the back of his chair, Jim suddenly whipped around snarling at the other student, his eyes giving off a yellow glow as he clenched his fist.

“I swear… if you kick my seat one more time…”

“Mr. Lake,” the teacher’s voice caught the student’s attention, the glow fading as he faced the teacher, swallowing nervously. Steve sat frozen questioning what he had just seen.

The teacher then looked at the blond teenager with a huff.

“One more disturbance from you Mr. Palchuk and I will send you to the principal office,” the tone of the teacher’s voice challenged the young man to test that promise. Steve swallowed practically sinking into his chair.

Jim breathed heavily, grasping around his pen as he attempted to calm himself. Normally Steve’s actions would annoy him, but they had never been able to get to him like this.

As he glanced down at his hands however… they started to turn blue.

Not as in he was cold.

They were actually changing color.

What the hell was going on?!

He needed to get away. To hide until he could figure out what was going on with him today. Grabbing his bag, he stood up abruptly and practically rushed out of the classroom.

Toby swallowed, wishing to follow his friend, but the glance from the teachers made him slump down in his seat. He knew well what day it was and how difficult it tended to be for Jim. He just hoped that it would end well.

Just as the teenager practically ran out the door a girl with a blue stripe in her black hair entered, looking sheepishly up at the tall history teacher.

“I am sorry I am late, Mr. Strickler,” she said.

“Take your seat Miss Nuñez and try not to make a habit of it,” the man said dismissively, his green eyes not even glancing at her.

Instead he brushed his hand over Jim’s desk, deftly picking up something there, but not having it being noticed by the rest of the students as he continued his lecture.

Not paying attention to the words he was speaking he glanced down at the item in his hand.

A pencil.

Bitten in half.

  Jim ran into the boy’s locker room bathroom where he looked into the mirrors, covering his lips as he attempted not to scream.

His skin was now a pale blue color, and as he watched himself he saw how his ears grew longer and pointed.

“Please stop!” he whimpered, but all he felt was a dull ache in his lower jaw forced his mouth opened as he watched two of his teeth lengthen into sharp tusks. Even this was not the end of the birthday’s boys torment as he felt a headache unlike any he had before.

The shock was almost enough to make him pass out when he observed two horns poke out from his black hair. Backing away in fear from his own reflection he caught a glance of his hands as he saw black claws growing.

“Young Atlas?”

In his terrified state he did not think about darting into one of the stalls as he stared in absolute fear as the teacher entered.

Strickler had to admit he was rather surprised when he saw the boy quite… changed. Still he let out a smile as he showed of the bitten pencil.

“Well… at least it wasn’t a fountain pen. I can speak from experience that they make a lot more mess…” he said as he observed the young man. Jim was still in a state of panic, tears starting to gather at the edges of his eyes.

“What is happening to me?!” he whimpered.

“Well… you are having your first change. Must admit this is rather rare,” Strickler said as he moved closer to observe the young man.

“My first… change… Strickler… what am I?” he pleaded.

“You are a changeling… or to be more precise, your father must have been one, as I suspect if your mother was one she would have explained this to you. Now… I am certain this must have come as a surprise for you…

“YOU THINK! I AM BLUE! I HAVE HORNS! AND FANGS!” the teen exclaimed.

“More like tusks… but the point is well taken… just… attempt to breathe. I cannot fully understand what you are going through, but… I can help you. Let us just… get to my office,” Strickler attempted to calm him down.

Jim snarled towards him slightly his eyes glowing, however the teacher remained unmoved.

“Yes… I know these moments can be quite… intense, just breathe,” he spoke gently as he reached out his hand, resting it gently on the boy’s shoulder. Feeling that weight on his shoulder Jim was able to breathe fully and dried his tears.

“Am I… am I ever going to be normal again?” Jim whispered, his eyes cast down.

“Normal is a bad word… but… you can have a normal life. You just need some… guidance,” Strickler looked down. “Let us just get to my office, I will get you some tea and… we will take it from there, young Atlas.”

Jim blinked slightly as he lifted his head to look in his teacher, before he gave a slow nod.

Strickler gently moved his arm over the teenagers shoulder, gently guiding him through the hallways, but as the forth period had already started the halls were luckily empty, Jim making certain to keep his collar high as to hide as much of his face as possible.

The teacher unlocked the office door, letting his student inside before he locked it again. Jim was still in shock as he kept staring at his hands, before lifting his trembling finger to his tusk, letting out a nervous whimper.

“So… you had no idea about your… heritage?” Strickler continued to observe his student. He had always had a soft spot for the young teen. It was clear he really cared for his mother, and what seemed like an unbreakable spirit. Not the most popular, but… just a good kid.

Even when they were speaking, Strickler had found a strange kinship with the young man. Right now that made more sense as he watched the young man looking quite a bit more trollish than before.

“No!” Jim exclaimed. “Why aren’t you freaking out about this?!”

“Well… I am a changeling myself. While surprised and I admit… crosses like yourself are rare, but… well I have heard of it before. Usually however they tend to…” Strickler voice faded. Jim’s face was filled with dread.

“What…?”

“Well… due to events in the past changelings are not… liked by trolls,” the changeling started.

“Trolls?” Jim swallowed.

“Yes… changelings are trolls who can take a human form. Cursed in a sense. This makes us impure. We were forced to align with the loosing side of a civil war among the trolls. It has been centuries since then, but the winning side never forgot our imagined betrayal. Crosses have less control over their change… at least to start with. This leaves them vulnerable and a lot of them do not know about trolls, even less of how to fight them. Well… I am certain you can imagine the outcome,” Strickler made as slight movement with his hand. Jim whimpered.

“I am going to be eaten by a troll!” he clutched his hands at the side of his face. Strickler shook his head quickly as he stepped closer.

“No. You will not,” Strickler moved towards him as he rested his hand on his shoulder once again.

Jim looked at him with a questioning glance on those blue eyes, his teacher grinning ever so slightly.

“Because I will teach you everything that I know.”

[cuddlyyeti]

day 19 of 30 days of monsters: cursed [demon, bez’gel]

It’d been a strange few weeks. One of your distant uncles—one that you hadn’t met in your life—had passed away recently, and for some reason he had bequeathed you a… box. A perfectly ordinary box, made of simple, light wood, with a tiny, insubstantial lock on the front that looked like it came from a regular hardware shop. All in all, it had seemed pretty… normal.

And it was. For a while, it sat on your table, getting surrounded by random sheets of paper, menus, pens and pencils—waiting for a time when you could get around to figuring out how to open it. (Your uncle, for all his foresight, hadn’t thought to leave you the key.)

It sits there untouched for quite a time, gathering dust and becoming part of the furniture. In fact, it isn’t until you decide to do one of those yearly massive clear-outs that you give it a second thought. Rummaging in the toolbox hidden in the back of the closet throws up a pair of heavy duty pliers—you aren’t going to question why you own them—and the thought of finally uncovering this little secret gives you a thrum of excitement.

The hook of the lock gives way easily, and though you aren’t sure what you were expecting to be inside the box, you’re still surprised to find a ring. The hoop itself is a strange matte black, almost as if it were absorbing light instead of reflecting it off of paint. At its apex, a bright red stone is set haughtily between the heads of a lion and a horse, heavy and proud and… alive? For some reason, looking at it reminds you of a beating heart, a working muscle. Reaching your hand into the box to take it out feels like sticking your hand into someone's chest.

When the ring comes into contact with your skin, you feel something change, like the switching of wind from one direction to another, catching the mild tinnitus that exists in silence changing from one pitch to another. It’s the feeling of noticing something that had always been there.

A raspy voice from everywhere and nowhere sighs. “Finally.”

Cleaning is suddenly the last thing on your mind. Frantically, you look around for an intruder, but find nothing. In your surprise, you find that your hand had clenched painfully around the ring, indents marking the soft fleshy part of your palm.

“It has been many moons since I last had a companion.” This time, the voice felt convincingly as if it were behind you. “A long while since someone held my mark.”

“Uh…”

“Nah, I’m just messing with ya’. The name’s Bez’gel, indentured demon and inhabitant of that there ring. You must be the niece, huh. You can turn around, kid, ‘m not gonna kill you—you won’t even have to get a glimpse of my ugly mug.”

Slowly—so, so slowly—you turn around. You find nothing. There’s nothing behind you, there’s nothing anywhere in the room—nothing that you can see, anyhow. The world still just feels slightly to the left, and you know that you’re not alone.

“Don’t suppose the old man told you anything about me, huh?” You shake your head, and it scoffs. “Of course not. Well, to cut a long story short: that ring you got there is, well, where I’m stuck. Big bad ol’ demon, summoned and stuck into that there gem, uh… what year is it?”

“...2018.”

“Woof. Around 500 years ago, I’d say.”

“So… what do I do now. Are you going to start trying to kill me, or possess me or something? Do you need sacrifices? ‘Cause I’m not into ritual murder.”

The creature you can’t see laughs heartily, and you smell something earthy, wet and grassy alongside it. “Well, that’ll surely hamper my strength, but I’ll make do. No, I’m supposed to be at yer every whim, magicing up the most outlandish of things as a price for my not having to live in, well. Where demons live. As well as the original owners immortal soul.”

“You… escaped Hell?”

“Eh. You humans have a very specific vision of Hell, and that ain’t where I come from. Let’s leave it at this: long as you’re in ownership of that there ring, I’m your best friend, and spectral butler. That you can’t see.”

Alright, you think. You make your polite goodbyes to thin air, and then you head to bed, because you’re clearly suffering from the worst case of sleep deprivation that the world has ever seen.

A few months go by, and you’ve almost come to accept Bez’gel as part of your life. It’s nice to get your favourite takeaway without having to spend money, and the demon offers up some pretty interesting insights on most of the things you watch on Netflix. You start to think of it as a roommate, rather than a spectral disaster waiting to happen.

And it’s not long until you become… friends. Not being able to see it doesn’t stop you from finding fun things you think it’ll like: from a little cactus that it seemed to like the look of when you were scrolling through Pinterest, to a 100-in-1 collection of cowboy films, you’d do pretty much anything to hear a smile in that Western accent. And that includes checking through some of your distant uncle’s books to see if you could find some way to… see it. Bez’gel never explicitly said that it longed for a visible form, but you had to think that it was pretty lonely not being seen—it sounded incredibly lonely.

Thankfully, your (great? grand? step? half? Who Knows) uncle had left his home to an aunt of yours that you got along pretty well with, and she agrees to let you look through the extensive library he left behind. It’s a room in the attic that you have to stoop a little to walk through, but it feels homely all the same—walls lined with shelves laden heavy with books, a window seat that is covered in a soft, diverse array of cushions and blankets, and a table that was clearly well loved and well used.

Trailing your fingers over the grain of the wood, you feel something similar to the feeling of Bez’gel appearing out of nowhere; a charged feeling that accumulates at the tips of your fingers, that changes the smell of the air.

“Magic,” you whisper, incredulous. That’s the only word you think fits.

His desk was clearly the hub of his research. There are loose pages of paper thick with looping scrawls of blue ink, hardback books with makeshift bookmarks sticking out of them, and notebooks and journals half open. Thankfully, it seems that your uncle was a man who was very good at organisation (or perhaps he was expecting someone else to have to read his notes, someday?), and you find what you’re looking for with minimal stress.

“So he’d been… he’d found this… and asked Bez’gel for this… and so… aha! I have no idea what any of this means.”

“You thinkin’ of askin’ me for help, or am I to be a silent witness in all ‘a this?”

You jump, hitting your head on the low ceiling in the process. “WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“What? You thought I was stuck in yer house, or somethin’? I’m in that ring, buddy. I just don’t follow you places that ain’t interestin’. Or maybe I do—seein’ as how you can’t see me in the first place, I figure you’ll never know,” it says, letting out a chuckle.

“Well, you’ve ruined my surprise now,” you huff, “so you might as well help. You think you can figure out what all these… shorthand bits mean? I’ve figured that he was trying to find a way to see you, but I can’t make out what he figures would work.”

“Show me,” it says, almost a question. You feel a hand, or the vague approximation of one, on your shoulder, as if it was holding on as it peered over your shoulder. For some reason, you find yourself flustered, hands moving faster and clumsier than they had before.

“Here,” you point out. Your words are quieter than they’d been before.

“Hmm…”

“Did he ever tell you about what he was writing?”

“Sure did. Figure he wasn’t too sure what to make of my disinterest, though.”

“You don’t want to be seen? You aren’t… lonely?”

“Never seen much point before. Seems the only people who wanted to see me wanted to know who they were bossin’ around. Not ‘til him—yer uncle—not ‘til him that it seemed anyone cared about me much at all.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting Bez’gel flip through the pages, searching for passages it recognises. “I’m sorry, Bez’gel.”

The fluttering of pages stops. “What for? Seems to me that the only folk who care about me have been yer uncle and you. Don’t see that you’ve anything to be apologising for.”

“You’ve been treated—mistreated—for centuries, Bez’gel. And you’re—you’re my friend, and it just seems ridiculously unfair—”

“But now I got a friend like you, and things start seeming fair again.” A pen starts floating, and you watch words appear on a blank sheet of paper. “Don’t think I’d mind being seen, not by charming folk such as yerself.”

You blush once more.

“... so all we’re missing is a piece of you, Bez. Remember, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to—”

“So you keep saying,” it responds, chuckling. “No, I think I’m ready to stop being invisible. At least to you.”

The two of you had gone searching for all the ingredients your uncle had suggested would work, along with continuing to try and decipher his notes. Most of the issues had really been his handwriting, and the fact that Bez’gel hadn’t taken the least bit of interest in his work while it was with him.

But now your (mostly your uncles, you suppose) hard work is coming to fruition. You feel the smallest shift in the atmosphere—a piece of Bez’gel, moving, you assume—and then—

Then you can see it. Bez’gel is in front of you, a tall, looming mass of shadow and mist, pretty much scraping the ceiling. Its form is lithe, shrouded in an ever changing vision of black rags and gray haze. You can’t make out any discernible face, or head, or body, really, but it’s not a disappointment. It’s… yeah, this pretty much fits in with everything else you know about Bez’gel. Why would it be corporeal?

“Take it you can see me, then?” it asks, voice cheeky as always, but you can taste a hint of worry in it too.

“Sure can. You’re full of surprises, Bez.” You try and keep your voice as friendly and familiar as always, but slide in some warmth so it knows that it’s not scared you away.

“Well, wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to my good ol’ human pal, now would I?”

“You couldn’t disappoint me, Bez. I’m just glad that now when I try and like… stroke your cheek or something, I’ll be able to—well, I still won’t be able to find your cheek, but I can definitely stroke… a part of you?”

“Well now, that sounds like just about the nicest gift I could get, honey.”