#I feel like I managed to have a clustered background while keeping the main figure clear and visble

[reksink]

In Celebration of This Year's Uncoming Battle

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “A Time to Mourn” Part 1

Uh- hi - I couldn’t figure out a better title for this one so. We’re stuck with this for now until I think of something better.

Anyways.

This one takes place quite a while after the segment called 'Try.' There's a bit of context missing because of this but... Hopefully it's not too confusing.

A bit of background on this. I knew for a while that I wanted to introduce Ernest and Elizabeth into the main story by having Victor, Henry, and Agape visit William’s grave and be found entirely by accident, but I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to make that happen. And then, in my brain’s infinite wisdom, I came up with.... whatever the hell this is.

Fun fact - part of the writing process for this legitimately had me physically sobbing. Which is kind of sad considering... this isn’t even close to the most painful part of the AU as a whole. Point is though, it took me way longer to write because how in the world do you put into words something that there are no words to describe? I know for sure I still wasn’t able to do it justice despite spending weeks thinking it over and writing and rewriting it, but I think I got it as close as I could possibly get.

Now on to the somewhat disappointing part: this segment is technically going to be posted in two parts. I didn’t intend for it to end up being another two-parter, but what ended up happening was that I suddenly realized I had five pages of content written for it already despite still having more to write and, if I had ended up introducing Ernest the way I originally wanted to, that would have taken up another page or two at least. That would have ended up being a nine to ten page segment - which is waaaay too long if you ask me. This does unfortunately mean that Ernest’s true introduction is going to be delayed, but....

There is a bright side to this, though! I have a new idea for the full introduction of Ernest, and this means that Ernest will actually be getting a segment that is primarily focused on himself way sooner than I originally anticipated. I think he deserves as much, to be honest. 

...All of that out of the way, on to the story.

A few warnings for this one: Mentions of blood, death of a child, and breaking bones (if you catch any I missed, please let me know asap!)

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are highly appreciated!

It was before the sun rose that Victor awoke, somehow feeling entirely alert despite having only slept a few hours. He sat up in bed, staring at the wall in silence as he prepared himself for the day and the journey ahead. Henry stirred beside him, and though Victor hushed him quietly, his hazel eyes shuttered open. Still half asleep, he yawned and wriggled slightly, pulling the blanket over himself more before slowly starting to half sit upright. “Mm… it’s not already time for you to leave yet, is it?” he grumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

“If I want to make this as quick a trip as possible, yes,” Victor sighed in return, reaching over and taking Henry’s hand.

“And you promise you’ll be back in two days at most?”

“I promise,” Victor answered quietly, lifting his hand and gingerly kissing the back of it. Henry smiled slightly, shifting his grip and returning the kiss with one of his own on the back of Victor’s hand. Victor smiled back, but the expression soon faded into a more solemn one. “Do you promise you’ll keep him here until I come back?” Henry nodded.

“I promise. We’ll… probably go climbing or something,” he replied, sitting more upright and leaning his head on Victor’s shoulder. Victor rested his head against Henry’s, staring ahead once again.

“You should probably talk to him today, while you’re at it,” he suggested. Henry glanced up at him.

“Only if he brings it up. I don’t think he’d take it well if I was the one to bring it up.” Victor was silent, but nodded after a moment. With great effort, he pried himself away from Henry and slipped out of bed to prepare himself for the journey ahead. As he dressed himself, Henry stretched and pulled himself out of bed, walking over and wrapping his arms around Victor from behind once he was fully dressed in his traveling clothes. Victor leaned back into him as Henry placed his chin on his shoulder, raising one hand and placing his palm on Henry’s cheek. “I wish I could come with you,” Henry murmured quietly.

“I know,” Victor replied, “but someone needs to stay and make sure Agape doesn’t leave.” He sighed softly. “In a perfect world you could come with me and I could trust he wouldn’t follow but… we both know him. He’d follow even if he promised not to.” Henry nodded.

“You’re right. But I’ll still miss you.” Victor smiled, pulling back and turning to face him. He stood on his toes and rested his arms on Henry’s shoulders before kissing him softly, Henry reciprocating as he wrapped his arms back around him.

“I know,” Victor answered as he pulled back again. “I’ll miss you too.” Despite Henry’s reluctance to let him go, Victor moved to grab his black coat from the hook by the bedroom door.

“Please take care of yourself while you’re gone,” Henry requested, walking over and helping him to put the coat on. Victor nodded, popping the collar up.

“I will, as best as I’m able.” Just as he opened the door, Henry took hold of his arm and pulled him in for one last kiss, which Victor certainly didn’t protest to. After a moment, he gently tapped Henry’s shoulder, and Henry begrudgingly broke away, a sort of pouting expression in his eyes that made Victor smile. He walked out of the room, silently opening the front door and stepping outside. Henry followed him to the door, standing in the doorway as Victor took a moment to look up at the starry morning sky, admiring how the black of night had begun to lighten around the horizon with the coming sunrise.

“Victor?” Henry called as he watched his husband begin to make his way toward the trail that would lead down the mountain. Victor paused and turned.

“Hm?”

“I love you.” Victor smiled.

“I love you too. I’ll be back before you know it.” With that, he turned again, and disappeared into the trees.

---

“Agape?” Henry called out, worry in his voice as he trudged through the forest, frantically searching in every direction. “Agape?!” After Victor left, he had crawled back into bed and - despite intending to only sleep until just after the sun fully rose, he had managed to sleep in until noon. When he awoke, he realized that his son was nowhere to be found. Though he tried to keep calm, he was terrified. After all, he promised Victor that he wouldn’t let him leave, but now he couldn’t even find him. He searched each of Agape’s usual favorite thinking spots - the pool in the mossy clearing, the circle of stones that looked like they had been intentionally placed in the middle of a stand of silver fir, the grove of collapsed larches from some long-past avalanche, the massive waterfall that dropped from the edge of a cliff and left the forest around it coated in mist - he was still nowhere to be found. The final place he could think to check was the alpine meadow on the other end of the forest, and as he passed through the final tangle of branches, he breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the one he was looking for. Agape stood very still, his long black hair and dark cloak gently billowing in the mountain breeze as he overlooked the peaks on the horizon. Henry approached him slowly and solemnly, standing at his side and staring off in the same direction. “Agape I… I was hoping you would have come and talked to me this morning.”

“You were still asleep when I awoke,” Agape replied after a moment’s silence. “I did not wish to wake you.”

“Instead you worried me half sick,” Henry pointed out, turning his eyes to him.

“That was not my intention.” As he stared out over the distant heights, Henry searched his expression for how he was feeling. “I needed some time to… think.”

“About?” Henry asked, sitting on the grass and motioning for him to sit as well. Agape looked down at him, and hesitated for a moment before sitting beside him.

“I required time to think about what I should do,” he concluded, looking down as he brushed his fingers through the grass around him. He turned, his eyes settling on a patch of wildflowers further down the slope. “I… wish to pay my respects.” Henry tensed.

“That’s… that’s a wonderful idea Agape but, well-” He paused, unsure of how to word it and worried he might take it the wrong way. “Well… Victor- he… See, that’s- that’s where Victor is off to at the moment. And he specifically requested to be-” He cut himself off as Agape suddenly stood, and began walking over to the patch of wildflowers. “Agape?” The tall figure bent down, and began plucking a few of the flowers. Curious, Henry stood and walked over to him. As he walked over, Agape straightened himself upright, and held out a small handful of the flowers for Henry to see.

“As I recall, flowers are a customary gift for the dead, correct?” he asked. Henry was about to reply, when he caught sight of the flowers that Agape held. They were small, pale blue, and grew in clusters on long, vibrant green stems. “Myosotis alpestris,” he recited, recalling the scientific name from one of his and Victor’s many excursions to this spot. “Commonly known as-”

“Forget-me-nots,” Henry breathed, looking up at him. Agape nodded.

“Indeed. They seem… most appropriate.” Suddenly Henry was conflicted. On one hand, he knew Victor needed time to grieve alone. After all, it had been two years, and all that time, he never really had a moment to spend truly grieving. But on the other hand… there was Agape. Clearly seeking something, likely closure or forgiveness, and who was he to deny him that?  “If I wish to arrive there in a timely fashion I should leave presently,” Agape continued, breaking him from his thoughts.

“I’m coming with you,” Henry blurted out before he could consider trying to change his son’s mind. Agape gave him an odd, yet comforted look.

“I would much appreciate your accompaniment, Henry, but if that is the case then we truly must leave right away unless you intend for me to carry you.” Henry shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary,” he answered. “Though I may take you up on that offer on the way back.” Agape nodded.

“I understand. In which case, let us be on our way.”

---

By the time Victor arrived at his family’s cemetery, it was well into the night and the full moon coated the land in an eerie pale gleam. Throughout his journey he had felt strangely numb, as though the reality of it all still hadn’t set in yet - which was especially strange, considering it had been two years now. Still, as he stepped beyond the gate, it seemed as though the weight of every body that lay beneath was piled on top of him and for a moment he struggled to breathe. Memories flooded back of his time in Ingolstadt, digging through graves in the middle of the night, sorting through corpses, picking and choosing which parts he would take and which he would leave behind. Although he knew he had nothing to fear, a chill ran down his spine as he felt like a hundred spirits had gathered around him to judge him for his actions. He shook the thought away, gripping at the collar of his coat and pulling it to cover his face as he walked onward. Searching through the names he once played amongst as a child, he finally came across the headstone he was looking for, and upon seeing it he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Resting serenely beneath a willow was a small granite stone that read ‘William Frankenstein ~ Tragically murdered on May 7th aged 8 years.’ It felt like a nightmare. It felt like it shouldn’t be real. Even after all this time, he couldn’t picture it. The last time he had seen his brother, he was no more than an infant, and he couldn’t fathom what the body six feet beneath where he stood might have looked like. Though his throat was suddenly dry, he shuddered and swallowed hard as he reached out and placed a hand on the cold stone.

“I-” His voice cracked as he began to speak. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say to you. I… I don’t have the words.” He hesitated, clenching his eyes shut. “How, William- how have I continued on knowing that your innocent blood is on my hands? I’m... I never should have-” He sucked in a shaky breath, then suddenly recoiled as a horrible vision swam in his mind. He could see it clearly: his creation’s horrible hand upon the throat of a child, yellow eyes burning with fury as he squeezed the life out of his infant brother. A squeak of disgust escaped his throat at the thought, and he trembled. “I never should have done it. I never should have created it. I- If I hadn’t you would still be alive and- and-” His trembling worsened and he broke into a cold sweat. “Good god William, what the hell am I doing? That thing, that demon, he slaughtered you with his bare hand, and here I am playing the father figure. You, my own brother, perished from his malice and I have been treating him with dignity he most certainly doesn’t deserve!” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. “How blinded by my own fear of what he might do have I been? How insulting it must be to see me treat your murderer with such care.” He nearly fell as his trembling worsened, and he caught his fall upon the edge of the headstone with a gasp. Slowly, he recovered and stood. “How-” he was cut off by the sound of footsteps, and for a moment fear gripped him until he turned. Walking into the cemetery were two familiar shapes, and though in other circumstances he might have been glad to see them, in this particular moment he felt his blood boil with rage. “You’ve got an awful lot of nerve to follow me here,” he seethed as they approached, his eyes narrowed as he glared at them. Henry sighed, glancing away as he stopped just a few feet from where Victor stood.

“I know- I’m sorry but-”

“No, Henry,’” Victor snapped, clenching his fists. “You. Promised.”

“Yes, I did, and I shouldn’t have. This isn’t about me and it isn’t about you either. He-” Agape slowly walked forward, his expression seemingly blank as his yellow eyes stared down at the headstone. Victor felt rage coursing through him at the sight, his mind still reeling from the dreadful vision he had witnessed only moments ago.

“Get the hell out of my sight,” Victor snarled at the creature, his hand shaking as he forcefully pointed toward the exit. Agape didn’t respond, instead simply taking another silent step. Henry wanted to speak up, but kept his mouth shut, knowing nothing he would say could possibly help. “How dare you come here! After what you did to him you-” He cut himself off as the creature took another step. “Are you listening to me? Get. Out!” he cried, pointing once again toward the exit. Another step. “I swear if you take one more step I will not be responsible for my actions,” he hissed. Another step, suddenly more unsteady this time. Victor felt fury swell within him and he suddenly lunged toward his creation. Henry grabbed him before he could lay so much as a finger on Agape, and Victor in turn was about to push him away to make another attempt at striking the creature, when his eyes caught sight of pale blue clutched between his creation’s boney hands. He hesitated suddenly, his vision focusing to realize that Agape held a small bouquet of various wildflowers he had plucked along the journey to the cemetery, though most numerous in the assortment was forget-me-nots. His eyes widened and he felt some of his rage dissipate as Agape took another faltering step. Henry, seeing that Agape was struggling, instinctively moved to help him, but Victor raised an arm and stopped him. “Agape?” Victor managed to hoarsely call out. The creature did not answer, and simply took another step, now standing directly over the grave. All seemed unnaturally silent, no rustling of branches in the breeze or calls of nocturnal creatures, just silence. Victor felt his heart sink as he beheld his creation suddenly tense hard. “...Agape-”

There was a war suddenly raging within the creature’s heart. Such was his anguish at the thought of his crimes that he felt as though every stitch was tearing out of its seam. His memory flooded with dreaded images he had tried so hard to suppress, and it overwhelmed him. As he tried to keep his composure, his grasp on the flowers tightened. Terror gripped him as the soft crumpling of the stems sounded more like sickening cracks in his ears and the damp feeling of now crushed stalks felt more like blood covering his hands. Though they were only wilted flowers, in the vision of his troubled mind, he held the broken neck of a young boy, and in horror he released his grip. He stared down at his hands, shaking violently, before suddenly collapsing to his knees. An indescribably banshee-like scream of pure agony escaped him as he threaded his fingers through his long black hair and gripped the locks tightly as though he were ready to rip them from his own skull. Both Victor and Henry flinched at the dreadful noise, Henry turning away and Victor struggling to hold back a sob of his own. Tears gushed from Agape’s eyes, falling heavy into the grass below, and he struggled to breathe between the cries of despair that escaped him.

As Victor took in a shaky breath, he felt himself tremble as his thoughts flooded with everything he had just said. After all this time, he had never really considered how Agape might have been reflecting on his own actions, or how he too might have been hiding just how much emotional pain he was in regarding that fateful event. And, if this was still the cold hearted murderer he had considered his creation might be, then why would he be in such clearly torturous distress over the death over the one he himself had killed? Worse yet, he knew better - he had seen just how far Agape had come in coping with his emotions and relating to others. He had seen the amount of care and sympathy this miraculous creature showed toward Henry and himself, how selfless he had always been. After all, even though Victor wished that perhaps he had stayed dead, it was out of a deep familial love that Agape had used the very elixir and device that was meant to create an everlasting companion for himself to instead restore his creator - his father - to life. And, in a very real sense, Agape was still a child. For a child to spend two years silently coping with a trauma so intense, though it may have been a trauma the child himself caused, was a burden that Victor could barely comprehend. All at once, whatever malice he still held for his creation within him melted away, and, making the first move, he walked toward his son and shakily placed a hand on his shoulder.

Agape had finally begun to quiet himself while Victor had been hesitating to make any movement, but as soon as he felt the hand of his father placed gently upon him, he felt a sudden swell of heartbreaking pain and he lurched with a sob. In his mind, he deserved no sympathy, and feeling that this man who had just moments prior hurled threats at him was moved so deeply by his grief that he might entirely change his own damaged perspective, shattered his already guilt ridden soul. Victor himself could no longer hold back his emotions, breaking into tears of his own. He flinched slightly as he suddenly felt a hand placed on his shoulder, and exhaled a shaky breath as he recognized the gentle touch as his husband’s. Henry lingered there behind him for a moment, but slowly moved to his son’s other side, kneeling beside him and resting a hand gently upon his back. Though he opened his mouth to speak, he was shocked into silence as Victor spoke instead.

“I am so-” He hesitated, tensing and shuddering before inhaling sharply and continuing. “So sorry.” The words hurt to say, there was no denying that. The moment they left his lips it felt like a dagger cutting into his chest and a fire burning in his throat. Agape’s still tear-filled eyes widened as he heard them, but he stayed silent, not daring to speak in fear of even the slightest chance that his words may only serve to condemn himself more. Once he regained his composure, Victor went on. “I may be cursed with the knowledge of what happened, with knowing that what I did played a part in sealing his fate, but you…” He swallowed hard, and knelt down beside him, reaching out and turning Agape’s face toward him though his son’s yellow eyes averted from his gaze. “You who have changed and grown, who I have watched make such strides of progress toward returning to the kind and gentle soul you once possessed-” Agape winced at his words, strands of his long black hair falling over his face and hiding his eyes. Victor gently pushed the locks away, tucking them behind his ear. “To be forever stained with vivid memories of what you once did, and to hide the pain it must have caused you as you came to realize that action was such a grievous atrocity for the sake of keeping peace - I can only imagine what a living hell it must have been for all that time.” Picking up one of the flowers, though damaged, he held it up and inspected the pale blue of its tiny petals. “I thought maybe you had simply… forgotten. That maybe to you it had been such an inconsequential action, that maybe all it was, was a means to an end.” He placed the flower down in front of the headstone, and gazed upon the engraving. “It doesn’t make logical sense, though, to think that you might have forgotten, given your… impeccable memory. So maybe that was a lie I told myself - to make blaming you and resenting you justifiable.” He glanced over at Henry, who was staring at him from Agape’s other side with a kind, compassionate smile despite the tears still rolling down his freckled cheeks, and in an instant his guilt and regret melted away into a gentle warmth that seeped through him and turned his pained expression into a similarly soft smile. Agape’s immense frame trembled with a long, labored exhale.

“I am undeserving of your sympathy, Victor. The crime I committed was unforgivable.”

“He never said that your crime was forgiven,” Henry pointed out gently. Agape gave him a pained glance. “Killing a child for the sake of gaining compassion by force is unforgivable, it’s true. But no matter how unforgivable an action may be, no man is born or created innately knowing what is forgivable and what is not. It’s what he chooses to do with the knowledge of his actions that determines whether he himself is worthy of forgiveness or not.” There was a long pause as Agape considered what Henry said.

“Given all I have done and everything I am, would I be considered worthy? Was his murder not so damning that I should be forever condemned? Is there any stride I could make that could in some way restore my dignity of one worth the forgiveness of those he so grievously harmed?” He struggled to steady his voice between each still labored breath, each pulse within him carrying a dull ache of still ever-growing guilt and shame.

“Well,” Victor began, reaching out to him and wiping the tears from his eyes. “All things considered, I would say-” He cut himself off as he perceived in his peripheral vision a gleaming light that seemed to be quickly approaching. He looked to Henry, who seemed to be staring out at the glow with squinted eyes. “Henry,” he whispered somewhat harshly. Henry turned his gaze back down to him. “What is it?”

“Someone is coming,” Henry whispered back. Agape flinched at his words and made a quiet noise almost like a yelp, suddenly clutching at the edges of his cloak and pulling it tighter around himself. Both Victor and Henry hushed him softly, though they looked to each other with concern.

“What do we do?” Footsteps could be heard approaching through the grass beyond - two steps and a gentle tap with each stride. Henry lifted his eyes back up toward the approaching figure.

“...I’ll handle it,” he muttered. “Besides, we can’t risk… you know,” he added, gesturing toward Agape. Victor nodded silently, dropping his eyes to the ground and placing a hand back up onto Agape’s shoulder and squeezing tightly - half to reassure him, and half to give himself something to hold on to as he tried not to imagine the worst. Gently pulling the hood of Agape’s cloak over his head, Henry stood, turning toward the figure and trying to determine who it might be. The voice that called out from beyond sent a sudden chill through Victor’s veins and a new fear gripped at his heart. He wasn’t ready for this. Not here. Not now.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

[masonscig]

holiday

pairing | mason x aimee lin

word count | 2.5k

warnings | cursing, innuendos [it’s mason and aimee u know what to expect]

author’s note | so our friend group decided to do a little secret santa type gift exchange and i got the lovely @masonsfangs – i couldn’t NOT write maimee !!! not gonna get super sappy on main but i’m so grateful for your friendship, becky and i love you so so so much!

•─────────────────•

Out of all the fucking times he has to run out of cigarettes, it’s the moment he needs them the most.

His hands were quivering ever so slightly in his pockets, but no one would be able to tell unless they were looking for it. And even then, he was hidden by the shade of the door frame – not dark enough, but it’d do.

Why the fuck did he agree to a holiday party? In what world was he the type to go to parties, much less celebrate anything?

The laughter of the surrounding agents, mingling in clusters around the room, pounded at his eardrums like a mallet to its surface. The music flooding through the speakers was even worse, grating at him so intensely that he could feel the individual droplets of sweat start to bead across his palms.

A century’s worth of annual holiday festivities at the agency, and he chooses to attend when there’s ample sound technology to add to the already irritating sound of each voice – he could normally block them out if he needed to, but in a crowd this size? He was lucky if he could manage a couple of seconds where he could hear himself think.

He wasn’t looking for her, no matter how many times Farah tried pestering him about it.

“You got here pretty early, Mason,” Farah started, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s almost like you’re… waiting for somebody –”

“I’m not,” he snapped – two words were an effort to say.

He was straining himself trying to adjust to his surroundings, but it was like no matter how hard he focused, the noise was still deafening, still restricting.

“Well, tough luck. You know she’s fashionably late to everything,” she said. “Said so herself.”

Farah waggled her arm in front of Mason’s eyes, flashing the bright screen of her phone, the string of charms nearly striking his face.

“Yeah, I get it.” He’d been at the party for nearly a fucking hour and she hadn’t shown. He was growing more and more frustrated with each minute.

By the time a few agents had loaded up the table with platters of both human and… not so human foods, he was ready to bolt. The smell of the sweets mixed with the eggnog was overwhelming.

He’d barely been able to manage a couple minutes at Haley’s Bakery each time he went before he dipped out because he craved fresh air.

“Mason,” Nat called from a couple feet away, approaching him with furrowed brows. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll manage.” Two word sentences were all he could handle – he hoped Nate wouldn’t notice the slight waver in his voice. He did.

“This isn’t an obligation, by any means. You’re free to leave at any time –”

The side door burst open, and she strode through, her heartbeat faster than normal. A soft flush painted her cheeks, likely from the frigid December winds.

Mason pushed away from the wall, leaving his shaded door frame for the first time that night, completely ignoring Nat’s vocal realization as she figured out why he was there in the first place.

Aimee approached him, still panting from the effort. “Thank god. I thought I ran here for nothing.”

Something about her was different – a good different.

His eyes raked over every inch of her, his nausea fading away as he settled on each change.

Wild curls free from their normal elastic constraint, cheap stud earrings traded for tasteful emeralds, lashes thinly coated and curled, lips a soft rouge – even the flannel was traded for a tinsel lined sweater.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked, lip raised in annoyance.

“Who do you think, sweetheart?” Quick flirtatious retorts were the fastest way to get him feeling like himself again.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh, shut up.”

His stomach churned as he watched her take a few steps toward the main area. She stopped when he didn’t follow, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as she swiveled around to throw a look his way.

“You coming?”

He shrugged, hands still trembling in his pockets. “I’m good here.”

Her brows pushed together, brown eyes (almost black as the night sky) flitting across his face.

He should’ve fucking lied better. He didn’t need her worrying and bitching at him because he was a little uncomfortable.

She closed the gap between them, sliding an arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”

“Damn, you really wanna do it outside? You’re adventurous today,” he teased, shoulders instantly relaxing as soon as he felt her hand slip underneath the hem of his henley, cool fingertips grazing the small of his back.

“Maybe,” she grinned, tugging on his torso, leading him to the back doors.

“You haven’t said a word to anyone else here,” he said, planting his feet.

“Since when do you care?” She laughed, flicking a thick curl off her shoulders, clearly not used to the feeling of it on her neck. “You don’t want to be here anyways.”

“Fuck off. I’m just trying to save you from some weird tension with Rebecca.”

She huffed. “Fine. I’m saying hey to Farah, Nat, and… Rebecca, and we’re dipping. Meet me outside.”

He shot her a look, and she shot one right back, challenging him. “Sure,” Mason said finally, shrugging, then strode towards the door with a second glance.

The feeling of the freezing air against his exposed skin was painful to say the least, but holy shit did the knot in his chest vanish the second the night sky was in view.

Within minutes, Aimee pushed through the doors, keys in hand.

“Seems like you were looking for a way out,” he said, trailing behind her.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sunshine. I can think of quite a few places I’d rather be than here,” she winked, unlocking her car and slipping in.

He perched against the side of her hood, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath his hip. Normally he’d be fumbling for a cigarette right about then, but Aimee’s pulse in his ears was the perfect comedown.

The window squeaked as it rolled down, her lips just barely visible over its edge. “Dude, get in. It’s freezing.”

He took a step towards her, pressing his forearm on the top of the door, using it as leverage to lazily bend down. “Where are you taking me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased, her breath curling and twisting in translucent streams around them, their faces close enough that he felt the warmth of it. “It’s a surprise, dummy.”

He pushed away from the window, making no hurry to walk around the front of her car. Through the windshield, he could see her reel her arm back and motion like she was going to lay on the horn, but the sound never came – a muffled cackle met his ears instead.

He settled into the passenger’s seat, wondering how the fuck it felt colder inside of her car than outside of it. “Jesus Christ it’s freezing.”

He kicked a few wrappers out of his way so he could spread his legs comfortably.

“Once we start moving it should warm up.”

“Or we could heat it up on our own,” he said, head lolling to the side, a lazy grin slowly spreading.

“Oh, keep it in your pants,” she laughed, tossing him a glance over her shoulder as she backed out of the parking spot.

The ride there was calm. The stuttering purr of her engine, the soft gusts of warm air, the faint sweet smell of her gloss – sensations he could handle. Hell, sensations he’d come to tolerate.

Aimee’s quiet hum was the loudest of them all, but he didn’t mind it, oddly enough. He found himself timing her soft intakes of breath between hums with the hypnotising cadence of her heartbeat.

Aimee was a symphony without even realizing it.

“Hey, I’ve got a pack of cigarettes in the glove box and a lighter in my cup holder. Knock yourself out,” she said, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Thanks,” he murmured, reaching for the lighter and the handle of the compartment.

He placed it between his lips, flicked the lighter, and inhaled, but… he didn’t need to. Force of habit, he guessed.

She pulled into a gravelly patch on the outskirts of Wayhaven. He was familiar with the quieter parts of town, but even this terrain was new to him.

“It’s just down this path,” she said, tossing a blanket over her shoulder while walking away.

He flicked the cigarette onto the ground, grinding his heel into the bud without a second thought. With a few brisk strides, he caught up to her, slinging his arm around her neck over her thick mass of hair.

“You look good with your hair down.”

She tried holding back a smile. “I didn’t do it for you, but I’m glad I have your stamp of approval.”

“I know you didn’t do it for me. I’m enjoying it, though.”

She laughed, her free hand raising to grip his forearm. “I’m happy to distract.”

“Distract me from what, sweetheart? You haven’t even kissed me yet,” he teased, leaning in to speak into her ear.

A slight shiver made its way up her back, but she quickly masked it. “You were uncomfortable.”

They reached the clearing, the edge of the cliff open, overlooking Wayhaven. Aimee laid the blanket down and plopped down wordlessly, patting the seat next to her.

She still hadn’t explained what she meant, and he was too prideful to ask.

He sunk down onto the cold blanket, dangling his legs over the edge alongside hers. They weren’t up too high – far enough that most of the stars were visible, but close enough that the carolers strolling downtown were mere background noise.

The wind whipped at Aimee’s curls, strands tossed around her face like a halo of coils, the scent of her shampoo filling the space between them.

“Your face was contorted when I walked in. Like you’d sucked a lemon or something,” she said, kicking her feet.

“I was fine.”

“You were not.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“You know I’m right.”

He scoffed, leaning back onto his elbows. “No.”

“Whatever you say, honey,” she teased, leaning over, shoving her arm against his, but he didn’t budge.

He eased back onto his elbows, nonchalant. “I didn’t really care to be there. You’re right about that much, detective.”

“Ouch. That almost hurt,” Aimee laughed, pulling her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “‘Thank you, Aimee’,” she said in a voice like she’d swallowed jagged rocks – her worst impression of him yet.

He grumbled in response, settling into his propped up position as the crowds thinned downtown. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before she spoke again.

“They’re gonna be turning on the lights, soon,” she said offhandedly, voice barely above a whisper. Like she didn’t want to interrupt whatever was about to happen.

The lights caught his attention before he could think of a quip. Line after line of Christmas lights lit up, a net of stars hovering above the businesses below. The wind must’ve shaken some of the wires – the breeze made them nearly shimmer.

Nothing was said for a while – the hum of the occasional car passing and the rustling of the tree branches was comforting enough.

Mason caught himself stealing a couple glances her way. Something was still a little different about her. Something he couldn’t put a finger on, but it was undoubtedly there.

“They’re like stars,” he murmured, feeling a little different himself as he watched a shit-eating grin stretch across her face.

He was more surprised with his own reaction than Aimee’s childlike expression at the lights.

“Is that holiday cheer I’m detecting?” She said, whipping around, shifting her weight to her hands so she could lean closer to him.

He shifted, reaching out to her, wrapping a curl around his knuckle. He tugged just hard enough to elicit a soft gasp, followed by her smirk, one that was becoming so familiar to him that he wondered for a split second if to others they looked like mirror images of each other.

“I don’t know, are you gonna show me the true meaning of Christmas or what?” He asked, pulling her even closer – so close that their cold puffs of breath intermingled.

“I would, but I don’t feel like getting arrested for public indecency tonight,” she laughed, her breath a soft gust against his face.

“Then why’d you bring me out here?” He asked, dropping his hand, shifting back to lean on both of his elbows.

She shrugged and turned back to face the town. “Thought I’d show you this place in case you wanted to come back. The warehouse rooftop might get old someday.”

His brows furrowed. She’d never gone out of her way to do something like this for him. She just wasn’t the type.

It’s what he liked about her.

Shit was simple. No complications. Just good, casual sex.

But this was… different. She was different.

And then it dawned on him

That’s what was different about her – holiday cheer? Whatever the fuck she wanted to call it, Aimee had a lot of it.

She didn’t have to say it out loud. Her expression was enough proof.

“Rooftop works fine.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He wasn’t upset with her for bringing him there. He was just… taken by surprise.

Not a bad surprise at all. Just unexpected. Kind of… nice.

She’d brought him somewhere that meant a lot to her, completely unprompted, and didn’t try to jump his bones. 

She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “This is the thanks I get for trying to get you to branch out.”

He sensed a shift in her demeanor – she was definitely a little upset with him. He hated damage control in most situations, but with her he’d rather do it before it blew into a bigger fucking mess he wouldn’t be able to clean up.

“Aimee,” he said, waiting for her to turn back and look at him. “Thank you.”

He held her gaze, knowing good and well it was hard for him to convey sincerity, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, their faces close.

A genuine smile stretched her lips thin in a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. Aimee traced the pad of her thumb over the stubble on his chin. “Don’t mention it.”

She tugged his chin forward, lips meeting his in an enveloping kiss, Mason’s experience at the party long forgotten, cigarettes a distant thought.

He’d humor her by indulging in at least the reflective aspect of the holidays.

The shittiest parts of Wayhaven couldn’t touch his best moments with Aimee.

––––

[haberdashing]

Labyrinth

Statement of Avery Horner regarding her experiences with an unusual patch of forest in a local park.

on AO3

Statement of Avery Horner regarding her experiences with an unusual patch of forest within a local park. Original statement given February 6th, 2020. Recording by Artemis Lee, archival assistant for the Usher Foundation.

Statement begins.

Okay, before I get into what happened to me specifically, I should probably give you guys some background. I mean, you’ll probably dig up a lot of the same information eventually--I assume, anyway, I don’t really know a ton about how all this works--but I might as well save you the trouble, right?

So, this is about a park right by my house called Old Pines Park. You’ve got my address from the intake forms, shouldn’t be hard to find from there, it’s literally right down the street from me.

The first weird thing about the place is that there are no pine trees in Old Pines Park. As far as I know, there never have been. There aren’t too many pine trees in the surrounding area, either; just not the right climate for them, I think? Could be named after someone named Pines, I suppose, but the time I tried looking into it I didn’t find much, certainly not detailed information about some famous person from my boring suburban hometown with that surname. That’s just... what the park’s called, for whatever reason.

Also, despite the park being, like I said, right down the block from where I live, I don’t have much in the way of childhood memories associated with the place. There’s a fair few parks in the area, though, so maybe it’s just that all the other parks had bigger playgrounds or nicer scenery or more sports equipment or whatever. It’s not the biggest park around, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some people didn’t even know it was tucked away back there, just an old playground and a grassy field with a small, dirty pond in it.

And the woods.

That’s the main thing I want to talk about--the woods there. Calling it “the woods” is probably- no, definitely overstating things, but I’m not sure what else to call it. It’s on the edge of the field, just a somewhat-thin strip of land where the trees are much denser than elsewhere, to where you can’t see through to the other side.

When I was growing up, my mom always told me not to go in the woods there. She claimed they’d found a woman’s body there once, though I never really believed her. I looked it up not too long ago, though, and sure enough, there’s a news article from when I was a kid about a body being found in Old Pines Park. Didn’t say it was in the woods, but I believe it. Didn’t say what had happened to the body, either, or whose body it was. Just a brief blurb, “jogger finds body,” end of story, apparently.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone jogging in Old Pines Park, especially not in the woods--the landscape’s not exactly the most conducive to exercise--but the news article definitely said it was a jogger who’d found the body. Why’s it always seem to be joggers who find dead bodies like that?

Anyway.

I actually listened to my mom about not going in the woods for longer than you’d probably expect. I never had much of a rebellious teenager phase, and what little rebellion I did attempt didn’t involve the park just down the road. I think I went in the woods once with a friend when I was a kid, but I barely remember any of it, and I don’t think we went far. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten back from college that I decided to see what the woods had in store. (Yes, I live in the same house after college graduation that I did throughout my whole childhood. Not proud of it, but it is what it is, I guess.) I didn’t tell my mom what I was doing, didn’t tell anyone, just went out exploring by myself.

There’s a clear entrance to the woods on the end of the park closest to my house, an opening where the trees part and you can walk through without any difficulty. The ground dips down a bit where the rest of the park ends and the woods begin, and depending how much it’s rained sometimes there’s a bit of water there, but it’s not hard to get past.

I didn’t get very far the first time, though. Just a few feet from this entrance and the sometimes-stream beside it, there’s a chain link fence that blocks off part of the way--and more importantly, there’s a hole in that chain link fence that’s plenty big for a person to get through. On the other side of these strange, mysterious woods is... a strip mall. There’s a few fast food restaurants, a furniture store, a bunch of storefronts for sale. Nothing that exciting, really, except...

Okay, don’t laugh, but I’m really into Pokemon Go, even now. And that strip mall has a Pokestop in it--one of the places you go to get more items in the game. Dunno why, since there’s nothing that neat there, but it does. So for months I’d occasionally go through the woods just far enough to get through that hole in the fence, spin the Pokestop in the strip mall, and head back. I’m not exactly the most adventurous person out there, so even that was a bit of a thrill to me, especially knowing that it’d been forbidden back in my childhood.

At some point I noticed that the hole in the fence that let me cut through to the strip mall had changed--before it was just like a bit of fence had been torn out entirely, but now a metal bar around shoulder height was still in place, so I had to duck down when making my way through. Still plenty of space to get through, though, so it didn’t really bother me; it was just a bit odd, especially since I hadn’t seen any in-between stages where the fence got built up before being torn down again.

One day I was out walking my dog, Biscuit, and after I popped through the fence and back I decided to go further into the woods, see what I could find.

First off, I didn’t notice it so much when I was just ducking in and out, but while the area’s objectively pretty small, when you’re in the woods of Old Pines Park, it really feels like... well, like you’re in the middle of the woods. The foliage is dense, and there’s not too much to remind you of civilization besides that fence on the side and the occasional garbage wrapper.

Biscuit and I followed the fence along for a bit--I figured it’d be easy enough to find our way back with that as a landmark--and we found a decent-sized stream that must lead into the park’s pond, but where it comes from I’ve got no idea, since everything’s built up around here and there’s not much in the way of rivers. I vaguely remembered seeing the stream before, maybe that one time I went with a friend, but it was still an interesting sight. It didn’t look like some pristine bit of nature, though--the water was discolored, and the wrappers and similar debris I’d noticed before seemed to be clustered around the stream.

We kept going, and before too long I found a second hole in the chain link fence. This I definitely didn’t remember from my one foray into the woods in childhood. Looking through it, I saw a white building that looked pretty big, and kind of industrial? It was pretty nondescript, and I’ve forgotten most of the details of it by now, I just know it was big and white and I had no clue what it was or what could be inside, even though basic geography suggests it must only be a few blocks from my house at most. I thought about going through, but it looked like the sort of building where you could get in trouble for being on the premises without permission, and I wasn’t looking to get arrested for trespassing, so I just kept going.

I think this was about the time I checked my phone--I still had Pokemon Go open, I usually do whenever I leave the house, I’ve joked with my mom before about how convenient it is that I always have a GPS in my hand--and noticed that it wasn’t getting a signal. Specifically, the game still showed, but there were no features on the map, no Pokemon, nothing to indicate where I was. It didn’t say that it was having trouble with the GPS, though, it just... didn’t load the map at all.

The woods got thicker and denser as I moved on, and eventually there wasn’t much of a path left to follow alongside the fence as there had been. The only thing close to a path, inasmuch as I wouldn’t be attacked by tree branches if I followed it, led away from the fence and deeper into the woods. I figured what the hell, and I followed the sort-of-path further in, even though it took me away from the fence, from the one major landmark this place had.

I went kind of slow at first, but Biscuit kept pulling me along. She was loving it. Maybe she’d just gotten sick of taking the same path every walk and was glad for the chance to explore, smell new things, wander a bit. A few times I had to pull her back and remind her that while she could get through that tiny gap in the trees, I couldn’t, so we’d have to find another way around. (Biscuit’s a pretty small dog, so she’s good at fitting through narrow spaces like that.)

As I kept walking, the path, such as it was, got less and less clear, and I stopped seeing any garbage laying around, any signs that this place had been touched by human hands before. I had to do a fair bit of ducking and weaving to keep going without getting scratched up too badly, but Biscuit was so excited about the whole thing that I felt it was worth it.

Then the path went from hard to find to just straight up not there, and I went to turn around, and... I couldn’t see the fence behind me. I could swear we hadn’t gone that far--I didn’t think the woods were even spread out enough that we could go that far--but apparently we’d managed to leave the fence behind.

I did my best to backtrack, but it was slow going, especially since the “path” had never been an actual path with clear markings, just the way that was most devoid of trees that would slap me in the face. Also probably doesn’t help that I have a horrible sense of direction--that’s one reason I like having a GPS in my hand at all times, but the map on it still wasn’t working. Biscuit didn’t seem to get what I was trying to do but then, hey, that’s dogs for you, am I right?

I felt like I kept going in circles, like I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I still couldn’t see the fence, and I was succeeding less and less in my “don’t get scratched by stray tree branches” goal, and I had no idea where the entrance I’d gone through was from here, or the garbage-laden stream, or any other landmark I could use for guidance...

What I ended up doing was just letting Biscuit lead the way. I figure dogs have a good sense of smell, maybe their sense of direction is good too. She always seems to know which way to turn on our usual walks, too, so maybe this would be the same? At the very least, it couldn’t hurt... well, it could, but so could continuing to wander around aimlessly on my own devices. It sounds ridiculous, I imagine, but... I trust this dog, and I know she trusts me too, and I figured if I couldn’t get us back home, maybe she could.

And it worked. Not too long after I just did my best to give in to Biscuit’s pulling and let her be the guide, she led me in one direction, and sure enough, the fence reappeared, and I could see one of the holes in it in the distance.

You’d better believe we stayed right up against that fence for the rest of our trip in the woods, up until we stumbled back out of the entrance.

My phone buzzed right as we left the woods, and the map was back, everything displaying just fine. But as I looked at my phone more closely, I noticed the time on it was only three minutes after I’d decided to go further into the woods than I normally did. I don’t know how long I spent in there, but I am damn sure it was longer than three minutes.

Since then, I’ve gone back to only popping through to reach the strip mall, and even that I’m not doing as much as I used to... and last time I went to do that, the hole in the fence was different, with some metal wiring still in place near the foot of the hole as well as that metal bar. More importantly, though, there was a No Trespassing sign up. I don’t know how many other people know about the hole in the fence there, how many other locals have figured out that little trick, but I couldn’t help but think that sign was put there specifically for me. Still don’t feel like getting arrested for trespassing, so I just turned around and left, Pokestop be damned.

The sign only forbids crossing the fence into the strip mall, though. It doesn’t forbid walking deeper into the woods again.

And part of me wants to go back, to go even further into the woods. I want to see if I can find my way out the other end all by myself. There must be a way, right? I mean, that stretch of land only goes on for so long, it’s not that big of a park. I’ve been resisting the urge for a while now, but I keep thinking about it. I feel like it’s not a matter of if I’ll go back in the woods, it’s when. 

I wouldn’t bring Biscuit along, though. Partly because I want to see how much I could do without her help and without her pulling me through gaps I can’t pass through, but partly because... if anything happens to me when I’m in there, if I end up like that woman whose body got found in there all those years ago, I want to make sure Biscuit doesn’t get in trouble with me.

It’s one thing to take risks like that for yourself, but I wouldn’t do that to someone I love. That’s going a step too far for me.

Statement ends.

[messymagician]

The Devil’s due

Sarah (Arcana OC) X Julian (Arcana) Follows the main plot story, with changes. 2.5k words. ________________________________________________________________

Chapter 3 : Theatrics.

It's barely any time at all before their meandering stroll leads the troublesome duo to their destination. A small spark lights in Julian's eyes; a beaten up and scruffy looking shop sitting quietly beside the street. It feels old and weather-worn, the windowless walls already carry a small air is mysterious security. Sarah mused quietly to herself, intrigued by why a 'teahouse' would be so closed up. Though she had suspicions that this wasn't really the type of place Julian's prior description would actually be.

What once might have been a gorgeous display of fresco style art was now worn and dilapidated. The paint strokes having cracks following thin lines and heavy discoloration of their 'romantic' scenery. "So it is still standing." He barks almost triumphantly, making Sarah giggle silently in her head. "I used to come here all the time, back in the day. It was an irresistible spot." His looming figure leaning just a little closer over her hadn't gone unnoticed. "High ceilings, great ambience… little booths, tucked away~" The innovation to his words made her shrink; desperately resisting the urge to turn beetroot red by staring ahead at the building in fascination. "And underground. You could lounge around for hours, just talking. And we, ahh, I've been meaning to say, we do… we do need to talk"

Do they really? Haven't they been trying to talk all morning? Not that Sarah has had much of a say the entire day so far, including this morning when they had left the house. And 'Just talking.' Why did she doubt that? An enclosed space likely containing some form of purchasable liquor was bound to rile some folks up and attract the secretive sort. Though, just thinking about it, that does sound awfully Julian… a renewed sense of danger tingled across her shoulders but it wasn't a frightening flight or fight response. Eagerness, perhaps? A willingness to adventure let's say.

He pushes lightly on the wall and it creaks angrily open. Not sounding rusted or underused despite the aged appearance it held, no dust flying from its hinges. Julian ducked under a low wooden beam while Sarah merely needed to briefly raise a hand to make sure she didn't catch her hair on any rough edges. She squints in the dark staircase, eyeing Julian's gloves as he tries to pry open a stubborn-looking iron door. Eventually managing to get it to budge aside before putting a palm on Sarah's shoulder and leading her in. "After you, my dear."

The atmosphere is immediate and undeniable. While it's very dim it isn't badly lit. Lanterns hang from old ropes here and there while all around them drape loose moth bitten cloths. Alongside them, the ceiling sports long dropping fabrics of bold complicated patterning and design. There's a heavy air fighting between smelling comforting and smelling boozy. The actual walk space is narrow, Sarah's hands instinctively appearing up at her chest in anxious support. All around them sit strange and unique looking artifacts and random piles of what might seem like junk to someone who didn't know better.

Julian, pushing her ahead slowly, regularly stops her in her tracks to check around an upcoming corner. Each time he leans over her head She catches herself looking up at his chin, trying to figure out what in particular he's looking for… 

It eventually hits, lighting a little bulb in her head. There are voices in here… as much as she tries to see the confined spaces and thin walkway make it impossible to tell where anyone is; though she's absolutely certain the place has other people in it. Julian's eye wanders from searching, down to Sarah's sweet if a little aimless look of confusion. "Well… this is all very unlike the way I remember it-" he assures quietly, not that she quite believes him. This place has his name all over it, from the awkward spacing to the dark but cozy atmosphere. "The place must have gone under… that's a shame." He sighs, heavily, a nostalgic look in his single lantern-lit eye. "They used to serve this smoky tea that I haven't been able to find since."

He sounds disappointed… yet keeps leading them further into the fray. More interesting items passing by as she finally takes note of a few to try and identify their use or origins. A big metal moon, clearly hammered together roughly, with a wise and timeless smile. Large swaths of fabrics laid haphazardly over a very high-backed chair. Many weapons, mostly a cluster of shiny tipped spears and a few open chests of assorted trinkets like messy feathers and old worn brass bells. "It seems to be some kind of… oddities… antiques… artefacts? Emporium." He drones out before she could say the same. "How embarrassing… it's still cozy though."

A hand had drifted idly down to her hip, which she hadn't noticed until he pulled just a little, tugging her closer. The raised brow and wide smarmy grin he wore made her snort; quickly covering her mouth from the awful noise and pushing him back away with faked anger. He goes to do it again when something catches his eye, causing it to widen. "Now what have we here…" Sarah, tracking his line of sight, looks over to a large mirror. The glass old and dusty, it's surface speckled with mold. And perched atop it… is a doctor's mask. Much like the one she'd watched him relinquish the night before.

He snatches it from its place, almost as if to hide it, while her perceptiveness catches sight of boots coming from behind the mirror. They too vaguely resemble the high leathery boots Julian has on, causing her brow to furrow. "What's this? It's not really a medical mask, is it?" He fumbles curiously to himself while examining the long bird-like apparel. Tapping its beak, peering intrigued into its glassy eyes, before flipping it over to look inside. "We used to stuff the beak with-" 

"Herbs!" She finishes quickly, a sudden jolt wrestling with her shoulders. "R...roses and camphor…." Her voice is barely over a whisper but the initial outburst must have been of quite a surprise as Julian stares at her with a wide eye. "It's… not a real mask. The lining is too thin, and it wouldn't cover the face properly... Those eye holes are too ornamentally shaped-" her hands reach over to point out the flaws, leaving him speechless in their wake. Just staring at her for a moment before all the colour goes to her cheeks and snaps him out of it.

"Er- yes- you're quite right I… didn't expect you to know quite that much about…" He frowns down at the fake mask. Looking into its sightless gaze in silent contemplation before Sarah swiftly changes the subject, feeling her ears burn red.

"Can you hear that?" There's a brief pause, both straining to catch what she meant. "Voices…" Another silence...And then it finally catches up. She wasn't lying, there are for sure sounds coming from nearby. The previous conversation seemed to have derailed Julian's cautiousness; which was now back in full force. His whole body beneath the angular clothes that widen his frame goes unmistakably stiff. She was sure should his gloves have been off she'd see his knuckles grow white from the pressure they were gripping the mask with.

"Yes." He hissed back, a notch quieter than her inquiry, nodding just past a long drawn curtain. "Coming from…. Over there?"

The soft background buzz of idly chatter quickly cascades into a mournful wail. It gives both of them quite the start, but… something about it puts its sincerity to question. It was warbling and almost tuneful. Comically fake sounding and very over the top. "Sounds like somebody's faking it." He huffed, halfway between relieved and unnerved. Fixing the false mask securely over his face much to Sarah's surprise. As if out of habit, almost, completely auto-piloted. 

Curling a free hand around hers he slowly holds the other up to the beak of the mask as if gently shushing her. Pulling her along towards the sound of the cries taking care to not knock over empty bottles that littered the floor. Towards a distant heavy-looking pair of curtains. They were drawn tightly, only a small gap, widening from top to bottom. Dust particles danced excitedly at the sharp beam of light coming through from the other side. Peering through, the source of the hysterical wails, from beside a heavily torn cradle on the other side, was… an actor.

Sarah's shoulders dropped at once, a heavy but silenced exhale of relief parting her lips. Taking a second to collect herself before peeking back through. The man too wore a mask, though very different from Julian's. Porcelain and only half-covering with exaggerated streaks of mascara that were smudged from 'anguish.'

"Wait up in my room? On my birthday?!" He mourned, loudly, "What do you expect me to do all night in here? Clomp around in my hooves? Beg the busboy for table scraps?! If I can't disgust anyone doing it, what's the point?"

"Oh my god." Breathes Julian, trying to hide his sneering expression with an even bigger grin. "That's fantastic, it sounds just like him." Him? She looked again out at the 'distressed' man, pouring his heart into the role of an angry, vengeful, and pompous bastard. Was that supposed to be...

"Count Lucio?" She whispered, still unsure of that answer, as Julian leant a little further toward the curtain. This must be a theatre! She didn't even know Vesuvia had a theatre. Even without word of it around town, the seats appeared to be absolutely packed with an audience. Laughing along to the cheeky dramatization of their former count. It seems to be quite a popular thing in this part of town.

"Well I'm glad to see the arts are flourishing. A renaissance may have begun while I was away." He cheered before looking suddenly quite stricken. "But… if this is about Lucio on his birthday then…. You don't suppose this is a show about the murde-"

Much like the rest of today Julian's thoughts never come to completion as everything goes wrong at once. The audience's roaring laughter is just barely outshined by a heavy sandbag that lands with a THUD between them, the curtains starting to close. During that same second the speeding rope quickly catches around Julian's ankle, hoisting him effortlessly high into the air like a deer caught in a trap. Sarah's eyes squeeze shut at all the sudden movement but when she dares open them again quite the sight is ahead of her.

Julian. Suspended upside down on stage in front of a silent crowd absolutely frozen for at least a heartbeat. She can see the split second it takes for him to plan his next move before he thrashes wildly. Wriggling like a snake caught by a bird; something small and shiny flying from his boot. Something he just barely has time to catch, a knife. With a hard grunt of effort he swings up to fold in half, only just managing to grab the rope at his ankle and swipe wildly, severing it- Falling clean out of the sky with a hard 'whump'. Not onto the stage. But rather Count Lucio's lap, the both of them looking mighty caught out.

"....Doctor Devorak! Here to cure my boredom!" The actor for Lucio cheers after a tense pause, rolling with the occasion despite its unusual nature. The crowd adores it, exploding into shrieks of laughter and applause, while Julian appears visibly nervous. Sarah can see his throat bob uncomfortably with a hard swallow.

Unable to watch, knowing he'll be more than embarrassed, Sarah backtracks immediately. Only getting a turn away before pacing densely back and forth without thinking. Oh my god what the hell just happened. Oh no he's going to die of anxiety-she should have done something about it! What would she even do?! Feeling jittery and suddenly confined she flees for the exit. Retracing their steps mindlessly in a speedy trot. Managing to get free of the building and immediately press herself against the stone cold mural of the wall.

Why would there be a play about the murder!?

That's awful. A real murder not even a made up one… and worst of all nobody has a clear memory or story of the event! She begins to pace immediately once again. Debating whether to run further away with a growing bubbling guilt. Luckily only a few steps into the pacing… 

"Sarah, there you are. What a trip, I'm still one foot in the meta realm." Comes Julian's usual comedic attitude as he fumbles noisily out of the door. Clearly just a little disturbed by what happened. "Well�� the good news is nobody seemed to think it was really me." He huffed, sliding some messy locks of hair out of his working eye. "Was the neighbourhood always this sceptical? Probably…"

Realising that even here, where he is comfortable enough to walk the streets, Julian is a wanted criminal Sarah's face goes pale and shaken. The sight makes his smile drop a little. "So that wasn't what I had in mind…. Let me try again." An exasperated sigh escapes her tired mouth before both of Julian's gloves take her hands and hold them steady. Looking forlornly down into her eye, obviously asking for yet another chance to go somewhere.

Her feet hurt and heart was still hammering unhappily, but she took a deep breath and squeezed his hands softly. "I'd like to head to the raven for a bite… If you'd be so forgiving as to join me?" Owwhhhh, her weakness. Being polite. She puts on a clear pout to let him know she's unhappy, one he responds to by looking fairly embarrassed. But…. She doesn't say no, instead rolling her eyes. "My treat, of course. And… after that-" His thumb brushed over the top of her knuckles, almost forcing her to melt on the spot. "A… nice walk down to the docks. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you're buttering me up." She grumbles, though not aggressively, avoiding eye contact for a good minute. Perhaps it would be a good idea. a free dinner and…

The idea of heading home felt like something to avoid. The thought twisted her stomach. She'd only been around him a day and a half but already his chaotic aura had pulled her into so much… mischief. Besides the past few days nothing much had been quite as fun as today, even with the interruptions seeming annoying at the time on reflection they were enjoyable. "Alright… but I'm paying next time."

[megamikethomson]

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[oliverwvvd]

something brewing: part i

The moral of this story is that I need to not do the stupid thing and accidentally press save draft instead of queue, since this was supposed to be posted at least a week ago. Oops. Anyway, this is part I of the previously discussed barista au, because I toyed with the idea for a while and it stuck around. Yes, I recognise the title is a horrible pun, but I couldn’t resist. I hope that everyone who liked the idea of this isn’t disappointed.

Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.

i: marcus.

It was just past 5pm, and Marcus was comfortably settled into work for the evening. There was a lazy hum of guitar as his background noise of preference, the coffee shop wasn’t too crowded and that gave him time to open his textbook underneath the counter in between making drinks while Susan handled the customers and sorted out any food orders. The page was marked with the casual ease of someone who was used to reading in what spare moments he had, and ain’t that the truth? Honestly, he had trouble absorbing it all at once, so taking information in bit by bit while he did other tasks always worked far better for him, letting him actually retain it instead of forgetting it immediately after reading.

While he turned the pages, humming softly under his breath, dark hair clustered at his temples in slight, tousled waves made worse by the steam from the coffee machine. The scent of freshly ground coffee filled his nose, underscored by the lesser hints of different types of tea, and you’d think he’d be sick of it by now, but the fact was he found it comforting. It smoothed out all the rough edges of his day and helped him to concentrate.

Leaning across, Susan stuck a receipt in front of him. “Large latte with an extra shot for the tall drink of water down at the end there.” There was a mischievous note to her voice that he’d heard before, usually when a customer was particularly easy on the eyes, and he shot her a look back as he got down to making the drink, a grudging half-smile playing about his lips. She mouthed, “Eleven out of ten,” at him, her petite frame safely hiding her behind the coffee machine, and he lifted an eyebrow, because only once in a blue moon did Susan make that sort of assessment. Working in a coffee shop this close to the university, they both got to see a lot of different people walk in and out when they were on shift. One thing he had learned, however, was that he and his fellow barista had different ideas of what was visually appealing. Maybe it’s because she’s an art student, they find the weirdest things interesting. In Susan’s case, that often extended to people, too.

The latte was done in a matter of moments, his hands moving in a familiar rhythm that was as old as time itself to him now. Flicking a quick glance to the receipt to get the name, he walked down to the end and asked, “Large latte with an extra shot for Oliver?” before sliding the drink across the counter, a slight curve of his mouth because customer service meant you were supposed to smile and be courteous. Since he’d never really mastered smiling on command because other people thought he should, this was the nearest thing that he could manage.

When he glanced up to identify the customer, though, he didn’t expect to find someone looking directly back at him, and he certainly didn’t expect to recognise the face, even dimly. Oh. It took effort not to do a double-take, because he knew he’d seen this one around somewhere and couldn’t quite place where. But everything else apart, Susan had, for once, been exactly right. High cheekbones, gloriously messy brown hair, and as he took the drink, a warm, seemingly shy smile that didn’t match with the slight cheekiness of the friendly wink he paired with it. “Thanks,” he said, and as he walked away, Marcus got a wonderfully prolonged look at exactly how long his legs were. It took actual concentration not to let his eyes wander further. Not at work. He ignored Susan, who was trying not to laugh and failing, and instead opened his textbook again.

“Well. If he meets even your impossibly high standards…” Thankfully, her voice is naturally low-pitched anyway and the boy, Oliver, had long since vacated the immediate area for a table over in the far corner, or he might actually have stepped on her foot to silence her.

“Don’t start, Susan,” Marcus warned, attention momentarily drawn from the pages in front of him, a loose scattering of diagrams and pencils notations visible. “I’ve got to get this stuff into my head before the next class if it kills me. I don’t need distractions.”

He felt rather than saw her pout. “Well, if you don’t feel like being distracted, mind if I do? Honestly, he’d make a wonderful model, I might see if I can convince him to sit for me.”

With an impatient gesture that said be my guest quite clearly, Marcus went back to his book while Susan wandered out onto the main floor of the coffee shop. Ostensibly, she’d gone to clean up, but the odds were good that she’d find an excuse to be distracted, as she put it, while she was there.

ii: oliver.

Oliver was absolutely knackered. So knackered, in fact, that the only thing stopping him from going back to his flat and murdering his flatmate in cold blood, or falling asleep in the chair he’d just sat down in was the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. When he took the first sip, his eyes actually closed for a moment because thank Christ, caffeine. On the second sip, the warmth seeped through him and took away the fact that it was freezing outside. On the third, he was recovered enough to sneak another glance up at the counter and the dark head of hair tilted downwards over what looked like a book. They’d barely exchanged words, really, but Oliver knew himself, enough to know that he definitely liked what he’d seen when the barista had handed him his coffee. Sharp jawline, faint hint of dark stubble that managed to be attractive without being scruffy, broad shoulders clad in a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt rolled back at the elbows, and that maddening hint of a smile. Another sip of the coffee, and it was enough for him to tell that it was good, definitely good enough to keep him coming back. The odds were that he was going to be spending a lot of time here, and the reason why could be summed up very succinctly. “Drunken bastards,” he muttered under his breath, opening his backpack and pulling out his notes, wincing at the state of his handwriting. Right. Best neaten these up.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Startled, Oliver looked up, not realising that his commentary had been quite so audible. However, when he realised it was the redheaded girl from behind the counter, he relaxed. “She’d wash my mouth out if she heard me,” he said, amused. “Because like every mother, she’s convinced that I’m still five and won’t believe it until I prove otherwise. That was relatively mild.”

“Aye, I figured, you being very obviously from Glasgow and all.” The impish grin that accompanied the girl’s words left him confused, until she introduced herself. “I’m Susan. Barista by whatever hours I’m designated to work, art student by trade who couldn’t help but notice you’ve been gifted with the kind of bone structure that begs to be drawn.”

The words flustered him, left him wondering how the hell to answer, so he settled on an easy smile and deflection. “Honestly, I think your counterpart might be the better candidate for that,” he said, nodding in the direction of the other barista. When he caught the playful gleam in Susan’s eyes, he kicked himself. Why do I talk? “But I’m never opposed to a new friend. I’m Oliver,” he said, offering his hand outwards. “Which you know, because I gave you my name about five minutes ago when I ordered,” he added, cringing slightly at himself. And this is why I shouldn’t try to be social when I’m tired. “Sorry, bit braindead, the coffee was necessary.”

When Susan laughed and shook his hand, he couldn’t help but be a bit relieved. Usually, he had no problem navigating new interactions, but right now he was operating on far less sleep than he actually required. When her expression took a turn for the mischievous, Oliver became sharply aware that he’d probably said something he shouldn’t have. “He’s so used to me drawing him in between taking orders at this point that he’d probably be thankful for me practicing on someone else,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “And honestly, can you blame me?”

Watching the dark-haired barista move with the kind of controlled grace that made him look almost alien when placed behind somewhere as commonplace as a coffee shop counter, Oliver couldn’t argue with her and therefore, he didn’t. Instead, he spent a few seconds mulling over the boy, wondering what his name might be and why he felt like he’d seen him before. Probably around the university or something. Fortunately, he didn’t have to answer because she switched subjects a moment later. “So what brings you to our little hole around the corner from the campus? Besides the coffee, of course. I’m guessing you weren’t cursing just now for effect.”

Oliver sighed. “I ended up with an absolute dobber for a flatmate this year. Spends more time drunk than sober, and doesn’t know when to shut it. I like a drink now and then, but not when it means I can’t get any sleep because the eejit and his mates won’t shut it at four in the morning.” He rolled his eyes, pointed at the cup. “Hence the extra shot. Eight o’clock football practice this morning, class in the afternoon and I’m done for, and still got to do some work.”

The wince of sympathy was gratifying, as were Susan’s next words. “Well, that definitely explains the swear words. Should I get our resident coffee genius to make it stronger next time?”

Oliver didn’t even pause in response. “God, yes. If he can possibly add any more caffeine without giving me the shakes or making me ill, yes.”

“He can make anything that involves coffee and tea taste palatable, it’s a gift. Do you trust me?”

“I’ve just met you.”

“I’m a barista. Trust me. Give him free rein on what he makes you next.”

Oliver was too tired to make sense of the conversation, even after the first (excellent) cup of coffee, and his notes were swimming in front of his eyes anyway. “All right. Tell him that if he can make me something that’ll keep me on my feet for the rest of the evening and tastes as good as the first one did, he’s got a guaranteed customer for life.”

iii: marcus.

Marcus was somewhat expecting the cat that’s got the cream smile on Susan’s face when she practically sashayed back behind the counter. He’d looked up only once, seen that she was talking to the attractive boy from earlier (Oliver, his brain helpfully supplied) and snorted to himself, deciding to leave her to it. If there had been a slight pang of disappointment, well, he only had himself to blame, didn’t he? And this, this was why he didn’t do distractions.

“Hey, hotshot. Pretty boy over there says he’ll drink anything you make so long as it tastes palatable and doesn’t give him the shakes. Up to the challenge?”

So much for no distractions. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, that hadn’t been one of them. Against his own will, Marcus found his eyes unwittingly drawn towards the boy, suddenly becoming very aware that he had dark circles beneath his eyes and actually looked outright worn out, the more so as he sifted through what looked like pages of notes spread out on the table in front of him. “Hard partier with a hangover?” he asked, rather hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Footballer with early practices, late afternoon classes and a selfish gobby prick for a housemate who thinks four in the morning is an acceptable time to be pissed as a newt,” Susan amended, only managing to further pique Marcus’ interest, while simultaneously making him wonder how exactly she managed to inveigle information out of people the way she did. “He’s had a long day. Make him something good.”

“Your wish is my command,” Marcus drawled, abandoning his textbook and turning his attention to the coffee machine. “Did you get his number already? I figured it’d take you at least ten minutes to work up to it, and that was barely five.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susan unsuccessfully attempt to hide a smile, resolved to get her back for it later. “No, I don’t think I’m his type, though he didn’t seem to have trouble acknowledging that he finds you good-looking.”

Marcus didn’t bother restraining himself; he rolled his eyes at her quite plainly, and chose not to acknowledge the remark. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hands in surrender. “Just passing it on, even if you don’t believe me.”

“Stop bothering me, woman, if you want me to make the damned drink,” he snapped, not meaning to sound quite as snippy as he did. Thankfully, Susan had known him long enough to know the difference between him wanting to focus and him actually being annoyed, and simply stuck her tongue out at him before heading out to the storeroom to go and obtain more takeaway cups. Left in peace, Marcus spent five minutes concocting something that would tick the boxes specified with the ingredients that he had to hand. The result ended up being a monstrous latte that only just fitted in the largest takeaway cup. It looked relatively ordinary, but he was confident that it would fit the bill. “Order for Oliver?” he called.

And if he wanted to watch the other boy walk towards him, well, he didn’t have to admit it to anyone but himself. Even if his rule was no distractions, he didn’t see any harm in appreciating the view, and there was a lot about the view to appreciate. When Marcus set the takeaway cup down in front of him, there was a shy smile playing about his mouth again and God, he wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did. When the other went to reach into his pocket, obviously intending to extract his wallet, Marcus shook his head. “Try it first,” he said, leaning elbows against the counter and not quite able to help his curiosity. He didn’t often get to see the first reaction to a new drink, so this was a rare opportunity.

When the other boy inclined his head, raised the cup in his direction and took a long drink from it, Marcus watched his reaction move from neutral to enjoyment with a slight half-smile. He didn’t get the chance to ask the question, because Oliver (don’t pretend like you don’t know his name, Flint) had a much wider smile on his face now before he spoke. “I can taste the caramel, and…apple pie? And at least a double shot in there.” It was less of a guess when he had another long drink, and damn if that response didn’t make Marcus’ day in less than ten seconds. “God, that’s exactly what I needed, and I never would have ordered it on my own. How much do I owe you?”

Marcus shook his head again. “Nothing. You just helped test out a new special for the menu,” he said, wanting to outright grin, not quite comfortable enough to let himself do it. Finding the other attractive was one thing, but actually doing something about it was another. Probably has someone, anyhow. The fact that he was even considering the matter was more than he wanted to think about, shoved it away with a nod of his head as Susan emerged from the storeroom. “Get that down your neck, you’ll feel better,” he said, before disappearing into the storeroom himself, under the pretext of checking whether or not they’d received the new blend that was supposed to be arriving. They hadn’t, but he found a mess, like he always did. With a faintly exasperated sigh, he started to tidy up, ignoring the fact that he’d just bolted in the opposite direction to the first person he’d genuinely been attracted to in almost a year. Well, I always did have a knack for self-sabotage. Or maybe I just don’t want to waste my attention on a lost cause.

iv: oliver.

Oliver had been coming to the coffee shop for a few weeks at this point, for a multitude of reasons; the first being that waking up with a hot drink in his hand before his first tutorial or before practice was infinitely preferable to staying at his flat. The second being that his flatmate hadn’t proven to be any less of an idiot as time had progressed, and while the atmosphere between them wasn’t hostile as such, it might easily go in that direction if Oliver was around the flat more often. The final reason, and the one that he was all too aware of, was the fact that the coffee shop came with the added bonus of the dark-haired barista, whose name he’d discovered only four days prior. Susan had called back to what was presumably the storeroom while Oliver had been waiting for his usual morning order (a flat white). “Marcus, are you done in there yet?” For reasons he couldn’t understand, everything seemed to click into place at that point. The name was fitting, but that was also the point where he couldn’t entirely ignore the fact that not only had he liked what he saw when he first laid eyes on the other; he’d liked it enough for the interest to continue past the initial meeting.

So the combination of irritating flatmate, burgeoning caffeine addiction, and a need to work undisturbed also happened to coincide with the fact that he was developing a small, inconvenient crush on the barista, on Marcus. They hadn’t exchanged words much, nothing more than polite conversation really, but in that time, a comfortable routine had developed. In the mornings, Oliver had his flat white. In the afternoons and evenings, Marcus often had free rein on what to make for him, and he’d never yet gotten it wrong. With a glance, dark eyes seemed able to assess what kind of day he’d had and make the drink that fitted the bill. Susan hadn’t been wrong: the other had a gift for it.

It was late one evening when Oliver approached the counter with a textbook in hand, around 8pm, and was met with the half-smile that never quite made it to something more. It held mystery, that look, and he’d rapidly learned that he didn’t mind a little mystery. “Same again?” The question, ready when he reached the counter, made him smile ruefully. “Yeah, please. This thing’s making life difficult for me.” He raised his textbook, an analysis of sport psychology that was interesting enough, but not easy to translate to the project that his professor had given him. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the flicker of surprise, however slight, that crossed Marcus’ expression when he saw the textbook. That was nothing, however, to Oliver’s reaction when the barista responded, “Yeah, that one’s not fun. Been having a bit of a wrangle with it too.”

It took a few seconds for Oliver to click. Really? So maybe that’s where I recognised you from, even if dimly. “I didn’t realise you were in there too,” he said with a smile. “How come I’ve never seen you?”

“It’s a big lecture theatre. I sit up at the back and the lecturer’s usually turned the lights down for the projectors by the time I get there. I didn’t know you were in there either, to be fair.” That was when the usual half-smile that he’d become strangely used to widened, and oh, Oliver wasn’t prepared for that, because if the effect of the half-smile was bad, the full smile was absolutely devastating by comparison. He was sure that he was staring like a fool, and he didn’t have the will to sort it out. Pull yourself together.

“I’m aiming for physiotherapist eventually,” Marcus continued, seemingly not registering Oliver’s reaction. “But I’ve not seen you in any of my other classes, which are somewhat smaller, so I’m guessing you’re taking a slightly different direction.”

It took Oliver a few seconds to form a coherent sentence, and under other circumstances, he would have been really bloody well embarrassed about that, but Christ, he’s only human and that smile was like attacking the unarmed. “Yeah, I…I’ve been scouted for football, so most of what I’m doing is geared towards being able to coach and help other athletes if that doesn’t pan out,” he said. Though he knew that he was good at what he did, he wasn’t naturally a braggart. He felt the weight of Marcus’ scrutiny when the other looked at him more closely, and Jesus, he did the exact opposite of handling it well when the appraisal seemed to run past his face to the spread of his shoulders. Don’t blush, for the love of God.

“What position?”

The question caught Oliver off-guard, because his mind immediately went to places that it quite definitely wasn’t supposed to go while he was in public (I can think of lots of those), and the dark-haired barista (and incipient physiotherapist, apparently) could have easily chosen a better way of wording that. Was that deliberate? He couldn’t tell. Marcus’ expression was unreadable besides the smile and the tilted head. It was impossible to work out whether the other had spotted his preoccupation and decided to mess with him. If he did, game on. “Any number of positions, really, but I’m currently playing keeper,” he said, opting to accompany the words with a grin of his own, daring to put just a little flirtation behind the remark. When he heard a slight spluttering sound from further down the counter, he didn’t need to look to know that Susan had caught the gist of what he was implying, and he cringed because he’d honestly forgotten she was there at all. However, it was Marcus that sent her on the retreat with a truly impressive glare that made her disappear back into the stockroom, while Oliver wished for the ground to swallow him up as promptly as possible.

“I play striker, sometimes.” The conversation had turned back to football, and Oliver was thankful for it. Plays and strategies, he could discuss until light turned to dark, even if he was meant to be wrangling his way through the textbook still in his hands. Apparently Marcus’ attention span was much better than his, because in the time that they’d been talking, he’d still managed to make Oliver’s drink and mark the current page in his own textbook, tucked covertly beneath the counter as it generally was. To Oliver’s surprise, he smiled again, but this time there was an obvious edge of embarrassment to it. “Just realised I’m being a bit of an idiot, by the way. I’m Marcus; don’t recall ever telling you that.” When he came out from behind the counter, Oliver then got his first good look, up close, at exactly how the other dressed. A faded band t-shirt and a pair of dark, rumpled jeans that clung to all the right places. When the other offered his hand out awkwardly and Oliver closed fingers around his for the handshake, he grinned again. “Good to meet you properly. I’ll see you in our lecture, I guess. I’d better get back to work.” When he met the other’s eyes as they released grip, however, the brush of their fingers lingered and he wasn’t immune to the spark of that touch, far from it. Whoa. The other didn’t need to know that he’d already been fully aware of his name before now. “Yeah, you too. See you later.” And with that, they parted ways, Marcus back behind the counter, Oliver returning to his usual seat with coffee in one hand, textbook in the other, and quite probably a really stupid smile on his face like he’d just been hit between the eyes.

What Marcus also didn’t need to know was that his small, ridiculous crush had gone from mildly out of hand to completely insane in the span of about ten minutes, if that.

This is really not a good thing. What am I going to do about this?

[vampyjoong]

Got You Under My Skin

How about a jun soulmate au where each time they make skin to skin contact, a freckle appears on each of them where it occurred, and once they realize who their soulmate is, the freckles stop appearing on the one who figured it out, but don’t go away. Bye! I love your list thingies by the way

lmao i made so many bad puns dont hate me i love puns

1.3k words unedited

you had gotten a job at pledis after your friend turned out to be one of the idols soulmates ur the friend from the seungcheol one lmao

you didn’t get the job handed to you but it meant you were able to have a more trustworthy background

so you became a makeup artist and stylist for seventeen

you were another one who didn’t think you had a soulmate

you had no strange voice in your head, no marks, no nothing

you ended up majoring in soulmate studies cos even if you didn’t have one, didn’t mean you couldn’t help others with theirs

it helped your friend find hers which then helped you get your job

you had done courses in makeup while doing your main one

so it wasn’t like you were unqualified for the job

besides you got to see your friend more often and work with some cool ass people

you got on the most with jun

you were both flirty, weird ass people and it was hilarious

jun had never been sure about his soulmate

his skin was bare (and fabulous)

and he’d never had any inkling of who she could be

so when he found himself getting along with you, he didn’t want to get his hopes up

you could be already linked with someone for all he knew

he had a huge crush on you though

and you had one on him

but with the way things were going in seventeen, you knew he would meet his other half soon and you dreaded the day you lost the man that didn’t belong to you 

but you enjoyed it while it lasted

you enjoyed your job most whenever jun was in your chair tbh

he always made you laugh and you made him blush whenever you cupped his face to move it a certain way

you knew it was wrong to entertain your feelings but you couldn’t help it

not when he was that cute and that handsome and that…… unavailable

you had tried to talk to someone about it but everybody seemed perfectly happy being in a couple, and unconsciously shunned those who weren’t

it was hard when everyone was always together being cute and reminding you what you didn’t have

so you spent your spare time on the internet or traveling with seventeen 

one day you noticed you had a cluster of freckles on your arms that weren’t there before

you figured it was cos you were out in the sun more

science time kids - freckles are caused by UV light from the sun and melatonin in your skin, and when the uv light hits your skin, it causes some spots to grow darker causing freckles

didn’t think much of it until there were some forming on places that weren’t on show, like your knees and shoulders

the next day, you noticed that there were freckles scattered all over juns face, very light but still there

you’d never noticed them before but now you were

you didn’t think much of it, just maybe that he was getting them for the same reason

then, juns hand accidentally grazed your hip

he apologised as much as he could but you told him it was fine

that night you found a freckle right where he had touched you

you were getting suspicious by this point but decided to test it

the next time you saw him, you touched a spot on his ear but played it off like you were fixing his hair

so when you were doing his makeup properly later on, you noticed a freckle where you’d touched

still not confirmed but feeling hopeful

you continued this practice for a few days until you were positive

freckles were appearing on you where he had touched you

you pulled out your books from college and looked at the physical connections

near the end of the section was your answer

“Some psychical Soulmate Connections can be caused by different spots forming where they touch. these spots can be freckles,…..”

you didn’t bother reading the rest, you had your answers

you were going to do his makeup the next day, anxious about telling him

how do you bring that up

i mean, everyone else reactions you’d seen had been physical and they didn’t know their soulmates beforehand 

jun was keeping up with his skincare when he noticed light freckles over his face and arms

he had honestly no clue as to why he suddenly had freckles all over himself

he didn’t mind though he thought they looked nice

he didn’t really mind that he didn’t have a soulmate

just kidding that sentence was a whole bunch of lies

he had always found the idea so cute and perfect

he just had no reason to believe that he had one which always broke his heart

he’d have thought he would’ve at least had a red string but nope

absoute nada

then the day came

you’d just finished doing joshuas makeup when jun had walked in

your heart sped up

he sat down and you weren’t sure what to do

so when you cradled his face to move it, it shocked you literally

there was an electric arc going from his face to your hand

everyone was shocked ;) 

you and jun couldn’t look away from each other

his gaze was setting you alight i can do this all day

s.coups soulmate came to see if everything was alright cos she couldn’t fully see what was going on

when she put her hand on your shoulder she got thrown back slightly from the shock

luckily s.coups was there to catch her

you still couldn’t move until somebody came over with rubber gloves on and pulled you away from him

when you turned to face them it was Mingyu looking like he wished he was in a full rubber suit

you tried to talk but nothing came out

every nerve in your body was shot and it felt like pure electricity was running through your veins

when you moved, it was like static running through the air

mingyu picked you up and carried you into the closest seventeen room in the hotel you were staying at

he shoved you into the bathroom and told you to try and take a shower to see if that would work

he got you a towel and some clothes from the dresser

then waited for you to come out to talk to you about it

you managed to get through the shower without electrifying anything

didn’t want to touch anything electric just in case though

when you put the clothes on you realised they were juns

god damn it mingyu

he sat you down once you walked out and started to talk to you about it all

you spilled everything

during the emotional talk with mingyu, jun was still freaking out

and still flowing with power so whenever he got too close to someone they would get an electric shock

it wasn’t until you and mingyu walked back in did he calm down

also you looked hella cute in his clothes and he was shocked

you walked over to him and touched his arm 

everyone was relieved the shocking had stopped

you and jun were still awestruck though are you happy the shocking puns stopped

he decided to try and talk to you in his room

you sat down and everything spilled out

how you’d thought you never had a soulmate and your crush on him

then how you noticed the freckles on both of you and how you’d looked it up

when you finished you almost didn’t want to look at him

until you felt him come close and hug you tightly

he told you everything too

and when he finished you two were still hugging

and so you two became the newest soulmate couple

also if you concentrated rly hard you could still make the sparks and electricity come back

the chemistry between you two was shocking all i wanna do is make these puns all day lmao

you two were the most shameless and flirty couple about, and it was hilarious