#I literally just woke up and flopped around in bed only to find out page updated early

[kayatoastkkat]

HEY IS THAT THE DEATH POTION HE'S HOLDING HELLO?????

okay but omg?? his eyes flicking back to the mirror to see if Jekyll is there going "haha i was being /j" BUT HE ISN'T THERE???? LIKE OMG WHEN HYDE REALISES HOW HORRIBLY UNCONTROLLED HIS INNER MONOLOGUE IS WITHOUT JEKYLL THERE TO BRING HIM TO HIS SENSES JKSKDKSKFNDKLGE

how much you wanna bet that Edward "Surely These Conses Won't Quence" Hyde is going to regret smashing these potions in the next 0.1 seconds

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Time For Bed (Lucifer x GN!Reader) FLUFF

Random Lucifer fluff! I write about going to sleep way too much considering I barely get any sleep myself. Holy shit I think I'm projecting onto the characters. WHOOPS!

Anywhooooo

Word Count : 1.7K

Warnings : Nothing. Just fluff and soft tired Lucifer

How long had you been laying in bed waiting for him to come up to see you? A few minutes? Hours? You turned to look at the clock on the nightstand, rolling your eyes as another minute ticked by. “Dammit, Lucifer…” You groaned, kicking the blankets off as you got out of the bed. He was probably still working on some shit that Lord Diavolo had made him do, or he was passed out at his desk. Either way, he was overworking himself and you hated that he did it so often. There wasn’t a moment that the two of you could be alone, whether he was working in his office or dealing with his brothers, there was never a time where you could actually be together.

“Lucifer…” You mumbled his name as you tapped your knuckles against the wooden door of his office, letting your head rest against it as you waited for him to respond. You weren’t even tired when you had gone up to the room, but just waiting for him made you sleepy, and the thought of how much work he had to do made you exhausted. You could only imagine how he felt having to actually do it, and he deserved a break, or at least a comfortable bed to actually fall asleep in. “Come up to bed, please.” Your hand slid down the door and landed on the doorknob, still waiting for him to answer, or literally say anything or even mumble… just a noise.

“Work… have to work…” He grumbled from behind the door and you could hear the lack of emotion in his voice. The man was beyond tired, beyond exhausted, and he was still pushing himself to keep going. It wasn’t okay, and if you weren’t terrified of the repercussions, you’d have a word with Diavolo about making Lucifer do his work for him. “Go to bed, dear… I’ll be up soon…” Which you knew was bullshit. It was already two in the morning, and he woke up early too, the least he could do is try to get a little bit of sleep and rest his head on an actual pillow instead of a stack of papers.

You sighed loudly outside the door, mentally telling yourself that you wouldn’t leave without him. He wouldn’t leave the office though, not with you standing outside of the door, so you quickly pushed it open, crossing your arms as you finally took in the sight of him. His hair was disheveled and his eyelids were heavy. You could only imagine how many cups of coffee he had drank to stay up this late, and even though you knew nothing could actually happen to him, you still didn’t want him to get ill. “You can’t keep staying up like this. It’s not good for you.” You shut the door behind you before going over to his desk, shaking your head when you saw the full cup of black coffee right next to him. “You need sleep, Lucifer.”

He hummed quietly, but never dropped the pen from his fingers, scribbling across the papers in front of him and you weren’t even sure if he was actually writing legibly or if he was just making little squiggle lines at this point. Nothing made what he was doing worth it, and you weren’t just going to leave the office, not without him. You walked around the desk, grabbing his arm and giving it a light tug to try to get his attention. “Hmph… You don’t need to watch me. I’ll be up when I can.” He pulled his arm away, rolling his shoulders before going back to working on the paper in front of him.

“I’ll just stay here until you’re done, then.” You huffed loudly as you walked back around to one of the arm chairs across from his desk, flopping down in it and crossing your arms across your chest. Were you tired? Yes, but if he wasn’t going to get to bed, you weren’t either. It didn’t make any sense in the long run, and by the end of all of this, you’d both be exhausted because he was too prideful to say that you were right and actually leave, and you were too persistent to just give it up and let it go.

He finally looked up from his desk, tsking his tongue and staring at you as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re being ridiculous. What is both of us losing sleep going to do?” You weren’t actually sure what the answer to that question is because honestly, you both were just going to be extra tired by morning, and you knew that he already knew that, so there was no point in you saying it. So you shrugged, giving him a little smirk as if you knew something that he didn’t about your miraculous plan to pull an all-nighter with him, but he wasn’t a fool, and he wasn’t going to fall for whatever it was that you were doing. “Is there an actual reason that you need me right now?”

There were a lot of reasons you felt like you needed him right now, some of them didn’t actually include using the bed for its intended purpose, but you still needed him in the bed to do what you were thinking. The other reason was… well… you missed him. You missed being able to curl up into his chest and cocoon he and yourself in his blankets as you both dozed off. It seemed like it had been forever since you had done something like that with him, just having an intimate moment together in private, in silence. You were able to just enjoy… him… and being with him. It might not have been a lot to him, but it meant a lot to you. “I can’t sleep…” It wasn’t lying, because in a sense, you did find it harder to fall asleep without him in the bed with you, but it was also partially because you stayed up waiting for him every night even though he told you to get some sleep before he came up because it would be a while.

He let out a small chuckle, pushing his chair away from the desk as he got up, shaking his head. “You made this whole thing about me when it was you who couldn’t sleep. I think I have something for that…” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him walk to the bookshelf that lined the wall. What was he going to do? Was there a spell that would knock you out, or did he have a secret bottle of Z-Quil hidden in the pages of one of his books? That wasn’t the main thing though, what you couldn’t stop thinking about was how absolutely clueless he was, or at least, pretended to be. How could he not piece everything that you had said together? Maybe his brain was fried from working so much that he was unable to pick up the hints that you were dropping.

With a loud sigh, you got up from your own seat and walked over to him, grabbing his hand as he reached for a book. “I can’t sleep because you’re not there…” You didn’t actually want to put it so bluntly, it was kind of embarrassing to admit things like that, especially to him. You watched his face, waiting for his reaction, and as you watched him you could have sworn that you saw his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. His hand dropped as he turned to look at you completely, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the usual smile you’d receive for something like this, usually he’d be smug and smirk at you while giving a witty, subtle remark about how he knows just the way to help get you to sleep. This time was different though, and it was most likely due to him being so tired.

“What kind of demon would I be to deny my darling a good night's sleep?” The question kind of threw you off because in terms of demons… he’d be a pretty good one to make you not have a good night’s sleep, but you knew what he meant and you didn’t want to ruin the moment by being a smartass. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you lightly to bring you closer to him as he leaned in to rest his forehead against your own. “Let’s get some sleep. I guess we both need it.” You hummed quietly in response, and once his hands were dropped you reached out to grab one of his to lead him out of the office. If you turned your back on him and started walking by yourself, he’d probably go back to his desk and continue working, and you weren’t going to let that happen.

Both of your movements were slow, your feet practically dragged across the floor as you walked up the stairs to his room. The fact that neither of you fell or tripped up the stairs or ran into anything is shocking considering both of you could barely keep your eyes open. By the time you were in the room all you wanted to do was fall into the bed with him, cover up, and pass out. “Are you gonna-” You hadn’t had time to finish your question, which probably didn’t matter at the moment, but you knew it would be uncomfortable for him to fall asleep in what he was wearing, but apparently he didn’t care, or he was just too tired to care right then.

He fell face first onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. It didn’t take long for the soft sound of snoring to fill the room, and the sound of it made you smile to yourself. He was finally getting some decent sleep, and if anyone deserved it, it was him. You climbed into the bed next to him, pulling the covers up around you as your eyes started to fully close. You’d both get a good night’s sleep together, and that’s all you really wanted.

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter eight)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: cursing

wordcount: 4.2k it’s been a while buckle up 

gif from @poguemackin​

_

Rafe showed up to class on Monday with more nerves than he ever had, unsure of what Sophie’s reaction would be. After having a long heart-to-heart with James and Colin (though he would never call it that), he had come to terms that maybe, just maybe, he liked Sophie Flint more than a friend. He was determined to try, telling himself he would be patient when she would try to argue like always and that he would give it a chance. For once. 

Sophie didn’t seem to get the memo. 

She barely greeted him, only offering a half-smile when she sat next to him - unusually late, only there one minute until class was meant to start. “Running late today?” Rafe elbowed her with a grin.

“Guess so.” She shrugged, head down as she started scrawling into her notebook while their professor started teaching.

He frowned, caught off guard by her cold demeanor, given that they were cuddled together in a bed just under 48 hours ago. “Just teasing, Soph.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes down. “I know.” 

The rest of the class continued like that, Rafe resisting every single urge in his body to tear off a piece of paper and slide her a note. (She’d probably find it annoying, and it wasn’t middle school, anyways.) At the end of class, she didn’t even bother to pack her bag, just gathered her things into her arms and hurriedly left before he even had a second to say goodbye. As promised, he met James to walk to their next class together, looking completely lost. 

“How’d it go?” James asked Rafe with a grin, reaching out to knuckle his fist against Rafe’s hair. 

Rafe ducked out from under him and shoved his arm away, scowling. “Not good. She barely even looked at me, let alone talked to me.” 

“Oh.” James frowned. “Maybe she was just tired? It is kind of early.” 

“Nah, she at least smiles at me. Or have some smart comeback and she didn’t even try today.” Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about how she avoided him. 

“Huh. Text her and see if she’s okay.” James urged. 

“She probably wouldn’t like that.” Rafe hesitated, but took out his phone anyways. “I don’t want her to think I’m annoying.” 

“Then wait and text her later today. It’ll be fine, dude, don’t stress about it.” 

“I’m not stressed!” Rafe argued. 

James rolled his eyes and grabbed Rafe’s wrist, not letting go when Rafe objected and shoved up his sleeve. He inspected the peeling leather on Rafe’s watch band and dropped his arm, shaking his head. “You scratch up the leather on this when you’re stressed out. And those are new marks.” 

Rafe yanked his sleeve back down over the watch. “I didn’t think you picked up on that.” 

“Well Colin pointed it out first, but now I notice whenever you do it.” James shrugged. “It’s Sophie. She’ll come around.” 

“How are you so sure about this?” 

James shrugged again. “Like we said yesterday. You two are like, magnetic or some shit. There’s no way it won’t work out.” 

_ 

“He didn’t say a single thing to me all class!” Sophie exclaimed the second she walked through the door, huffing as the door slammed shut behind her. 

Both Allie and Julia lifted their heads from their work at their desks, completely unfazed by her loud entrance. She had recapped the events of the night (that she could remember, at least) yesterday morning over brunch, several mimosas, and they both had to talk her down from marching over to the Delt house right that second and asking for answers from Rafe. 

“Not one thing?” Julia asked, skeptical. 

Sophie flopped down dramatically onto the beanbag in the corner. “Well, okay, maybe a few things, but that was it. It’s like he didn’t even try.” 

Allie raised her eyebrows and shut her laptop. “What exactly did he say, Soph?” 

“He asked if I was running late, because, you know, I showed up later -” 

“So you wouldn’t have to talk to him.” Julia pointed out. 

“Only because he didn’t text me at all!” Sophie cried out, shooting a pointed glare her way. “And then he said he was just teasing and that was it.” 

“Did you give him room to respond?” Allie asked gently, trying to get her to see through her flawed logic. 

Sophie huffed, crossing her arms. “Probably.” 

“Oh, probably, that’s a solid answer.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want something with him or not?” 

“I…” Sophie faltered, thinking. “I mean, maybe, but not if he can’t even text me after we slept together.” 

“Well how big is he?” Julia grinned. 

Allie reached across the desk, swatting her arm. “Jules!”

“What?!” 

Sophie groaned, covering her face as a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t even know, guys, I told you I can’t remember anything after we got back to his house. I just remember trying to kiss him and then I woke up in his t-shirt.” She gasped. “Oh my god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Julia frowned. 

“What if I was that bad? Oh god, what if I was genuinely so terrible that he literally never wants to talk to me again? I can’t really walk when I’m drunk, so I’m probably not even good at fucking -” 

“Stop, stop!” Allie laughed, throwing a pencil at her from across the room. “I don’t want to hear the details. Are you even sure you hooked up?” 

“Yeah, why else would I be wearing his shirt?” Sophie reasoned. Her phone chimed and she froze, holding it up. “It’s Rafe. Should I open it?” 

“Yes, stupid, open the text!” Julia exclaimed, scooting her chair closer to see the phone. 

“Be nice!” Sophie scowled, unlocking her phone - and her jaw dropped. “Oh no.” 

“You are so dramatic.” Allie giggled, walking over to see. “What’d he say?” 

“Um...I might have made a mistake.” Sophie groaned, turning her phone to show two texts from Rafe yesterday, and one that had just been sent. 

Rafe, 8:30am Sunday: Everything okay? You didn’t need to leave

Rafe, 4pm Sunday: Hope you’re feeling alright today

Rafe, 10:15 Monday: Are you okay? 

Julia snorted. “Way to leave him on read, Soph.” 

“Jules.” Allie chided, frowning. 

“This is bad, isn’t it.” Sophie bit her lip, embarrassed. 

“It doesn’t look great.” Allie admitted. “But hey! He still checked in on you just now! You can make up for ignoring him.” 

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Sophie defended, already typing back a message. 

“Wait, don’t look too eager.” Julia tried grabbing at the phone and Allie swatted her hands away.

“Don’t listen to her, you’ve been playing hard to get for two and a half years. Eager is fine.”

Sophie paused, glancing between the two of her friends, then sent the text. “Al, if I regret this, I’m blaming you.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

After a moment’s pause with bated breath, her phone chimed again and she grinned, turning the phone away to hide the screen. “Okay, okay, you two can go back to studying.” 

Julia laughed, moving away with Allie. “Don’t forget to be nice for once.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sophie stuck out her tongue at Julia, but smiled anyways.

Sophie: yeah I’m good, just tired. sorry I didn’t see your other two texts

Rafe: I was beginning to think you were ignoring me haha

Sophie: no of course not 

Rafe: Good

Rafe: Do you want to come study at the house tomorrow night? We can be in the formal room it just seems silly to go all the way to the library when we live so close 

Sophie: what do we have to study for? 

Rafe: Tomorrow’s Tuesday, did you forget about our running study date lol 

Sophie: date huh 

Rafe: You know what I mean

Sophie: yes I’d love to come over, I’ll see you at the same time 

Once Rafe got Sophie’s final reply, he liked the message then let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t paid attention to a single thing in his economics lecture, focusing more on texting Sophie and her responses. As their professor dismissed the class, Rafe shut his laptop with a grin, turning to Colin. “Can I -”

“Yes, you can have my notes.” Colin rolled his eyes, walking out with Rafe. “You texting Sophie the whole time?” 

“Yeah, she replies slow - wait, how’d you know?” 

Colin laughed. “You were grinning like an idiot at your computer during the whole lecture, and you hate this class.” 

“Oh.” Rafe tried his best to fight the smile on his face, then shrugged. “We have a date tomorrow.” 

“Really, you actually asked her out? Good on you, man,” Colin said.

“Well.” Rafe hedged, rubbing his neck. “Not exactly. She’s just coming over for when we usually study for our class together.”

Colin groaned and shoved Rafe’s arm. “That’s not a date, idiot. Do better.” 

“I gotta take it slow!” Rafe protested.

“You’ve had your time taking it slow. Make a real move for once.” Colin said, shaking his head. 

_ 

Sophie showed up to the Delt house dressed a little nicer than usual, just enough so Rafe would notice, in a sweater and a skirt. She was more nervous than ever, fidgeting with the ends of her hair as she waited on the front porch. Rafe hustled down the stairs the second he got her text, greeting her at the door with a huge grin. “Soph, hey!” He glanced over her appearance, immediately regretting his t-shirt and sweatpants attire. 

His grin put her at ease and she relaxed, following him into the house. “Got a hot date after this or something?” He teased, leading her to the formal room where a few other boys were out studying.

“And what if I do?” She challenged, taking a seat opposite him at a table.

He raised his eyebrows, trying his best to not show any sign of disappointment. “Do you?” 

She blushed a little but kept his gaze. “I - no. I had a presentation for class.” She lied, embarrassed she had even tried so hard.

“You look good.” Rafe paused. “Really good.”

Sophie bit back a smile, shaking her head a little. “Thank you. Um, we should study, I don’t want to keep you busy for too long.” She slid out her notebook, showing him a few pages of meticulous notes for their debate topic. 

His notes, albeit messy, rivaled hers. “You actually prepared.” She said, impressed as she flipped through the pages.

He frowned a little. “I’ve been prepared every time. I’m not gonna let you down, Soph.” The words held more meaning than just talking about the group project and she did her best to ignore it, nodding as she skimmed over his notebook.

She paused, finger on a small note scribbled in the margin. “You wrote down my coffee order?” 

Rafe blushed, embarrassed, and snagged back the notebook. “Well yeah, I had to remember it somehow.” 

“That’s sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Less about us, more about the ethics of time travel.” He flipped to a fresh page, ready to take down more notes. The two kept up easy conversation for a while, not noticing the time passing as they worked. When Sophie realized she’d been there for over an hour and the conversation was still surprisingly dry, given what had transpired on Saturday, she reached across the table and snapped Rafe’s book shut. 

“Look, we should just talk about it.” 

“It?” Rafe repeated, raising his eyebrows cluelessly. 

“You know.” Sophie hinted, then huffed when he just looked more confused. “You’re gonna make me say it? Fine. Okay, since we slept together, you haven’t - what the fuck are you smiling for!” She scowled, crossing her arms. 

He was grinning ear-to-ear but leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Sorry, sorry go on.” 

“This isn’t funny, Cameron.” 

“That’s Mr. Cameron to you.” He teased. 

She ignored him, rolling her eyes. “Since we slept together you haven’t said a single thing about it. And whatever, I know I was drunk, but if I was really that bad -"

Rafe couldn’t keep the act up anymore and started cracking up, hardly able to keep eye contact. He doubled over, almost wheezing as he laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Sophie hissed, embarrassed as his loud laughter drew attention from boys walking by. 

He swiped his hand across his eyes, shaking his head as he let out a few more chuckles. “Soph, we didn’t sleep together. Not like that.” 

Sophie frowned and it was her turn to be confused. “Wait, what?” 

“You called me when you were drunk, I picked you up and you wanted to come back here, then you asked for clothes to change into to sleep.” A small blush crept up his neck and he looked a little shy. “Then, um, you asked me to come cuddle but I accidentally fell asleep when you did. And I woke up and you were gone.” 

She sat back in her chair, reeling as she processed this new information. “I didn’t sleep with you.”

“Not in anything other than the literal sense, no.” 

“Oh.” 

“See? Nothing to worry about. You were drunk, I wouldn’t have - you know. I just wanted you safe.”

At those words, she remembered him saying them that night. “And you practically saved my life.” 

Rafe paused. “Huh? I mean, you almost stepped out into traffic. But wait, you were hammered, how do you remember that?”

She rolled her eyes. “I remember practically everything even when I’m drinking, what do you mean?” 

“Practically everything…” he repeated, slowly. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head at her confession. His jaw dropped. “So you lied! About our first kiss!” 

“I...yeah.” Trapped in her lie, Sophie winced. “I don’t know why. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to think I go around letting just anyone kiss me when I’m drunk.” 

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “You kissed me, Sophie Flint. Not the other way around.”

She scowled at the name. “Oh, not the full name now, you’re making it sound like I’m in trouble.”

He hesitated, glancing down at his notes before looking back up at her. “Why’d you lie?” 

“I was nervous.” She admitted, biting her lip. “Maybe I thought you’d think less of me or something, I don’t know.”

He softened, reaching out across the table to take her hand. She let him, brain fogging over as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’d never think that, Soph.”

She took a moment too long to reply, distracted by his touch. “Okay. Good.” 

“Should we finish?” He asked, not letting go of her hand.

She was the first to let go, reluctantly pulling her hand back to her book. “Yeah. Um.” Sophie blushed, flipping through a few pages randomly to give her a moment to think. “Page 54, yeah?” 

_

The second Rafe waved goodbye to Sophie and let the door shut behind her, James and Colin practically ambushed him in the foyer. They had been ‘studying’ in the corner of the formal room, not-so-subtly giving Rafe multiple winks and thumbs up from behind Sophie’s back as they tried eavesdropping on their entire conversation. James clapped Rafe on the shoulder, grinning. “Ask her out yet?” 

“No.” Rafe responded, still confused from their conversation. They had gotten nowhere, yet they had also gotten...somewhere? “I held her hand.” 

“For two seconds.” Colin rolled his eyes. 

“Still something!” James interjected, ever-positive. “But dude, if you want something, you actually have to make a move. Like…” He pretended to lean in with puckered lips and Rafe shoved his head away, rolling his eyes.

“I know, dude. I gotta take it slow.” 

“You keep saying that.” Colin pointed out. “When are you actually going to do something about it?”

Rafe scowled. “Get off my back.” 

_

She couldn’t do it. She really couldn’t. 

Every single bone in her body wanted to just give in, be nice to Rafe, see if they could be a thing. But that would require letting someone in, being vulnerable, and Rafe Cameron of all people was not who she could do that with. (At least that’s what she told herself.) She could feel herself falling for him, and that freaked her out. 

Their study dates had gone from once a week at the library to twice a week at the Delt house. Never at Theta, she wasn’t prepared for the rumors that would fly and hearing girls speculate about a possible relationship. The reality check for her came when Julia called her out for waking up early for class just so she could put on a little extra makeup or make sure her hair wasn’t just thrown in its usual ponytail. “If you like him, just say something.” Allie had encouraged her, trying to give her the push she needed.

Sophie resisted, as usual. “There’s nothing between us.” 

They really only needed thirty minutes, max, to knock out their prep for their debate class, but Sophie found herself stretching out the time to an hour and a half, sometimes two. Rafe never seemed to mind, eager to keep discussing the merits of their side of the debate and to just see that spark in her eyes for a little bit longer as she spoke about something she was passionate about. 

Today had to be different. She set a timer on her watch the second she stepped through the doors at Delt, following Rafe through to their usual study spot. Sophie told herself she was only allowed to stay the thirty minutes, nothing more, and keep the conversation strictly to work. Maybe even be a little mean, if she had to, to push him away again. (It always worked before.) 

“How was your day?” He greeted her with his signature grin and she visibly winced, already feeling herself cave. She sat across from him and glanced at her watch. Twenty-nine minutes. God. She could do that. 

“Fine.” She replied shortly, not reciprocating. 

He nodded, unaware, and tapped his foot nervously under the table. “That’s good. So I was thinking, if you wanted to, maybe, after studying -"

“I can’t.” She cut him off. “I can’t stay long, I’m busy. Let’s just get this done.” 

“Oh - oh. Okay. Sorry.” He apologized needlessly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s whatever.” Sophie dismissed. “So I was thinking we focus our argument on these three main points…”

He tuned her out and just skimmed over the notebook she slid over to him, eyes tracing over the words but not truly reading any of them. Rejected. Huh. He didn’t even get the chance to get the words out, ask her to go get ice cream after. Maybe that would have been a stupid move anyways, considering it was the last week of October in Ohio and only forty degrees outside. Next time he’d think of a better plan, next time he’d -

“Rafe.” Sophie’s annoyed voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He jerked his head up. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “God, were you even listening? Pay attention.”

He resisted a frown, halfway paying attention now as she spoke. Did he do something wrong? He thought they were getting along, flirty even. Maybe he misread the signs. “What’s up with you today?” He asked, more concerned than irritated. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? Because your attitude seems like something.” He couldn’t resist pressing her buttons, just once. 

“I don’t have an attitude. Just trying to get this stupid homework done.” She snapped back.

He raised his hands in defense, a little taken aback. “Whoa, chill. We can get it done, you don’t have to be rude.” 

Sophie softened, just a little, and glanced at her watch again. 23 minutes. Maybe she didn’t have to entirely be an asshole. “Right.”

Rafe held her gaze for a moment, as if trying to read the thoughts running through her mind. “Okay. So I was thinking…” They kept a somewhat civil conversation, strictly related to their class, though Rafe could tell something felt off. She didn’t have the usual teasing lilt in her tone and he was too nervous to even try his typical flirting - his hand grazing against hers, or a sly comment here and there. 

After a few minutes of reading together from a new article on Rafe’s laptop, he spoke up. “Hey, Soph -” he started with a hint of a frown. 

“Sophie.” She corrected, keeping her eyes trained on the computer. 

Rafe’s face fell flat and he pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodding once. “Never mind then.” 

“What is it?” 

“I said never mind.” He repeated, shaking his head. 

The rest of the time was fairly quiet as they scribbled out notes for their arguments, sharing a relevant piece of information every few minutes. 

“Why’d you choose architecture?” Rafe asked after a few moments of silence, both of them reading over their textbooks.

“Study, Rafe.” Sophie reprimanded him with a bored tone, keeping her eyes on her book ‘til she finished the page. He glanced over her expression, trying to decide if she was serious or not, then went back to his book. 

“I thought it was cool. I like seeing the way things work, how buildings are crafted. Everything has a purpose.” She spoke after a moment. 

He smiled. “That’s cool. I can tell you like it.”

“You hardly know me,” Sophie pointed out. 

(Not true. He could read her like a book after all these years, knowing exactly when she was about to snap. She could do the same.)

 He frowned, feeling her putting up a wall, her typical defense mechanism when she didn’t want to admit the truth. “I think I do.” He argued, keeping her gaze. She rolled her eyes and broke eye contact first, dropping her eyes back to her book. 

He sighed, quietly, and returned to pretending to read. 

Sophie broke the silence this time. “Why are you studying film?”

He looked up, a little surprised she was taking interest. “Uh…” he trailed off, trying to think of how best to phrase it. “Movies were always my escape. If my dad was busy with work, y’know, like usual, he’d just throw on a movie for me and my sisters.” He smiled, thinking back. “I’m pretty sure I have Hercules memorized by heart now.” 

“That’s cool. My favorite Disney movie was Robin Hood.” Sophie mused, scribbling a couple notes in the margins of her book. She tried her best to keep an impassive composure, although she wanted nothing more inside than to spend hours just talking about his interests and seeing the way he beamed when she was interested too. 

“I never really liked him. Didn’t he steal from people?” 

“Not really, he stole from the tax collector and gave the money to the poor people.” She pointed out. 

“Oh.” Rafe paused, not sure if he wanted to continue the argument. “System’s in place for a reason, right?” 

Sophie wrinkled her nose, annoyance creeping into her tone. There was something about his indifference that made her just want to reach across the table and shake some sense into him. “Not when the government is creating an illegitimate tax system.” 

He shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I never watched that closely.” 

“Well I’m right, anyways.” She declared, lifting her chin a little in a challenge. 

“It doesn’t matter anyways, Flint, it’s a cartoon.” Rafe replied, slightly exasperated. There it was - back to last names. For some reason, it made Sophie madder than ever. She hated the way it rolled off his tongue so easily, like he knew her by nothing else. 

“It does matter, Cameron, it’s the principle of the thing.” She turned up her nose haughtily toward him, crossing her arms. She knew she was doing exactly what she shouldn’t do, chipping away at their already rocky relationship built on a foundation of uneven stone. “But I’m not surprised you wouldn’t care.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He retorted, mimicking her pose from across the table. 

“It means you’re a dick. Always relying on daddy’s money.” Sophie stood her ground, jaw set. The way she said it, it was too sure, too carefully crafted to hit just where it’d hurt. Casual, almost, as if it meant nothing to say that. Like she’d been waiting to use that line for ages. 

That stung more than he expected, even though he’d heard it before - just not from her lips. He shot his response back quickly, too quickly, and regretted the words the second they left his mouth. “At least I don’t have to work two jobs just to pay for college.” 

Her face turned to stone as she felt the heat creeping up her neck, threatening to expose her embarrassment. Sophie gathered her things quickly, carelessly shoving them into her backpack, then paused before leaving to look him straight in the eye. “That’s fucking low, Rafe, even for you.” She said quietly. The words hung in the air between them as she turned sharply on her heel and strode calmly away, trying to beat the tears on the verge of spilling over her cheeks. 

Her watch vibrated on her wrist just as she stepped outside, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Thirty minutes. Timed perfectly.

taglist: @obx-saltlife​ @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @oopsiedoopsie23 @taiter-tots @annedub​ @alexandracheers

[lightneverfades]

That Damned Gazebo

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @snarkyship Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??)) 

Stupid cute bungalow. Stupid cute gazebo. Stupid cute neighbour.

All Tony wanted was a vacation; a break from running a business and having to argue for his ideas to get accepted by the marketing teams and just some time to lay low and relax.

All Loki wanted was a break from being upstaged in his section of the family business by his brother; some time off to cool down and de-stress and lay low and relax.

But instead only half their regular favourite beach house was available no matter how much cash they offered to throw at the real estate company renting it out. Could they have picked a different place to stay? Maybe. But none of the other decent rentables this far west have a gazebo, and they would have nowhere to sit alone and admire the waves from afar if they took a place without one.

And, of course, that’s where it all started— that gazebo.

That damned gazebo.

———

Day 1

Tony Stark, genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, makes his way unsteadily down the sandy-grassy slope from the bungalow to the beach, arms filled with an excessive amount of floating supplies, a personalized towel, sunglasses only half on, a fun-sized bottle of the finest sun lotion, a laptop because he may leave the stock market but the stock market may not leave him, a black Prada shirt over khaki Hawaiian shorts, a speaker for music, hot-rod red flip flops, a bag of snacks, a thin multipurpose blanket, and a polaroid.

He almost slips a few times on his way down, and he thinks he sees a crab and swears, but he does make it down to the brilliant white-sand beach of Malibu unharmed.

His plan is simple: spend the day in the shade of the wooden gazebo, sneak a peek at how his business is holding up, check his emails, play some Tetris, sunbathe around noon when the sun is highest, back under the shelter till the sun starts going down, into the water for some splashing, drying off as the sun sets, listen to some tunes while laying under the stars for a while.

Just a regular day off at his favourite beach.

He walks to the shaded gazebo area and draws the curtain to enter, and dumps the entire contents within his arms over the table in the center. He turns to open up the curtains on all sides but is interrupted by an ahem.

Tony turns, and, in the curtained darkness, makes out the figure of a person.

He must be the one who booked out the other half of the house, Tony thinks, eying the stranger sitting at the opposite end of the table with only a book and bottle of water. Show-off minimalists, Tony thinks, saltily.

“I would prefer if you didn’t open those,” he says, and Tony doesn’t recognize the accent, but there definitely is one. Maybe it’s a blend?

“But what’s the point of sitting under a gazebo on a beach if you can’t see the view?” Tony asks, pulling one open, letting in some light.

The man practically hisses at Tony for doing it, which, okay, weird, but that’s normal when you’re assaulted with bright light and have been sitting in the dark.

“How were you reading in the dark anyway? Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes?”

“I assure you I was able to read just fine.”

“Yeah… I’m opening the rest of these too…” Tony says, reaching for the curtain by the other side.

“Not if you wish to share this table, you won’t,” the man threatens.

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Tony asks, shocked, because who does this guy think he is?

“Compromise with,” the man has the gall to say. “And with table space, yes,” and Tony sputters. What can he even say to this. He’s here for a vacation, not to argue with strangers who are taking up half the gazebo space that should be his!

“Half,” Tony suggests, because he will not sit in the dark all day and miss out on his beach-view just so he gets to use the table. “You get half of this space, and I get the other half, and we can do whatever we want on our sides.”

The man sighs. “Fine. That sounds fair.”

The two of them spend the entire rest of the day sitting at opposite sides of the table pretending they’re not intentionally glaring and making crazy faces and trying to telepathically get rid of the other when they’re not looking.

Tony doesn’t comment on how the man barely gets any reading done and the man in turn doesn’t comment on how much equipment Tony brought down that he doesn’t use at any point in favour of using the laptop to retain his spot under the gazebo.

Schedule be damned, Tony is going to enjoy his vacation, and that means enjoying his duplex bungalow, even if someone else is renting half, and enjoying his gazebo that may be in-between the properties and they both may be paying for but is 100% actually his.

They wait each other out, and both head up to their houses at the same time; around midnight.

———

Day 2

Loki wakes at his usual time, showers, pointedly gets dressed into anything but the black shirt he has that matches what the man had on yesterday, and grabs his book before he heads down to the beach.

Having to share the same table was, simply put, incredibly awkward, but Loki has faith in it not happening again. He’s just going to make his way down to the gazebo and spend the day relaxing and rereading his favourite series without a pretentious-bearded neighbour showing up and making things weird.

“YOU!” Loki hears, and turns to find the same man from yesterday rushing down the slope towards him, “WHY ARE YOU UP AT THIS TIME?!”

Loki takes in the sight of the man dressed in a half-buttoned-up hawaiian shirt and pajama pants, with only a laptop and towel in hand, hair clearly fresh from bed, and, before he thinks better of it, counters eloquently with, “why are you half dressed?”

The man waves his arms in frustration, “I was tired! And in a rush! You don’t get to judge me, you’re the other f*ck who woke up this early!”

“I… normally get up this early…” Loki informs him, backing away slowly.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to deal with this guy again.

At least his sweatshirt has a green hood so he can block the guy out of his sight, right? He won’t spend the entire day rereading paragraphs because the man at the other end of the table is making him feel anxious, right? Surely the man is bringing the towel to lay in the sand which means he won’t be needing the gazebo, right?

Loki literally booked this bungalow because it’s in Malibu, and no one pays for a place like this in Malibu when you can rent a lower quality place and spend the money on beach parties and drinks. The fact that it’s far enough from home to make him feel safer was a bonus, but he really just wanted to be alone for a few days.

Loki takes a seat, and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfy so he can lean the book on the table. He tries not to get annoyed that the curtains are still parted halfway. He wouldn’t mind if the ones on his side were open too, but at this point he’s not acquiescing a point to the stranger.

The man pulls the wooden chair out and sits down opposite him.

Of course he does.

Why wouldn’t he.

“So you’re really going to keep reading in the dark?” he says, flipping open his laptop.

“Yep, and that suits me just fine, thank you,” Loki answers neutrally.

“Does my no-light-reading-neighbour have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Tony.”

“Loki.”

“Nice to meet you, Loki,”

“Thank you.”

Loki uses his bookmark to flip to his page, and starts reading. He will not get distracted by this Tony. It’s totally normal to share this table. It’s not huge, but it’s built for at least six, so there’s space. Maybe not enough to lay on, but it’s enough distance to ignore the clicking of Tony’s keyboard as he frantically presses keys.

Loki is two hours into enjoying his reading time, and he thinks he was doing well.

He’d smiled every time Tony yawned because with eye-rubbing and deep sighs that man was not used to getting up early, but he’d actually gotten through nearly three chapters without incident.

Then, the infuriating man had plunked a speaker onto the table and started playing AC/DC.

Now he’s reread this one line at least fourteen times and still doesn’t know what the red-head was doing with Jon.

“Why?” Loki asks, “Why must you do this? You can see me reading, you’re blocking out the distant sound of waves hitting the shore, it’s not even at a decent volume, so, why?!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony answers, “Did you say something? Because I couldn’t hear you over the music, but it sounded like you had an issue with what I was doing on my side.”

“Your music is not staying on your side!” Loki argues, but only receives a shrug and an increase in volume.

He presses his lips together.

Fine. If you’re going to be petty about this, then I can too.

Under the table, Loki kicks Tony.

He hasn’t got shoes on, but he’s always had a knack for aiming very well, and Tony’s whimper (?) (it’s hard to tell with the music so loud) assures him he hit the shin bone well enough.

By the time Tony is done cradling his leg and looks up at Loki with a mix of anger/betrayal, Loki is already reading again, the perfect image of serenity.

Loki tries not to laugh as Tony discovers his legs are not long enough to kick back.

———

Day 3

Tony didn’t bother trying to wake up before Loki this time.

He went at his own pace, and remembered to change out of the pajamas, brushed his hair, had coffee, and took the time to make himself a few sandwiches to enjoy through the day.

Yesterday he even went for a quick swim around ten at night and headed straight back up to his side of the bungalow, because he’s a responsible adult who doesn’t need to out-do a stranger’s sleep-schedule. Or leg-length. Or laugh.

It isn’t a competition or anything.

By the time he makes it down to the beach, he finds Loki sitting under the gazebo, alone, with all the curtains tied open.  

He’s also... wearing a black Prada shirt which matches the one Tony threw on this morning?? What?! Taking up half the space on his side of the table with 1 (one) bottle of water wasn’t enough, he also has to taunt him by wearing the exact same thing?!

He storms to his side of the gazebo and slams his palms down, taking satisfaction in the fact that Loki was startled and drops his book onto the table. Tony hopes he’s lost the page he was on.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hello, neighbour,” Loki greets, gingerly picking up his book again and giving a hesitant smile. “I didn’t realise you would be wearing the same shirt again, but I was hoping we could get off on a different foot today?”

Huh, well, would ya look at that, Tony thinks, I actually won. The sucker is gonna admit I’m too much and wave the white flag.

“That... actually sounds great,” Tony answers with his award-winning client-smile, sitting down opposite him. “This whole thing with splitting the table and curtains in half was a bit ridiculou—”

Tony yelps and stands up and starts frantically rubbing his hand over his butt which is stinging— he looks down at his seat and sees the culprit —a crab, menacing in all it’s crabby glory.

“Are you... okay?” Loki asks, far too confused, far too innocently, far too worried for it to be genuine, “what’s wrong?”

Tony, outraged, yells at Loki, “DID YOU FRICKIN PUT A CRAB IN MY SEAT?!”

“I— what?”

“WHO THE F*CK CALLS A PARLEY AND CRABS SOMEONE?!”

“No! I didn’t— are you okay??” Loki says, and he’s gotten up and rushing over and...okay, MAYBE he didn’t mastermind the crab.

“NO, I AM NOT, BUT THANK YOU FOR ASKING,” Tony screams, backing away from Loki, and running towards his bungalow.

Running in sand is hard, but Tony discovers it’s much harder when your butt is stinging.

———

Loki… did not put a crab on Tony’s seat.

He’d honestly wanted to draw up a truce, maybe have an actual conversation with Tony, and he even brought a towel and wore a change of clothes underneath in the event that the man wanted to go for a swim and wouldn’t mind if Loki joined.

He’d even brought snacks to share.

But now he feels bad.

Had kicking him under the table every time Tony had put the volume too loud or managed to slide low enough to kick him back or played We're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard been bad? Had it been too much? Why else would Tony assume he’d actually try and hurt him?

The glare-offs had just been fun, faces when they thought the other couldn’t see wasn’t bad-intentioned, the kicking hadn’t meant to injure. Loki had thought they were getting along. Perhaps he had misunderstood? Perhaps the other had not felt they were fun little pranks?

He owes Tony an apology.

———

Tony has been icing his butt for an hour. If he had any duct tape, he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt.

Tony is thinking about how if he had any duct tape he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt by now when someone bangs at his door.

Gee, I wonder who it could be, Tony thinks, as he goes to answer the door. Just so many people who visit this private beach residence. In all honesty it’s kind of sweet that Loki would turn up to check on him at all really.

Tony leaves the pea packet on the nearest counter and goes to answer the door. Good thing about this bungalow: it has many spare counters for things like dumping peas. An excessive amount of counters, even, and he questions what the designer had been thinking.

Tony swings the door open, “Hey there, crab-man.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurts.

“Hey, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, but at least you’re owning to it.”

“I didn’t set that up! I wouldn’t actually try to cause any lasting damage,” Loki explains.

Tony sighs.

“Yeah, I figured, I was just caught up in the moment and shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Would’ve been a very Shakespearean betrayal too…” Loki muses.

“So… anything else you came to say?” Tony asks. Although he’s not sure why.

“Would you be feeling up to sharing the table like normal people?”

“Oh, come on, where would be the fun in that?” Tony jokes.

“You… weren’t hurt or offended when I kicked you or said your music taste is dumb?”

“Course not. We’ve all had wild college nights out, believe me, kick to the shins was nothing.”

“Crab grabs though…”

“If you want to share the table like normal people we will not be mentioning the crab grab.”

“Deal,” Loki says, and he’s beaming as if he’s won a prize. Which is really cute. Which is why Tony doesn’t regret slamming the door in his face.

Stupid cute neighbour.

He needs to change anyway.

———

Loki and Tony hang out under the gazebo, and they share the table.

Every so often Loki will read a line or two aloud and Tony will find himself snickering in response to Loki’s comments on the lines if not the lines themselves. Every now and then Tony tells Loki to look over at his screen as he invests in either the stock market or a round of Tetris.

Around noon Tony asks if Loki would like to sunbathe with him and Loki sees no reason not to join in. He doesn’t have any sunscreen of his own but Tony has plenty and is happy to share.

They talk about their work, and what they’re avoiding (family) in their little getaways from home, just things about life generally.

The sun is going to set soon when Loki asks if Tony would like to spend some time by the water with him.

The two of them spend a good thirty minutes hitting each other with floaties when they aren't sitting around in them, and, despite wading in till their knees, and flinging water at each other, they manage not to get too wet.

They sit in the sand watching the sun set in beautiful streaks of purples and orange as they dry off their feet.

Loki brought two towels in case of such a scenario (which Tony finds very endearing and sweet) and they lay on them as they watch the sky darken to reveal the stars. Loki tries to point out some constellations but Tony is convinced he’s making them up. Maybe he is.

The two of them share sandwiches and chips and chocolates and decide to head up early at around nine.

Tony invites Loki over for a movie, and how can Loki say no? He only just met him, but he’d rather be stuck sharing this bungalow and beach and gazebo with him than have to return home in a few days.

The house is huge, and there is plenty of room on the couch for them to be spaced out, but they choose to share a blanket and stay close because they want to.

Loki hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but he stays late and falls asleep in the middle of a movie and Tony doesn’t mind at all. It’s hard for him to mind when he’s also fallen asleep.

———

Day 4

Tony wakes early.

Not Loki-early, but earlier than usual, because he’s looking forward to spending time with Loki.

Hmm. Maybe it is technicallyyy still Loki-early. Whatever.

Except, Tony wakes up alone and walks down the slope to the gazebo, and finds it empty. A quick scan of the beach also yields no results. Which is concerning, but not overly so. Maybe he just has something else to do today?

Tony gets through a few hours by rotating through Tetris, League of Legends, and Galaga, before he gives in and walks up to Loki’s half of the duplex bungalow.

He bangs his fist on the door and waits.

About a minute later, Loki answers, in green-plaid pants and a vintagey AC/DC band shirt, hair looking only half brushed.

“Are you seriously wearing that kind of shirt as pajamas?”

“Yes. And good... morning?”

“Morning!” Tony cheerily greets in return, before his expression gets less so, “why aren’t you out today?”

“Good afternoon? I... just wasn’t feeling too well, a bad day I guess,” Loki explains, which Tony understands. “And I already over-lived my stay with you yesterday, so I thought you could have the gazebo all to yourself today, since I’m not really in a beach mood anyway.”

And that’s a big no in Tony’s book because no he didn’t go too far or over-stay anything and no he doesn’t owe him anything and no in general because Tony liked spending time with him! He’s fun and caring and Tony’s wondering where this guy was for every other vacation he spent here because Tony considers him a friend!

“That’s sweet,” Tony lies, “I’m not really in a beach mood either.”

“Ah. Would you… like to come in?” Loki asks, hesitant.

“Of course buddy, if my friend wants to stay home I’m sticking with him.”

Loki stands aside, letting Tony into the bungalow that he’s used to owning on his own, but, shockingly enough, doesn’t mind sharing anymore.

“Would it be bad to ask what kind of bad mood?” Tony questions, taking a seat by the TV. It’s off and he doesn’t see a remote.

“A bit, yes, but I value the thought,” Loki answers, checking the kitchen cupboards.

“So what were you doing in here all alone without me, beach buddy?”

“Reading.”

Hmm. Tony considers. They did do what he had wanted yesterday.

“Can I join?” Tony inquires, “if you have any spare books, that is.”

“I didn’t know you could read.” Loki says with half-hearted disgust, walking behind the couch to a small bookshelf.

“Harry Potter, you got me,” Tony states in the driest tone, “Ha ha.”

“I’ve got the second Game of Thrones—“

“There’s a book?!”

“And the series hasn’t updated in years.”

“Bummer, hate when they do that, but at least the show ended?”

“Yeah, badly,” Loki points out. “I’ve got the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“I thought you didn’t like the hobbits being taken to Isengard,” Tony pouts.

“Not when it’s on loop and happening the sixth time in a row,” Loki says, dropping the book into Tony’s lap roughly.

Yeah, okay, the man isn’t feeling well, maybe he should leave? But Tony doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s feeling bad either!

Tony opens the book, skipping through the contents and prologue-y pages. He will enjoy the book and he’ll do it while sitting on the opposite side of the couch because if Loki doesn’t want to lay across and tangle their legs under a blanket that’s up to him. Besides, that’s more an afternoon activity, and Tony isn’t tired at all, so he’s sitting up properly. Which contrasts with Loki’s slouchy leaning-into-the-couch.

“You know, if it’s too quiet, or the book doesn’t interest you, you can just watch something, I won’t be offended.”

“Not so fast, crab-man, I’m doing this to have fun and try something you enjoy, because I like spending time with you, and think that’s fair,” Tony states, and oh sh*t Loki looks devastated. Quick, something fun, something fun, “So I will definitely be trying to read it... at least a bit, before I do anything else… because I may vehemently not-like reading, but I do enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Loki verbosely replies.

Tony tries to figure out what he’s done wrong but Loki’s opened his book up already.

Tony manages to get through the book in about two hours. Which means he didn’t actually read through it, he just tried, and kept skipping to pages further along that looked more interesting. To be fair, there is a lot of exposition and world building that he knows doesn’t matter because it’s not in the movies.

Loki’s been shifting how he’s sitting at twenty minute intervals, but Tony hasn’t moved lest he come off as restless and not loving the book.

“You can put something on,” Loki suggests, having noticed that Tony is done.

“It won’t disturb you?”

“Not if you don’t have it unreasonably high.”

Tony looks around for the remote, and doesn’t see it. “Any idea where the remote is?”

“Eh, it’ll be lying around somewhere. Maybe check the kitchen?”

And so, Tony sets out on a quest to find the remote.

He doesn’t find it.

He looks through every inch of the couch and in every kitchen cupboard but all he finds are pop tarts and pennies.

At some point Loki puts his book aside and decides to watch him look. He’s even smiling a tiny bit which Tony takes for a good sign.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t find the remote.”

“That’s a shame,” Loki says, and he’s definitely smiling, “would be horrible if someone knows where it is.”

“YOU!” Tony says, rounding in on him, depression be damned, he’s been looking everywhere for an hour now! “Where is it?!”

“Wh— why do you think I would know?” Loki says, turning his face away, his arms crossed pretentiously.

“You’re laughing!” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I spend ages looking for this legendary remote and find out you’ve been playing me the entire time” —Tony pokes a finger in the center of his chest for emphasis— “and you’re laughing!”

And okay, it’s a little funny, and Loki’s having fun, so Tony huffs a laugh too.

“I’m not laughing,” Loki tries to say flatly, face turned away, as he clearly tries not to laugh.

Tony being Tony does the only respectable thing in this kind of scenario and jumps onto the couch, straddling Loki, so he can turn his face back towards him.

“Where’s the remote!” Tony yells, to no avail, not even a reaction to having sat on his legs. Is Loki even breathing? His smile is clearly becoming harder to hold…

“Tell me where the remote is” — Tony grabs the thick novel Loki had been reading — “or I’ll take out your bookmark!”

“No!!!” Loki says, trying to grab hold of his book. “Not the bookmark!!! That’s my one weakness! Please, no! Anything but the bookmark!!!”

“Don’t make me do it!! Because I will!!”

Loki chuckles.

“Fine, you win, here” —Loki reaches a hand under the pillow behind him, and holds up the remote.  

Tony snatches it immediately, and gives Loki a peck on the cheek thanks before getting off and going back to his side of the couch.

If Loki looks a little confused about the quick kiss, it’s gone by the time Tony is done flicking through the channels and decides a nature documentary is something they could both enjoy. When Mr Attenborough mentions otters holding hands when they’re happy and Loki asks if he can hold Tony’s hand of course Tony says yes.

Later, when Loki insists on cooking for the two of them he throws together some instant noodles and adds in carrots and peas and egg and mushrooms, and he asks if Tony would like to share the meal down by the beach, he agrees.

“You sure you’re up for this? I don’t mind eating back in the bungalow, and if you’re feeling uncomfortable I’d rather just go back,” Tony makes clear.

“I don’t actually know why I thought staying home would make me feel any better,” Loki says lightly.

“Hey man, sometimes you’ve just gotta stay home, it happens, don’t worry about it,” Tony consoles, carefully going down the sandy grassy slope to the beach, his huge bowl of noodles held in both hands. It smells great. “Besides, focus on the date for now.”

“This isn’t a date, I just asked you out to the beach to eat some comfort food with me.”

“The very definition of my ideal date,” Tony says, listing, “I was invited, there’s comfort food, we’re both already in our sexy pjs, there’s a beach, I think you’re a great friend and we could be more if you wanted, I’ve got my speaker in case we want some romantic classical music, the sunset will happen soon, what more could I want?”

“We also held hands for ages earlier and you kissed my cheek.” Loki winces, “this is totally a date.”

“Sure is.”

“How did I miss that?”

“If it’s any consolation, I was kidding, but you seem on-board, so… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Loki confirms.

“Noodles on a beach is actually one of my secret fantasies,” Tony says, deadpan.

“Well,” Loki suggests, also deadpan, “there’s plenty of space under the gazebo.”

“Table is kinda obstructive,” Tony points out.

“Only if you’re not creative,” Loki counters.

Tony wriggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh.

———

Loki twists the last of his noodles and stabs his last carrot on his fork and puts it in his mouth. He looks into Tony’s bowl, and finds he’s actually finished first.

“You’re an even slower eater than me,” Loki notes aloud.

“Am not!” Tony blubbers out through a mouthful of noodles, “I’m just taking my time to savour it.”

Loki hums, and puts an elbow on the table to watch him finish up.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

Tony slurps up the rest of his food. “Well, now that I’m done, kiss?”

“I was thinking we could stand by the shoreline and get our feet wet, maybe walk up and down the beach a bit…”

“I mean, I’d rather walk up and down you,” Tony says, making a show of looking over Loki, who in turn snickers.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” Tony laughs, “it’s just, walk on the beach, that’s so freakin romantic, yeah I’m up for that.”

And it’s nice knowing that they can still hang out as friends, even if Loki is admittedly also intent on the kissing part.

They leave their bowls and flip flops in a pile in the sand and walk to the shore together.

Tony’s hand is warm in his as they swing their arms gently and just take in the salty air and talk about things; just facts about themselves and stories about life and things they like.

Loki’s not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark and only the night sky and it’s reflection on the water provide any light when he presses a hand under Tony’s chin to tip his face up so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, and Tony— even though Loki finds it hard to believe in the moment —kisses back.

They pull apart, and everything is irrelevant in the face of the happiness they feel in having found each other, even by chance.

They kiss again; slower, deeper, and with an urgency ill-befitting of the time and space they have available.

———

Day 5

All records of the final entry have been [REDACTED] until further notice to maintain the rating of this fic.

It can be recalled that the [REDACTED] information featured notable involvement of local gazebo space not limited to below, above, and/or against the table, various uses of the excessive counters both halves of the rented space, more than banging on doors, and future plans for the continued entanglement of [REDACTED] leg distribution underneath blankets.

The reader is warned not to attempt searching for and/or to develop any interest in a desire to search for [REDACTED] records in future placements.

(The End.)

[fanficks-from-fictives]

TW: CHILD ABUSE

I'm not posting this in D//////////I////D and fi//////cti///ve related tags because of how triggering this could be to some.

-Zimmy

Dib snorted as he woke.

It was still dark outside, and when he glanced to his alrm clock, he saw it was only 11pm- he still had 7 hours left to sleep.

What had woken him?

The thunk of a pebble against his window startled him.

He opened it, looking down.

Zim stood under his window in full disguise, a fistful of pebbles clenched at his side.

"Hi, Dib!" He waved.

"Zim, what are you doing?" Dib was seconds away from closing the window and going back to bed, ignoring Zim.

"I'm bored and want to sleep, but Gir is being too loud. Can I sleep with you?"

"... What?"

"I said I'm bored an-"

"I heard you, but I don't think i understood you. I thought Irkens didn't need to sleep?"

"Long story short, Irkens see sleep as a sign of weakness because we can't control our dreams, so we found ways around it."

"Then why-"

"Because I'm bored."

Dib sighed. "I'll unlock the door." He went to leave, but a weird noise brought him back.

Zim was actually scaling the side of his house- parkor style.

Dib stood, slack-jawed, watching as Zim climbed in through his second story window like it was nothing.

"Did you forget I'm a trained soldier?" Zim laughed once he was fully in the room, closing the window behind him.

"Yeah, actually."

"I'm surprised you're not in the army, yet."

"I'm 12!"

Zim blinked a couple times, counted on his fingers for a moment, then looked up. "And in while I'm 160 in human years, because of how my species ages, I'd be considered around 8 or 10."

And Dib was dumbstruck yet again.

"You're just a kid..."

"And I'm defective, or, in human terms, 'disabled.' Uh, remember when I was all shmoopy about how The Tallest weren't coming to Earth?"

"You're a disabled child soldier?"

"Yes, keep up. This is normal for my species."

"I'm sorry, I just- this is abhorrent to humans."

"I've seen that and I don't understand it. You have such short life spans, children in the army would make it stronger."

"Human children are way less developed that Irken children, I guess..." Dib sat on the bed, head in his hands. "Zim is a child soldier..."

"We're considered too young to start training until we're around 50 human years, if it makes you feel any better?"

"How old would that make you relative to a human?" Dib was dreading the answer.

Zim counted on his fingers again. "3."

"Oh my god..."

"Please don't have a breakdown, I just came here to sleep, not discuss my species' politics." Zim broke into a yawn, and Dib noticed for the first time how tired Zim seemed.

There were circles under his eyes, a slightly darker shade of green than the rest of his skin, his eyes, even with the contacts, a little dull.

Dib sighed. "You're right, sorry."

Zim flopped, face first, into a pillow.

Dib crawled in next to him, wrapping his arms around him.

"What are-"

"I don't know about you, but after you dropped that bomb, I need cuddles."

"What's a 'cuddle'?"

Dib squeezed Zim a little, "this."

"Holding someone?"

"In a kind of loving embrace, yes."

Zim shuffled so he was facing Dib, hugging him back, not saying anything, just holding Dib, and allowing Dib to hold him back.

---

Dib woke next to his alarm going off.

He groaned, emotionally drained, and wondering if he could convince his dad to let him stay home so he could process last night.

He sighed and turned off the alarm, going to wake Zim, only to find him already gone, a note in his place.

'Thanks for letting me sleep here last night, I don't think I've ever slept better in my life!

-Zim'

Dib huffed. Then gasped. He had a hand-written note from Zim! A literal alien!

Well... the hand writing wasn't really anything special, it wasn't in an alien language, and Dib was pretty sure it was written with one of his pens, and was on a page out of his math notebook.

Dang.

He really would have liked to observe Zim writing, up close; he didn't get to see much of it in class.

Too bad.

"Dib! Breakfast!" Professor called from downstairs.

"Coming!" Dib put the note in his alien hunting briefcase, and went down for breakfast. He could talk to Zim more at skool.

[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part iii: what i mean when i say

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 4k

GIF originally posted by @lukhei​

Haewon’s day starts briefly like this – a backache verging on cataclysmic, a phone that is ringing off the hook and a thunderous sizzle from the kitchen that could be an auditory representation of Johnny cooking up a storm for no particular reason on a Saturday morning.

“Johnny Suh, you know you’re not allowed to touch the kitchen as long as I am in the house.” She gripes as she walks out of her bedroom upon washing up.

“It’s my house,” Johnny argues, just as he places a fork and knife on either side of the dish he has prepared for her. “And - you’re welcome. Johnny’s homemade blueberry pancakes.”

“Please, you should be thanking me,” she says, sliding all her hair across one shoulder and digging into the pancakes. “Plus, what if I wanted waffles? That would void your compensation.”

“I can make you waffles later if you want,” Johnny winks. “Although, we can argue that pancakes really don’t deserve such discrimination if waffles aren’t accorded the same breakfast ghettoization - they’re practically made of the same ingredients.”

Haewon studies him with narrowed eyes. “That good, huh?”

“Whaddya mean?” Johnny’s expression turns sheepish.

“Ghettoization?” She returns the question, moving her hair behind her shoulder and smirking, “you’re rambling, it’s written all over your face, you sad sad man-child.”

He jauntily sits himself on the chair in front of her, the grin on his face too pleased to be contrite. “It was good.”

“We really ought to soundproof your room, she literally woke me up-”

The lady in question chooses this opportune moment to make her presence known, sauntering up to Haewon and Johnny as she buckles her watch to her wrist. Haewon’s head whips towards Johnny with glaring eyes, while Johnny discreetly mouths an apology back to her. They had laid down the quintessential rule (the rule that makes all ground rules obsolete) when Haewon had moved in in early 2017 - staying over’s only okay after the fifth date; if you want to have a one-night stand, book yourself a hotel. This is Johnny’s second infraction of the year (not that Haewon is counting, she has too much of a life for that). She hears Johnny’s date of four times stop short in front of them.

“Youngho-ah, who’s this lady and what’s she doing eating your pancakes in her underwear?”

Haewon drops her gaze onto herself as Johnny stands to give the accuser a kiss on the temple. It’s clearly just a camisole that’s in question, though given what Johnny’s lover is planning to wear out of the apartment, it’s sort of audacious of her to bring this up when she’s really giving Haewon a run for her money.

“This is Haewon, baby, my roommate. I grew up with her back in the U.S.”

“Ah,” Said lover reaches her hand out to shake Haewon’s in an oddly formal manner, her coffin nails digging slightly into the back of her hand. Haewon guesses the sigh that emits from her lips right after she studies her has more to do with relief than recognition.

Shrugging internally, Haewon sits back down to finish her breakfast as she hears Johnny and his partner-she-can’t-give-a-name-to-‘cause-Johnny-said-no-labels kiss noisily and bid goodbye, as she eyes said partner’s figure. Yeap, Johnny’s definitely a titties man.

“It was a crime of passion, your honor!” Johnny dramatically pleads once the door shuts as Haewon shakes her head vigorously and mutters, “that’s not how you use it”.

“You’re cleaning the apartment the whole of next month,” Haewon insists, before her eyes widen as a thought flits into her head, “oh my God, you guys didn’t do it on the couch, did you-”

“Of course not! I’m not an animal!” Johnny pretends to be scandalized, “and, come on. It was 2am. I couldn’t kick her out of bed - what can I say, I’m a gentleman. A modern romantic.”

“I think you catastrophically misinterpret the word ‘romantic’.”

Despite the inflection, Johnny is, one-hundred percent, a hopeless romantic - something Haewon quickly learnt after witnessing the poor man get dumped over the phone a while after she had relocated to Seoul. Johnny believes in the concept of soulmates, the proverbial ‘one’, and an ancient concept that most people would currently refer to as ‘destiny’. The manifestation of his soulmate pursuit is countless dates and relationships, grandiose expressions of love and a penchant for serenading his lovers with roses from their windows - a gesture not every Korean woman appreciates especially at 11pm on a Thursday night.

“I think I’m gonna marry her, Haewon,” Johnny tells her now, with a sparkle in his eye, “I think she's the one.”

Haewon looks at him disbelievingly. “You’ve been on four dates, John.”

“I know, but it feels so right, you know?” He smiles softly in a moment of clairvoyance, standing up to clear their plates. “Speaking of marrying someone, isn’t there something you need to do on Monday?”

Haewon rolls her eyes. Subtlety has never been his strong suit.

There’s a reason Johnny has been calling Monday D-day for the past week, and repeatedly using phrases that border on annoying such as ‘it’s go time’ and ‘let’s get it’. Monday would mark the return of a highly anticipated Kim Doyoung, and Johnny is adamant that Haewon should tell Doyoung, especially since Inhee has not confessed about what she's done.

“Isn’t it possible that she might want to tell him face-to-face?”

“If it was me,” Johnny straddles the chair in mock confrontation, balancing his arms on the seat. “If this was me, would you be saying something so naïve?”

“But it’s not you-”

“If the conditions were the same, but it was me instead of Doyoung, you know you would tell me in a heartbeat. And I would appreciate it, Haewon, just as he would.”

“You’re not doing this for yourself,” he looks at Haewon with a seriousness that silences her. “Don’t beat yourself up over something you have no reason to. You’re doing it for Doyoung.”

“The moment he reaches work, you march into his office, and you tell him truthfully what you saw. No one can accuse you of anything when you’re just being truthful.”

There’s a sign on the wall at the far right corner of the office that says “There’s no room for losers”. It’s a signature Fulworth saying, especially when things get tough at work. 

Haewon has never felt particularly perturbed by it until now. She can almost hear the enunciation of the word ‘losers’ in his low, gruff voice.

Unlike Johnny’s prediction, Haewon’s will isn’t the only thing stopping her from talking to Doyoung about his fiancée when Monday comes. The issue turns out to be a lot less 1980s-movie-dramatic than they had expected – a case of timing.

Doyoung has been in and out of meetings since he entered the office after lunch.

It’s not even like Haewon has been systematically avoiding him. Doyoung barely had a chance to say hi to her and update her about the situation at Bertsman when he had been whisked away by a very anxious Lee Donghyuck, who had been held in trepidation for the last two weeks due to the declining sales figures. Haewon had laughed, gotten back to the copy she had been working on for Cho Young Jun’s book press release, her stomach lurching at the thought of what she had to do later.

There's no room for losers, the neat cursive print stares back at her from the wall.

It’s only hours later, when the sky has turned pitch black and the hour hand on the clock has pointed to ten, that Haewon begrudgingly creaked her joints into motion as she made her way to the Managing Editor’s office, cursing Johnny and all that he stood for as a person.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s lips breaks into a smile and stands up suddenly, with only the harsh light from the desk lamp illuminating his face. “I thought I told you to leave at six, I don’t even know when I can leave the office…”

“Doyoung works late every night. We hardly spend much time in the same room anymore. We don’t even talk anymore, about our lives and our work.”

“Boss, you just got back late last night. You should rest.” She tries, “and, well, your fiancée might be waiting up…”

“It’s okay, Inhee understands,” Doyoung laughs, “besides, I sort of have to undo literally everything the Bertsman employees have done. That’s what I’ve been saying, you can’t trust any one of their employees, they don’t do things the way we do,” he smirks.

Haewon smiles softly at him, even if he cannot see, his eyes trailing after the lines on the paper in front of him.

“Ah, but what can I do? I’m just a worker ant.” He flops his arms around, as if mimicking an actual worker ant.

This action doesn’t bring Haewon laughter as she had expected. Instead, her heart feels like it’s been wrung, the sudden tightening in her chest inexplicable. She doesn’t know if it’s a biological reaction, but tears have started to fill her eyes, and there seems to be nothing else she can do but blink them back.

This is the Doyoung that Haewon has fallen in love with, all five foot ten of him, gummy smile and square shoulders, a kind boss and a workaholic - but how real her feelings are doesn’t and cannot negate how ill-placed the same feelings are in their situation. Here he is, looking at her, grinning at her, as her vision blurs. In that moment, she swears she hears something in her break; a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem.

“Oh by the way, you really need to get back to me on the wedding,” he laughs breathily, “I really need that RSVP-”

“I can’t go.” The words leave her before she realizes, breath seeming to return to her lungs temporarily. “I… I can’t attend your wedding.”

His face falls.

“Oh, you have something that day?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No, I…” She looks down, licking her lips and inhaling shakily. “I can't attend your wedding, because…”

“Haewon.”

“Because… Because I like you.”

She hears more than sees his reaction, the pen in his hand slipping through his fingers and thudding gently onto the carpeted floor. “Haewon.”

“Because I like you,” her voice is still shaky, but there’s a part of her that’s calmer than ever before. “I can’t attend your wedding.”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, but Doyoung’s expression remains unreadable. She feels her jaw start to quiver, and clenches down on it.

“I like you, Doyoung. I like you so much that I can’t sleep, can’t think. I like you, I want to be with you, but you know what I also want?” She lets out a shaky breath, “I want you to be happy…”

It’s not like a leaky faucet, or a dam breaking. Instead, it’s like the little Dutch boy had pulled his finger out of her chest, because suddenly everything inside her is spilling out at once.

“But I see you everyday,” she shuts her eyes, and the tears flow at their will, “I don’t… know… what to do. Believe me, if I could will these feelings away, I would. I don’t want to feel so pathetic, I don’t want to like you like this.

“But I’ve also realized that I can’t be that… person, who stands on the sidelines and watches as you marry someone else - I can’t, I couldn’t do that to myself. I’m sorry. This is so out of line and you probably don’t want to hear this.” She inhales shakily, shutting her eyes as she pauses. “I’m sorry for telling you this… I just… I just needed you to know.”

Doyoung looks at her as if in a daze, his own lips quivering, until almost immediately, his head falls and he inhales sharply, as if giant invisible scissors had cut off his marionette strings.

“Why… Why now.”

Her eyes widen. “What do you-”

“Why are you telling me this, Haewon?” Doyoung looks at her like she’s missing a point, like she’s the most breakable thing in the world. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Her eyes sting with fresh tears. She can feel something rising in her throat - a sob, a scream - but she bites it back, shutting her eyes so tightly there are almost tears that refuse to escape. She hates herself for crying, for showing any weakness here, for thinking she ever had a shot with someone like him.

There's no room for losers, but in that moment, she can’t help but feel like she has become one.

It’s Friday, finally the end of the week.

She softly clicks the pen in her hand open and close, drifting in and out as Huang Renjun drones on and on about the press kits they are planning to prepare for the media and why the Marketing Department needed more of the budget to be allocated to them.

This meeting has lasted way too long, and it feels even longer with Doyoung right next to her, the sleeve of his jacket inches away from hers. He's scribbling down notes diligently, making her existence in the meeting obsolete - it’s been like this the whole week, and Haewon is exhausted. She knows what Doyoung is doing, how he’s taking meeting minutes down like someone who doesn’t have an assistant so he doesn’t have to ask her for them later. Despite the promise of putting what happened behind them on Monday, she’s entirely aware that things will never be the same again.

The envelope sitting in her bag is still warm, its contents only freshly printed this morning. She vaguely hears Kim Jungwoo asking a question before all eyes are suddenly turned towards her.

All, but Doyoung's.

She looks around the room, befuddled, while feeling Yuta’s foot nudge hers gently, presumably to get her to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally says.

“Manager Kim asked if you had too much on your plate,” the timid intern next to Kim Jungwoo speaks up, “and if you were willing to undertake more of the comms with Cho Young Jun himself.”

She opens her mouth, surprised, and turns to Kim Jungwoo.

“As we were saying, before you spaced out on us,” he laughs good-naturedly, “we let him read the copy you wrote and he likes it. He specified that he wants to work with you.”

Haewon’s gaze drops to her notebook, where a messily scrawled question blinks back at her. Today or next week? She blinks, momentarily realizing that the decision presented to her now accounted for more in the future than she had thought.

“I… That would be a great opportunity for me, thank you.”

Kim Jungwoo grins. “Don’t thank me, your boss told the boy that you were highly supportive of his work. Of course he would be excited to work with you.”

She turns towards Doyoung, a wide-eyed Doyoung, a Doyoung who only looks back at her now, his eyes not betraying any emotion.

There’s something about placing the envelope on his desk that makes it so official, a breath of fresh air that comes from a gesture that’s so unabashedly melodramatic and passé. Doyoung eyes the envelope warily, clearly this was not something he had imagined.

“Why is it… addressed to me? Why isn’t it in an email?” Doyoung drops his glasses onto his desk, pressing his fingers gently against his eyelids. “Why… What is this, Haewon?”

“I just…” She licks her lips. “I just wanted to make sure you received it, is all.”

Doyoung looks at her for a moment, then gets up and shuts the door of his office, before clicking on the button below his desk, rendering the glass office translucent.

“Tell me, Haewon, what is this about? Is it because of Monday?”

She winces, remembering the state of mess she had reduced herself to that night. The only thing more pathetic than confessing to someone who’s engaged, is confessing to someone who’s engaged while crying.

“No, boss, of course not. I thought we agreed to put it behind us.”

“I thought we did too,” he says, sighing and standing with his hands on his waist. “Then what’s this about? I mean, do you want… a raise? What can I-”

“No no no, please don’t think that way. I applied for a Literary Arts Masters’ at Brown University,” Doyoung’s remains bewildered. “I want to be a writer, and, I want to study for it.”

Doyoung inhales shakily. “I mean, I know you wanted to write, but… You should have told me about this. I would’ve written you a letter of recommendation…”

“Well I got in,” she shrugs and smiles, “and… I want to do it. I’ll be admitted in the fall, so I’m moving soon.”

It’s almost like she can see the gears shifting in Doyoung’s head, the mental calculations as apparent. “Is that what you wanted to tell me on Monday? When you came into my office, is that the, well,” he licks his lips, “more technical reason why you can’t come to my wedding?”

Not entirely, she thinks. “Well, it’s one of them.”

Doyoung settles himself back into his chair, absentmindedly rearranging the stationery on his desk. “I don’t want a new assistant.”

Her heart sinks. “I know you’re stressed. I’m sorry, and… this feels irresponsible, that I didn’t tell you this earlier. Thing is, I didn’t really believe I would get in, and I got my letter so late, so now I only have the next three months…” She pauses, realizing that none of this should be important in the discussion. “That’s why I’m giving you a month’s notice instead of the required two weeks, I’m sorry that this is what I can only leave you with, but I want to help as much as I can. I swear, boss, I’ll get handovers done as best as I can, whether the recruitment is internal or external, I’ll make sure the transition is as smooth as possible for you-”

“No, I mean…” Doyoung stands up, the pinstripes of his suit bouncing against the light as he does, and walks slowly towards Haewon, standing right in front of her.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

If there's anything she'll miss, it's how Doyoung always leaves her breathless. The sincerity in his eyes twinkling like unshed tears, the way he just looks softly at her like this, his lips pursed tightly and making the small, almost unnoticeable scar by the corner of his lips more prominent. This is the Doyoung that makes her heart soar, an unspoken tenderness dancing across his features. But with this Doyoung also comes an unmistakable truth glaring right back at her.

“No one is irreplaceable, Doyoung,” she starts, a lump rising in her throat, “especially not me. And I think it’s clear that this week has proven that we are no longer able to work together properly because of my feelings and the awkwardness that it has caused.”

“I was trying to give you space-”

“I don’t need space, Doyoung!”

“What was I supposed to say? What am I supposed to say, Haewon? I’m engaged!”

He looks at her for a long time, then sighs and turns away exasperatedly, tears darting in his eyes.

And there it is - the bubble that has popped, the pink elephant in the room. Because the truth is, from start to finish, as selfish and morally repugnant as it is, Haewon had foolishly hoped for a future with this man somehow in some way, even when it had never been possible.

“You’re right,” Haewon feels her eyes sting, but she has promised herself that she is not going to cry in front of Doyoung ever again. They aren’t close enough for that.

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry, I don't know what I was expecting, why I said what I said.” She shakes her head, attempting to breathe again.

“Besides, your engagement isn’t the only thing standing in the way of anything happening between us.”

Doyoung looks up immediately. “What do you mean by that?”

Haewon winces and swallows, unwilling to spell it out. “I mean, you don’t… feel the same way, at all.”

There comes a point when things are undeniable and can't be hidden any longer, even from yourself.

“I never should have told you about it,” her voice comes out as a whisper this time, unintentionally intimate.

“I’m sorry - even with everything that I said that day, it only occurred to me after, how truly stupid and inappropriate it was… in the office, no less.” Doyoung begins to shake his head, but she continues. “I don't have an excuse for it, I’m sorry - but I swear I’m not… for the lack of a better word, punishing you or anyone else with my resignation. Even before telling you, I was bent on moving overseas for the degree. So Doyoung, you really don’t have to feel guilty or anything - you don’t owe me anything, I shouldn’t have said anything.

“At the same time… The chance for me to pursue my dream is too rare to give up on.

“You’ve done so well before I came into your life, you’re gonna be okay.”

Doyoung averts his gaze away once again, putting his hands into his pockets, and alternating between resting his weight on his left and right foot.

“You’re wrong, you know, you’ve never been more wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

He finally looks up, his eyes filled with sadness enough to keep Haewon from taking a step out of his office. Outside, phones are ringing and people are talking, noisy and continuous and completely unaware. But here, there is a Doyoung who looks at her like she could break easily, as he contemplates whether or not the next words have to be said, if at all.

“You said no one is irreplaceable, but you’re irreplaceable to me.”

It’s finally down to the last week of her work - and a part of Haewon feels guilty to admit that it is a relief.

This is what Doyoung and Haewon has been reduced to - two people who would rather send each other emails than talk face-to-face, even if it’s about work. On the bright side - if there is one - the diminished duties mean that Haewon has been given ample time to interview, recruit and train Doyoung’s new assistant - a dogged 25-year-old fresh graduate with a double major in Journalism and Communications who has an unhealthy obsession with cars, whom the younger estrogen-infused female interns label “daddy material”.

“Ready?” Johnny smiles as he shoves his keys in his pants pocket.

She slides her bag across her shoulder and looks at him up and down. “Johnny, you’re not ready.”

“Oh right! Shit,” Johnny mumbles to himself, rushing to his room to get his shirt.

It’s 8.25am, which means that Johnny’s definitely going to be late, since he’ll drop Haewon off at her office first, but Johnny doesn’t really seem to care. She laughs to herself, picking up her phone just as a message notification chimes.

Haewon, I’m so sorry I can’t tell you this myself, but I will be on personal leave for the entire week. I know you’re mostly done with handovers and training Jeno, but I’ll need you to hold the fort for this last week - just check your email, you’ll understand everything. I’m so sorry I can’t be here for your last week. Thank you.

Personal leave? What kind of emergency would-

“Haewon!” Johnny jogs out of his room, his phone and shirt in his hands. “Did you know?”

His eyes are wide with shock, his mouth open. He swallows, taking in Haewon’s equally baffled expression.

“I just got a call from my Mom. The wedding’s off…”

xx

w/n: dear friends, please do not zone out in meetings. it doth not helpeth thee.

also, johnny is a giant teddy bear

come scream at me!! here :-)

[zanesgirlfriend]

History Repeats | Jeff Wittek

2k follower special 💜

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for all the love and support, I've been working on this for a while and decided to make it a special thing for hitting 2k ahh but thank yall for bearing with me through all my little breaks and late uploads and stuff even tho I'm literally a nobody so thank yall okok I'm done pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.2k

Triggers: Cheating, swearing, stuff like that ya know

Special shout out to @vlouge-squad for helping me edit this!!

_____

The heat of dancing bodies wrapped around Jeff like a blanket. A bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose as he forced himself through the crowd. He nodded to the bartender as he sat on a creaky barstool, wondering if he was suddenly too old to go out to clubs like this.

Y/n was thinking the same thing, no idea that her ex boyfriend was a few seats down from her. She hadn't seen Jeff since the day he left New York. Promising to call her when he landed, only to block her number and never speak to her again. She wasn't mad anymore. They'd had their fair share of fights, breakups and makeups, and they knew long distance wasn't going to work.

She wouldn't've even noticed him if it wasn't for her roommate Katy. They'd played the same game every time they went out, giving people a job and a backstory and a silly name, and it was Katy's turn.

"Oh fuck he's hot." She attempted to subtly point Jeff out to y/n. "Um, Brad, twenty-five, Male model, from Oklahoma. Got his start modeling for billboards."

"Wrong." Her words sounded playful but really they had a lot of meaning. She scanned Jeff's body, his face, his hair, as she corrected Katy. "He's a Jeff, twenty-nine, probably the dead body in the background of Law and Order, cuts hair on the side of his shitty acting career, from New York."

"O-M-G you're right." Katy laughed as she continued to eye the man.

"Did you just say O-M-G out loud? Maybe you should chill on the White Russian's." She took Katy's glass and slid it away from them before guiding her slightly drunk friend away from the bar. Katy was highly buzzed at best, but y/n didn't want Jeff to have the chance to notice her.

She was distracted the rest of the night, busy thinking of the very first time she saw Jeff. It was like history was repeating itself.

It was a cold night in New York. The first snowfall of the year. Y/n wasn't prepared and had nothing but a long-sleeved shirt on. She blamed this on her friends dog, who'd incidentally stolen her phone and chewed through it like candy. She couldn't check the weather, and nobody'd told her it was going to snow.

She shivered, her arms folded over one another, tight to her chest in attempt to keep her torso warm. She was walking home, not willing to spend her rent money on a cab to her apartment six blocks away.

"Do you need a ride?" He pulled up next to her, his head hanging out the window. She wasn't going to take a ride from a stranger, especially at night. She watched his breath form clouds as it hit the cool air.

"No, thank you." She nodded and continued walking. He drove alongside her slowly.

"Look, I'm not gonna kidnap you, I just don't want you to freeze to death."

She took a moment to really look at the guy. She was cold, and didn't really enjoy walking alone. His eyes looked kind and his hair flopped in such a way that made her trust him. But not enough to get in the car. "Even if you were gonna kidnap me, I don't think you'd tell me. Really, I'm fine."

He sighed and she wondered what he was doing as he popped his head back in the window. He took his sweatshirt off and held it out the window.

"Take it."

"No, I can't." She wanted to take it, but she felt bad. "It's yours."

"And now it's yours. Just take it." So she did. It smelled like expensive cologne and it was fairly warm from his body heat.

"Thank you." She smiled. He returned a grin as he drove off.

The memories made her smile. Katy noticed how bubbly she became as they took an Uber home. "What got into you?" She nudged y/n with a teasing tone.

"I just remembered some things that made me happy, that's all."

Later that night, y/n woke up in a cold sweat. She was hugging her pillow and all of her blankets were on the floor. Whispered words tickled her throat as she spoke.

"Jeff."

♤♡◇♧

They say that everybody in L.A. goes to therapy. Whether it be that they actually have a problem needing fixed, or just need someone trustworthy to talk to. In y/n's case, it was the latter. Katy was a blabbermouth, and to be fair, she wasn't very good at solving problems. She had too many problems of her own.

"Something about seeing him was so surreal. It's like I can't unseen him."

"And how did seeing him again make you feel?" Dr. R. asked her, posing her pen near the top of her notepad.

"Angry, and then happy, and then sad." She paused, rethinking her words. "More like I was upset over breaking up, well, the way we broke up, and then I missed him."

"Do you still miss him now?" She asked without looking up from her notepad.

"I could lie and say that I don't, but I dreamt about him last night, so I think I do." Y/n brought her knees up to her chest, sitting in a comfortable ball in the oversized chair. Dr. R. noticed her change in position. She wrote a few more things down, circling something.

"What happened in your dream?" She finally looked up at y/n.

She smiled before answering. "I usually never remember my dreams, but this one was different. It's not that I can't remember it all, it's that everything was a blur. We were just laying together. Cuddling in bed. Then everything was going in slow motion. He kissed me, and it was so comforting. And then it all went blurry again until he got up and left." She sighed. "And that's when I woke up."

Dr. R. flipped a page or two back in her notes, putting a dot next to something y/n mentioned before. "When you two broke up, it wasn't mutual, correct?"

"No, it wasn't." She hugged her knee's a little tighter.

"I think your dream was bringing those feelings back. Cuddling with him was how you felt before he left, and then when he left, you probably woke up upset, didn't you?"

Y/n nodded. "I'm more upset now that I didn't talk to him at the bar." She picked at the loose string on the cuff of her sleeve. "I wonder if he would even recognize me."

"He will."

On the drive home y/n thought about Dr. R., how she was more like a wise old lady sitting on a porch at the end of your street. Of course, she had her therapist moments, but at the end of the day she was just a nice person to talk to.

She then started to think more about Jeff. He's in L.A. Did he finally make it as an actor? She hadn't seen him in anything. Before she got out of her car she whipped out her phone.

Jeff Wittek

Millions of results in seconds. His Instagram, Twitter, YouTube. Millions of followers. A past girlfriend, clips of him on various TV shows. The name David Dobrik seems attached to the most recent things.

She sat in her car for thirty minutes, obsessing over him. Over everything he's involved in.

She finds the Dobrik kid and laughs. His videos are hilarious, and he seems to be one of Jeff's current friends.

If only she could find a way to get in touch.

She didn't want to be creepy, obsessive, or a virtual stalker, but she couldn't help but see what Jeff's been up to.

By the end of her internet search, she couldn't help but feel she was doing something wrong. She felt dirty.

She deleted her search history, and went inside to take a shower.

♤♡◇♧

It'd been weeks. Months even. She'd stopped thinking about him shortly after her session with Dr. R., but he still appeared in her dreams every once in a while. She figured if she ever did see him again, it would be in passing at a party or another bar like it was before. She never expected to see him at the top of a mountain.

Katy was on a new health kick, and that meant dragging y/n along with her. They'd been to a cycling class five times this week, and y/n wanted to do something else.

"Let's go on a hike." She told Katy, reminiscing the days back home where she would hike in Latourette Park.

They found a hiking spot right outside of Los Angeles. "Do you want to go the easy path or the hard one?" Y/n asked, feeling like she could do both.

"I ate cheese fries last night, so let's do the hard one." Katy took a left onto the hard path and y/n rolled her eyes as she followed.

They saw a group of men and a dog up ahead, but didn't pay much attention as they were gossiping about people they knew from work and Katy's recent ex-boyfriend. The path was harder than y/n expected, and she was dripping with sweat by the time they'd gotten halfway up.

"We're never doing this again." Katy panted as she wiped her forehead. Y/n laughed.

"No, we need to do it more often."

"Why? This is torture enough!" Katy pulled on her ponytail, making it a bit tighter.

"The more we do it, the easier it'll get, come on." She pressed forward, dragging Katy up the mountain.

They noticed the guys once again. They were stood at the top of the trail, looking over L.A. and undoubtedly taking a break. It wasn't until the girls drew nearer to them that y/n noticed Jeff.

"Can we go back now? I'm tired." Y/n asked Katy, not wanting to see Jeff ever again.

"What? No! We're so close to the top, and there's cute guys up there." Katy grabbed y/n's wrist forcefully, dragging her towards the top.

"Ow, Katy!" She screamed. "Fine, we'll go." Y/n trudged up to the top of the trail, rubbing her wrist the whole time. She'd never thought of Katy as someone to use force, but she couldn't expect less based on the sexual stories they'd shared in the past.

The closer they got, the more attention they got. Jeff was the last one to turn around.

"It's you." He whispered, smiling. He'd forgotten all of the negative feelings of their past relationship. The familiarity of y/n's face brought an intense emotion to Jeff's chest.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't feel the same, but something about the way he said "It's you." reminded her of how they found eachother the first time.

She was doing a typical walk of shame. It was six in the morning. Her heels hanging loosely from her fingers as she tugged on her cocktail dress. She should've planned a bit better, or at least stored emergency cash in her bra for a cab. The party she went to wasn't far from her apartment, but walking two miles with a hangover isn't ideal. She was halfway there. Ignoring the stares and mutterings from strangers was harder the more she woke up, and she just wanted to be home.

"Hey! It's you!" The familiar man rolled down his window once again. This time he was laughing.

"Hey." She smiled a bit and her head hung loosely from her neck. "Did you want your sweatshirt back?"

"No, you keep it. Did you want a ride this time?" The way he smiled made her trust him. If he was going to kidnap her, he would've done it the first time.

"Yeah, sure." She hopped in the passengers seat and told him where she lived.

"Have a long night?" He asked her as he pressed his foot lightly on the gas. He would usually speed down this road, but he wanted as much time with her as possible.

"You could say that." She looked down at her lap, not sure of his intentions, before she realized she didn't even know his name. "I'm y/n." She introduced herself, studying his brown hair and clean shaven beard.

"Jeff." He nodded slightly as he turned into the apartment complex.

"Y/n." His voice snapped her back into reality.

"Jeff." She said, as if she hadn't been thinking about him for the past month.

"You know him?" Katy asked, remembering his face from the bar that night.

"Yeah, she knows me." Jeff walked a bit closer to them, a small dog waddling after him. "This is Nerf." He introduced his dog to Katy, already seeing that he'd need to distract her to be able to talk to y/n. It worked, Katy bent down and baby talked the little guy as Jeff pulled y/n into a hug.

"Jeff." She repeated. She didn't know if she wanted to hug him, or wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"What're you doin' out here?" His accent was still as strong as ever. Y/n's seemed to fade for the most part as soon as she was out of Staten Island, but Katy still made fun of her for the way she pronounced 'coffee.'

"I have a job out here, production assistant." Her smile seemed hard and uninviting, but she was starting to warm up to him again.

"Hey, give me your number, maybe we can catch up sometime?" He noticed his friends were itching to leave so he rushed things along.

"It's the same as it's been for years. You probably still have it memorized." She waved him off with towards his friends, wondering if he actually still remembered it.

"Who was that?" Todd asked Jeff as he fell back into the group.

"Just an ex-girlfriend." He said, attempting to remember her number.

"Can I get your number? So if you need a ride again you can just call." Jeff was smooth as she held a hand on the door to his car.

"My phone's broken." She said. Jeff thought it was a lie at first, but something in her eyes told him that it was true.

"That's okay, we'll be seeing eachother again." He laughed a bit as her brows knitted together.

"How do you know that?" Her hand landed on her hip, heels still dangling from her fingers. She watched as Jeff turned off his car and got out.

"This is my apartment building too."

And so they saw eachother again. And again. And again. And one day she got a new phone.

"I don't have a pen, can you memorize it?" She asked Jeff on their third date. He'd left his phone at a friends house, but didn't want to forget to grab her number.

"I can try." He flashed his famous smile as she repeated the numbers. He made up a little song to remember it.

"What are you humming?" Todd asked Jeff as they continued down the trail back to their car.

"Just an old song I know."

♤♡◇♧

Dr. R. didn't think seeing Jeff again was a good idea, but she didn't explicitly state that y/n shouldn't go. So they met for coffee.

Jeff was a few minutes early, already sipping on an Americano when y/n walked into the small café. The smell of fresh coffee tickled her nose as she walked over to Jeff.

"I got you your favorite." He pushed a cup towards her as he studied her face. She looked a lot different than when they used to date. She was more mature, and you could see it in her eyes. There'd been a big change in her life, maybe it was Jeff leaving her, but he wanted to find out.

Her lips spread into a small smile as she tasted her favorite drink. It had the right amount of sugar and flavor and cream, and she made a mental note of that.

Her chair was a bit uncomfortable, the metal back cold on her shoulder blades, so she sat up straight, probably looking like she was trying too hard to present herself as perfect.

"I'm sorry." He admitted, it was the right thing to say.

"I'd hope so." Her voice was quiet, she felt small compared to him.

Awkward silence ensued, but neither of them had much to say. She looked down at her lap, but he bore his eyes into her. He missed her, and he wanted her to be his once again.

Just like that they were back. It was as if something clicked into place and they picked up right where they left off.

♤♡◇♧

He was so familiar. Everything about him was exactly the same, but also extraordinarily different. They fell in love all over again, spending nights just studying eachother, and taking pop quizzes on how much they remembered from the first time around.

It was 2am, they stayed up a little late, smoking some weed and playing cards.

"Why do you have all the puppy toes?" Jeff slammed his cards on the bed, frustrated that he was losing by a mile.

"Oh my God, I haven't heard that in years." She glanced over her straight. Every card was in the suit of clubs, and she smiled as she looked back up at Jeff.

"Probably because I'm the only person that calls clubs 'puppy toes'."

I remember when you first said it, I couldn't stop laughing.

"My grandma taught me how to play cards, but I could never remember the suits." Jeff started as y/n dealt. They power went out and they had nothing better to do, so why not play cards?

"What'd she make up a song or something?" She laughed, placing the deck to her left and flipping a card over before picking up her hand.

"Well the diamonds and hearts were easy, but she called the spades 'spearheads' and the clubs 'puppy toes,' you know, 'cause they look like little paw prints."

Y/n burst out into a fit of laughter, the words 'puppy toes' exiting her mouth between wheezes.

"Why is that so funny?" Jeff couldn't help but laugh, her happiness was contagious.

"Because she could've called them 'paws' or 'paw prints' but instead she called them 'puppy toes!'"

She was wheezing all over again at the memory. "I still dont understand why it's so funny." Jeff felt comfortable, like they were reliving old times, sitting forever in a happy memory.

Her laughter died down and they were stuck for a moment, staring at eachother.

"I love you, all over again, more than the first time." Jeff's stare bore into her eyes. His words usually sounded flat, perfect to go along with his dry, deadpan sense of humor, but he sounded real this time. He sounded more human.

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you." Y/n replied, dropping the cards, a pile of puppy toes laying between them as she kissed him. Soon she moved, climbing into his lap, sloppy yet fulfilling kisses occupied their faces. Jeff's hands did most of the work, tickling her lightly as they slid up her thighs, around the curves of her ass. His long fingers hooked onto her shirt as his hands continued upward. They disconnected for a moment as her shirt passed over her head.

Jeff leaned back, bringing her with him. Her shorts rode up as she grinded on him, feeling him grow beneath her.

She missed the feeling of his skin on hers, so much that she was glued to him. Bare. Skin on Skin. No protection as her chest stuck to his. He felt her breasts bouncing as he moved her hips up and down on his own.

They both felt cloudy, a nice fog through their brains, the weed channeling all focus to the sensations shared between them.

They were loud. Screaming, moaning, happy, euphoric.

She'd later tell her therapist that it was the best sex she'd ever had, hell the best sex they'd ever had. Her therapist would congratulate her, not really knowing what else to say.

They finished together. Ending up as a heaping pile of skin and juices. They breathed for a moment.

Holding onto eachother like they'd never been held before.

Ten minutes later they were holding hands, naked, and staring at the ceiling. They felt so vulnerable, yet so comfortable with eachother.

"I'm sober now." Jeff confessed. "I know we just smoked weed, but I haven't drank alcohol in months." He was already looking at her when she turned to him.

"Really?"

"Really."

It wasn't the pillow talk she expected, but it was something she needed to hear. She immediately trusted him, and felt like her choice in getting back together with him was justified.

But she couldn't help but think of the first time they broke up.

He blamed it on being drunk. A picture from some anonymous number depicted Jeff face fucking some random chick. Y/n was furious. She felt her heart shatter for the first time when she saw the picture. She knew it was real, and it was recent. He'd just gotten that new tattoo, it was still scabbed over in the picture. She'd put ointment on it for him just a few minutes prior to recieving the horrid image.

She was speechless. Having nothing yet everything to say to him.

Still, he blamed it on being drunk.

They were apart for three weeks. She hoped he had enough time to get it out of his system before he begged for her forgiveness. She missed him, and reluctantly took him back.

That was the first time.

"Thank you for telling me that." She squeezed his hand lightly before getting up to pee.

Laying on his chest, she realized why she'd missed him all this time. It was the tiny little things that made her happy. She made some stupid joke, referencing an old inside joke that only they knew about. The way she could feel his laughter through his chest. She wouldn't even mind being deaf as long as she could still feel his laughter, feel him. Everything was how it was supposed to be.

♤♡◇♧

Things were perfect for a while.

Katy had her own minor crush on Jeff, but y/n trusted her, and knew she just thought he was hot, nothing more. Y/n loved Jeff's friends. They were hilarious and they made her feel like she'd been friends with them for years.

They welcomed her to the group with open arms, as did Jeff's fans. His fans didn't know what to think of her at first, and she'd seen her name tossed around on a few gossip sites, but overall everything was good.

Things were perfect until they weren't.

♤♡◇♧

She always had a deep-seated feeling of unease when she wasn't with Jeff. She trusted him, and his soberness, but there was still that fear. Fear, sitting inside of her chest, like a child hiding from its mom in the coat racks of a department store.

She knew the kid was there, and that it would come out eventually.

The fear always dissipated when she was with Jeff, when they were just hanging out alone. She had nothing to worry about.

They'd been back together for three months. Three wonderful months of laughter and learning and loving and sex.

Jeff surprised her, a bouquet of flowers and a loving note telling her to be ready by seven.

She got dressed up, smiling to herself in the mirror before answering the door. Jeff kissed her and took her out to dinner.

It was lovely, a cute little date at a fancy restaurant, and time alone with her boyfriend. Jeff was expecting sex after their date. Y/n was too, but their plans got thrown off after dinner. The new guy at the restaurant hadn't cleaned her protein properly, leaving her and a handful of other patrons to take off work for the next week. Food poisoning was a bitch.

"I don't feel good." She told Jeff. He took her home, promising to stay with her and make sure she was okay.

She puked her guts out, drank the juice he gave her, and passed out in her bed. He could feel her sickness in the air, and did not want to sleep next to her, but he promised he would stay, so he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and headed out onto the couch in the living room.

"Hey." He sat next to Katy who was watching some girly movie on the TV.

"Did you get in a fight?" She pointed at the pillow and chuckled.

"No, she just doesn't feel good." He smiled. He'd never spent much time with Katy, but he did know she was a simple creature. She lived and breathed Starbucks and glitter, and he couldn't handle too much of her at once. She was gorgeous, though, he couldn't deny that.

It was late, and something about the hours between morning and night when the world is quiet just changes people. They get sloppy, don't think straight. They feel free, almost a little too free, like anything the do could be done without consequences.

It was almost like being drunk on freedom.

Y/n woke up to her stomach grumbling once again. Not in the 'Hey! I'm hungry!' kind of way, but as if her stomach was mad at her. She sat up and pulled her sweat-soaked shirt from her body. She felt horrible.

She wandered out into the living room and towards the kitchen of their small apartment, wondering if there was any Pepto Bismol laying around. She opened the fridge, the light inside causing her to squint.

The three-sided bottle was lodged in the door and she grabbed it, quickly chugging the small amount of pink liquid left. As she closed the fridge she heard something. Giggling.

Her head whipped around towards the couch, noticing Jeff's absence. She wondered for a moment if he left, but his phone was on the table.

She'd forgotten all about her food poisoning as she creeped up to the door of Katy's room.

Her breathing stopped as she attempted to be as quiet as possible.

"Jeff!" She heard Katy giggle, a little moan following it.

"Shh, you're gonna wake her up!"

Y/n stood there for a long time. Hearing every skin slap and giggle and moan. Random word seemed to stick in her head as she listened.

Condom. Jeff. She never has to know. I'm gonna cum.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, or when she started crying, but eventually she was back in her bed, pretending to sleep as Jeff peeked in to check on her.

Her heart was broken. It had already been hastily taped back together the other three times Jeff broke her heart, but now it was gone. There was no more tape.

She felt like she died. Like her soul was gone. She was wretching for air like a fish out of water. Suffocating in her own tears. The only thing she could do was cry.

"You knew this would happen." She told herself as she sat up. She couldn't sleep, between puking and heartbreak, she was the most exhausted yet awake she'd ever been. Her sadness had turned into anger and a fuck-it attitude.

"Once a cheater always a cheater. Fucking fuck!" Her whispers to herself were harsh as she opened her laptop, finding the first flight home. She needed to be home, where it all started. Where she was before she even met him. She'd forgotten about him once, and she could do it again.

She booked the flight. She had two suitcases and a duffle bag, each filled to the brim with things she wanted and needed. All the stupid movie tickets from her and Jeff's dates were left on her dresser. Pictures of her and Katy long abandoned were thrown into a drawer. She left what she could live without, and left what would remind her of them.

She had her things and her uber was arriving soon. She quickly wrote a check, this months rent, tossing it on the messy bed. She had an idea right as she was leaving and grabbed a post-it note. She couldn't decide which cliche was better, but eventually she settled on one.

They always said that history repeats itself, and I never believed them.

Now I do. ♡

She moved her bags to the front door and placed the sticky note on Jeff's phone. He was passed out on the couch, the rising sunlight just starting to hit his face.

She stared at him for a few moments. He was beautiful. She loved so many things about him. She wondered if she was making a mistake, but then she remembered what he did. She'd given him a second chance, hell, a hundred second chances, and he still fucked it up.

She'd blamed it on the alcohol before, but she knew full well he was completely sober last night.

♤♡◇♧

The driver put her bags in the trunk and started towards the airport. She figured her mom wouldn't mind a surprise and the opportunity to have her around for a few weeks until she got her shit together. And sometimes you just need your mom. You need her to hold you like you're still little, like you scraped your knee up real bad and she was the only thing that would make you feel better.

The sun was fully up now. Jeff would be awake soon, and she couldn't tell if he would call or not. Would he call to try and stop her? Or would he simply not care?

She checked her phone, simply for the time, or maybe a text, and noticed her wallpaper. A picture of her and Jeff. She was kissing his cheek. She hated the way her faced looked in that picture, but the way Jeff looked was more important than that at the time. He was smiling. Dimples poking through his beard. His eyes looked kind and filled with love. She couldn't even stand to look at him anymore, but she didn't have the heart to change the picutre.

She decided that she was the one who didn't care and turned her phone off. The only two people she talked to had betrayed her and she didn't want to hear from them.

The farther she got from Jeff, the more the sadness set in. She stared out the window dramatically, thinking about him and how this whole situation seemed like a cheesy music video.

A thought crossed her mind as they drove past a car dealership. All the cars seemed so shiny, so perfect as they sat there, but once you buy it, once it's yours, things change. It's no longer a perfect new car. It's nice for a while, sure, but eventually theres a spider nest under the back seat, a few stray fries in the cupholder, some bird shit on the roof that nobody would notice for months.

Everything seemed perfect until it was yours. You ruin it. You don't take care of it the way you should. Even if the inside is impeccable, there's always the bird shit on the roof.

♤♡◇♧

She was forced to turn on her phone and see his face when the flight landed. She was in the back of a cab as she cancelled her therapy sessions for the next month. Of course, it seemed logical that now would be the time for therapy, and Dr. R. offered to host video sessions, but y/n wasn't thinking logically. She was thinking about getting home, crying into her mom's arms, and crawling into a cave of blankets and pillows for a few weeks.

Tears were already flowing as she walked up to the door. "Y/n!" She opened the door, excited at first to see her, but her tone changing as soon as she saw the state her daughter was in. "Baby." She opened her arms and y/n jumped right into the hug, wailing as she cried.

"I thought he was different." Her words were muffled by her mother's sweater.

"Let's run you a bath."

♤♡◇♧

It'd been a few days back home, and the news had spread that y/n was back and sad, and the kitchen was filled with casserole dishes full of lasagna and baked ziti from her mother's friends. The food was delicious, but she couldn't help but be reminded of Jeff every time she took a bite. The abundance of food was meant as condolences, as it always was in an Italian, New York neighborhood, and y/n knew this. It made her even more sad, sad that everyone knew and everything was going to shit.

"Can you go through your old clothes today? Geanie's daughter. . ." Y/n stopped listening and agreed, not really interested in the backstory of someone she'd met once when she was eighteen, or her supposed daughter.

The thing about heartbreak is that it's all you can think about, all you can feel, but the hardest part is forgetting, letting go, and getting over it. She attempted to remember how she got through it the first time.

"You have to accomplish one thing at a time." Her mom plopped down on her bed. Jeff was gone and he wouldn't talk to her. He'd blocked her number. He abandoned her. Left her in the dust as he went off to L.A. to get rich. She did feel abandoned, like everything she'd done the past few years was for nothing. The second chance she'd given him before was now worthless, and she wondered why she did it in the first place.

"Do you hear me? One thing a day. One thing at a time until you're okay again." Y/n looked up at her mother and nodded. "Today you're taking a shower."

Her one thing today would be sorting through clothes. Maybe finding some tshirt from college that would make her smile. So she spent the day on her bed, three tubs of clothes poured out in front of her, and a comedy special playing on the TV. She chuckled a bit every now and then, actually enjoying herself until she found something at the bottom of the pile.

Jeff's sweatshirt. The one that started it all.

"Take it." Jeff held the sweatshirt out of his window.

"No, I can't, it's yours." but she took it anyway.

It was a plain sweatshirt, nothing exciting, but she knew it was his by the stain on the hem. She'd always wondered what it was from, but never really found the time to ask. She held the cotton against her face, the scent climbing up into her nose. Of course it just smelled like her other old clothes, it'd been years, but she swore that if she sniffed hard enough, she could smell him. Not the Jeff she knew now, but the one that pulled up next to her on the street. The sweet guy that didn't want her to freeze to death. The shiny new car she was yet to buy.

She was crying now, holding the sweatshirt to her chest. A faint knock on the door downstairs was heard, but she paid no attention. It was probably just another baked ziti being delivered from her mom's card playing partner.

"Y/n!" Her mom called, alarming her. It wasn't another ziti. She wiped her eyes and headed down stairs, stopping when she saw who it was.

"I just wanna talk." Jeff pleaded. The anger and sadness filled her chest again and she continued down the stairs.

"Talk about how you cheated on me with my best friend?" The sharpness of her words made his heart hurt. He stepped inside, her mother closing the door before disappearing into the kitchen.

"You don't understand-" He started, but y/n wasn't having it.

"Don't understand what? That you slept with her while I was fucking sick? You couldn't fucking wait until I felt better?" She was screaming in his face, tears rolling down her cheeks, traveling the familiar path.

"Y/n-"

"No, let me fucking talk." She took a deep breath. "You told me you were sober. I fucking loved you for that. I thought that you wouldn't hurt me anymore. I fucking trusted you. A lot.

"Do you know how many second chances I've given you? because I've lost count. I'm over it. I'm done with you. Don't even try to tell me that she forced you into it because I know that's not true. I know you. I know what goes on in your brain. You fucking piece of shit."

Jeff was stunned. He didn't know what to say, or why he wanted her back. He knew he fucked up. He knew that he loved her. He knew what he felt for her, even still after all these years.

"You have to understand my feelings for you, and-" His words had no meaning to her, she wanted him gone, out of sight.

"Fuck you, and your feelings. Get out." She pointed towards the door. He stood still so she started pushing him. "Get out, just get the fuck out!" She screamed, barely moving his body.

"I love you!" He screamed back, now holding her shoulders in place. Her eyes locked with his. Hers were full of emotion, depth, deep sadness. His were nothing of the sort. They looked hollow, empty, only a tiny spark of emotion barely flickering through them. That was enough for her to know his true feelings.

"If you loved me we never would've broken up in the first place." She pushed him off of her, her voice quivering as she crossed him to open the door.

"You said in your note that history repeats, but it doesn't have to. We can change history. We can forget it all." He attempted to use her own words as a way to get through to her, but she was smarter than that.

"I already have forgotten it all, a million times over. I've let you back in only for the same shit to happen again. You can't change the past, Jeff." She turned and ran upstairs, grabbing his sweatshirt off her bed. He was walking down the driveway when she called his name. He thought for a moment that she'd changed her mind, that she did still want him.

"I don't need you to keep me warm anymore." She threw it at him, hitting him in the face. He let it fall to the ground, a tear falling from his eye as he looked back at her.

She slammed the door shut and there he was.

Left alone, back right where it all started.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 16

*~*Sebastian*~*

I really should be given a lot of credit for how long I stayed away from Emma.

Day one I couldn't stop holding her hand. Day two I had to touch her. Day three all I want to do is hold her. Well, not all I want.

Since I woke up with her in my arms there's a part of my brain constantly on the look out for how to get her back there. I have to admit I’m not super confident because my brain has failed me numerous times in trying to figure out kissing her. Had it helped me out with the kissing I wouldn't be so fucking desperate to hold her. Probably wouldn't be talking so much to myself either, but that isn't really unusual. Maybe just different topics.

My mom is having fun with this. I'm not always translating everything she says. She told me Emma was beautiful and she understood why I hadn't come home. She told me I had to work for at least an hour before I could see her. Then she sent her to the opposite side of the house from me and stood guard across the hall.

When I was "allowed" to see Emma again I scared the shit out of her. It was fucking hilarious. When I grabbed her into my arms I held her head against my chest so maybe she wouldn't know I couldn't stop laughing. I couldn’t stop laughing until she ran her hands down my back. It was the same barely there sensual touch that went from my shoulder diagonally down and around to the side of my stomach. I closed my eyes to enjoy it and imagined it didn't stop there. So when she led me into the guest room, a room with a bed, it took every ounce of self-control in my body not to throw her on the bed and cover her with me.

The picture snapped me out of those thoughts. It had been years since I’d seen it. It was full of happy memories of a good time in an otherwise gray period. I wasn't old enough and I think mom shielded me from much. She tried to make whatever food we got something fun for us to build meals around. It wasn’t that we didn’t have food. We didn’t have a lot and we didn’t have choices. We played a form of bingo with what we'd get. Meat, dairy, and fruit were coveted. Except that one weird cheese that we got every six weeks or so. Nothing made it not horrible.

I can't remember telling any other girlfriend about how the beach in a communist country taught me freedom and curiosity that culminated in me being in a NASA movie. Coolest thing ever. Now I’m in the guest room telling secrets I barely remember. Frightening secrets for a kid. There's really no way to escape that without carry some things with you. I don't talk much about Romania because I don’t remember much, but what I do remember I don’t really want to talk about. I wonder if my mom planted the picture for me to share a happy memory.

I dropped Emma off at the kitchen and went back to the family room. Anthony and I headed out to the garage to find a couple of things he knew were missing from the room. Back inside we started arranging things. The kitchen wasn't far away. Every so often I'd catch words or a sentence. They were talking about winters and snow removal. I listened closer when mom asked where and how long she'd lived here. Nothing I didn't know. As Emma explained where her place was, she told mom about local shops and answered questions about the area. Very sweet.

Meanwhile in the family room we got things arranged based on where the TV hung on the wall and came to the realization it was all wrong. I yelled for mom. Emma followed her into the room. Mom looked around, "This is all wrong."

A ridiculous amount of time later we'd rearranged everything. The only thing left was for me to move the TV and rewire everything. I'd be an expert by the time we were done. Mom suggested a break and went to get beers.

I flopped onto the couch and when it looked like Emma was going to sit too far away, I grabbed her hand to pull her closer. Damn near landed her in my lap. Wouldn't have been a bad thing. I recreated the scene from the bench last night with my arm around her shoulder and her holding my hand. That left each of us with a free hand for beer. Emma turned a little where she was leaned against me and laid her head back on my shoulder. I buried my nose in her hair, breathing her in until mom brought back beer.

I doubt this was what Emma had in mind when I suggested she come with me. Mom and Anthony were talking so I gave Emma's shoulders a squeeze to get her attention. "Not much of a rest day for you. I'm feeling selfish. I wanted to spend more time with you.” I was coming clean. I wasn't going to apologize because that would be a lie.

She smiled, a sweet almost shy smile, that made my stomach flutter. "I wanted to spend more time with you too." Her smile tuned to a smirk, "So don't suggest taking me home unless you're ready for me to leave. I'm enjoying myself."

"No problem."

Mom's voice broke the moment, "Emma, have you had Romanian food? We were thinking dinner and a movie. If my son gets the TV hooked up."

"You've just given me motivation, mom."

I felt Emma laugh more than heard her. "No, I haven't and sounds great. Thank you."

Anthony stood up, "Let's get back at it."

Mom excused Emma from the kitchen after Anthony and I got the TV sorted. He went to his office. Mom stayed in the kitchen and I got an assistant for hanging shit and putting up books. There were an obscene number of books. Thankfully they were sorted into boxes in a way that made alphabetizing them by author not so much a pain in the ass. The ease with which Emma alphabetized the titles within each author was super hero like. My job was to hand them to her. By the respectful way she handled them I knew she loved books. She took a stack from me, "Do you like to read?"

I nodded, "I've read most of these. I’ve always liked to read. I do a lot of reading to research characters.”

"Like what?"

I went with the most obvious. "For the Winter Soldier and Bucky I read a lot about psychopaths and PTSD. They’re really two different characters, maybe four.. True crime procedural stuff for Destroyer. Way more space shit than I needed for the Martian. Loved the book."

"Do you prefer non-fiction to fiction?"

"Pretty equal. I'm usually reading a couple of books at a time. I switch back and forth. I love Harlan Coben from before they were making his books movies. Have you read anything of his?"

Her eyes shifted up as she thought. "The one that was a French film. His wife dies then like ten years later he gets a message."

At the same time we said, "Tell No One."

I continued, "Loved that one. He writes lots of those thriller mysteries and has a series about a detective. Lots of humor and his best friend is a millionaire sociopath. Those are fun. Always reread classics and my favorite novel is changing all the time. A lot of mindfulness, Buddhism."

Her eyes lit up, "Have you read Illusions by Richard Bach?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"It was written in the seventies. We passed it around in college. Once you read it you had to buy a copy, highlight some of your favorite bits and give it away. Basically, a Messiah is training his replacement. He gives him a handbook only the pages are empty, except when he opens it, he finds answers."

"I think you can do that with anything. Even a newspaper." This was turning into another one of those great conversations like music and movies. I knew it would.

She was nodding quickly, "Me too. It is full of short insights. My favorite is "You're never given a wish without the power to make it come true. You might have to work on it, however." It's a faux Christian eastern religion self-help novel."

I laughed, "That's great."

"Yeah, we'd get high at frat parties and talk in Illusion and movie quotes." She snorted laugh.

"Did you break into the pantry for snacks like we did?"

"Of course. Always cheese."

I was amused by the thought of Emma as a grunge loving stoned psuedo intellectual. Made me remember my days as an 80's music loving stoned theater major space nerd. College was fun.

Back to books. "What's your guilty pleasure reading?"

"This is my Jessie's Girl." We shared a smile. "I love paranormal romance."

"Paranormal romance? "I repeated." Ghosts and shit?"

"Oh no. Vampires, dragons, shapeshifters."

I couldn't hide my smile, "Way worse than Jessie's Girl."

She glared at me, "It's close."

Her glare turned to a smile then a laugh and I had to hug her. I wanted to hold on to the moment, take in how much fun this was. The conversation, the teasing. She felt like an old friend I'd just met. Only with a lot more sexual attraction. The kind that had me noticing how every curve of her body was pressed against me. Had me wanting to run my hands on top of her clothes before moving underneath them. Wishing she'd slide her hand under my shirt so I could feel her touch my skin.

I took a step back, "Hit me with the details."

She laughed again, "There's two series I love. Some variation of a testosterone filled alpha male who thinks he's rescuing a woman who ends up being his soulmate and saves him. One is grounded is Greek mythology and finding his mate can literally free his soul and the other creates its own mythology. One or both always have a heartbreaking past, there's something they have to go through, and then the happy ending. They're well written and incredibly satisfying."

"Do you believe in that?"

She drew her eyebrows together, "Happily ever after?"

I shook my head, "Soulmates."

Emma looked at the ceiling, screwed up her face, then looked back at me. "The chickenshit answer is people come into our lives for a reason and go away when they’ve served their purpose."

I wasn't so sure. "Not necessarily chickenshit."

"I meant the safe answer.” She bit her lip and continued, “I do believe in soulmates. But I don't think there's necessarily one person for anyone. A soulmate a twenty might be different than a soulmate at forty. People change and grow, so it makes sense your perfect partner might not stay perfect. You can grow together or grow in different directions.  I'm a hopeful romantic."

I liked that. "I think some people use the concept of soulmate to not work for it. It takes a lot of work and vulnerability to be with another person. Hell, to be with yourself. It's hard to be honest with yourself sometimes, forget about laying yourself bare to another person." I shook my head, not believing the strange direction this had gone. "I'm not always that brave."

We'd gone from laughter to this intensely intimate place. I'm talking about how difficult it can be to be vulnerable, which is a very vulnerable thing to do. Maintaining eye contact was hard.

"Everyone struggles with being brave.”

The matter of fact way she spoke reminded me of the gym when we were talking about insecurities. This was the second time I’d shared something and she didn’t try to convince me I was wrong. She accepted what I’d said as true for me. She’d accepted me. Well, now, there’s a thing. I smiled. “I think it’s about finding someone you’re ok being afraid with and is brave enough to be afraid too."

Slowly she started to smile, “Awfully deep conversation we’re having.”

“No shit! How the fuck did we get here?”  I shook my head and laughed. “I think we were talking about Jessie’s Girl.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She joined in laughing before learning forward to lay her forehead on my shoulder.

I put my hand on the back of her neck and leaned my head against hers.

[atethewriting]

The Tail Of A Golden Deer: The Sixth

This is a collaborative project with the account @jongins-laceglove. We apologize for the delay and hope you enjoy the sixth part of this series!

A Deer watched as the two men ran off, staring at the group before him with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m gunna go find Jisungie!!!!! I’ll be back!!” He yelled enthusiastically, running back into the dark and scary wood.

A carefree, young lad spun and skipped around without a single thought in mind. Except for, well, Jisung. Little did he know someone was watching him from the trees. Eyes that roared with green hues, and a uniform in which was for little girls. The thing stared and pondered with its’ little green eyes, growing curious.

Another watched the deer carefully, just as unaware. A man with spitting red hands and tan skin, followed Chenle by foot. All while Peppermint remained carefree.

That is, until he saw something so dreadfully horrible that made him stop right in his tracks.

A boy with dark hair hang lifelessly from a rope that was carefully tied into a noose. The boy’s body was bruised and cut and mangled, while his head dangled by his spine. Slowly, the fairy fell out of the rope’s hold and landed silently on the cold ground.

Chenle felt himself tick and buzz as he began to laugh, allowing the toxicity of freedom and in-sanity crawl under his skin. Crack, snap, bloody murder. The Canary’s hair and once-beautiful antlers went ink black, dripping with blood and dead skin. His once-gone fingers into sprouted bones, all the while his mouth tethered shut and spread into a sewed-on smile that reached to his ears. With eyes as red as hers, the Canary turned around and laughed at Haechan. This laugh wasn’t carefree and joyous at all. This laugh...this laugh spoke murder.

“Hiya, Freak!” He giggled, getting a bit too close for Haechan’s liking. The smell of death reeked throughout the forest, nothing the two hadn’t smelled before. 

Haechan let out a hearty sigh and fought off the feeling to kill Chenle, realizing that he was definitely needed. “Hey.” He spoke blankly. 

“Haha! Acting tough, are we? How cute, how cute indeed. Yep! Yep! Such carefreeness for one who just killed my best friend. How cute, how cute indeed. Yep! Yep! We found your double. There is always the possibility of replacing you, but my Mama said we need you and your triples later on. Yep! Yep! The Canary always wins! Indeed, Indeed!” The boy’s voice worked like clockwork, ticking and buzzing and slowly losing control. A small whisper in his ear told him what to say, so he gladly listened. 

Haechan remained silent. 

“My Mama said not to trust men who know men in lab coats! Yep! Yep! How cute, how cute indeed! Rude! Rude!” Chenle sang as he paced around the Mage, laughing and giggling. 

That seemed to trigger Haechan in a way that made him stumble back and fall on the ground, a small gasp leaving his lips. “W-Who told you about that!?” His eyes went wide, a part of him trying not to cry. 

“My Mama!” The canary replied cheerfully, humming.

“G-get away from me, freak!” The mage yelled, getting back onto his feet and running off. 

Chenle only giggled, turning around and returning to his normal self. 

“Well, I found Jisungie...I guess...” 

---------------------------------------------

Winwin sat nearby the mangled body of a wind, mumbling about how he can’t leave Kun with a child and no one to protect him. He had no clue if Aldrich had returned yet but he knew that he couldn’t leave Kun with a fucking CHILD. It was a bad idea to let Kun keep her in the first place but it was even worse for this to suddenly happen. 

It then hit him.

“FUCKKKKKKKKK Even if i do make it back Baekhyun is literally going to slaughter me if he found out this happened!” Winwin yelled quite loudly, scaring off some birds. 

A loud whistle sounded throughout, spooking Winwin. Curious, he sprung up and followed the sound. 

Oh, it lead back to the cabin. OH, everyone’s here. 

“I have news...” The deer whispered, staying awfully close to his double. “J-Jisungie...Jisungie is dead...” 

Minseok blinked at him, trying to process his words before sighing heavily, moving sit down on the deck.

Hybrid Jisung smiled at the news, turned away from the group as he sat next to Yixing’s body.

That night was one big blur, everyone getting ready for bed as Minseok stared off into the forest, pacing nervously as he tried to decide on what to do with Yixing.

He walked by his body countless times, not even having the stomach to look at his lifeless form.

The moment he died kept replaying over and over in his head, the feeling he got as his friend’s life force slipped from his body like it was nothing wasn’t anything short of pure, unfiltered dread.

He finally gave up, letting out a loud frustrated noise as he opted for just putting a bed sheet on him and walked into the house.

He would have missed it when Chanyeol woke with a start, blindly searching for his notebook if it weren’t for his excessive cursing.

“Fuck if I don’t find it now I’m not going to be able to write it down, shit where is it I’m gonna fucking scream that god damned notebook is-“ Chanyeol flinched when his notebook smacked him in the face after Minseok threw it right at his face with an expectant look in his eye.

Chanyeol quickly sat down at the coffee table, quickly trying to scribble down all the events of his vision before it completely slipped from his mind.

“Fuck!” He growled, throwing his notebook across the room when he completely forgot some important information before he could write it down.

Minseok gingerly picked it up, flipping through the tattered book before stopping at the page he wanted, only to be more confused than ever.

“Orange. Blue. Black. Death. Jongin. Ch” He furrowed his brows and repeated it over and over, looking between the book and Chanyeol with a questioning look on his face.

“I don’t know, Minseok.. I really don’t know. I can’t help beyond that, I’m sorry. It’s gone.” He sighed, slumping over on the couch in defeat and running his hands over his face.

“And Jongin? Why does that name sound so familiar...” Minseok pondered as he walked over to Chanyeol, handing him his book back.

Chanyeol shook his head, taking the book absentmindedly with furrowed brows. “I.. It’s on the top of my tongue, but I just can’t quite put my finger on it. For some reason my first thought is that he has something to do with Renjun.. but that can’t be right, no that’s impossible. Right? It’s gotta be.”

Minseok stood there, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to think of this situation when he and Chanyeol were suddenly startled out of their thoughts by the sound of the glass door slamming shut- making them both jump in surprise.

They exchanged a suspicious glance before they both scurried outside, seeing an orange-headed boy with a fluffy striped tale slinking quietly into the dark forest and immediately following after.

~~~~

He stared down at the dead body of his doppelgänger, happy with his work as he tied the cloth pouch that held Jongin’s eyes to his belt.

He was about to fly off- before he heard the argumentative shouts of.. three? People in the distance, and decided to have some more fun that night.

He quietly walked through the forest, slowly getting closer and closer before he broke through the tree line, and startled the three men.

“W-wait, you look.. Chanyeol I think you were right about Jongin being related to Renjun... I think they used to be friends.”

Kai snarled, his boney dragon wings twitching and his white eyes seemingly glowing under the moonlight. “You knew Jongin?” He threatened.

The tallest one nodded once, his ears flopping slightly with the movement. “Yeah actually. He was- wait, knew?” He backed up.

Kai smirked, staring right into him “Yes, knew. Why I killed him, after all!”

They gasped, but the one with the orange hair stood out to him in particular, so of course he did the most logical thing.

Kill him.

He lunged forward, ripping into the soft skin of his stomach with his left hand and tearing out organs as the boy let out pained screams. Black flames from his hand burned him from the inside out.

Kai turned to the other two that were trembling in fear, too shocked to say anything as he twisted his hand once more- making the boy scream even louder and enjoying the way that they flinched.

He finally had enough, reaching into his rib cage and burning right through his lungs to rip out his heart.

He kicked the body aside, moving towards the other two.

“Now. What do you know of Renjun? Where is he. If you play nice I might let you live~ barely, of course- But you’ll survive.” He teased.

The short one shuddered, his eyes still glued to the corpse of his friend and not even registering the words his taller friend sassed back at the man.

“I’d like you to say that again with just as much confidence after you know just how many seers I’ve killed, boy.”

The boy glared as he moved to punch Kai- but let out a guttural scream when he grabbed his arm, breaking his bones with the sheer force of his grip and tossing him to the ground as though he weighed nothing.

Kai smiled at the two before he slowly lifted both of his arms. One backed up as the other merely sat on the ground in horror, pathetically scooting against the dirt in an attempt to escape. “No.. no, please! I’m begging you, don’t!”

Kai just chuckled deeply, and steadily grew flames in the palms of his hands- the left being black, and the right being blue.

“Well, this was fun while it lasted.”

He shot his flames at both of them, their cries of pain the only thing he could hear over the sound of burning flesh.

He frowned at the blue flame, being reminded once again of the days when his bastard of a father took him to that small blue room.

When their screams finally stopped, he relented- and made sure he was satisfied with their charred beyond recognition corpses before finally flying back to wherever he came from.

~~~~~~~~~

What’s it like to lose your best friend?

Only few know that feeling.

Only few know the hopelessness.

A deer, a mouse, a bard, and many.

In-Sanity is a lot of fun.

When you’re doing it with another.

The Deerest of Deers stood silently and blankly, rapidly changing from his other form back to the original. It couldn’t decide. Didn’t want to decide. In-sanity is funny. It likes to bounce around wildly in your mind while you try to stay alive. Quite humorous, if you ask us. It likes to glitch and sting and buzz. A monster of all sorts, we must say.

He ticked and buzzed and flinched when the others around him in the cabin living room spoke. Everything was incomprehensible, blended in with each other. Reverbs and autotunes lifted their voices until everything was just hums and squeaks.

The boy let out a small, freakish sound. Down he went, to the ground. Not unconscious, just overstimulated. The voices mocked him. Told him it was all his fault.

The voices only laughed and the buzzes and static noise got louder. Every other sense blocked out as he fought his mind.

Don’t slip into In-Sanity.

Don’t slip into In-Sanity.

Don’t slip into In-Sanity.

Mint, snapping, twisting, deer.

The boy let out another freakish sound, covering his ears and trying to drown out the hearty thoughts that stabbed him countless times over.

It was testing him. Probing his mind with questions. He wasn’t ready, wasn’t worthy.

“Stop go away!” He yelled, yet nothing came out.

“I can’t!” He said once more, no one heard him.

A slip out of mind. To where no one heard his cries. His mind. His mind. His mind.

As soon as it started, it was over.

Skin, pale and scared, seemed to glow. The red and white hues to his features returned, no longer gold. He wasn’t worthy anymore.

To everyone else, he had merely changed colors like a chameleon. No one saw his pain. No one saw him collapse.

“Don’t trust men who have green couches! Don’t forgive men in lab coats! Don’t believe men in orange! A tiger is dead! Yep! Yep! A griffin has no heart! Yep! Yep! Dobermen Dead! Indeed! Indeed!” He blurted out, unable to control what he just said. Covering his mouth, he shook. “W-what...I-I didn’t mean to say that! Why did I say that?!!”

Jisung watched Chenle from a corner of the room, his own eyes swimming with worry. He’d been trying to muster up the courage to walk over and help him- seeing as nearly everyone else couldn’t see his distress through the haze of their own.

He mentally slapped himself when Sicheng and Yuta stepped into his line of vision, unfamiliar serious looks in their eyes.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he could get the words out they both reached down and grabbed an arm, pulling him up. A confused noise escaped his mouth as they dragged him up the stairs into his and Chenle’s room.

Sicheng pushed him down on the bed, Yuta sitting down next to him as he pulled a chair away from the desk in front of the window it sat in front of.

He was speechless, eyes flicking between the two with a suspicious look.

“What do you two want.”

Sicheng snorted out a laugh, crossing his legs in the chair.

“We wanted to know if you need to talk? Not just about all the deaths.. but things in general.”

Jisung looked surprised, and he was indeed as to why they’d want to talk to him of all people. Why not Chenle? He certainly needed it more than him.

“I.. I suppose so. It honestly hasn’t caught up to me yet.. and I don’t think the worst has come.”

Yuta nodded, moving to wrap his arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “I see.. well, you know we’re here for you when it does hit. If you need us we’ll be there- no matter what. Don’t be scared to come get us.”

“I second that!”

Jisung chuckled, reaching to grab the desaturated orange blanket with cream splotches and black stripes that was draped over the headboard.

He wrapped it around himself, a comfortable silence settling in between the three. He didn’t have to speak for them to understand his situation or noisy mess for thoughts. They just knew. almost as if they’d been through something similar.

~~~~

Jisung shot up from his sleep in a cold sweat, looking out the window to see a bright crescent moon.

He swallowed, but the lump in his throat protested, causing him all the more pain.

He blinked, suddenly realizing the wetness of his cheeks.

All too fast, his mind flashed with the memories of his boyfriend from his dream and he only cried harder.

He got up quietly, padding through the hallway and down the steps to the bathroom. He picked up a small animal that was glowing dimly, and grabbed some sugar cubes for it on his way to the bathroom.

He set the small fluffy yellow creature onto the side of the counter, right in front of the mirror and giving it the snacks. He smiled softly as it’s glow became brighter with happiness, nearly buzzing in delight as it hummed sweetly.

With shaky hands, he took out Chenle’s pocket knife and sniffled, staring into the mirror at his own blurry and disoriented reflection.

He raised the knife to his hair- slicing off chunks until it was an inch long on top. With shaky hands, he shuffled through the drawers in the shelf behind him, pulling out an electric razor and deciding to shave the bottom a bit.

He stared into the mirror with a dull look, holding back the urge to scream and cry and punch something until his fists were bloody.

He clenched his jaw, suddenly turning to go back upstairs.

He walked right past his room, turning into an empty . His tears started falling even heavier, dripping onto the ground as he searched through the drawers for Chenle’s lighter.

He finally found it, pulling it out of the drawer and dropped to the ground. He hugged it close to his chest, sobbing freely.

After a while he calmed down a bit, and he decided to get up and go act upon whatever impulses his mind feeds him.

As he was standing up to leave the room, he jumped- the silhouette of his roommate startling him.

“C-Chenle? What are...what are you doing out of bed...?”

“What the heck do you think I’m doing?! I’m trying to find that stupid book...Yep! Yep! Indeed!” Chenle grinned and approached the other, his figure darkened and bloody. In between the knots and strings of his mouth, a set of sharp teeth rest, waiting to strike. The boy’s red eyes glowed so brightly that it was almost blinding to look at. 

“Would you like to commit a crime as horrible as murder with me? For sure! For Sure! We shall ruin life and death! The king has befallen! Yep! Yep! In a pile of roses, once more! Yep! Yep! May we pray for his poor soul!” The Canary giggled, twitching and ticking as he hummed around the room. 

“My Mama,” He continued, looking back at Jisung, “My Mama said to have you help me, as you are as heartbroken as I am!” 

Jisung gulped, shoving the lighter into his pocket and averting his gaze to the floor. “I don’t know who your ‘Mama’ is, but she’s wrong. I’m not heartbroken. I don’t know why I would be. It’s not like.. like he’s really gone or anything. He’s just, he’s just missing, that’s all. Yeah, he’s missing!”

He bounced over to the doorway, looking behind him to Chenle, waiting for him to follow.

“I- I’ll find him! Yeah, You’ll burn the book, and i’ll g- go look for him. And I’ll find him! He’s okay, I just know it.”

Chenle stopped the taller one, tightly gripping his wrist and looking down. 

“Jisungie...You can’t go in the woods anymore...there’s an evil man there. H-He...He killed your...your me. He’ll kill you, too, if you go out there. The man with...dragon wings...He doesn’t show any mercy. Just...Just grab the book. We’ll burn it together, okay?” 

He let out a shaky and weak sigh, the tension in his body slowly disappearing. 

“I.. I will burn the book with you. But after that, I can’t promise anything. I appreciate it.. but I have to go into the forest. I can’t explain it, it’s like there’s something calling me. And I need to know what it is.”

“Then, I’m going with you.” The Deer let go of the mouse’s wrist, leaving the room and coming back with a lit lantern. “But let’s do it before it gets too late. We can burn the book when we get back, or we’ll get it now and do it in the woods. How does that sound?” 

Jisung only nodded. 

And, off they went. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With winds of ice and horror, two boys stood at the edge of a dark forest, wielding only a pocket knife, a lighter, an old book, and a lantern. In Xymore times, right now it would be 2 First, or, 2AM. 

The Wood, alive with creatures only the night knows, crawled up their backs and made them shiver. Howls and shrieks and cries they had never heard before. Sounds only heard in dreams. The wisps of eerie whispers tickled them. 

Only a small flame brought them to the center of it all. Everything fell into a sort of enchanting spell at this hour, whistling a tune while purple lights dangled from the trees as if they were hung for a birthday party. 

“Mendorus Candelactum...” Chenle mumbled, “The Goddess Of Memories...She’s watching...We mustn’t make a sound, Jisung...” 

“How do you know th-”

“Shh...” 

The Deer stood tall on his heels and sniffed the air, pointing North, deeper into the forest. 

“That way...” He breathed, quietly heading the direction he pointing to. 

The reeking smell of death filled their noses and blanketed their tastebuds with rotten, human flesh. Chenle, quite used to it, kept moving closer towards the smell. Jisung, however, gagged and unwillingly followed the canary. 

What they saw was hideous. 

Guts scattered the forest floor. Blood, clotted and gooey, stuck to the bottoms of their shoes as they directed the light towards the source. Three dead bodies rest mangled and stagnant, hollow of any magic. Just a shell of the people they used to be. The youngest let out a choked sob once he saw someone familiar, yet the oldest directed his attention towards the rope that hung from a tree, and the man who lay beneath it. 

A graveyard of magic and unfulfilled hope. It disgusted them, yet, intrigued them, as well. A lighter and a book, four dead bodies, possible doom...It intrigued them. Made them so undeniably curious. What lie at the end? Only the dead knew that answer. 

The small “tick, tick, tick” of a lighter being lit was the only sound made in this moment. Soon after, the crackling of a book being burned to ashes, and the choked laughs of two In-Sane children. ‘Such a pretty sight,’ they pondered, allowing for the in-sane-ness to drown them in such a pretty and curious light. ‘Such a pretty sight to see the ones we hate mangled on the forest floor.’

Jisung giggled, the misplaced happy sound cutting through the air over the crackling of the burning book. His hand subconsciously reached towards the dancing fire, before the sound of a twig snapping from behind startled him.

He whipped around towards the sound, flinching and swiftly pulling out his dead boyfriend’s knife from his back pocket.

His eyes widened at what he saw, the corpses of their deceased friends- and his boyfriend- rising from the ground, their empty eyes dull-ly twinkling from the light of the small fire.

“Burn.. Burn.... Burn........” They groaned, clawing and stumbling after the pair before Jisung had to slash at Minseok’s hand when his body got too close. “I.. I think that’s how they died...” Jisung mumbled to himself, clicking his tongue as he grabbed a heavy rock to bash Chanyeol’s skull in with it while stabbing Minseok in his rotting temple, successfully killing them one last time.

He panted, staring down at the bodies in a moment of uneasy silence before a shrill scream of surprise ripped out from his throat, being shoved to the ground with a harsh pushed from behind.

He struggled, slashing at the crazed, re-animated body of his boyfriend that reached for him while he sobbed. “No! No, please- Chenle! It-It’s me! Don-don’t you recognize me?! It’s- it’s go-ing to be ok-okay! Just please, Don’t hurt me!!!”

Our very deer-like Chenle twitched and ticked towards his double, pulling him up by the back of the shirt and giving a dead stare. Looking him in the eyes, the Canary’s pupil dilated until the eye was as small as a pin. Looking death in the eye, giving his doom the final laugh before reaching up the lighter in which the book was burned from. Slowly, the small whispers of the forest silenced, being filled by the short breaths of someone who’s faced death many times over.

“You can’t hear me...You have nothing left...But, I promise you...I will take care of him. You shall hurt no-one...an-y-mo-re. May Death never forgive you, and may you light up in flames and fuel our heat.” 

The Silence, like a bubble, popped. Soft, crackling noises from the fire that burned a familiar body. 

“He’s watching us. Such...a foolish boy...Jisungie...Someone’s watching us. He’ll make it 21...We must hurry home.” 

A whip of dark light flew by them. The small laugh of a confused man, creeping up behind them. 

“I recognize those certain words, yes yes,” The voice spoke, making himself apparent. 

Kun. 

“Mark told me once, I thought it was your father who would say it. Of course, it’s you. He could tell the future! Ah, green, green!” Wrapping his arms around Chenle and squeezing tight, a bright smile lit up the forest. “Your father wouldn’t be proud of you, but I am.”

“Kun!!” The Deer smiled, returning to his normal self and helping up Jisung, “Jisung! This is...oh, are you okay? You look awfully pale.” 

Said boy shivered in dread, wrapping his arms around himself on the ground he sat disoriented upon. He stared Into the distance- the feeling of something being wrong consuming him before the question registered, and he stood up stiffly, offering a curt nod to no one in particular.

“Yeah, I’m.. fine. I’m just not used to an... anybody el-se b-ut m..my Chenle car-ing about m-e.”

He wiped blood off of the blade of his knife with the fabric of his tattered gray shirt, cutting a long slit into it accidentally as a result.

He scrunched up his nose in anger, impulsively flipping the knife downwards in his hand before shoving the knife into the hole.

Right as it registered in his head what he’d done, it was too late.

He gasped, the pain slowly spreading through his body before he pulled the knife back out of the side of his side in a panic- spasming in pain and flinging the knife through the air blindly.

Kun blindly caught the knife, recognizing its’ pattern and dropping it to the ground, letting a small gasp grab his throat and strangle him. A choked cry brought him all the way left as he stumbled over to Jisung and absent-mindedly started to treat his wounds. A strange tingling feeling brought him to a halt, feeling as if there was a ghost touching his shoulder. He shivered, continuing what he was doing until the wound was bandaged and secure. 

Yet, something felt off. Not in the way that’s like “oh I’m not home”, but in a “I know this place” kind of way. He knew this forest. 

It was the forest he went missing in over 20 years ago. 

“What the...”

---------------------

By now it was getting to be sunrise and the three In-Sane members of the group made their way up the steps, too tired to notice that a green book and some pointy object rest where Yixing was supposed to be, but now gone. 

Tired, but aware, Kun saw the small sign that was hung right next to the door, absolutely speechless. 

“Renjun...Renjun...Huang Renjun...?” He spoke to himself, entering into the cabin after the two boys.

With Chenle and Jisung already in their rooms, probably sleeping, Kun took his time peeking around the cabin until he had someone to talk to. Reminiscing the old cabin and memories he had in the past. 

The fiery heat of a Phoenix made his way down the stairwell, still sleepy and in his soft pajamas. It was quite early, after all. Sunlight breeched through the large windows Kun was facing, causing him to groan and shield his eyes from the powerful light. His tucked-away Fairy wings were quite visible, now, as his black shirt wasn’t at all heavy. This caught Renjun’s attention. He gasped so loud that it made Kun swiftly turn around. 

The two shook as they tried to keep themselves together. Many, Many years it had been since they last made eye contact. So many lost years in which the Phoenix called the Fairy’s name deep in the woods with no response. They both looked so mature now, it was almost too good to be true.

“Kun?” 

“Renjun?”

Renjun trembled, his eyes stinging with the pain that came along with the remembrance of lost memories.

Pictures of his childhood flashed before his eyes in a vivid haze of laughter and fun. He had been friends with the fairy at a young age.. up until he disappeared without a trace one day, leaving the boy to wonder if it was all a dream.

But he stood before him now, in all his glory.

He blinked his thoughts away, stepping closer to the other man.

“Is... is it really you? I- I assumed you were dead. You look so different now...”

“I would say the same for you, Renjun. Yes, it really is me...I uh...thought I’d never see this place ever again, honestly.” Kun didn’t seem to smile, even in this moment of joy. Yet, the phoenix could tell Kun was insanely proud of him. “Oh, right. My Renjun wanted me to tell you that he is okay. He’s at home resting....Mmmm...Do you have any soda...? It’s been years since I’ve had a coke.” 

Renjun’s caramel brown hair glowed ember in a moment of excitement as he jumped to the kitchen happily.

“That’s right, you used to really like pop didn’t you?” He thought out loud, swiping a can of coke from the top shelf of the fridge.

“I like to drink one out in the place we used to play around as kids... I never really thought about it before, but I really miss those days.” He pondered reminiscently.

“Mmm...” Kun looked down at the floor, holding the can of coke tightly in his hands. Soft tears slowly fell down his face while he attempted to push them away and act like nothing was happening. “S-Sorry...Sorry I’m sorry...”

The distant arguing of two of the now awake members came crashing down the stairs. Winwin...and Yuta...Surprise, surprise. Winwin came tumbling over to Kun, tackle hugging him. 

“Saonac, soam-raoc acaas!!“ He slapped Kun right on the cheek, giving a small pout and sitting on his lap. 

“Shoth of!“ The stupid, tear-faced idiot returned. 

“Dhraeen~” Winwin stuck his tongue out, wiping Kun’s tears away. 

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The loud crash of a startled man came tumbling down the stairs, quickly collecting himself and looking at the group with wide eyes.

“I know the coordinates!”

[spaceskam]

beautiful dreamer

this is in place of rnmweek day 3 because i got so far off topic it’s not even funny. inspired by the original where isabel could go into other people’s dreams.

ao3

“You wouldn’t happen to, like, have a yearbook?” 

Max looked up at Isobel from his place on the couch, raising an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because… I need one.”

“Are you going into people’s dreams again?”

“It’s just one night! I haven’t done it since high school! I just wanna see if I still can!”

“Isobel.”

“Look, I can’t sleep and I sleep better after I invade someone else’s mind, is that a crime?”

“I mean… it should be.”

Isobel pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. He knew damn well she hadn’t been sleeping since Noah, that’s why she was staying at his house in the first place. He didn’t have any interesting pictures of people on the walls, so she had to resort to a yearbook to get her fix. If he forked it over, that is.

“C’mon, Max, please,” she pouted. He stared at her for a while before sighing.

“Fine, just… stay out of mine and Liz’s. And Michael’s because he always knows and throws a fit,” Max complied, standing up and reluctantly going to find their senior yearbook. She took it with gracious, giddy hands. Max looked like he regretted every decision he ever made.

“No problem, will stay out of those people’s dreams.”

Isobel walked back to his guest room, flipping open to a random page as she flopped onto the bed. She kicked the door closed and took in the faces on the page. It was the seniors, all of them dressed in faux cap and gowns, glowing smiles on everyone’s faces with the exception of Alex Manes who just glared into your soul. His senior quote was simply ’They told me cursing wasn’t allowed’. Isobel snorted.

“Well, let’s see what you’re up to in that mind of yours,” Isobel whispered, lowering her gaze as she stroked over the picture of his face. He seemed like a fun target to play with it.

You know, assuming she wasn’t going to be thrust into a violent warzone of a dream. Or an abusive childhood scene. Or literally any number of traumatic things. Maybe she should’ve thought more about this.

However, her head hit the pillow before she had much time to pull back before it started.

She slipped into Alex’s dream with ease, the whole view dark and murky. There was sand beneath her bare feet and stars decorating the sky. She spun around to look for something, someone, but only found a truck a little distance away. Michael’s truck.

Her eyebrows pulled together as she neared it, knowing that Alex wouldn’t notice her no matter what she did. She’d hidden for a while in people’s dreams before she realized that they couldn’t see her if she didn’t want them to. But, still, she was confused about why Michael’s truck was here. Last she heard, Alex was more than angry at her brother. He’d left him for his best friend, they hadn’t spoken in months.

Which made it that much more surprising to find the two men in nothing but their underwear in the back of the truck, both drenched from was she hoped was rain that was no longer falling.  They were breathing hard, their grins overtaking their faces and their pupils were blown and bloodshot to hell as they stared at the sky.

“Well, you’ve outdone yourself this time, Alexander,” Michael laughed his hands going behind his head while Alex turned to look at him with the same dopey smile. Isobel scrunched up her nose.

“Straight Sativa.”

Great, she entered a them-getting-high dream.

“Mmm, you’re a bad influence,” Micahel said, turning to face him. Isobel had to wonder if this was actually a memory and Alex was just imaging them as adults. However, she couldn’t remember Michael ever being high. Then again, she hadn’t been very in control of her own mind in their senior year.

“Says the guy who stole shit from the emporium last week. Yeah, I saw you. Managed to be seen on the one security camera we have. You’re lucky I erased it,” Alex teased. Michael bit on his lip, kicking Alex’s leg softly.

“I’m really lucky my best friend is a computer genius,” Michael said before his smile softened and he grabbed Alex’s hand, “Actually… I’m just really lucky to have you in general.”

And Alex smiled. And Michael leaned in. And Isobel decided she was going to leave because this was boring and she wasn’t really ready to see her brother get plowed.

However, the moment Michael leaned all up into Alex’s space and Alex closed his eyes, Michael vanished. Which was even more confusing than the situation previously happening. Alex seemed to think so too as concern washed over his face, sitting up.

“Michael? Michael?!” he called, looking around in a panic. Then he seemed to focus on something behind Isobel. “Michael!”

In an instant, Alex jumped off the bed of the truck and broke into a full sprint. Isobel barely let herself process it before following him towards a massive building that didn’t look too much unlike a prison. What the fuck?

When she crossed over into the building, Alex was suddenly full clothed again and he was just sprinting, limping just a little bit and seeming to be pushing through as he ran down a flight of stairs. He looked like he was on the verge of tears and it was causing her some extra distress that she didn’t understand. What was she about to oversee?

“Guerin! Guerin, we need to get out of here! That alarm isn’t a fucking suggestion!” Alex screamed as he hit the bottom of the stairs and only then did she hear the siren blaring through the building.  Isobel froze on the third to last step as she took in her surroundings. There were cells lining the walls, all holding a person‒someone like her‒who stood still with their hands against the glass doors as if Alex’s subconscious hadn’t bothered to animate them.

“I’m not going anywhere, Alex! They’re my family!” Michael screamed, grabbing her attention.

Alex looked around in a panic and desperately pulled at his hair.

“Alright, maybe! But you are mine!” Alex shouted back, desperation in his voice and Michael looking at him like he’d lost it. Her heart weighed heavy as she realized this was just a replay of the night Michael avoided talking about. He just said they were in a prison, that he found his mother, that she died. He didn’t talk about it any more than that.

He definitely didn’t talk about this conversation.

“What? No. Get out of here, Alex.”

“I’m not letting you die here!”

“I’m sure as hell not letting you die here, so get out! Go!” Michael shouted, frantically turning towards one specific cell and hitting it a few more times. Alex’s back hit the desk behind him, a type of acceptance forming on his face.

Oh no.

“I don’t look away, Guerin,” Alex said. Michael seemed to freeze in his spot. “I never have, I never will.” Michael turned around, eyes wide and body shaking.

”No,” Michael said, “Go!” His arm thrust Isobel’s way and she felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. She fell back on the step, hand over her heart as she tried to steady her breathing.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Go! I don’t love you!” Michael shouted and Alex visibly flinched. “We’ve been holding onto this, this thing. Where’s it gotten us? Just-just go. Just let it go. Let it go.”

“You’re a miserable liar.”

Michael’s jaw clenched so hard as the sirens seemed to blare louder, faster. They were running out of time. They needed to go. This wasn’t the time for this.

“I’m not walking away, Michael,” Alex whispered and she somehow heard it. Tears pricked at her own eyes as she breathed even heavier. They needed to get out, what the fuck were they doing? “Not anymore.”

”Alex,” Michael damn near whimpered, taking a wobbly step towards him.

”Get out!” Isobel found herself screaming as if they could hear her, as if she could change it.

And then a handprint pressed to the glass behind them and Michael turned around as if on command. Isobel pressed her hand to her mouth, breathing shakily as she watched him press his hand against it.

Alex watched him patiently as he went into a trance-like state as if they had time to be patient. She put her head in her hands, watching and watching and waiting to see if they get out. Please, get out.

It took a moment and the sirens got louder, but Michael pulled out the trance and immediately fell onto Alex. He pulled him into his arms graciously, supporting his weight as if he hadn’t previously been struggling to support his own. Isobel watched with tears streaming down her face as her brother panted and held onto Alex with a death grip.

“Sh-she’s my- my- my m- my mo-”

“Your mother?” Alex finished, the two of them nodding together as Michael sobbed. Couldn’t they have this conversation when they weren’t about to die? Jesus. “What’d she say?”

“She… she said she loves me.”

Isobel’s heart seemed to burst with pain as she watched Alex actually smile through his teary eyes. She had never felt so weak in her life.

“She said you love me.”

“I do, Michael, you know I do,” Alex gushed right back, holding onto him. Michael nodded, his eyes closing as he relaxed into Alex. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Isobel’s hands slid into her hair, crying even harder than she wanted to admit as she watched these two idiotic men relax when they were seconds away from dying. They didn’t have time. They just didn’t. She was going to watch her brother explode.

“She also said,” Michael gulped, his hand slipping down to Alex’s and gripping it hard, “to run.”

They both broke into a sprint, running up the steps and straight through her body which inevitably woke her up.

Isobel burst into consciousness with panicked gasps, throwing the yearbook across the room as she scrambled to the head of her bed. She pulled her knees to her chest, steadying her breaths. Were Alex’s dreams always that fucking traumatic? Did he always have to imagine her brother almost dying and them having a dramatic love confession?

Was that actually what happened?

She made a vow to stay out of people’s dreams for the foreseeable future.

[classlesstulip]

  Alright, I mentioned a while back that if anyone was interested, I would post some of the things that didn’t make it into my fic’s and the like. HERE’S THE FIRST ONE!

This particular one is how “Sugar Daddy” was going to start.

He was exhausted, irritated, angry, frustrated, and he felt like his head was about to explode. From the moment he woke up, Julian's day had been shit. This was just the icing on top of the shit cake.

     Last night, he and his now-ex had broken up. He had suspicions for a while that she was cheating and it was confirmed in the most explosive way possible.

     It's not every day that you catch your girlfriend snogging a guy at the bar you WORK at. Or you call her phone, have her deny it, and continue to do so even when you're both staring the other straight in the eye from across the bar. After having at it, he tossed her shit out. By that point, it was near 4am and they had attracted the whole floor of the apartment building.

     Thinking that was that, he essentially took a short nap before getting up for his Epidemiology lecture. After, he had to rush to his residency, getting stuck in the subway when power to the car went out. Getting chewed out by the Ward Director, he got vomited on, along with a volunteer accidentally spilling a tray of urine samples all over him.

     Suffice to say, one would think that things couldn't get worse. Alas, one would be so very wrong. Because that night the bar was packed because of a late-running football match, and Millwall fans are fucking dicks.

     After everything that happened, he decided to treat himself. Picking up a curry, he made his way to his unit just to find some stranger knocking on the door. Thinking they were looking for someone and had gotten lost, Julian decided to do a good deed and help the poor guy out…

     ...just to find out his ex had signed him up on every hook-up site and app she could find, posting his personal ADDRESS for anyone to see.

     He should just go back to Russia.

***

     Rubbing his eyes, he flopped back onto his bed, laptop balanced between crossed legs. On the glowing screen was his open email, message after message and advert after advert for different ‘mingling’ sites displayed.

     Grindr, Tinder, Bumble, the whole shebang. Literally dozens, including ones he didn't even think existed.

     (Some guy named GoatBoy69 on pissparty.com keeps emailing him, wanting Julian to ‘let loose’ all over his chest while he gets railed by his boyfriend. Julian just wants to vanish into the ether.)

     Hearing another chime chirp from his computer, he groaned in emotional agony. Every five minutes he got something from one of the sites, the most active one being a hardcore BDSM sugar baby finder. It hasn't even been a full day since their breakup and he literally has a hundred messages from this site alone.

     Julian would be lying to himself if he said that having a bunch of rich people want to bone him and pay his tuition wasn't a powertrip. Any other time he would be gloating. But, considering he hadn't signed up in the first place, he was just frustrated.

     Another chime coincided with a knock at the door. Sighing in tired resignation he went to answer, ready to repeat his spiel once again. Flinging open the door, he saw no-one before looking down.

     A short woman stood there, dressed in a power suit that probably cost more than what he made in a year. Her long mahogany hair was pulled up in a bun, and she had dark eyes. Like a few others before her, she held a duffle bag that no doubt held all sorts of sordid sex toys.

     For some reason, this was the last straw. All of the anger, frustration, and just downright sadness hit him all at once.

     Something must have shown on his face because her expression turned from one of controlled flirtation to concern in an instant. She shuffled him back into the apartment, set him down in his breakfast nook, and made him a cup of tea.

     “From the look on your face, this was not your doing, hmm?” She had a nice voice, lower than most women. It was soothing to his frayed nerves.

     “Ah, no, um, miss. It was not, Prew, my ex-” she held out a hand, cutting him off.

    “Say no more. And let me guess? She signed you up for everything under the sun?”

     Julian could only give a subdued nod, sipping his tea. He had curled his long fingers around the stoneware, trying to suck in the warmth it provided. “I emailed most other sites, explaining what happened. They've, ah, been very understanding. Along with my bank. Some sites had a registration fee. I didn't know until one mentioned a refund.” Checking his account balance nearly gave him a heart attack; he only had £5.84 to get him through the rest of the week.

     And it was only Tuesday.

     She hummed. “Have you seen the pictures?”

     His heart stopped.

     Pictures. Prew had posted PICTURES!

     His guest sighed. “I'll take that as a no. Here,” pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen a few times before passing it to him. On it, he could ‘see’ his profile.

     Username: CumDump069

     Sex: Male

     Gender: Male

     Orientation: Everyone and everything ;)

     Tribe: Hard bottom, sissy

     Looking for: Someone to boss me around and hurt me hard! ;lick emoji;

     His face went red when it got to the kinks section. Some were actually quite truthful, while others were quite disgusting.

     (Now he knows why GoatBoy is so interested in him.)

     His heart stopped at the pictures. Some were quite innocent. One was from their day at the beach a few weeks back. The others were personal. Things that should have been kept between them.

     (A small part of him was puzzled; the ‘Mods Favorite’ pic was taken of his shirtless back as he sprawled in bed. Others were more risqué, so why is this a fave?)

     Glimpsing through some of the comments, he passed her phone back with a snort of disgust. “No, I hadn't. Those were personal, just between us.” He felt hollow, violated. Another muffled chime was heard. Julian sighed, cupping his face and leaning on his elbows.

     “Hmm, give me a minute. Oh, the name's Lucille, by the way.” Tapping on her phone again, she placed a call. It only rang through for a few moments before getting picked up. A man's voice could be heard, but it was too quiet for Julian to hear what he said.

     “Hey, Ty. What's going on?” Some gibberish. “I know, I know. In fact, I'm sitting in front of him. Thing is, he didn't do it.” An incredulous sound. “Mhmm, ex-girlfriend. Think you can help out?” An affirmative sound, followed by a few more sentences. Lucille turned to him, “do you mind if I put this on speaker? Ty just wants to ask you a few questions.”

     “Why not? My weeks already ruined.”

     “Awwww, don't be like that. Ty's pretty good at taking care of things. A total Daddy. And you,” she gave him a slow once over, a smirk pulling at her lips, “look like someone Daddy needs to take care of.” Before Julian could sputter out a denial, she put the phone on speaker.

     “Hello?”

     Julian went redder than a brick house. Lucille snorted, not missing the effect such a dark and growly voice had on him. “He-hello? I'm, uh, Julian. Thank you for helping me?” Dear lord above, he hopes the other didn't hear his voice crack.

     “It's no problem, sweetheart. Us kinkster's take things like consent seriously. Now, do you have your computer in front of you? I'm going to be doing some things to your account before we close it.”

     Dashing to get his laptop, he plunked it down before sitting. Navigating to the site's main page, he gave an affirmative.

     “Nice. So, I'm going to start by locking your profile and changing the username. Afterward, it'll get wiped of your info and a disclaimer put up. Then, it'll be left as is for a few days so word will get spread of just what happened. A week later and it'll disappear like magic.”

     “Question. Why leave it up, and not just delete it?”

     “Well, your ex probably has you on a couple of different sites, and our community isn't just limited to using just one. This is the quickest way to spread word and have others keep an eye out. As it is, some of your info is already on the deep web.”

     Julian's heart sank.

     “Unfortunately, honey, the damage is done. All we can do is control. Lucky for you,” Lucille threw him a saucy wink, “a lot of us who use the site have some power and influence. We can keep quiet a bit of your info out of the wrong hands.”

     “I'll also give you my personal number, in case some people won't take no for an answer. I'm not worried about our members acting...improper, so much as the damned vanilla community. Fuckers don't understand that no means no.” Ty rattled off a number, one that had an international code.

     After a few moments of silence, Julian then saw his profile change. All the photos and info vanished. Stuck to the top of the page was a banner, disclaiming this page as being a ‘compromised account, not to be pursued’ with a small screenshot of what had been listed. Another beat later and his eyebrows vanished into his hairline; a multi-paragraph legal disclaimer popped up, stating things like ‘impersonation’, ‘distribution of personal assets’, ‘revenge pornography’, and a list of sites that are also on the lookout.

     This guy has done more to stop and fix the issue than his bank did. And when he called the police, he got laughed at.

     “So, that's that. Now for a profile name. You want anything in particular? Unfortunately, I can't leave it blank. The foundational coding throws a fit if left blank.”

     “If you let him pick, he'll go with something cutesy. Don't do it.”

     “I am beyond the point of caring. I'm tired. I'm hungry. My day has been shit. He can call me ‘kitten’ for all I care.”

     “Mmmhhhh, so if I pet you, will you purr for me?” Ty's voice went darker, a strong heat coming through. Julian covered his face as he groaned in mortification. The other let out a rumbly chuckle. “Gotta say, babe, may want to be careful. You can give a guy ideas…”

     “Tiberius. Leave him alone.”

     “*snort* Oh, you're no fun anymore. Fine, I'll leave sweetheart alone.” A few beats of silence, Ty grumbling under his breath. “There. Got you a new name and everything. I've put extra security on your account in case your ex tries anything. I'll send it to your email. I've also taken care of your registration fee. It's been marked as expedited, so it should be in your account by morning.”

***

     Lucille left after everything was wrapped up, also leaving her number as well. Feeling much lighter than before, Julian slept soundly. His good luck must have carried over because his classes the next day were canceled due to a burst pipe, and his supervisory doctor, Dr. Satrinava left him a message to have the day off, he looked like hell.

     Having a day off for the first time in a while let him do some much-needed housekeeping. Starting a load of laundry, he tackled the dishes as it ran. Looking into his fridge and pantry reminded him he needed to do some needed grocery shopping. Wondering about what he had to work with, he opened his banking app. He wasn't expecting much, knowing that refunds take a few days to process. He just needs enough to get by until the weekend. Seeing his checking account, he nearly dropped his phone, fingers going numb.

     There was £5,000 in his account. He didn't even have a full £1,000 the day before this bullshitfest started, having just paid his rent and utilities. Where the fuck did this come from?

     Heart going mad, he looked through his recent transactions. The usual deductions were clear as day, and he could pinpoint the start of Prew's transgressions. Scrolling through, he made a mental note to email a few other sites he must have missed. Coming to today, there was only one thing posted.

     March 22nd, 2018 (Con't):

       www.darkdelights.com

                               -£99.99

       www.ashleymadison.com

                               -£19.99

       www.sugarandsting.com

                              -£100.00

     March 23, 2018

       www.sugarandsting.com

                           +£100.00

       Roman Financial

                           +£6000.00

       Account Balance: +£5007.45

     Sinking into his kitchen chair, he gave a shaking exhale. This must be a mistake. There is no way that that money is his. He doesn't even know of a Roman Financial!

***

     One panic attack and several hours of being on hold later, and Julian had a few answers. The transfer came directly from a personal bank account. Getting passed around to different levels of the fraud department revealed that the individual called in the transfer and had Julian's account info. Put on hold again, the investigator called Roman for further inquiries. Getting patched into a conference call, the personal accountant of the originator confirmed that yes, it's legit, no, no need for thanks, it's a gift, and will he be okay for right now or does he need more funds until everything is sorted out?

     (Julian is embarrassed to admit that he made a sound not unlike an angry teakettle when asked that. He swears he heard the accountant smother a laugh.)

     Finishing up the call, he had an internal battle with himself. He knows for a fact that the money has to have come from someone who was a member of one of the ‘sugar baby’ websites. Two of the ones he was signed up for had a listing for a checking account, but both were to what must be Prew's account.

     Which means a moderator had to have done it. The question is, why? Is it hush money? Is it a bribe? Settlement?

     Or is someone making good on picking him up as a sugar baby? If so, is he spending this money (on greatly needed essentials, granted) implying his agreement to such an arraignment?

     He'll need to call Ty on this.

***

     Fixing up a cuppa, he curled up on the couch. Wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, Julian scrolled through his phone before selecting Ty's number. Listening to it ring through, he hoped he didn't wake the other. International numbers can be so unpredictable.

     “Mrrh’lo?” A rough, gravelly voice rumbled through the speaker. Julian winced, knowing that he did, indeed wake the other man.

     “Ah, sorry to wake you, Ty,” he felt so guilty. “But, um, something came up and Lucille made a comment last night that leads me to believe you can answer it and ohgodI'msorryto-”

     “Nah, calm down, sweetheart. I've shoulda woke hours ago,” a loud yawn could be heard in the background. “What's goin’ on, babe?”

     “...what's sugar baby etiquette?”

     “Ooooh, you lookin’ for a Daddy? I'm available if you're interested. I know I certainly am.”

     Redder than a hydrant, Julian explained. He stumbled and started a few times, not being familiar with being so frank. He'll flirt up a storm, tease you nice and good, but being this blunt? 

     Never heard of her.

     “Eh, if the accountant says not to worry, then don't. You would have been told directly and in no certain terms what's going on. Hell, a signed contract needs to be established before the relationship can go. If they try to goad you into this, using the money as an excuse, call me. Our site has a top-notch team of rabid lawyers.”

     Julian felt himself relax. It's not normal to trust a literal stranger this much after everything that happened, but he has no real choice. It also helps that neither Lucille or Ty are twigging his ‘Stranger Danger’ alarm.

     Hearing a chime from his laptop, he opened it. Among the now-familiar deluge of mailbox porn was a friend request.

     “I've sent you a request. My handle on Sugar and Sting is ‘NightmareFuel’. A few members are feeling a little worried, so if you're open to it, I can make your profile interactive.”

     Julian was left feeling speechless. He's lived in Cambridge for nearly four years, going back home to Kursk rarely. He has few friends this far from home, despite the efforts of Dr. Satrinava, and his ex-girlfriend is doing her best to make him miserable.

     And here is a group of rich, kinky bastards who want to make sure he's okay.

***

     During dinner, he accepted both the request and decided to make his profile public. Within minutes, he had over a dozen requests, each attached to a message asking how he was doing. Composing himself, he accepted and responded to a few. One linked to a ‘Misc.’ chat board, saying it was kink-free and a good hangout. Logging in, he was bombarded with a variety of greetings, both typed and voice. Dozens of men and women, sounding like they came from all over the world, were treating him like an old friend.

     Sweetheart: Hello? It's nice to meet you all.

     BangCOCK!: finally! fresh MEAT!

     FuckBoysGet$$$: dont you fcuking start

     Snek_Boops: Hello! (waves)

     Qween: Good evening.

     Sweetheart: Wait what? Why is this my handle?

     BangCOCK!: (looking @ Fuel)

     FuckBoysGet$$$: (looking @ Fuel)

     Qween: (looking @ Fuel)

     Snek_Boops: Fuel did it!

     NightmareFuel: fuck all u motherfuckers suck my dick

     Fuck you, Ty. Fuck. You.

***

     The next few months, school really ramped up. He was moved to the labs, analyzing samples and diagnosing illnesses. The bar finally got another bartender on hand, along with additional bouncers, lightening his load significantly.

     Things with Prew continued to go downhill. He had changed the locks a few days after she left but isn't able to move until his lease is up. He may still be stuck there because not many other buildings have flats within his budget. He's trying to find a better job, but not many places offer good pay and are willing to work around his schedule. Dr. Satrinava is putting out word to her colleagues, but not many are in the market for a student that still has another three years to go before being a fully viable employee.

     At least once a week some rando will show up, knocking on his door. Most left him alone when told what's going on, one revealing they found his info on a fucking bathroom stall. A few tried to get handsy regardless. He's already had to send some off with broken noses, one with a broken arm. Last week, he punched a guy so hard that he dislocated his finger along with the guy's teeth.

     (Dr. Satrinava gave him the most disappointed look he's received from anyone other than his mother. Due to his splint, he's been relegated to ‘File Boy’.)

     His resolve is starting to wear thin. He needs to get out, he needs sleep, and he needs a job that will give him the flexibility required to continue his education. He's thought of asking Ty and the others if they know of anyone willing to hire him, but he doesn't want to lean on them too much. Two already are helping him understand some of the weirder concepts of evolutionary biology.

     Looking at his bank account again, Julian sighed. He may not have a choice. Tapping a well-known contact, he shot off a text. Getting a skype invite back, he opened his laptop before launching the app. Putting on his headphones, a wave of nervousness washed over him: with only one exception, all interactions between himself and Ty had someone else present in some way. Granted, they talk nearly every day through Sugar and Sting's chat function but never solo. Until now.

     “So, you said you needed a better job?”

     Julian jumped, having drifted off. That same low heat pooled in his gut, a familiar friend that comes around every time he hears Ty's voice. “Ah, um, yes. Prew has scrawled my address on many, um, loo stalls and it's just, just-”, he gasped, exhaustion and fear collapsing over his chest. “I just can't take it anymore. I can't sleep, my job sucks, I've had to fight off sever-” Ty cut him off.

     “Fight? People have tried to hurt you!? You should have called me when this started! *sigh* Sweetheart, when I said call me if you need help, I meant it. Shit like what your cunt ex did can last for months, if not years. Just…*grumbles*.”

     Julian's chest felt tight. “Sorry. I didn't mean to anger you. It's just…”

     “Haaaa, I know. And I'm not angry at you. Just the situation. When this started happening I did a bit of background on you, and having such a good, hardworking person get dicked over by some self-perceived princess gets me mad.

     Can you give me a few days? I assume you're not looking to be ‘acquired’, so getting something tossed your way may be difficult. I also take it you're looking for something medical-related?”

     “Yes, please.” He was quiet, feeling bashful.

     “Alright, I'll send you what I find. I may know of a few leads. Have a nice night, Sweetheart.”

[agentunwin]

WHY [POPSTAR!Y/N X SHAWN MENDES] [PART 6]

A/N: I recommend you listen to this song while you read, it’s super cute. I think this series is gonna have one more part. I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on this and my other writing <3

Prompt: Day two at the studio, and the two reach an agreement. [Based off Shawn’s song Why]. 

Warnings: Nothing!

Words: 2,057

Tag: @yourwonderbelle @coldluvr @marvel-mendes8 @xoxohannahlee @maddieeelizabeth @irwie-cake @coolgirlthemonologue

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4*, Part 5, Part 5.5,

Masterlist

-

When you woke up, you immediately found yourself in a compromising position.

You felt the steady rise and fall of a hard chest behind you, the person's arm draped over your waist to hold you close to them. As if you didn't already know who it was, the familiar brown curls were just next to you, flopped loosely against his forehead. You couldn't deny that you missed being this close with him, but it was his fault that there was a barrier between the two of you.

Your mind still groggy, you tried to remember what had happened the previous night. You must have accidentally fallen asleep next to Shawn when you guys were wrapping up the writing for Like To Be You, which only ended up taking an hour or so once you two began to pour your hearts out.

A lot was said that night, but nothing was said directly. Everything they wanted- needed to say was spoken through their lyrics, left to the other's interpretation.

Lines like "There's nothin' left to say, let's call a truce, 'Cause I don't really wanna go to bed like this," and "Can I kiss you or not, 'cause I'm not really sure right now of what you want," stuck in your mind as you fell asleep that night on the hardwood floor, definitely not with Shawn. He must have fallen asleep soon after.

You sighed heavily and listened to the birds outside of the studio beach house whilst you pondered your options. Either you wake him up by breaking free of his grasp, or you stay put and wait for him to wake up beside you. Either option seemed equally awkward.

That's when Shawn's grungy morning voice startled you, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. "Mm. Good morning."

As soon as you realized he was awake as well, you separated yourself from him, sitting up in front of him as he slowly rose to a sit as well.

"Sleep well?" He asked, running a hand lazily through his curls.

Shawn noticed the spaced-off look in your eyes and frowned, realizing that he may have unintentionally crossed another line. When you didn't answer, merely stared at the ground, he sighed and got up, looking over the mess the two of you had made.

A few beer bottles were spread throughout the room, a few blankets strung here and there, candy wrappers on the floor. The computer was still up and running, ready to play the few clips you'd managed to record.

Today was the last day the two of you had alone before the production team came in to help, and he intended to make the most of it.

"What's this?"

Your voice comes as a shock to him and he whips around to face you, face paling when he notices you holding his leather journal. You're flipping casually through the pages when he pounds across the room, ripping the book from his hands.

You give him an odd look when he holds it behind his back, pursing his lips awkwardly. "Nothing! Nothing. Please don't touch my things."

You hold your hands up defensively and nod, leaving it at that. He sighs in relief and puts his large hand to his chest, awkwardly messing with the collar. "Uh, do you wanna go back to the house and have breakfast?"

Giving his nervous tendencies a tiny grin, you nod and then you're walking out the door with him hot on your trail.

-

"Milk."

Shawn hands you the milk, watching you pour it into the mixture.

"Flour?"

He scurries to the cabinet and grabs the bag, running back to hand it to you.

"Egg."

"Ya'know," Shawn chuckles, handing her the carton. "Playing the messenger is getting pretty boring."

You glare at him jokingly and crack the egg into the batter. "Sorry I don't trust you enough to not to mess this up."

"How hard can pancakes be?" He bluffs, tossing a water bottle back and forth between his hands. "You just add the things and stir it... Simple."

You shake your head and laugh a bit, "Just let me do this, you're so annoying."

Shawn doesn't respond and you go back to stirring, humming a tune peacefully to yourself when you're suddenly hit with something, your jaw dropping to your chest.

An egg's contents were dripping down the side of your face, seeping into your hair and skin. Shawn lets out a booming laugh, holding the carton of eggs in his hand.

You reach for the bag of flour, grabbing a fistful of the substance and flinging it his way, immediately shutting him up as he coughs and waves it out of his face.

"Oh, it's on!" He yells, beginning to chase you around the kitchen.

"You started it!" You laugh genuinely, dodging his attempts to throw more eggs at you.

At one point you make a mistake and slip on one of his eggs, your body hitting the ground causing him to put the eggs down and run to your side.

He kneels next to you and his eyes run over your aching body, checking for any bad injuries.

"Agh, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He asks frantically, watching as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, looking up into his golden eyes. "I think I'm good."

"Oh." Shawn mutters, his face looking much more serious than it did just 30 seconds ago. "Well... In that case.."

Shawn's hands are on your sides in a split second, his fingers tickling over the skin. You yelp and try to swat him away, his assault pulling boisterous giggles from your lips. "Shawn, stop! Please!"

He chuckles as tears begin to leak from your eyes, his fingers never stopping. You looked so perfect underneath him like this, face shining happiness and laugh lightening his heart. Nobody else could ever make him feel this way, he was convinced.

"Uncle! Uncle!" You tap out, your laugh dying when his fingers finally stopped.

He licked over his lips when you looked up at him, your eyes glazed over and hopeful. Shawn wished he could keep you here all day, just studying your beauty until someone pulled him off of you. But he knew that couldn't happen.

You cleared your throat and he snapped out of his daze, helping you up to your feet.

"So.." He bit his lip, "Who's going to get in the shower first?"

"You go ahead." You look down at the ground, unable to hold that mesmerizing gaze with the man anymore. "I'll finish the pancakes."

Shawn nods and walks off, going to wash himself from all of their shenanigans.

The pancakes are done far before you find yourself leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door. Shawn's silky smooth voice was belting out his own lyrics as he practiced runs and different progressions, and it blew you away just as it did every other time he sang.

You could imagine him in there, shower steam making his cheeks rosy, hair wet and stuck to his skin.

Oh, how you wish he hadn't been such an asshole.

You must not have noticed his shower stopping and before you could run away, Shawn's exiting the bathroom, dripping wet with only a towel wrapped around his waist. You stand there like a deer in the headlights at the fact that you'd been caught, however Shawn barely reacts. He merely smirks at you and nods towards the door.

"Shower's free."

-

Shawn watched you with the upmost adoration in his eyes as he witnessed you belt out the final lyrics to the song. When you finished, you stood there with your eyes closed and your right hand on the headphones, basking in the glory of basically completing a song.

Your peace is interrupted when Shawn lets out a whooping cheer, clapping his hands together and rushing towards you. You gasp loudly as he picks you up by your knees, spinning you around and holding you close to him. Both of you are laughing at his actions and he sets you down after a second.

His face is still rosy and radiant when he holds your shoulders, shaking you gently, "God, you're such an amazing singer. How did I get so lucky to get this collab with you?"

"Oh, stop it." You swat him away while simultaneously pulling him into a hug.

He cradles the back of your head and rocks the two of you back and forth, never wanting to let go.

"This is gonna go #1." You mutter into his chest. "I can feel it in my bones."

Shawn doesn't reply, only stops rocking you and pulls back the slightest bit to look at your face.

The open windows let in a slight breeze, strands of your hair gently tickling your face. The only light in the room came from the dimmed lights overhead, and the only noise that could be heard in the room was the noises of the night creatures outside.

Shawn's hand comes down to cradle your jaw, smiling when you nuzzle your cheek into his rough palm. His eyes flutter as his mind races, thinking of something to say, and quick before he loses you again.

"Y/N, I-" He begins, licking his lips nervously but keeping adamant eye contact with you. "I miss you. And maybe not in the way you're thinking. I would love to be with you in that way, yeah, but I understand if that's not what you want. If you want to stay friends forever, that's fine with me. I just need you in my life, in one way or another."

You grin at his small rant, squeezing his arm. "You're too cute."

Shawn lets out a quick breath in place of a laugh, shaking his head. "Okay.. I don't know what that means.."

"It means I miss you too." You quirk, rolling your eyes. "I just.. I'm not ready to try again. Not like that, not yet. But, I miss those conversations we would always have in between interviews and shows, and how you always supported me, even through my dumbest decisions. You never failed to put a smile on my face. And I miss having that kind of friendship."

"I'll literally take anything you give me. I'd wait 500 years until you're ready again." Shawn breaths out, finally feeling like he can breathe again. "Thank you so much, Y/N. Thanks for not completely giving up on me."

You nod, standing up on your tippytoes to ruffle his hair. "No problem, Shawn. Now what do you say we go celebrate our last day alone here and pop that bottle of champagne?"

-

Shawn's curly head pops into your room 2 days later, eyes saddening when he watches you packing your things into your last bag. "You ready to go?"

You zip up your suitcase, looking back at him with a smirk. "Jeez, are you rushing me?"

"The opposite, actually." Shawn snickers.

The song was completed with the help of the team that came in that next day, and today, it was finally time to leave. Your flight was leaving earlier than his, meaning that you'd be leaving him earlier than he preferred.

"I'm sure you'll see me soon, Shawn." You grin at him, pinching his cheek with one of your free hands. "Besides, when this song hits the charts, you're never going to be able to shut me up about it."

"I look forward to that." Shawn quips quickly, walking you to the wide open front door. The black truck was already in the driveway, ready to bring you to the airport.

"Be very careful what you wish for," You joke, pulling him into a small hug that turns into a huge one when he pulls you tighter against him, his blunt nails digging into your sides.

He breaths in heavily and mutters, "I'm really gonna miss you. Even though you drive me absolutely insane."

You laugh at this and shake your head as he lets you go, "I'll text you when I land, alright?"

Shawn nods and blows you a joking kiss as you walk away, loading your things into the truck.

You climb into the passenger seat without looking at him and your phone dings just before you pull away. Pulling it out, you're positive your heart skips a beat.

From: Shawn

See? Missing you already :(

You look out the window to see him frowning, waving at you as the wheels below you begin to turn and you're waving back sweetly.

And Shawn merely stands there, watching you ride off into the distance until all that's left of your vehicle is a tiny speck disappearing over the mountain.

[grindellore]

fanfiction: and when he falls (chapter 2)

Fandom: Harry Potter | Fantastic Beasts Pairing: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald Characters: Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Ariana Dumbledore, Bathilda Bagshot Rating: M (raised for a WWI vision of Gellert’s and for an explanatory end note)

Summary: Second chapter of my Summer of 1899 Grindeldore fic.

Also available on my AO3 (see the link in my profile).

“So ... what is this mysterious project for which you need to conduct so much historical research?” Albus asked as he entered the second room to the right that had temporarily been transformed into Gellert’s chamber. Its ceiling was so low that Albus needed to duck his head while Gellert was just barely able to stand upright.

The room had always been intended for guests, as it seemed, with a comfortable bed to the right and a dressing table underneath a window diagonally opposite to the chamber door. Directly opposite, there was a beautifully carved wooden desk with two boards above it that Gellert used as bookshelves.

“I think it’s best if you see for yourself.” Gellert went to the desk, took some neatly stacked sheets of parchment from it and two books from the shelves, and handed them all to Albus. The other boy took them wordlessly and kneeled to the floor, spreading the parchment all around him so he could better examine it. Gellert took a book he hadn’t perused yet and flopped down on his bed, but he couldn’t focus on reading. Instead, he watched Albus who seemed to have forgotten all around himself, completely absorbed in the texts he was reading. His long, straight auburn hair was shimmering in the afternoon air, hiding half of his face.

Strange, Gellert thought. He had half assumed Albus would broach Gellert’s reaction to the green carnation again, but he seemed to have dropped the matter completely. Written words were apparently much more interesting to him than witty banter—if it was indeed witty banter Albus had aimed for.

Gellert suddenly realised that what he felt was disappointment. He wanted Albus’s attention; craved for Albus to make him the target of his wry humour again.

“I don’t think your book will read itself to you while you keep staring at me.” Albus hadn’t even so much as looked up, but he had apparently sensed Gellert’s eyes on him.

Gellert winced and opened his book, but he still found it difficult to focus on reading. As he bowed above the pages and tried to make sense of the words in front of him, fatigue from his travels by Portkey settled in. He caught himself reading the same sentence over and over again, struggling with sleepiness. His position on the bed didn’t help to keep his eyes open either.

He woke up from the scent of old paper and an uncomfortable pressure on his nose. Blinking, he registered that he had fallen asleep with his head on top of the book and his nose literally poking into the pages.

Gellert rolled to the side, wincing and rubbing over the back of his nose. Then he realised that the sunlight had turned golden. It was evening.

He looked around in his room. Albus was gone. The parchment sheets had been shoved into an untidy heap. The two books Gellert had given him were closed, but there were now several small parchment strips in between the pages.

There was also a third, much smaller book now, positioned right on top of the other two. Gellert picked it up. A single piece of parchment was slipped between two pages. Gellert opened it at the marker.

The book was written in runes, but Gellert had learnt how to read them in Durmstrang. He recognised the title of the story Albus’s marker showed to him immediately: The Tale of the Three Brothers. And someone—no, not someone; Albus—had drawn the triangular symbol from the Peverell grave at the top of the page: The sign of the Deathly Hallows.

Gellert seized the piece of parchment, certain there would be some explanation; some clue that would tell him if Albus thought he was just a dreamer...

Gellert—

This book belongs to my sister. It is a first edition, so please treat it with care.

Albus

Gellert stared at Albus’s words. That was not the kind of information he was interested in. But what if... Acting purely on intuition, Gellert pointed his wand at the piece of parchment and muttered: “Aparecium!”

Sure enough, more words appeared on the parchment slip:

PS: Let’s talk about the Hallows tomorrow. You clearly need some rest, but I do hope you will find a better position. Sleeping with your head on a book doesn’t look very comfortable.

Gellert’s gaze fixated on the first words of Albus’s postscript: Let’s talk about the Hallows tomorrow.

Let’s talk. So Albus was still willing to put up with him. Regardless of whether Albus thought the existence of the Hallows was humbug or if—Gellert could dream, couldn’t he?—Albus was a believer himself, Gellert would be given the chance to explain himself further. He would also get to see Albus again, and very soon: Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Gellert chanted inwardly as he picked up the heap of parchments from the floor and carried it back to his desk. Tomorrow he would show Albus—infinitely fascinating, spirited, bookish Albus—that he was worthy of his attention; that Gellert could keep up with him, Durmstrang expellee or not.

When Gellert woke next, it was pitch black outside. All excitement of the evening before had left his mind. He was struggling to free himself of the blanket that had twisted around his body, trying to push the images out of his mind.

It was no use. They kept coming back: Images of men with insect-like masks on their faces and guns around their shoulders, running in muddy trenches or seeking shelter in mountainous caves; men without masks lying in the dirt or on rocky surface, surrounded by some sort of vapour, staring upwards into an obscured sky with unseeing eyes; more bodies, but those were shredded to pieces, barely recognisable as human anymore; sirens, hissing sounds and detonations...

Gellert focused on closing his mind; on detaching himself from the horror he felt at the sight of those images and the vague fear the effects of that vapour instilled in him... It took an effort; it always was an effort, but eventually he only saw velvet darkness when he closed his eyes. His racing pulse slowed down and he was finally able to breathe more freely.

A long time passed until he was able to sleep again. When he woke for the third time, it was from the scent of Aunt Batty’s freshly made sandwiches, just like it was meant to be.

Gellert was shifting around on his seat while he ate breakfast, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his great aunt until he mentioned that Albus had suggested to continue Gellert’s research with him today. That was when a benign smile appeared on Bathilda’s face.

“Lovely!” she exclaimed. “I’m glad you and Albus seem to be getting along! You see, I’ve been so worried for the poor boy when his mother died. He had been so looking forward to this journey for the Continent with little Doge... You know, his schoolmate; the one who had had dragon pox.”

“Yes, I remember.” Gellert had already heard the extended version of the same story the day before. He wondered fleetingly how tall “little Doge” actually was. Probably smaller than Albus, but certainly not meriting the epithet “little”... Then again, his great aunt would probably continue to address him as “darling” for as long as they both lived.

“If you go over to the Dumbledores’ now,” Bathilda said into his thoughts, “perhaps you’d like to take some of yesterday’s cake with you? I know it’s not afternoon yet, but the boy is so thin anyway and Ariana also seemed to enjoy it a lot.” Gellert grinned. That was the good thing about Aunt Batty: She was always willing to feed you.

“Thank you, Auntie, that’s a wonderful idea!” he replied enthusiastically. “I’ll just take it from the kitchen then!” With these words, he was out of the door. The chocolate cake was floating behind him as he walked to the neighbouring house, dutifully hidden from stray Muggle eyes behind a glamour.

When he knocked at the front door of the neighbouring cottage, nothing happened for a while. Then the curtain of a window close to the door moved slightly, and only after that, it opened. Albus peeked out, the front of his purple robes blotted with something that looked suspiciously like apricot jam.

“Oh, Gellert, hello!” he said in an exhausted voice. “I’m afraid I have to see to it that Ariana eats her breakfast before we can talk about anything else...”

“It’s alright,” Gellert assured him, pushing past Albus with the cake trailing faithfully behind him.

“Is that yesterday’s cake?” a young, female voice said from the kitchen. Gellert barely recognised it as Ariana’s because it was lacking the shyness he had heard in his great aunt’s house.

“It is,” he said with a smile, beckoning the cake into the kitchen. He noticed Ariana tense for a second, but she relaxed as she realised who he was.

The cake settled softly in the middle of the kitchen table that was half splattered with jam. Gellert settled down on the chair next to Ariana where Albus had been sitting.

“If I give you a piece of cake instead of that sandwich”—he gestured to the two torn slices of white bread on her plate—“will you eat it?” She nodded. He cleaned her plate and the surface of the table with a flick of his wand.

“Do you have a dessert fork and a cake knife, Albus?” He didn’t need to turn around to know Albus was watching them from the door; he was able to sense his presence.

The cutlery he had requested appeared with such abruptness in front of him that he almost flinched. He shot Albus a confused glance, but he couldn’t make sense of the look the other boy was giving him. It was ... troubled, almost hurt? Gellert blinked.

Then he refocused on the task at hand, cutting a piece of cake for Ariana without magic, but allowing it to hover to her plate so he couldn’t accidentally overturn it.

“Thank you!” Ariana smiled at him and started to eat. Gellert smiled back, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was worried about Albus’s reaction.

“Would it be alright if we left you alone for a little while?” Gellert asked her gently. “We won’t be leaving the house, so you’d just need to call for us and we’d be with you at once.” Ariana nodded and started to eat her slice of cake. Gellert gave her another reassuring smile before he left the table and went to Albus.

“Can we go to your room ... or some sort of living room perhaps?” he asked.

“My room is best,” Albus replied, sounding distant. He turned on his heel and strode to a wooden flight of stairs that was a bit wider than the one in Bathilda’s house. Gellert had difficulty to keep up with his pace.

The interior of Albus’s room was similar to Gellert’s; only the arrangement of the furniture was a little different and there were more bookshelves. Albus’s desk, however, was littered with papers and overlapping open books. Sweet wrappings and quills were strewn across the desk, and there was a large bowl of sweets to the left of the desk. The shelf on top of the desk didn’t hold any books but several strange instruments: One of them looked like two silver globes connected by a number of cog wheels; the next one was a bronze disk with several flat plates on it and what looked like watch hands in the shape of flowers; a third one was a silver orb that seemed to be a globe but what it showed resembled no landmass Gellert recognised. He knew it couldn’t show the moon either since he would have recognised the shapes of the lunar craters.

Gellert didn’t allow himself to take the time to admire Albus’s strange objects and dwell on their potential use. Instead, he focused on the disapproval he had sensed from Albus as he had given Ariana the piece of cake.

“I’m sorry, Albus,” he said before the other could say anything. “I should have asked you if it was alright to give Ariana a piece of cake for breakfast. It’s probably not good for her health...”

“No,” Albus said, stopping Gellert with a wave of his hand. “No, that’s not it. It’s fine by me if she eats cake for breakfast...” He paused, looking down as he worried his lower lip with his teeth. Gellert sensed that he was fighting yet another fight with himself. At last, Albus decided to speak.

“You see ... sometimes she eats just fine, and other days ... other days, you hardly get her to nibble on anything. My brother is really good at persuading her to eat, but ... when I’m alone with her, I—I...” He broke off, frowning.

Gellert acted on impulse. He crossed the distance between them, putting his arms around Albus. The other boy tensed. His first impulse was to raise his arms between their chests in order to keep Gellert at distance. Then Albus’s arms fell down, not exactly endorsing the embrace but allowing it to happen. Gellert drew back before Albus could decide to change his mind for another time.

“Thank you,” Albus said to Gellert’s surprise. “I suppose I needed a hug.”

“I suppose we all do sometimes.” Gellert scratched his head, feeling awkward.

“And I suppose you haven’t come here to hear me complain about Ariana’s eating habits,” Albus said lightly, but the small, self-deprecating smile on his lips gave him away: His difficulty to interact with his sister clearly troubled him. In spite of that, Gellert decided not to press the matter. He knew the other boy not nearly long enough to intrude himself into Albus’s sibling relationships.

“You’re right,” Gellert therefore said, taking Ariana’s copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from a small pouch at his belt on which he had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm. “I came to hand this back to you.” He took the piece of parchment with Albus’s letter out of the book. “And because of this.”

Now Albus’s smile was genuinely amused. It reached his eyes and made them sparkle in the way Gellert felt so drawn to since the first time he had seen it.

“I take it you found the postscript, then?” Albus said with a smug grin. In that moment, Gellert decided to play his game.

“Well, you didn’t exactly make an effort to hide it,” he replied. “A simple Revealing charm was all it took me to make your message appear. I didn’t even need to use Revelio, let alone come up with a more challenging technique to uncover your message.” His own grin mirrored Albus’s smugness.

“Oh, you want a challenge?” Albus’s gaze held his. Gellert felt a strange flutter in his stomach. “How about a duel? Purely playful, of course; just to try each other’s hexing abilities.”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” Gellert replied, leaning back against the low chest of drawers next to Albus’s door in what he hoped was a duly confident posture.

“Back on our high horse, are we?” Albus raised an eyebrow. “Interesting that the prospect of a duel makes you calm whereas a little flower suffices to make you nervous.”

“It doesn’t make me nervous.” Gellert shrugged as if he could brush off the lie he had just uttered. “I was merely surprised that any man in England would still have the chutzpah to put a green carnation on his clothing. Then again, you didn’t exactly wear it on a high street where Muggles could see ... your wardrobe...” He trailed off. It was only now that he realised Albus still hadn’t cleaned the apricot jam off his robes. A look at his own chest confirmed his suspicion that there was now jam on his waistcoat as well. Sighing, he flicked his wand, cleaning the jam from both their clothes. Albus actually laughed at that; a warm, bubbling sound that seemed to reverberate deep within his body. Gellert shot him a sullen look.

“You’re right,” Albus said with sudden seriousness. “It wouldn’t be advisable at all to wear either the carnation or my long robes in plain sight of Muggles. While nobody in Diagon Alley would subject another wizard to the Muggle jurisdiction for a stray flower on his clothes, it would certainly draw looks from everyone who takes even the slightest interest in Muggle affairs.”

“You don’t seem to me a person who would care about drawing looks,” Gellert pointed out. Albus inclined his head to a half-nod.

“Your observation is quite correct,” he admitted. “Yet I would prefer to reduce the amount of looks I draw to a necessary minimum. It is one thing to draw them because I prefer traditional, colourful wizard’s robes. It is an entirely different thing to give people unnecessary occasion to invade my privacy and start discussing about things that are none of their business.” He threw Gellert a calculating glance. “But I will answer truthfully if asked directly.”

Again, Gellert could feel his blood pulse at his throat. If asked directly. That meant he only needed to muster the courage...

“Then are you?” Gellert brought himself to ask. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

“Am I what, Gellert?” There was an amused smile on Albus’s lips. Gellert suddenly felt annoyed.

“Are you a...” The words the Marquess of Queensberry had used in his accusatory note to Oscar Wilde sprang to his mind. “Somdomite,” he said with an almost predatory smile. Albus laughed.

“If you define the term ‘sodomy’ from the legal perspective of Muggle jurisdiction in this country, the answer is actually ‘no,’” he chuckled. “But if you take it in a broader sense to imply that you think I’m romantically and sexually interested in men, you are quite right.” Something within Gellert dislodged at these words; it felt like falling from a great height. Albus glanced at him curiously. “And unless I’m much mistaken, so are you.”

“How did you know?” Gellert was aware that his words were effectively a confession, but he had decided the time for hiding from Albus was up.

“Oh, I only know now that you admitted to it,” Albus said, smiling indulgently. Gellert rolled his eyes; this was exactly what he had expected.

“But I had made an intelligent guess. My intuition is quite good.” Albus shot him another curious glance. “It was the way you looked at me when I smiled. Your gaze lingered—as if I was beautiful. People don’t look at me like that.”

“They should,” Gellert heard himself say. “Because you are beautiful.”

“That’s very kind of you, Gellert, but I know exactly what I look like,” Albus brushed off his compliment.

Gellert wanted to reply with how shiny Albus’s hair was; how a genuine smile transformed his whole face; how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. But then there was a crashing sound from downstairs, and Albus rushed to the door.

“Stay here,” he said firmly. “Don’t come down. Please.” Then he was gone.

Gellert wouldn’t have obeyed if it hadn’t been for the “please.” He started to pace in Albus’s room. A part of him—perhaps the same that had reacted so violently at the sight of the carnation—was almost glad the moment had been over before he had been able to disclose too many of his thoughts on Albus. Another wished with vehemence that Albus would come backright away just so he could continue to talk to him, no matter the subject.

Notes:

Did you notice that Gellert practices Occlumency to contain his visions of the Western and Alpine fronts of WWI?

The three astronomical instruments Gellert describes but doesn’t name are an orrery, an astrolabe and a celestial globe.

I suppose the Marquess of Queensberry’s misspelling of the word “sodomy” is a thing no Oscar Wilde biography ever skips over. From the legal perspective of Muggle jurisdiction in the United Kingdom, to take up the words I put in Albus’s mouth, the charge of “actual sodomy” was restricted to anal sex at the time.

Truth be told, I had quite a lengthy internal debate with myself whether I should use Gellert’s more tongue-in-cheek reply or have him use the word “homosexual” that was coined by Karl Maria Kertbeny (1824-1882), a Hungarian with Austrian and German roots. Kertbeny argued from the point of view of classical European liberalism that what two individuals consented to do with each other in their private lives was none of the business of the state and should therefore not be legally persecuted.

[xaz-fr]

The Story So Far

@griminal-rising @deadpool-scar-bro @hikayelastoria @cornsnoot-fr @redlion-fr @tales-around-sornieth (let me know if you’d like to be added to the lore pinglist)

dragons are humanoid unless said otherwise

like my writing? Consider buying me a coffee

I’ve been meaning to write a short about Tassa and Spayar cause they’re some of my fave dragons. They just have a bit of a strange relationship of having babies together but... aren’t mates, technically. On that note Tassa actually needs a fucking partner to smooch cause Spayar isn’t doing it for her hmmmmm

Togetherness

It was sunny and nice out. Despite the heat it was surprisingly low humidity around the Hall but Spayar was still laying around in one of the new gazebos Fjord had built them in the middle of the day. Von was fully passed out for his afternoon nap next to him, leaning against him, while Spayar slowly read a book on botany Jessabelle had gotten for him from the Labyrinth. He toyed with the page and looked up when the wood creaked in front of him. “Tassa,” he said, his face spreading into a smile.

“Hey,” she said and came over to him. He grunted when she sat down next to him and forced him to put his arm around her too.

“I was reading,” he huffed and looked between the two of them. Von was still sleeping peacefully, curled against his side cutely and holding Spayar’s hand in his sleep.

“You could take a break,” Tassa said, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asked and squeezed her shoulder.

“I was thinking—“

“I’m worried-

“Shut up,” and she playfully shoved him. Spayar just grinned. Next to him Von grunted in his sleep but didn’t wake.

“Careful, don’t wake him,” Spayar said.

“I was thinking…” she was awkward about it. Awkward wasn’t a word Spayar used for Tassa lightly. “Do you want to have a nest?”

Spayar stared at her. “Tassa, I literally ran away from home for that exact reason-

“No it isn’t,” she scolded him. “You left because you didn’t like our fathers making agreements for us behind our backs without considering our feelings. You didn’t want to be bonded to me.” Spayar had to hand it to her there. That was the long and short of it really. “I would never ask you to do that. But you have to admit, if we did our hatchlings would be adorable.”

He snorted. “That isn’t up for debate,” he agreed. Then he grimaced, “You know I don’t like girls.”

“I was talking with Johanna-

“Oh great,” Spayar sighed. He liked Johanna plenty but she was also a bit of an air bag and didn’t know the meaning of fun and for the most part was up tight. Spayar supposed running a clan did that to someone but she could really stand to lighten up.

“She said,” Tassa continued, giving him a stern look, “that for a long time dragons used to just share essence to make eggs.”

“Seriously?” Spayar had heard of that but it was archaic and as far as he knew only the most ancient and unprogressive clans practiced such things anymore. It was easier to just shape shift into a more accommodating size, pay for a breed changing ritual, or find a mate of similar size, than to go through with such an antiquated process.

“Well, yes,” she said.

He gave her a long look. He did love Tassa. She was his best friend, of course he loved her. But she wasn’t his mate. Von was his mate. She was supposed to be his mate, the only one he’d have, his bonded. But he could have never. “This won’t change how I feel.”

“I would never ask it to,” she said. “I only want you to be you.”

“But you still want to do this?”

“I love you,” she said.

He sighed and looked away. He wasn’t mad. He just felt bad. Tassa had had been in love with him since they were much younger. He had nothing for her. Nothing she wanted. He loved her like a friend and that was it. After a few moments he looked back at her. “I will talk about it with Von. If he doesn’t hate the idea… sure, I guess.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you,” and she kissed his cheek.

“Ewww, girl germs,” he groaned which made her giggle and kiss his cheek again. He just moved his arm around her waist and held her against him. She ended up settling against his side much like Von was and he gave her a gentle kiss on the middle of her forehead.

—

It was early morning. No one was up really yet but Spayar always woke early. It was the spirit inside him that drew its power from the sun. It always woke with the sun. Same with Tassa. That was why he knew she would be awake before anyone else. He knocked on her door gently. She opened it a few moments later, half dressed. “Oh, Spayar. What are you doing here this early?” she asked him.

“Remember that thing we talked about the other day?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she was immediately nervous.

“I spoke with Von. He was…” he huffed like he couldn’t believe his mate, “encouraging.”

Tassa snorted. “That sounds like him.”

“So I was wondering if you were interested.”

“Now?”

“I don’t see why not. I have a busy day and if it’s going to get busy I might as well get it over with.”

“Don’t sound so worked up about it. If you don’t want to we don’t have to,” Tassa said.

He ran his hand through his curly hair. “I don’t not want to. It just isn’t something I ever thought I’d have to do since I’m not into girls. So it’s weird to think about.”

“Alright. If you want to.” He just nodded. She grabbed his hand and gently pulled him into her room. He closed the door with his tail and followed her to the bed. “Sit,” she said. He sat in the middle and wasn’t surprised when she climbed into his lap, facing away from him. “Johanna explained it to me but— hearing how to do it isn’t the same as actually doing it.”

“So long as they don’t pop out as tundras I think we’ll have done fine,” he said and that made her laugh.

It did take them a while to figure out the way to do it. What exactly did Johanna mean about mixing energy? What were they supposed to do? How did they know they did it right? What about the shell? They made a lot of mistakes because making something out of nothing wasn’t exactly when they’d never done it before. But in the end they were rewarded with a single, perfect, egg. It looked a lot like a characteristic Light egg- glass-like and transparent except for the searing light that poured from it. Only the light that poured from the egg was green.

When they were done they were exhausted. Spayar flopped down on the bed. The markings on his wings were dimmed from the amount of magic he’d poured into nothing to make enough energy to form life. Tassa laid down next to him, equally tired. “Are we going to miss breakfast?” she asked sleepily.

“I think we did already,” Spayar yawned and looked down a bit. Tassa was holding their single egg in her hands against her chest like it was a precious treasure. He was very proud of that egg. He reached over and stroked the smooth surface. Unlike Light eggs it wasn’t warm to the touch. It was almost cool but not cold. More like the temperature of the air around the Plateau. “I’m not too worried about it. I need a nap after that.”

“Yes,” she agreed. Tassa’s wings were also dimmed. The usually vibrant almost stained glass like butterfly pattern on her wings were dull, the magic being spent. Then she smiled widely at him. “We did it.”

“Yeah,” he yawned again. “Sorry. I’m just exhausted.”

She snickered. “Said like a real man,” she teased him.

“Shhh,” he had his eyes closed, “You can give me a hard time later. Sleep now,” he said. She grabbed his hand while the other stayed around her egg. It didn’t take long for either of them to go to sleep.

[softboywriting]

Fireproof // Part 2

Part One

Summary: Supernatural Half Blood Boarding School AU where students are paired with a human counterpart to help them adapt to the human world outside their supernatural communities.

Waking up with something constricting your leg was alarming. You had been dreaming that your leg was really heavy and you couldn’t run. Now you understood why. Your first thought was that Shawn was laying on your leg but that didn’t seem to be so. Shawn was curled up against your pillow, obviously having stolen it from under your head sometime in the night. He is pressed against your side and his blanket is half over you. You lift the blanket to look at your left leg because it’s really very tight and very hot and starting to ache. What you find shocks you for a second but then you remember what Shawn was. His tail is wrapped, coiled perfectly around your mid thigh down to your calf to your ankle. You had no idea that his tail was so…capable.

“Shawn,” you nudge him but he doesn’t wake up. “Shawn, your tail is very tight on my leg. Please get it off.” You elbow him and he tugs your leg with his tail and you’re forced to roll, facing him and presses against his chest to avoid having your leg pulled out of socket. “Shawn!”

Shawn opens his eyes and they’re deep golden amber colored. You’re face to face with him and you can see every variation of the color in his eyes as it fades to his natural hazel brown color. “Yes?” he grumbles and you are just transfixed on his whole face. Who woke up looking that cute? Who?

“Y-your tail,” you wiggle it feebly in the grasp of his tail and he lazily uncoils it and slides it to his side of the bed. You sit up and bring your knee up to rub where his tail had been cutting off circulation. There are red marks all the way around your leg and you look over at him with pursed lips. He looks sheepish and hides his face from your annoyed look.

Quickly you learn that Shawn is…difficult. By the time you were ready to go to class he hadn’t even picked out a pair of pants to wear. He didn’t want to wear his cargo pants because he would have to wear a hoodie, -why? you didn’t know- he didn’t want to wear a hoodie because he would get too warm. The long sleeved black henley he picked out only looked good with his black jeans but he wouldn’t be able to hide his tail. In the cargo pants he could hide his tail by tucking it between his legs and wrapping it down around his leg. In the jeans…well…there simply wasn’t room. Then there was his sweatpants which were comfortable but ugly as hell, or so he said.

“I’m not going!” he yells and flops back on the bed in his boxers. “I can’t wear anything!”

“Oh really? You have plenty to wear but you just don’t want to. If you’re so concerned about your tail, then wear the cargo pants and hide it.” You stand by the door and glare at him before you bend over and pick up a pair of his jeans that he had flung your way while picking through his clothes. They have a hole in the back of them and you can’t help but think of how strange it looks. “We needed to leave like ten minutes ago. We’re going to miss orientation. Put on the cargo pants.” You toss the jeans aside and look at him. He hasn’t moved from where he’d given up on the bed.

“I don’t want to wear the cargo pants. They’re too big.”

Shawn complains and argues every solution you threw at him for three minutes. Until finally you had enough and you stalk over to him, grab his shirt and haul him up -with much difficulty- to face you. “Listen, wear your tail out in the jeans you want to wear. If anyone says anything I’ll take care of it.”

“But they’re going to make fun of me. I just don’t want to deal with the looks and whispers. It’s obvious I won’t be able to complete most of the adaptation classes in appearance.”

You narrow your eyes at him and repeat, “If anyone says anything I’ll take care of it.”

Orientation goes a little…weird. Nobody would sit anywhere near you and Shawn. Nobody wanted to introduce themselves or get to know the two of you. It was the most ostracized you had ever felt in your whole life.

“They don’t like me?” Shawn asks and looks a little let down. A couple of the students kept looking over at Shawn and you knew that they were gawking at his tail. This wasn’t helping the whole insecurity situation at all. “It is me right?” he asks quietly.

“No it’s probably my bitch face. I’ve been told I’m not approachable sometimes.” You’re lying and you hope it’s not too obvious. “We’ll just do the get to know each other portion with just us. It’ll be fine.”

Shawn flips open the first page of the worksheet and reads the first question. “Have you ever lived with humans? Oh wait, that is your question for me isn’t it?”

“Mmmhmm. So have you?”

He nods and smiles a little. “My mom and my grandparents on her side. They weren’t around a lot thought. But they would always spoil me and bring me loads of cured meats and cheeses they made every time they came to stay with us.”

“You liked that a lot?” you ask with a little giggle and he nods. “Alright, umm what do you think will be your greatest challenge in adapting?”

Shawn flicks his tail and brings it up and into your lap. “Probably this thing. I can’t really make it disappear.”

You run your hand over it. It’s surprisingly not as rough as you had expected. The scales and small, close knit and smooth. You glance at him and he grins, almost more of a smirk, before you avert your eyes to scan the page for the next question you want to ask. As soon as you settle on a question you want to read, you find his tail is snaking it’s way up your arm. You glance down and then at him but he isn’t paying attention now, he’s just reading the questions on the worksheet. “Does your tail have a mind of it’s own?” you ask with a little smile and he looks over at you.

“Hmm? Is that a question on the paper or…oh, um, sorry.” He flushes bright pink across his cheeks and unwinds his tail from your forearm. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

“It’s alright. If it makes you comfortable, I don’t mind. I’m here to help you anyway I can and if that means I need to deal with sharing a bed and having a tail wrapped around me, then so be it.”

Shawn puts his arm around you and tugs you against him, pulling you most of the way out of your chair. He hugs you tight against his chest and laughs. “I love you so much,” he mumbles and you flush. That sort of confession was completely unexpected.

“Shawn, that’s a little extreme,” you say as he releases you to sit back down in your chair. “I don’t think you love me. Maybe you like and appreciate me.” You cast a glance to the other students who has just witnessed the strangely intimate moment between the two of you. Most of them are staring and you hope Shawn doesn’t notice.

“Isn’t it love when you make a new friend? Isn’t that how it goes with humans? Or is it a dragon thing?” Shawn bites his lip, looking slightly confused. “I messed that up didn’t I? That’s not right. I’m so used to interacting with dragons and they’re so affectionate, I forget humans don’t use the word love so casually.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh. You cover your mouth and look down at the table. He was just so god damned cute it hurt. “You messed it up a little bit. That’s not quite how ‘love’ works, but it’s not completely off the mark. Let’s just say you like me as your partner.”

“Friend. I like you as my friend.” He grins big and you don’t have the heart to explain to him you haven’t know each other long enough to be proper friends yet. Somehow you didn’t think it would be worth your time to try and explain the difference between acquaintance and friend to him. He had his mind set on being friends and that was okay, you would get there soon enough.

Breakfast came shortly after orientation and you were about to learn even more about Shawn. You could tell every day for the next year was going to be a learning experience with him. Currently, watching Shawn get food was like watching a hungry grizzly bear come out of hibernation that was starving. The way Shawn piled his plate with quite literally two or three of everything made you think he wasn’t getting enough food back home. Had he been eating right? He was huge, like muscular and tall but like was he really getting enough to eat? He was taking food like a crazed hoarder.

You sit down with your lunch tray of scrambled eggs, toast, a carton of juice and an apple. Shawn sits across from you with his tray heaped full of eggs, a bowl of oatmeal, a box of cereal and two cartons of milk, three pieces of toast and two bananas. It’s appalling. “Are you going to eat all of that?” you ask as politely as you can.

“Yes?” Shawn says over a bite of oatmeal. “Aren’t you going to be hungry in twenty minutes?” He points his spoon at your plate and circles it around. “You’ve barely got anything there.”

You laugh softly as he dribbles some oatmeal down his chin while he’s talking. It’s gross but also kind of adorable. He was something else. “I’ve got enough to keep me full until lunch. This is what I normally eat. You however, look like you’re eating enough for a few days.”

Shawn laughs and peels one of his bananas. “I’ll be hungry for lunch too. Don’t worry. I always eat this much.”

“Amazing,” you chuckle before focusing on eating your own breakfast. Shawn really was amazing.

[pretendingboyfriends]

5,000 Miles//Sam Holland

I woke up one early morning to the sound of my phone ringing. I lazily grabbed it from my night stand and squinted at the caller ID. Smiling to myself, I answered it and brought my phone to my ear as I laid on my back.

"Hey,"

I said groggily.

"Good morning, my love."

My boyfriend's thick British accent almost melted through the phone, causing a tired smile to spread across my face.

"Ugh, I love your voice.”

"I've never heard that before."

He replied sarcastically, chuckling a little.

"Oh, shut up, Sam."

I muttered, rolling my eyes as if he could see me, but he really couldn't.

Yes, Sam and I were dating, but it was different. It was different in the sense that we lived almost 5,000 miles away from each other and had never actually met in person. Everyone told me that it was dangerous and a bad idea because it would never work out, but here I was almost 2 years into our relationship and we were just as in love as any normal couple, except the only face to face contact was through a screen.

When I first met Sam he had followed me on Instagram through a private account, leading me to think he was just a regular guy. Boy, was I wrong. The smooth ass motherfucker slid into my dms and immediately began flirting with me. I was a bit skeptical at first, but when I saw the pictures of him on his page, my mind was changed very quickly. We continued to flirt through dm until we exchanged numbers and began texting. He told me about his brothers and everything, most likely expecting me to lose my shit about his older brother, Tom, being Spider-Man. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved Spider-Man, but I wasn't about to treat him like every other girl in the world and only talk to him for his brothers fame. No, I actually grew fond of him. Even before he told me about his brother I felt something between us.

When he first asked me to be his girlfriend I was a bit hesitant, but I said yes because I actually liked him a lot. The only thing that was making me hesitate was the distance. It was hard at first, but after 6 months I'd gotten used to it. We would FaceTime, call, text etc. and that was just how we expected it to go, until one day, two weeks before our two year anniversary, he FaceTimed me and told me he had a surprise for me. I didn't really know what to expect, but then he pulled out a plane ticket and held it to the camera with a broad smile slapped across his freckled face. I was overwhelmed with joy as I literally jumped around my room, crying and laughing. I was finally going to meet him.

Then, the countdown began.

Every day I would mark off one day on the calendar that hung on my dorm room wall. The only thing getting me through the day.

At 10 days he called me very early in the morning, knowing the exact time where I was because after two years he'd obviously know the time difference. All he said was,

"10 days."

And then hung up, leaving me giggly all day.

He continued to call me every day at the exact same time just to count down the days.

"6 days."

"5 days."

"4 days."

"3 days."

"2 days."

And finally...

"One day, my love."

I couldn't sleep a wink the night before he was supposed to fly in. I was far too excited to even think about sleeping so I just stayed up and cleaned my apartment, making sure everything was perfect because he'd be staying for a week and I wanted everything to go well.

Finally, it was morning. I put on some black jeans, paired with a large college sweatshirt, and my slide on black and white vans. I know most girls would have dolled themselves up, but Sam specifically told me not to because he'd feel very under dressed if I did and he didn't care what I looked like anyways.

I drove to the airport, becoming more and more nervous as the time neared. I sat in the waiting area, just nervously tapping my foot until I heard his flight number being called. I shot up out of my seat and quickly made my way to the gate, hoping he would see me. People flooded out of the gate all around me as I craned my neck and stood on my toes to find him. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of his brown curls and his freckled face, causing my heart to jump.

"Sam!"

I called, jumping up and down as I ran towards him. He didn't see me at first, but as soon as he did, he dropped all of his luggage and ran towards me, scooping me into his arms as soon as we were close enough. My arms were wrapped tightly around his neck with my face buried into his shoulder, inhaling his scent as he did the same to me. We didn't even say anything we just stood, crying in each other's arms. Eventually, we pulled back to look at each other, both of us crying and laughing hysterically.

"God, you're even more beautiful in person."

He whispered as he stared into my eyes before leaning in to kiss me. Our lips finally met and for a split second, everything went completely still and I felt like we were all alone. I could definitely feel fireworks. Maybe even full on explosions. We pulled away at the same time, not even able to comprehend what was happening.

I helped him carry his things out of the airport and to my car, both of us just glancing at each other and giggling every so often. We put all of his things into the back of my car and settled ourselves into the front.

"Ok, so I was thinking we would stay in today since you're probably exhausted and then we'll start on the fun stuff tomorrow. How does that sound?"

I asked, starting the car. He smiled and slipped his hand into mine,

"Anything's fine when I'm with you."

My face turned a bright shade of red as I pulled out of the parking lot, hoping he hadn't noticed my blushing.

The whole car ride back was filled with nervous giggles and conversations, but it wasn't as awkward as I was expecting. It felt right to be with him.

I swung my apartment door open and stepped inside, Sam following close behind.

"So, this is my home. It's kinda small, but I deal with it."

He looked around slowly, taking in every piece of art that hung from the walls.

"It's lovely."

He said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder. I smiled and turned around in his arms, placing my hands on his chest. He leaned his face down to mine and captured my lips with his. His lips were so soft, I just couldn't get enough of them. They tasted of sweet mint, leading me to think he had brushed his teeth before seeing me for the first time. How adorable.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?"

I asked, pulling away from him and walking into my small kitchen area. He continued to look around, leaning up against the counter,

"Water would be nice."

I nodded and quickly grabbed a glass, filling it up with the chilled liquid and handing it to him. I sat back, watching him sip at carefully as I let out a yawn.

"Are you tired?"

He asked, placing the glass on the counter. I shrugged,

"Kinda. I couldn't really sleep last night. I was too excited."

He chuckled and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a hug.

"I love you."

I smiled, burying my face into his chest, closing my eyes, and mumbling:

"I love you too."

"Not gonna lie, I could go for a nap also."

He muttered into my hair, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Pulling back, I took his hand into mine and dragged him to my bedroom, flopping back onto my soft bed.

"C'mere and give me two years worth of cuddles that we've missed."

I said, tugging his hand as he climbed over me. He wrapped his arms around me with a faint smile painted across his freckled face.

Everything was perfect. He was with me. I was happy. And even though it was only a short period of time, nothing would ever tear us apart. Not even 5,000 miles.

A/N: This is from my wattpad what1am1doing. Let me know if you want to be tagged in all my writings.

Tags: @zendmylife