#I literally start meowing when I hear his voice

[olenkaneolenka]

This is my first edit and I've been thinking about doing it ever since I heard "father pastor" from Hamish... 🫣

[evilslushy]

PenPal Girlfriend ♡

Hamzah x f!reader

(A/N): (lowkey not proofread lol), reader is shorter than Hamzah. Mentions of depression and loneliness (nothing too detailed), mentions of weird people on weird websites, no usage of y/n, reader is definitely 19+

wc: 20.2k (oops)

Lonesomeness can creep in slowly, but over time, it can become a suffocating force, leaving someone feeling invisible and abandoned. As days stretch into weeks, and weeks into months, the absence of connection amplifies an inner ache, stirring a deep, almost desperate need to be noticed, to matter. This void can cloud judgment, pushing a person to seek out any kind of interaction, even if it’s fleeting or harmful.

It’s a hunger that gnaws at the soul, distorting the desire for genuine connection into a frantic search for anything to fill the emptiness, no matter the cost.

After moving into his new apartment, Hamzah found himself overwhelmed by a deep and gnawing loneliness that settled in like a shadow. The walls, still bare and unfamiliar, seemed to echo with the absence of voices and laughter. At first, it was a quiet discomfort, a subtle sense of isolation that he could brush off with distractions. But as days turned into weeks, the silence grew louder, and the emptiness became harder to ignore.

Yes, he was near Martin and Mandy’s house. He pretty much lives there at times. Still, there was this void. Hamzah began to feel a desperate hunger for companionship, and the more he sought it, the more he found himself grasping at anything that might ease the ache, even if it meant settling for shallow exchanges that left him feeling emptier than before.

Once he shared this concern of his with Martin and Mandy, they both looked at him with empathy. Mandy shared that she had a similar experience once and that her pets helped her through it. Martin agreed, suggesting the idea of getting pets.

And desperation strikes again.

Blue and Red were shortly adopted after. Hamzah's lonesomeness had seemed to fade. Their excited greetings after he goes out with Chase and Claire apparent. He felt appreciated, loved, and cared for. Until they started only playing with him after he feeds them.

This is totally a transactional situationship.

So then here he lies. Bottom lip between his teeth, recording a Fortnite video with Martin for their channel when he suddenly shared his agony. “Martin, I’m feeling lonely again.” It must’ve came out as a bit for the video because all Martin said back was: “dang it.”

“No, I’m being serious.” Hamzah reiterated, Martin clicking his tongue, “guys, Hamzah seriously needs a Fortnite girlfriend. So I think the plan of for this video is to find him a Fortnite girlfriend!” Hamzah can almost hear the sound effects of children cheering in the background, his problems going unnoticed by his friend yet again.

After recording, Hamzah hung up from their discord call. Promising Martin to show up tonight for movie night with Chase.

He stared at his monitor for what almost felt like five minutes, his screen on a movie pirating website to download the movie they’ll be watching tonight. God, this feeling sucks. Like really sucks. He’s literally planning on spending time with his friends right now and still feels lonely.

“Am I depressed?” He questioned out loud. He wasn’t sure if he was finally coming to terms with what he’s currently feeling, or if he’s Tiktok self diagnosing and really needs a girlfriend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

Blue jumped up his lap, purring at the feeling of his touch. Pulling Hamzah out of his state of constant thinking. Hamzah looked down at Blue, who meowed at the eye contact.

“What’s wrong?” He run’s his hand across Blue’s back, sliding his hand back up and across to cup Blue’s belly, carrying him up to set on his shoulder. The cat stood on his shoulder proudly, slightly shaking to find it’s balance.

“Keeping daddy company?”

Blue had to have felt a sense of disgust at what Hamzah just called himself. Jumping off of his shoulder to ground a second later. Hamzah snarking at the action: “damn, I wasn’t being serious…”

Red must’ve sensed the awkward sadness Hamzah wasn’t ready to address from the rejection of his own cat. The similarly named cat jumping on the table, and standing up right to meet Hamzah’s gaze.

Hamzah smiled, his hand petting red’s head and scratching the bridge of it’s nose. “Are you both hungry?” He asked, more to himself since the cats can’t understand him. His eyes moved to the edge of the screen, reading the time. “You just ate thirty minutes ago…” his eyesbrows furrowed. Uncertain if his cat’s suddenly started considering their situationship with him or not.

When his eyes turned back to Red. The cat’s tail was slithering in a calm manner, it wasn’t hungry, it just wanted some love…? Hamzah’s hands involuntarily gave the cat what it wanted. Showering it with love, petting its head and kissing its face.

“Aren’t YOU acting out of place…?” He mumbled, kissing the cat’s nose one last time before turning his gaze back onto his computer. Only then realizing how much the cat covered his screen. “Okay, wrap it up. I need to finish this,” he pushed the cat towards him, sliding it from the table to his lap.

Red meowed, an annoyed meow. Hamzah looked back down at the cat. “Sorry.”

Red’s tail curled up, Hamzah’s eyes shifting to the tail at the sudden movement—looking at it from base to tip—he noticed something from the corner of his eyes. An ad, Red’s tail weirdly pointing at it. Just then, the cat jumped up from Hamzah’s lap, its face moving closer to the same side Hamzah’s currently looking at and sniffing it.

“Your Next Penpal Is Just a Message Away!” The ad read.

“From click to paper…” Hamzah’s voice barely above a whisper as he read the rest of the ad: “Words create bonds, letters build friendships.”

His face lit up for a millisecond before dropping with a frown. “Who am I kidding… this is totally an affinity scheme.” He thought, rolling as eyes at the fact that such things excited him. A weird feeling of embarrassment rushing over him.

He quickly clicked the ad away. He never really did that before because he never really cared for pop up. But something about this ad (the embarrassment of how excited he got) made his skin crawl; not wanting to see a glimpse of it.

A sigh escaped him. Rapidly clicking on the download button and closing the tabs it would open each time. With a few low annoyed groans and agonizing two minutes; Hamzah pulled off the flash from his PC, grabbing his computer and rushing to put on the nearest shoes he could find to run to Martin and Mandy’s house (since he spend ten respectable minutes doing nothing but petting his cats and mumbling nonsense about a pop up ad he saw on a pirating website.)

“Fuck. Chase.” He squeezed his eyes shut almost like his problems would disappear if he did.

Sending the following message (via Siri) to Martin shortly after: “Just left home. I’ll pick up Chase in a bit. Running late.”

—

The aroma of sweet vanilla filled the room. Mandy and Claire working on their attempt on crumbl cookie’s pink frosted sugar cookies. The came out fairly decent for their first attempt, Hamzah standing beside Martin by the kitchen island both the girls were decorating on.

“It looks like the real deal.” Hamzah commented, Claire sending him a haunting glare at his poor attempt on complimenting their baking skills. “It is the real deal. Probably even better.” Mandy added, Martin nodding his head as he grabbed a freshly frosted cookie and bit into it. Hamzah looked at his face to read his expression.

Martin seemed pleased, which only made Hamzah grab a one of his own.

“You guys are so…” Claire seemed annoyed at their presence with them, like that feeling you get when someone else is in the kitchen with you when you’re making your late night snack. “Everyone just be quiet. I wanna focus.” Mandy said, making Clarie sigh in defeat. If Mandy isn’t on anyone’s side, its pretty much over for everyone.

Martin turned to ask Hamzah, “did you download the movie?” Flicking his head to the side to move his bangs out of his eyesight. Hamzah nodded, eating the last bite of his cookie. “Can you set it up? By the time the finish up we can just start it.”

“I got it. Hand me the flash.” Chase spoke up from the couch, closing his phone, setting it on the couch. Hamzah turned to him, shoving his hands in his pocket and threw the flash towards Chase. Just when Chase caught it, Mandy added: “do you guys want popcorn?”

Hamzah remained quiet, letting everyone answer for him. He must’ve zoned out because he doesn’t really know what they decided on. Only one thing primarily hung over his mind right now. That one weird penpal ad.

“I saw this weird ad today on the pirating website I was on.” Maybe the thought was so heavy it had to slip past his mouth. Martin chuckled, thinking it was going to be a ‘Hannah, thirty miles away’ type of joke—but when he saw Hamzah’s face—his quiet laughter died down.

The rest continued to look at Hamzah with curiosity. The man blinked awkwardly as they waited for him to continue.

“It was like… from click to paper or something like that. A website for meeting penpals—”

“Affinity scheme vibes.” Both him and Martin say at the same time. Dropping the original topic at hand to look at each other with the mouths wide open, giggling like idiots.

“Wait. So it’s like-” Mandy started. “Is it like… tinder but the penpal version?”

“Maybe you’ll find a girlfriend there.” She teased, pulling the cookies away from the parchment paper. Hamzah turned to look at Mandy, “my struggles shouldn’t be a laughing stock.” He responded, a hand on his hip.

Claire smiled at the two, recalling a friend of hers mentioning something similar to her. “I remember a friend of mine mentioned something like that. She said it was pretty nice and like, fully anonymous. Kinda cool.”

“That ad was most likely the bootleg version of the real thing.” Chase added from across the room.

Martin sighed, resting his hip on the counter to hold the balance of his body. “Pretty much knocking two birds with one stone. Meeting someone new and journaling.”

Was it the sugar rush talking or is the idea of this website appealing to him? As Martin said: “Two birds with one stone.”

Meeting someone new and maybe feeling less lonely…!

—

What the fuck is he doing…? Hamzah himself wondered that as he clicked on the website, the forefront of the site was something out of the two thousands.

It must be an old website then. A message from his browser on the top left corner asked him if he allows the website to use his location, he didn’t fully read or comprehend what it said—clicking allow (thinking it was asking if he could allow the website to give him notifications.)

Hamzah clicked on the sign up button. Typing in his spam email and the same password he usually uses on burner accounts, lastly clicking on ‘male’ when it asked for his gender.

His eyebrows raised curiously when it asked him what gender he preferred to speak to. Is this actually like penpal tinder? But he innocently clicked on ‘male’ again. His thought process was that he wanted to make more male friends, he felt like he only had Martin and Chase as of right now, all his other male friends always seem too busy to hang out.

Plus it’ll be cool to say you met your homie on a penpal website.

As soon as he clicked on the done button; it loaded him into a new page, this one asking him to highlight or enter some of his interests. Hamzah’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, thinking about what he should type.

Nothing. Nothing really came into mind except for one thing.

Hamzah started typing it, a circle forming around the word and finally getting highlighted as he pressed enter—validating his interest as one of the many hobbies in the database of this website.

‘Fortnite.’

He smiled at the screen. Happy with what he wrote. That happiness rudely interrupted by a pop up message reading: ‘MUST ENTER AT LEAST THREE ENTRIES!’

Hamzah continued his journey to remember hobbies he has, recalling fishing being one of them seconds later, then journaling lastly. He might be lying a little bit on the last one since he doesn’t feel consistent enough, but it was something he enjoyed doing!

As he pressed the enter button again, it sent him to another page, it took a while to load, though he was shocked to see that it immediately took him to an open chatroom.

It had the same outline as Omegle, but slightly more vibrant and with a feel of mySpace. A loud ding made him slightly jump back; realizing that the sound was a notification for a message being sent. He blinked, looking at the other buttons available on his screen, a skip button beside the send button, a block button beside the username of whoever was on the other side.

Hamzah looked at the message on his screen:

FeetAsianFisher: Age?

He giggled at the name, mumbling: “what the fuck?” Under his breath. “Did he put asian as his interest or asian-fishing?” Hamzah thought, his giggles turning into laughter from his own joke.

FishingFortniteJournalist: 22, what the fuck is that username? LOL

Hamzah noticed his username, realizing the website never asked him for one. And also noticing that his username was a mashup of all his entered interests. The horror washed over him as he re-read the other guy's username.

FeetAsianFisher: 62

FeetAsianFisher: do u like older men?

FeetAsianFisher: i like pretty boys, are you one?

Hamzah almost couldn’t see from the face he was making, his eyes squinted, his mouth forming a frown. Hands frozen over the keyboard. Did he just enter a website where old people get their freak on? His right hand held his mouse, moving the cursor to the skip button faster than ever.

“Ew.” He commented under his breath, turning to Red to see if it also just witnessed what he did. Red only meowed to it’s owner, turning to run to Blue and continue wrestling.

Another ding. His attention back to the screen.

FortniteFeetGamer: Age?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

FishingFortniteJournalist: WHAT IS UP WITH YOU GUYS AND FEET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He didn’t waste time, skipping this guy as well. Absolutely not giving him a chance to respond back.

Hamzah realized that he’ll probably continue on this loophole if he doesn’t change his settings, there must be a filtering system for interests or something. If there is, he's definitely filtering out ‘feet’ first.

He clicked through the settings as quickly as he could, furiously trying to make adjustments to his profile before more creepy messages came flooding in. The website felt more like a maze designed to keep him lost than a genuine way to connect with people. If mySpace was this complicated, how did people like it?

After a few more clicks, he found the “Preferences” section. His face lit up, this must be it! He could change his settings, modify some interests, and maybe—just maybe—dodge the barrage of strange messages and people.

His eyes scanned the options, nothing. Just two buttons: ‘change gender preference’ and ‘change interests.’

Then it hit him. His preferred gender was probably the reason why he kept getting weird messages. He could change it. Maybe, just maybe, if he set his preferences to women, it might filter out some of the weirdos.Without really thinking about it, he clicked.

The forefront reloading again, taking him to a new page. Then loading up a new chatroom. A pop up message on the top read: ‘PREFERRED GENDER CHANGED SUCCESSFULLY.’

The chatroom was quiet. The opposite party didn’t send a message which made Hamzah feel obliged to start the conversation.

FishingFortniteJournalist: hello?

He waited patiently for an answer, a ding alerting him of the other person’s answer.

FishingGirlFeet: ＭＹ ＰＵＳＳＹ ＩＮ 🄵🄸🅂🄷🄸🄽🄶🄶🄸🅁🄻🄵🄴🄴🅃.🄲🄾🄼

Hamzah could only sigh when his eyes registered the message.

FishingFortniteJournalist: I hate you so much.

He skipped the bot as soon as he pressed enter, going into the settings again to avoid being put in another godforsaken freaky chatroom. His eyes darted at the available options, deciding to click on the profile settings.

It didn’t say much other than his username, email, and gender. The username was unavailable to edit, same for the email (though it had a message written underneath that said: “this email will not be shared publicly.”) The only thing that was available for change was gender.

Hamzah hesitated for a moment, wondering if he changed his gender to woman, and had his preference to women, would things be any different? Or is he still going to get bombarded with weird messages?

Curiosity killed the cat.

A few clicks and he was (according to the website) a lady.

Reloading him back to a chatroom as soon as he exited the settings, his eyes falling back to the center of the screen awaiting an answer from both the person and for his theory.

GamingJournalingReader: Hello???

…normal?

ForniteFishingJournalist: are u a normal person or do u like feet?

GamingJournalingReader: LMFAO

GamingJournalingReader: NORMAL

ForniteFishingJournalist: u have no clue what i just went through

GamingJournalingReader: I think I have an idea… LOL

GamingJournalingReader: WTF YOU PLAY FORTNITE?!

ForniteFishingJournalist: not a lot nowadays but i play it with my friend most of the time

GamingJournalingReader: Cool! I guess the reason why we got paired up was the journaling part.

GamingJournalingReader: How long have you been journaling? I only started a few months ago, honestly it’s been super fun!

ForniteFishingJournalist: around a year ago? but i started taking it seriously a few months ago too

GamingJournalingReader: That’s awesome!! How old are you by the way?

ForniteFishingJournalist: 22

GamingJournalingReader: Taylor Swift age :0

ForniteFishingJournalist: idk abt u but im feelin 22

Just before Hamzah could ask the person for their age, a big pop up message showed up on his screen:

“Did you enjoy your chat with GamingJournalingReader? Take your conversation offline—turn your typed words into handwritten letters! Just write your message, send it to the P.O. Box provided, and we'll make sure it reaches your new friend—anonymously. Your location stays private, but the connection stays real!”

Below that, a P.O box address was given. Hamzah raising a brow, “huh? How would they know my location?”

“Whatever.” He sighed, moving his cursor to the delete button, the tab disappearing as he clicked on delete. The thought of whoever he was talking to being a bot flowed into his mind. A pout forming on his lips, he felt like a loser. Was he that desperate? An online website to meet strangers? Who was he kidding, this was all a stupid idea.

He pushed his chair away from the desk with a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the night pressing in on him. Red and Blue, sensing his movement, immediately sprang from their spots and bounded toward him. Hamzah glanced at the cats, then at the clock on his desk—it was already 11 PM, well past their usual feeding time.

"Sorry, guys," he muttered under his breath, heading toward the kitchen. The cats trailed behind him, meowing insistently, their hunger unmistakable. "I shouldn't have let this distract me." he added, though he knew they wouldn’t understand.

As soon as he placed their bowls on the floor, the cats pounced on their food, eating eagerly. Hamzah sat beside them, gently ran his hand over Blue’s head as it ate, the soft purrs filling the quiet space.

Hamzah watched them eat for a moment longer, the quiet rhythm of their hunger oddly comforting. When he was sure they were settled, he stood up, stretching his arms.

"Alright," he said softly, glancing down at Red and Blue, who were still focused on their food. "Night." His voice was quiet, but the cats didn't seem to care, too wrapped up in their meal.

With a final glance at the pair, Hamzah turned off the kitchen light and made his way to his bedroom.

—

It had been a long, grueling week for Hamzah—filming, endless hours of talking with Martin. Why? Martin was heading off to visit his family for the next few weeks. They had to prepare. Filming, editing, discussing, then filming some more. Hamzah was relieved that he wouldn’t have to talk at all for a while. The idea of spending a whole month in silence, without the pressure of constant conversation, sounded like paradise.

He kicked off his shoes the moment he entered his apartment, sighing as the weight of the day lifted slightly. Red and Blue immediately began circling his feet, meowing excitedly. “Hello,” Hamzah cooed, his backpack slung over one shoulder. With his other hand, he held a small stack of bill-mail.

“Are you cuties hungry?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at them. Both cats meowed in response, louder this time, their tails flicking in anticipation. Hamzah smiled and nodded. “Coming right up.”

He dropped his backpack by the door, then turned to make his way into the kitchen. Blue reached out and clawing at Hamzah’s sock.

“Ouch! Stop,” Hamzah groaned, wiggling his foot to shake the cat off. Blue quickly jumped back and scampered over to Red, starting a little wrestling match. Hamzah watched them for a second, his lips curling into a smile.

He set the mail on the kitchen counter, then opened the cabinet where he kept the cat food. Pulling out the pre-packaged sleeves of wet food, he quickly split the contents into two separate bowls.

Before he could bend fully to put the bowls on the ground, Blue was climbing up his leg in a desperate attempt to get to the food first. Hamzah laughed and stood back up, carefully setting the bowls out of reach as the cats scrambled over to him.

“Easy!” he said, half-amused, half-annoyed. He nudged them both back a little, enough to give him space to set the food down, but not without a couple of claws grazing his leg.

As soon as the bowls were on the floor, the cats pounced, their meows filling the room as they dug into their meal. Hamzah leaned against the counter, letting out a small sigh as he watched them. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft sound of their eating. For a moment, it was just him, his cats, and the peace that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving.

Hamzah turned his attention back to mail on the kitchen counter, resting his elbows on that same counter to peel them open. He went through seventy five percent of them, the usual billing receipts and ads for local stores opening nearby—that is until, of course—a letter with a sticky note captivated his vision. He pushed the other mail envelope that laid over it, the brown textured envelope standing out not only with its color but with the odd yellow sticky notes attached to it.

His eyes first read the address, a P.O box that seemed familiar but he quickly dismissed it since it didn’t pop up in his mind immediately. Moving his gaze to the sticky note.

“To. FishingFortniteJournalist”

Hamzah let out a breath chuckle at first, the words in front of him not fully forming in his mind. Until it did. Hamzah's heart skipped a beat as he realized the note was addressed to his username. The username that had been automatically generated from his interests. He hadn’t even thought that something like this would actually happen.

How? How did they get his address?!

But then it hit him, like a ton of bricks. His thoughts rushed back to the moment he'd clicked Allow. He’d been in such a rush to sign up for that weird penpal site, too eager to bypass the pop-ups, the terms and conditions, just to see if it could actually be real! Something that would make him meet someone new. The website had asked if he allowed it to use his location. He'd assumed it was for notifications or maybe some setting for the chatroom. But now, with an annoyed realization creeping in, it dawned on him that by agreeing to share his location, he'd essentially handed over a piece of his privacy.

Hamzah cursed under his breath. "Of course, of course… fuck! What do I do?”

The website must’ve used that location data, linked it to the profile he’d made—FishingFortniteJournalist, his fishing, Fortnite-loving, journal-obsessed persona. And used a user matching database to know when someone sends in a letter—with a username attached to it—where they have to send that letter to.

And at the end of this all. ‘GamingJournalingReader’ wasn’t some bot chatting with him to keep him engaged with the website. No, no no no. This is a real person. In fact, it’s a person who wrote this letter, addressed to his username, and sent it to the website’s mailing P.O box TO SHIP TO HIM.

‘This is bad. This is really bad.’ Hamzah couldn’t help but think. And even with all these nerves kicking within him. Curiosity won yet again. He peeled open the envelope, careful not to rip the contents inside. Pulling everything out slowly. The letter unfolded, a faint scent of vanilla wafted up, a strange but oddly comforting smell. The letter was written in neat handwriting, the ink smooth and deliberate.

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite the strange way we met. I thought it was amusing that we connected over Fortnite and journaling—two things I never expected to overlap. I’m glad we were able to chat for a bit, even if our first conversation was cut short. It’s rare to find someone with similar interests, and it was refreshing to find a connection like that!

Something about you being traumatized and trying to have a conversation about Fortnite is still funny to me. But, on the note of our interests. Since you said you just recently started journaling again I included some gifts for you in the envelope! Nothing too crazy, just some washi-tape and stickers I got from a friend of mine a while back.

Anyway, I don’t want to keep my letter too long. I look forward to hearing from you again—if you’re interested, of course.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader"

Hamzah blinked, rereading the letter twice to ensure he wasn’t seeing things. He sat down on the couch, the letter feeling heavier in his hands than it probably should. He quickly reached into the envelope and pulled out a tag, pink washi-tape wrapped around it, and some Hello Kitty stickers.

“What the hell is going on…?” Hamzah whispered to himself, still trying to process everything. He had forgotten about the whole website experience from all the stress, but now... now there was this letter. An actual letter. Sent by someone who seemed to have taken the connection seriously.

One thing was clear: this wasn’t something he could just brush off. Especially not when the person seemed too genuine to ignore.

Without wasting another moment, he tore a sheet from an old notebook and grabbed a blank envelope from a pile of mail, double-checking it didn’t have his address. He began writing:

“Hey GamingJournalingReader,

I have to admit, this is pretty wild. At first, I didn’t even think you were real, and now I feel a little guilty for not mailing you a letter first. I’m not sure how this works, even though I feel like I should. It’s intriguing, to say the least.

Thanks for the sticker and the tape, I’ll make good use of them. I wish I had something to send back, but I don’t.

Take care.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the letter with a pang of doubt. He definitely wasn’t good at this. The words felt stiff and distant, as if they came from someone else entirely. It felt similar to when he first messaged them; in the chatroom. Normally, he’d be the one making jokes, have this calm yet energetic spark and humor everyone. But with this person, everything seemed to slow down, his usual spark dimmed to something more subdued and thoughtful.

Maybe it was just the timing—talking to them that night after a long, exhausting day (movie night), when all he wanted was quiet and rest. Or maybe it was something about them, this GamingJournalingReader, that pulled him into a calmer, more introspective version of himself. He wasn’t sure which was more unsettling.

He folded the letter, shoving it inside the envelope he grabbed and copied the same P.O box address the person had on their letter. Writing their username boldly in the middle. GamingJournalingReader. The soft rustle of paper and writing filled the room, punctuating the silence. This whole situation felt strange. However, tomorrow morning, this is the first thing he has on his to-do list.

He traced the edge of the envelope with his thumb, the paper rough against his skin. For the time being, with a tired exhale, he sat back and stared at the ceiling, the shadows from his dim lamp shifting in a slow dance. It was late, the kind of late where everything felt heavy and honest. He rested his arms to each side of his body, the envelope slipping past the grasp of his hand and rested beside him on the couch.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, feeling different around this person. Maybe it meant there was something more to this, something worth unraveling, even if it made him uncomfortable.

But as his eyelids drooped and sleep began to claim him, one thought lingered: was it better to stay guarded, or to let himself lean into the quiet curiosity that GamingJournalingReader seemed to draw out of him? Whatever the answer was, it made him feel less lonely since he’s going to sleep with someone in the shadows of his mind.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

God! I feel like a creep now that I was the first one to send a letter. I’m glad you liked the sticker though, matter of fact I’m glad you got the letter safely. Anyway, thank you for going through with this. It’s crazy that you were the first person I talked to!

Enough of the website, I don’t think you want to talk about it… I was thinking of fun things we can include in our letters to get to know each other. We can do playlists!! Obviously written playlists. Now that I’m writing this I think what I meant is song recommendations but regardless! I’d love to hear what you listen to! I attached a note to my letter that has some recommendations of mine.

I hope you had a good week! My week has been super hectic but I was happy to see that you got and responded to my letter. I don’t want to make this too long and bore you. See you next letter.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

The soft glow of your computer screen illuminated your small bedroom, casting a pale light over your tired eyes. It was one of those rare, tranquil evenings in Canada when the snowstorm outside created an almost cinematic backdrop. Flakes danced and swirled under the streetlamp’s light, covering the neighborhood in a pristine blanket of white. With a warm mug of peppermint tea nestled between your palms, you clicked on the familiar green icon on your laptop, waiting for the call to connect.

A moment later, the screen burst to life, and there was Mandy’s face, vibrant as ever. Her tanned skin glowed against the muted blues and oranges of what seemed like a hotel balcony. The sound of distant ocean waves crashing against the shore filtered through your speakers.

“Hey, there you are!” Mandy’s voice bubbled, her smile so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She pushed a lock of sun-bleached hair behind her ear, revealing a pair of dangling shell earrings.

You couldn’t help but grin back. “Mandy! Wow, look at you! So… beachy.”

Mandy laughed, the sound warm and contagious. “I know, right? I’m starting to think I’m never going back to winter coats and boots. It’s paradise here, honestly.” She shifted the phone a little, giving you a view of the blue expanse behind her. “Look at this, just look at it!”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the brilliant turquoise sea and the golden glow of the setting sun. “It’s so nice. Where are you now?”

“Somewhere near Tulum. Martin found this tiny resort off the beaten path. He said he wanted to have a week for ourselves before coming back. No tourists, just an endless beach and some hammocks strung between the palms. We spent the whole day exploring the cenotes and eating the best tacos I’ve ever had.” Mandy’s eyes sparkled with the kind of joy that only came from adventure and sun.

“Ugh, lucky.” you pouted, taking a sip of your tea. The rich, comforting tea filled your senses, a stark contrast to Mandy’s tropical paradise.

Mandy’s expression softened a little as she leaned closer to the screen. Clicking her tongue before mirroring your pout. “I know. I feel guilty sometimes, being out here while you’re back in Canada. How’s it going? Heard there’s a snowstorm out of nowhere.”

You set your mug down and pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Sudden snowstorm is correct. Streets are buried under layers of snow, and I had to shovel the driveway twice today.”

Mandy winced in sympathy. “I don’t miss that at all actually.” Then a memory took over her vision, a giggling leaving her lips before reminding: “Remember last year when we got stuck in that coffee shop when we were trying to have this cute study date?”

“Oh my god! That was last year?”

“Yeah! It was fun, though,” Mandy said, a nostalgic smile curving her lips. “I miss those random little adventures with you.”

“Me too,” you admitted, glancing at the snow swirling just outside the window. A pang of longing settled in your chest, a mixture of missing Mandy and the familiarity of your carefree times together.

Suddenly, you remembered something.

“Oh my god. I forgot to tell you!” You started, setting your tea cup aside to adjust your laptop as you spoke to Mandy. You caught her attention immediately, fixing her posture to move closer to the computer. “I finally got a penpal.” You exclaimed.

Mandy made tiny claps with her hands, leaning even closer to the camera to celebrate. “No way! How?” She asked, continuing to add something before you answered: “That's funny because, a week ago, Martin's and my friends were over for movie night. And one of them mentioned seeing an ad for… uh… like online penpals? Like sending emails?”

You jumped at how similar it is to the idea of the website you used, “oh! It’s similar to the one I used but mine is like, you meet, you chat for like three minutes, then they give you this P.O box address that you can send your penpal letter to. That way it can be fully anonymous.”

“Location?” Mandy tilted her head.

“You allow them to have your location as soon as you click on the website.” You informed. Mandy looked at you like you had cat ears for ears; “and you allowed a random website to have your location?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You’re insane.” Mandy sighed.

“Anyway,” you continue. “I met a girl as soon as I was matched to chat, we had journaling in common. She seems nice so far!”

Mandy raised her right eyebrow, crossing her arms, “and what makes you think she isn’t a twenty something year old creepy man that plays video games with his friends all day and can't ever interact with women outside of Fortnite skins?”

“I feel like you described me but with the implications of a man.”

“Point stands.” Mandy warned. You roll your eyes. “Mandy, why would a man put journaling as one of his interests?”

“To fool you.”

“Oh my god. Stop.” You started giggling at Mandy’s resistance against your ideologies. “So what? He doesn’t have my actual address if that’s true!”

“Plus, Fortnite Fishing Journalist? Sounds like a woman.”

“I think hypothermia is kicking in.” Mandy rubs her temple, looking to the beach as the waves crash down into a soft shuffling sound. “Careful.”

“Don’t worry. Probably won’t get murdered.” You reassured. Though, Mandy’s face didn’t seem reassured at all. “You enjoy your time! This is some silly penpal stuff! Tell me what you’ve been up to.” You noted, wanting to derail the conversation away from you since Mandy seemed so tense.

She gave you a half smile. Starting to go on about how she loves the beach waters here, how stray cats are friendly, and how her shopping sprees are becoming bigger and bigger as the days go by.

After an hour of talking about how Martin needs to stop wearing graphic t-shirts when they’re out together at a fancy restaurant or about how much Mandy misses fish; the call ended with a goodnight wish to you. Waving hands and kisses goodbye making a smile linger on your face even after she hangs up.

As you think back about your conversations, remembering what Mandy said about your new friend. Snarking at the imaginary tail of your friend. Yeah, right. A twenty something year old man pretending to be a woman to have a penpal that sends him Hello Kitty stickers, pink washi-tape samples, and song recommendations.

—

“GamingJournalingReader,

It’s me. Hi. How are you? I hope you are good. I’m okay. Song recommendations? I listened to some of yours and so far, I like it. I’ll also add some songs on the bottom of this ripped page. Excuse me, I don’t have sticky notes.

How’s the weather where you live? It’s snowing for me. No fun. I can’t go out to grab sticky notes for our letters. Dislike emoji. Sorry, I’m not used to writing on paper. I kind of wish I had emoji stickers to add.

This is kind of breaking my habit of using Siri for everything. I have a serious problem with that. My friends make fun of me for it. It kind of feels weird to not let Siri write this down for me. (I’m not being serious.)

I don’t know if this is oversharing, I’m just not used to this.

Bye.”

—

Hamzah titled his head as he looked at the neatly folded and decorated letter sent by GamingJournalingReader. The way this person wrote was so detailed and intricate, the signature vanilla lingered in the air for a while after he opened the letter. Groaning when he turned his vision to his monstrosity of a letter. He was reusing old envelopes as his new envelopes, his paper being from an old notebook he bought when he first moved into the apartment to journal (which failed.)

His writing improved, a little less dry and more comfortable. But still, it missed that hidden element.

Whatever! It doesn’t matter. Why does he need to impress this random person on the internet? It’s not the end of the world if his letters aren’t the most presentable, all that mattered was that it was perfectly readable and both parties seem to be fine with it (for the most part on his behalf.)

Hamzah went over to the kitchen to feed Red and Blue before he leaves to meet up with Martin to film another eating in a cultural restaurant vlog.

His lips curled into a smile as he recalled something: “I was happy to see that you got and responded to my letter.” Something about that line—it felt real. Maybe it was the novelty of it, or the way it was phrased with such casual care. The kind of care you get when someone, even on the other side of a screen or a thousand miles away, takes the time to reach out. It’s only been a month or so since they met. He already somewhat felt the companionship he was longing for. The person who was asking him about himself, wondering how he is even if it wasn’t fully genuine. It felt nice to have someone willingly wonder how he is.

Red squawked from his cage in the corner, snapping Hamzah out of his thoughts. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, calm down," he muttered, moving over to the kitchen counter. He filled their food bowls, watching as Blue immediately dug in, while Red took a more dignified approach, nibbling delicately.

As he prepared their water and cleaned their area quickly, he caught his reflection in the microwave door. His hair was a mess, and his shirt—he hadn’t even bothered to iron it. He wasn’t in the mood

Hamzah grabbed his jacket from the couch in his living room, walking past his coffee table where his letter sat. He took a final glance at it, wondering whether he should be embarrassed by his own letter. ‘It’s fine’, he thought. After all, the words would speak for themselves, wouldn’t they? And wasn’t that all that mattered?

Besides, he seemed to get like this every time he wrote his letters. Every single Thursday, he’d sit and stare at his letter—beating it down and comparing it to his penpal’s letter. Or when he twists his lips around while he looks at it, thinking it’s bland and that it needs more decorations like how GamingJournalingReader’s letters would be. “Whatever.” He whispered.

With one last deep breath, he grabbed his keys beside the letter and headed for the front door.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

I get the whole Siri dependency. But isn’t that why they made Siri anyway? You’re just getting your money’s worth. Writing by hand is like an old-school challenge but kind of nice, right? And YES! Emoji stickers would make this 10 times better.

It’s kind of funny because when I got your letter, it was snowing for me too! I couldn’t get to my mail box until two days later, which kind of explains why this letter will also be sent late to you. Sorry, Mrs.FortniteFishingJournalist!

On a good note… I FOUND SOME SILLY SMILEY FACE STICKERS!! I’ll send some to you in my envelope, if you want to make it sad; just draw a pout on its face and it’ll all be good.

My question for this letter is: do you have any pets? You don’t have to share names! Just a yes or no. Or you can ignore my question. It’s okay as well.

I had a pet pigeon for a while, not actually but it would jump on the rails of my apartment’s balcony and pick at an empty ashtray for two hours every morning. Named it: trashy. Because, I’d leave it be then it’ll start trashing my balcony for no reason!

Anyway, how was your week? Mine was still snowy. I hope yours was warmer than before.

With love and kisses

GamingJournalingReader”

—

“Martin’s and my friends are coming over next week.” Mandy announced over the phone, “do you wanna come? It’s a bigger party this time, some of Claire’s friends are coming over.”

You sighed on the other side of the phone, your agony made Mandy frown. “Oh no. Why?” She immediately asked, using her shoulder to hold her phone close to her ear while she fed Fish and Carl. “I don’t know… I haven’t gone to a party in a while.” You message the bridge of your nose, thinking about being in a crowded place where you don’t know ninety percent of the people there.

“Girl. It’s like twelve people max.”

“And only two of which I know!” You argued back, closing the book that sat neatly on your lap. You uncrossed your legs, standing up to walk around the room while you talked to your friend.

Mandy remained silent for a second, seemingly unaware that you would agree if she would just promise that she won’t leave you alone with some strangers. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Just knock it out, it’s in my apartment, you won’t lose me.” And the key answer was declared, allowing you to mumble an “okay.” With a not so convinced tone.

Your friend let out a dramatic sigh on the other end of the phone. “I promise I’ll be your social bodyguard.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Mandy as your personal bodyguard in a sea of people you barely knew. Still, the idea of pushing through your discomfort for a night in the company of friends—letting go of the fact that most of them were friends of friends—was oddly reassuring. “Fine, but if I end up hiding in the bathroom, you’ll know it’s because I’m at my social breaking point.”

“You can lock yourself in there as long as you want, I’ll bring you snacks through the door if I have to,” Mandy teased, clearly delighted that you were coming around. “It’ll be fun! You’ve been cooped up in that apartment for weeks now.” Mandy's voice softened, genuine now. “You know I would never drag you into anything you don’t want to do. Just come for a bit. If you need an out, I’ll get you out.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and for the first time in the conversation, you felt a tiny shift in your anxiety. It probably wouldn’t be so bad. Right?

—

It was totally bad.

You blinked. The living room was dimly lit, with warm golden lights strung up around the walls, the low thrum of music in the background. It was cozy, but too crowded. Mandy’s apartment wasn’t massive, which made this feel a whole lot more uncomfortable. Mandy’s cat, Fish, darted between your legs and Carl was curled up beside you on the couch, blissfully ignoring the humans around him.

Okay, maybe you are totally being dramatic. It wasn’t all that bad but you did feel like the odd man out. Everyone was a little awkward with you, unsure of how you’ll take their humor, trying their best to have the best first impression. All of it ends in them having conversations together about things you won’t get—excluding you without noticing.

Mandy went out to grab more drinks for everyone, NOT keeping her promise about being your PSB (Personal Social Bodyguard.)

That’s an unfair way of thinking. Wasn’t it? She should have fun without you holding her down. You pet Carl to calm your thoughts. The sound of folks mingling around you soon becomes background noise as you smile down at Carl.

Suddenly, the couch dipped beside you, and your head subconsciously turned toward the shift in weight, half-expecting it to be Mandy. Instead, you were met with a guy you hadn’t noticed before, his posture relaxed, with a quiet awkwardness that immediately made him seem more like someone who was trying to fit in. Just like you.

You blinked, a little surprised. He had messy, dark, curly hair and an effortlessly laid-back vibe—like he’d just thrown on whatever was comfortable, and somehow it suited him perfectly. His eyes scanned your face for a moment, his eyebrows raising as if processing your unfamiliar presence.

Oh! You know him! That’s Martin’s friend. “Hamzah?” you asked, the name slipping out before you even realized it. For a split second, the guy’s expression froze, a flash of surprise crossing his face. It was less of a ‘That’s not my name’ look, more of a ‘How do you know my name?’ look. His brows furrowed as he glanced at you, clearly puzzled.

This is so awkward.

“…that’s me,” he said slowly. His voice was low and steady, but there was a slight hesitation in it, like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the sudden attention. “How do you...?”

You quickly cleared your throat, hoping to clear up the confusion. “Sorry, I’m Mandy’s friend,” you explained. “That’s how I know you. You’re Martin's friend? I’ve heard her mention you a couple of times.”

He nodded, still looking at you with a quiet curiosity. His lips twitched into a small, almost sheepish smile, but he didn’t seem entirely at ease. "Oh. Yeah," he said, his voice a little softer now, like he was processing the new piece of information. “She doesn’t talk shit about you.” You reassured, although now that you said it; it makes Mandy look guilty with what you accused.

Hamzah let out a short breathy laugh, “Good to know.” His tone was humorous, almost like he sensed your slight embarrassment and tried to let you know that he won’t take it negatively. “I didn’t realize Mandy had a... friend here. I mean, I didn’t know she invited a friend.”

Both of you are doing horrible in wording your statements, everything could be taken backhanded but you both ignored your troubled sentences and continued your awkward conversation.

You shifted your position, trying to make the space between you feel less awkward. “Yeah, I’m kind of the ‘out-of-place’ one tonight,” you said with a half-laugh. “I don’t know anyone here except Mandy and I met Martin only a handful of times.”

Hamzah nodded, biting his lip nervously as he turned to look around for Martin. You noticed what he was doing, letting him know where the couple was: “Mandy and Martin left to grab some drink.” He turned to look at you as you answered, nodding his head again.

You both sat in a brief, awkward silence, both of you still trying to find your footing in the conversation. You could feel the tension in the air, but it was the kind of tension that felt more like a shared experience—neither of you seemed comfortable in the party setting, but at least you weren’t alone in it.

Trying to break the silence, you thought of something Mandy had mentioned earlier, something that seemed like an easy topic to latch onto. “Mandy was telling me you and Martin went camping recently,” you said, your tone a little hesitant as you watched his reaction. “She was saying it was... pretty intense? You know, like, the kind of camping where you actually rough it.”

Hamzah’s eyes flickered briefly, as though he was momentarily caught off guard, but the tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit as he processed what you said. There was a slight smile on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, his voice sounding a little more grounded now. “It was... an adventure, for sure.” He leaned back slightly on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “Martin insisted on doing the whole thing the real way—no hotels, no water bottles, just tents and a campfire. It was... an experience, to say the least.”

You couldn’t help but smile, imagining the chaos of two guys trying to make the best of a rough camping trip. “That sounds... brutal, honestly. Like, no luxuries? I’m sure it was fun in some way, but... wow.”

Hamzah chuckled softly, the sound deep and quiet, like he was remembering something particularly funny—or maybe just trying to make light of the situation. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever missed a good shower more in my life. And the food—The food was awful.”

He gave a small, genuine laugh, and for a moment, you both shared a look, a moment of connection over something completely unrelated to the current social chaos. His smile was genuine now, the tension from before slipping away just a little more.

“How long have you and Mandy been friends?” He asked, finding footing in the conversation. You hummed at the question, “around a year ago maybe?”

“I lost my phone in this beaten up, old amusement park when I was babysitting. I was lowkey freaking out and she must’ve seen me from afar. Held the kids with me and ran around looking for my phone.”

“Mandy would do that?”

“Only a year ago.”

Both of you giggle at your combined joke. Hamzah’s playfulness coming out, your heart weirdly fluttering at the sight; not weirdly actually… Hamzah was really cute. You knew that since Mandy showed you pictures of him and her boyfriend. But you don’t want to feed that crush too much, you knew you wouldn’t see him a lot—what could possibly tie you guys together anyway? It seems like you guys wouldn’t have anything in common.

The sound of the front door creaking open pulled your attention away from Hamzah. When Mandy stepped inside, you instinctively stood up from the couch to walk toward her. As you glanced back at Hamzah, you caught the subtle flutter of his eyes in your direction, and your heartbeat quickened in response. “It was nice to meet you!” you said, offering a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you too,” he replied, his voice soft, and though the words were sincere, an awkward tension lingered between you two, faint but noticeable.

—

“GamingJournalingReader

My week was cold too but definitely better than last week… It's so funny how similar our weather matches up.

Pigeon? That’s unique. I have two cats, as I have mentioned before I’m pretty forgetful. I decided to name them very common names that won’t ever be forgotten. Red and Blue. Isn’t that so convenient? Never understood the hassle with names. I think our love is one sided, they only love me when it’s feeding time. I’m sure you understand, with your pigeon and all.

I get busy sometimes and can’t be there emotionally for them. That kind of makes me feel like shit, but I need someone emotionally too. You don’t see me complaining like they do. Kidding. Obviously.

The stickers are so fucking cool. You’re a lifesaver, honestly. How do you even have that many different options of stickers? Do you make these? Or do you collect them? So many questions, so little answers. You’re such a mystery…

Mr.GamingJournalingReader,

Teach me your way of stickering.”

—

Hamzah leaned against the counter, sipping from a cup of iced coffee he'd made. The cold, bitter liquid slid down his throat, a jolt of wakefulness that kept the remnants of sleep at bay. His gaze flicked over to the cats, Red and Blue, happily munching on their meals. Their rhythmic chewing was the only sound in the kitchen, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly still.

Then, his phone buzzed on the counter, its vibrations cutting through the silence. Hamzah glanced at the screen. It was a notification from Martin: “Did you confirm with the camera guy for the vlog next week?”

He set his cup down and breathed out slowly, trying to shake off the weight of the message. He glanced back down at the cats again, watching them finish up their breakfast. The silence of the moment was a balm, familiar and comforting, like an old friend who never demanded anything more than your company. It was his life of solitude, his sanctuary.

Hamzah groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the question. The vlog was something that had been hanging over his head for a week—something he was technically responsible for (since it was his idea) but had zero desire to manage at the moment. The thought of reaching out to the camera guy, arranging schedules, figuring out who was doing what, made him want to crawl back into bed and pretend nothing exists. The last thing he wanted to do on this quiet morning was deal with anything.

But of course, his mind wasn’t content to stay in that peaceful place for long. His thoughts, as they often did, drifted back to something that had been on his mind more than he cared to admit: a night from last week.

It was last Friday. The day had started like any other—quiet, unremarkable. He'd been lounging around, enjoying the feeling of having no plans, no obligations, when his phone buzzed with a message from Claire.

“Hamzah, are you sure you don’t want to come by? Last minute change of plans, it’ll be chill, I swear. Just us, maybe a few others, but it’ll be super low-key.”

When he showed up, though, he quickly realized the party wasn’t exactly what he expected. The place was louder than he anticipated, a mix of chatter and music spilling out into the small apartment’s entryway. And Claire’s promise of “just a few others” had been a stretch of the truth. The living room was filled with unfamiliar faces. And he had to shake their hands with jorts and a minecraft shirt on. The only laundry he finished this week.

But one thing stood out to him from that whole night; her.

They were both somewhat in the same social hierarchy in that party, weirdly finding comfort within each other's unfamiliarity. He never thought he’d be ‘getting to know someone’ this smoothly before, although it was awkward. She was carrying the conversation pretty well. Remained him of someone but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

And she’s pretty. Did he make a fool out of himself in front of a pretty girl…? He shut his eyes, breathing in to relax himself. “She asked me one question, I asked her. Fair conversation.” He reassured himself, like if he said it outloud he’d feel any better.

He didn’t.

“This is stupid.”

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

Mysterious? Me? No way. I think you only think that because you don’t know my name. I feel like I share a lot more than you think. You know about my pet pigeon, and not a lot of people know about that beautiful creature!

Anyway, CATS! I love your cats' names! I get you with the whole forgetting thing, I forget some important things too. Just a part of life, isn’t it?

Random but I really love talking to you. You’re starting to feel like a longtime friend I had since middle school. Can you believe we’ve been talking for two months? Maybe a little under that but LET ME PRETEND LIKE IT’S A BIG MILESTONE! Crazy, feels like yesterday. One tear crying emoji. (I don’t have that as a sticker. I have failed my sticker master skills.)

Oh! I have some TEA. Not really tea but… listen, girl. I went to a party the other day, and I met my friend’s boyfriend’s friend. I know it's confusing. Anyway, he was cute. Not like smash cute, but like… wife me up cute. That could be the same for you, they’re kinda different for me.

I don’t think I can ever date him though… our conversation was short and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. Unless some miracle happens. Knowing my luck there won’t be any.

Isn’t this such a long letter? Sorry girly pop, got too excited telling you about my party crush.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Hamzah blinked as he read the letter in front of him.

“Holy shit.” How could he forget? Such a small little perfect detail about this whole big ordeal of a pen-pal relationship they had.

“But…listen, girl.”

“Sorry girly pop,”

She thinks he’s a girl. That was the whole reason why they met, he changed his gender to female. Hamzah sat back in his chair, staring at the letter in his hands with wide eyes. The words echoed in his mind. "Sorry, girly pop." and "But... listen, girl" both said so casually, so warmly, and for the first time, it really hit him. ‘She thinks I'm a girl.’

Two months. He hadn’t expected to get this far, heck he didn’t even expect the first letter to begin with, he thought this whole thing was dead and gone as soon as he logged out of that website that night. A week later, when he got the letter, he somehow managed to forget the most crucial part of this whole dilemma. The only reason why she feels comfortable enough to talk to him in the first place is because she thinks he’s a woman. A woman around his age, who completely understands her girl talks and problems.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” Hamzah ran his hands through his flattened curls, his hand resting on the back of his neck when he reached it. “Shit.” The only words that managed to leave his lips were no good to his current situation. He can’t do anything. There is nothing he could do to fix this. It’s been two months—as she said—two months built on a lie.

Hamzah exhaled a breath, his eyes skimming over the words as if he could somehow read them differently, like they would magically change if he focused hard enough. But they didn't. The same sentences, the same affectionate tone. Just when he felt like he had something, something that filled the void he noticed within himself, the void he’s been complaining about to all his friends. Everything crumbles on him, over something so silly and stupid. His lips twisted as a splash of guilt pulled on his heart. She thought he was someone he wasn’t, someone he couldn’t be, and there was no way he could fix that. And it was all because of one click, and a forgetful mind.

He glanced at the desk in front of him, cluttered with papers and billing mail—distractions. His mind was buzzing, a loud cacophony of thoughts and what-ifs.

He had to admit the truth: he’d lied to her from the very beginning. The whole thing—it was a lie. Sure, he never outright said he was a girl. But, the tag of female under his name was enough to hold his fate. Fate he wasn’t ready to face. Not yet. He never expected it to go this far. He hadn’t planned on actually forming any sort of real connection, hadn’t planned on actually caring about her feelings. Especially since this whole website was—as he thought—bait for scammers and weirdos. But now, after two months of letters, of laughing at stickers she’d give him and sharing minor intimate details about one another, he couldn’t just pull out. This weird attachment he had didn’t allow him so.

His fingers drummed on the edge of the desk as his mind ran wild with ideas—what if he told her the truth? What if he just came clean and explained everything? But no. No, that would only make things worse. She’d be hurt, probably angry. Never speak to him again. She’ll think he’s some sort of creep, praying on her or something. And what would he be left with then? The same empty, hollow feeling he had now, only worse.

But why does he care? It’s just a random person he met that doesn’t actually know him.

Hamzah leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His thoughts circled around one word, one solution that was simple but painful, though probably less painful than finding out that the girl you’ve been talking to the past two months was a twenty two year old man that does YouTube for a living.

That word was: ignore.

He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to just disappear from her life without an explanation, but he could already feel the weight of the lie pressing on him. Ignoring her, pretending like everything was as it used to be and that nothing had happened, was the only way to avoid confrontation. The only way to let this fizzle out without dealing with the mess. It was easy, anonymous, and clean.

He would just stop responding. Stop mailing back. And eventually she’ll forget. Only two months, right? It shouldn’t get her hung up too much… right?

He crumpled the letter in his hand, tossing it into the trash. For the first time in two months, Hamzah felt nothing but disheartenment on a Thursday night. Both the stress and the weight of it all was something he couldn’t shake off.

All he could think about right now was how his friend must feel. It didn’t matter how hurt he was about not being able to contact her again. She seemed so excited, so eager about how deep their friendship was growing in such a short period of time.

He spun his chair around, staring at the darkened window. His reflection stared back, a guy who had somehow stumbled into something real by pretending to be someone else. It wasn’t even intentional—at least, not entirely. When he’d checked that little box on the website, it was supposed to be a joke. A way to bypass the site’s foot obsessed weirdos and see who he’ll meet.

He hadn’t expected her. At all.

Red circling around him snapped him out of his thoughts, turning to the purring cat to carry it. “Let’s feed you, come on.” He got up and walked to the kitchen where Blue also ran to his comfort.

That’s it. Back to square one.

—

Martin huffed, hands rushing to massage his temple. “You can’t be serious.” His tone filled with irritation. Hamzah looked at him with indifference, almost an ‘I told you so’ attitude burned in his eyes.

Mandy overheard her boyfriend's anger grow, peeking from their kitchen. “What’s wrong?” She asked, a frown forming between her eyebrows as her concern (and slight annoyance) grew.

Martin groaned, letting his hands fall dramatically to his sides. “The guy canceled. After a whole week of silence, he texts saying he’s not coming.” Hamzah leaned back against the armrest of the couch, his expression still unreadable. “Told you hiring someone off Craigslist wasn’t it,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Should’ve gone with someone we know.”

Mandy walked further into the room, her brow still furrowed. “Wait, what? The cameraman? For the exploring video?” She looked between the two men, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Yes, the cameraman,” Martin snapped, pacing the small living room. “He ghosted us for a week and then decided, at the last minute, that he’s not available. Who does that?!” He waved his phone around in frustration.

Hamzah shrugged. “Probably saw a better gig pop up. It happens.”

“Did you pay him?” Mandy said, her gaze fell on her boyfriend. “No, but we agreed with him on an amount and told him what we’re doing.” Hamzah responded before Martin could, “maybe that’s why he said no…” Martin muttered. “Maybe he felt like we’re under paying him.” He continued.

Mandy glared at her boyfriend in disbelief, “I highly doubt that.”

Mandy crosses her arms as she rests the weight of her body on her left leg. “What if you guys… I don’t know, do it yourselves?”

“Do it ourselves?” Martin echoed, looking at her like she’d suggested they film with a potato. “That’ll be too much work, plus we don’t have a tripod or anything.”

“Why didn’t y'all have back up?” Mandy shot back, her tone defensive. “Don’t you think about what could go wrong when it comes to this?”

Hamzah let out a breath, the sound making both Martin and Mandy turn his way, “look, there’s no point in arguing about anything right now. We should think about another video idea to do.”

Mandy uncrossed her arms, her lips opening to say something but she hesitated. Martin looked at her, tilting his head as he waited for what she wanted to say. “I might… have a friend that’ll be willing to help you. Except, I'm not so sure about her skills.”

Martin was at his wit’s end. “We need to finish this video as soon as possible. I don’t care, we just need a third person to film the both of us.” He turned to Hamzah, seeking his approval. Hamzah still gave him an indifferent look, shrugging.

“Who’s this friend?” Martin asked.

“My friend that showed up to the last movie night we had.”

“The shy one?”

“She’s not shy,” Mandy corrected. “She just didn’t know anyone.”

Hamzah’s interest was piqued at the discussion of such a friend. “Is she the one you told about me and Martin going camping?”

Mandy seemed surprised that Hamzah knew about that. “She talked to you?”

Hamzah nodded. “For a bit, yeah.”

“Yeah. Her,” Mandy confirmed.

Martin spoke, breaking them out of their question and answer session: “Alright. Call her. See if she’s available. The worst she can say is no.” Gesturing to Mandy to go on and call.

Mandy nodded, already reaching for her phone. “She’s usually pretty chill. If she’s free, I’m sure she won’t mind helping out.”

The room fell silent as they watched Mandy’s phone, the tension building as if the entire project depended on this one text.

Finally, Mandy’s phone chimed. She read the message, her expression brightening. “She’s in.” Martin sighed in relief at the news. Weirdly enough, Hamzah felt like he was growing nervous at the thought of meeting her again.

“That’s awesome, tell her to come over later tonight.” Martin pressed, moving to the coffee table to grab his phone. Mandy nodded once again, her thumbs typing out his message.

Hamzah shuffled in his spot. Why the hell does he feel nervous? He talked to this girl once and they don’t have to talk much now, she’s there to film and that’s that. That’s… that. It’s not that deep.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t know her much. (As if he knew the cameraman from Craigslist any better)

“Come on. We have to go grab some stuff.” Martin nudged Hamzah’s shoulder to grab his attention. Hamzah cleared his throat in response, nodding and following behind him.

—

“Okay! Three, two… one. I’m recording.”

Martin let out a light laugh. “You don’t need to count us down. Just make sure you’ve got a good angle,” he teased.

You clicked your tongue in irritation. “I know. It’s just a habit. Don’t laugh,” you shot back, a little too quickly.

It’s quite interesting that you had a longer conversation with Hamzah two weeks ago than with Martin in total since you met. That made sense with the way you seem to still get irritated at his jabs.

“Why are you staring at me? Just start already,” you pressed, trying to maintain focus on the screen. Hamzah, standing in the corner of the frame, covered his mouth to hide a grin. Watching you get frustrated with Martin was, apparently, very entertaining. The only person who has ever gotten angry like this over his jokes was Mandy.

Now he sees why you guys are friends.

But, it did seem out of character for you to get this riled up, not that he’d know you that much to know that you aren’t being yourself, but the energy around you and the words you spoke seemed off. There was something in your expression—tight, uneasy—that struck him as odd. You weren’t just frustrated. You were nervous. No… anxious.

But this wasn’t the shy or uncertain kind of anxious. It was something sharper, heavier. Fear.

Who could blame you? The house was unnerving. The kind of place that felt alive with all the wrong things—creaking wood, rustling leaves, and the distant snap of twigs that made you whip your head around. And then there was the eerie way the last traces of sunlight bled into the horizon, swallowing the shadows until everything was steeped in twilight. Even Hamzah could feel the chill creeping up his spine to his neck.

Still, despite that, Hamzah couldn’t fully shake the amusement bubbling inside him. A part of him—the part that usually found humor in tense situations—felt guilty for being entertained. But another part, quieter and harder to define, wasn’t amused because you were scared. It was something else entirely. He found it a little cute.

The way you tried to cover your fear, rushing Martin and him to get through the video intro as quickly as possible, only made it more obvious. Your voice was firm, but your eyes darted around, scanning the shadows as if they might come alive. It was endearing in a way; Hamzah wasn’t sure how to explain, even to himself.

So, he looked away, trying to focus on something else. Whatever it was he was feeling, this wasn’t the time to figure it out. Not here, not now.

“Hamzah, can you move to the left a little? You’re out of frame.” Your order ensured his eyes would fall back upon your face. You gave him a flat smile, gesturing for him to move. “Oh, yeah. Okay.” He returned the smile, moving a little closer to Martin.

—

Martin huffed as they approached his apartment, Hamzah beside him with his hands shoved into his pockets. You followed behind them, your fingers delicately wrapped around your old, beat-up camera, a splurge purchase from years ago. “Never thought you’d come in handy,” you mumbled to the device as if it could respond, scrolling through the footage to ensure there were no visual errors with the lens or other issues.

Filming with the two boys was chaotic. Seeing Martin fully in character made you squirm at first, but the chuckle that escaped Hamzah’s lips when you both glanced at each other afterward became the highlight of the experience. There was something about him. Every time you locked eyes, it felt like a reminder of… something. Something you both shared that night weeks ago.

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to steer your thoughts away from this dangerous train of thought. What were you doing? It’s not like that. He’s probably just nice but awkward. It doesn’t mean anything. Those stares don’t mean anything.

“Hello?” Martin’s long, exaggerated drawl of the letter L snapped you out of your daydream. Your head shot up—from the camera to his face—and he asked, “Are you going home?”

You blinked, almost as if you didn’t register his question. You had, of course, but you’d completely forgotten that you’d Ubered to his apartment for the sake of time. Now, it was 1 a.m., and catching an Uber at this hour felt like asking for trouble. You shut your eyes, groaning at your predicament. “Fuck.” Opening your eyes, you looked at the two men standing in front of you. “No. I have to get back home, but…”

You trailed off, not wanting to make it their problem. “Never mind.” You waved your hand dismissively. “I’ll see you guys around.”

Martin tilted his head. “No, no. What’s wrong?” he pressed.

You sighed. “I… it’s nothing serious.”

Hamzah stood there quietly, unsure of what to say since he didn’t know you well enough to bombard you with questions like Martin.

“Do you not have a ride?” Martin guessed.

You smirked at how quickly he pieced it together. “I Ubered here, but I think the metro’s been down all week because of the snowstorm…” Your worries tumbled out like word vomit. Once you started, you couldn’t stop.

Martin glanced over at Hamzah, who remained silent beside him. “Well, Hamzah came by car, so…” He looked at his friend. “Can you take her home?”

Hamzah had never wanted to punch Martin more than he did in that moment.

He couldn’t say no, not without looking and feeling like an asshole. The only option left was to press the big, red button labeled YES. He tried to remain calm, forcing his face into a neutral expression that didn’t betray the fact that he was internally freaking out about being alone in a car with a girl. A girl who was quickly becoming his friend-of-a-friend crush. A total hotshot he couldn’t stop staring at.

“Y-Yeah. Totally,” Hamzah stammered, finally turning his gaze to meet yours.

A smile spread across your face. “You don’t have to. Seriously, I can just call a friend.”

“It’s… too cold out. They might keep you waiting. I’ll drop you off,” Hamzah replied, surprised at how smoothly the words escaped his mouth. His tone was calm and collected—or at least, that’s how it sounded to him.

“Well, thank you.” You smiled, your eyes seeming to sparkle under the dim streetlights. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

“Great. Email me the footage by tomorrow, yeah?” Martin interrupted the moment, walking backward toward the apartment building’s entrance.

“Okay!” you called back.

“Thanks, cameraman. I owe you,” Martin added before turning on his heels and disappearing through the door.

—

The silence was heavy in the car, almost deafening. His cologne mixed faintly with the lingering scent of weed, a combination you hadn’t expected but found oddly comforting. You noticed the steady grip he kept on the steering wheel—calm and deliberate. Maybe he was being careful because of you. The thought made you smile faintly, but you quickly pressed your lips into a pout, not wanting to look like a weirdo smiling at nothing.

Still, the silence grew too loud to bear. You glanced at him, stealing a moment to take him in. ’Well, isn’t he a pretty sight?’ you thought, biting back another smile. Searching for something to say, you finally settled on, “So, what do you like to do in your free time?” The second the words left your mouth, you winced internally. Hobbies? Really? What are you, twelve?

Hamzah seemed a little surprised by the question. His hands flexed on the wheel as if debating whether to glance at you, but his eyes stayed on the road. “I, um…” He paused, as though the answer had caught in his throat. A fleeting memory of him typing his hobbies onto that embarrassing pen-pal site flitted through his mind. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I like fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“You asked—don’t judge,” he replied, his tone defensive but light.

You giggled softly. “I’m not judging. You just don’t strike me as the fishing type.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the seat. “Actually, I met someone recently who also likes fishing, so it’s not that strange.” You shrugged, still smiling.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?” you clarified.

“Yeah, obviously,” he added quickly, his awkwardness making your smile widen. There was something so endearing about the way he spoke to you, like he was trying hard not to trip over his words.

“Um… gaming,” you answered simply.

“Like Roblox?”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What?” His pitch rose in mock indignation, the tension in the car dissolving as his comfort grew.

“No, like Fortnite,” you said, deadpan.

Hamzah shot you a quick side-eye, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Fortnite? You? Fortnite…?”

You raised an eyebrow, curious where this was going. “You are not defeating the sexist allegations right now.”

Hamzah huffed a laugh, waving his hand as if to dismiss the idea. “No, no, it’s not—,” he said, his grin still in place. “It’s just… you seem like you’ve got your life together, that’s all.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, laughing at the vague explanation.

“Teenagers, losers, and weird YouTubers—like Martin and me—play Fortnite,” Hamzah teased. “Wait, so you’re saying I fall under the loser category?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, forcing him to glance at you. He stammered, his grip tightening on the wheel as your eyes locked on him. “N-No. I don’t think you do.”

“Right. ’Cause I’m not wearing a Fortnite jacket when I leave my house,” you quipped, a grin tugging at your lips. Hamzah chuckled again, shaking his head. “That—and the fact that you’re too pretty. Pretty people aren’t losers, no matter what they like.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unintentional. You froze, the unexpected compliment catching you off guard. At the same time, Hamzah’s half-smile faltered as the weight of what he’d just said hit him. His eyes stayed glued to the road, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t dare look at you—didn’t want to see your reaction.

“Well,” you began after a beat, your tone light but steady, “you aren’t so bad yourself. So, I don’t know what your point is here.”

The casual way you said it made him glance at you, almost involuntarily. This time, you weren’t looking at him, your eyes fixed on the road ahead. But he caught the faintest hint of a shy smile playing on your lips, your cheeks slightly pink. You turned your head toward the window as if trying to hide it, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined it altogether.

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the GPS chimed in, breaking the moment. Hamzah slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road near your apartment complex. You sighed softly, taking in the sight of your building. The conversation had been brief but charged, and the realization that your time together was over left a quiet sadness in its wake.

“Thanks for the ride.” You said, the shyness you once seemed to have changed into a casual expression, turning to face him with a grin. Hamzah fully met your gaze for what it had seemed the first time. “It’s cool.” He responded.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He nodded, the sound of the door clicking open prompted him to look away to get ready to drive off. “Sorry.” His sudden apology made you look back—half of your body already out of the vehicle.

Your confusion caused him to continue: “if I made you uncomfortable.” He paused, “it kinda just—”

“I wasn’t.” You cut him off. “Besides, I meant what I said too.”

Hamzah kept his eyes ahead, too shy to meet your burning eye contact; but he managed to respond quietly, “okay,” a soft smile tugging at his lips. His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, betraying his nervous energy.

You lingered for a moment, one foot still on the pavement, your hand resting on the door. The air between you felt charged, as if both of you were holding back from saying something more.

“Night, Hamzah,” you said finally, your voice softer than you intended.

“Goodnight,” he replied, daring to glance at you one last time. The way the streetlights caught the edges of your smile made his chest tighten. He wanted to say more—but the words never came.

You stepped back, gently shutting the door, and with a small wave, you turned and walked toward your building. Hamzah watched until you disappeared inside, the faintest trace of your perfume still lingering in the car.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

How are you? It’s been a week, and I haven’t heard from you! I hope everything’s okay on your end. Did I say something in my last letter that upset you? Honestly, I can’t even remember what I wrote, but if I did, I’m sorry.

I have news though. Big news. Remember wife me up boy? Well, he drove me home the other day, and we joked around a bit… but here’s the kicker: he called me pretty. Yeah. Out loud. Unintentionally. The context doesn’t even matter (and is way too long to explain here), but just know that I may or may not have flirted back a little.

He’s so cute, though. I could tell he didn’t mean to say it, and honestly, it made it even better. Like, who just accidentally blurts that out? Him, apparently.

But don’t get your hopes up for me—nothing will come of it. I don’t think we’ll see each other again unless fate decides to get dramatic. Plus, our mutual friend would probably hate me if I caught feelings for him, so it’s better to let this little moment stay in the past.

For now, this stays between us. You’re officially the keeper of my secret feelings. I hope you’re doing okay and sending all the good vibes your way. Write back soon—I miss hearing from you.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Hamzah blinked as his eyes followed each word. He promised himself he’ll ignore GamingJournalingReader’s mail from now on, even said he won’t pick it up from his mailbox. But there he is tracing the words back with his index finger, finding himself smiling at the mere mention of his penpal.

After reaching the halfway point, something felt off. Like he heard this story before, deja vu. He frowned, tapping the paper lightly against his palm as he tried to piece it together. The details were familiar in a way he couldn’t explain. The car ride, the accidental compliment, the blush hidden behind casual words. It all felt like a story he already knew… or one he’d lived.

His heart thudded once, hard, as the realization began to settle.

“No way,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He glanced back at the letter, the corners of his lips twitched into a disbelieving smile.

Hamzah sat back in his chair, the letter still in his hands, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He read the lines again, slower this time, dissecting every word as if they’d shift under his scrutiny. The way she described him—the car ride, the compliment, the awkwardness—it was all too specific. Too real.

His hand ran through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as if it would help untangle his thoughts. “No way,” he said to the empty room, but even as the words left his mouth, he didn’t believe them.

The coincidence was too perfect.

Hamzah folded the letter neatly and set it on the table, but his eyes lingered on it. A small laugh escaped him, dry and nervous. His hand reached for the bottom drawer of his work table, as soon as he pulled it open the sight of the crumbled letter of last week greeted him.

Hands running to meet contact with the crumbled paper, grabbing all the letters that layer underneath it. Throwing them on the table, his anxiety at an all time high. If this means what he thinks it means… The thought only made him shiver.

His eyes glazed over each word.

“Anyway, how was your week? Mine was still snowy.”

“I went to a party the other day, and I met my friend’s boyfriend’s friend.”

“Our conversation was short and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”

“Sorry girly pop, got too excited telling you about my party crush.”

“Party crush.”

This can’t be real. It can’t be.

His mind raced as each sentence clicked into place, tying together moments he’d lived but never thought twice about. The snowy week. The party. The friend’s boyfriend’s friend. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the latest letter again, scanning it for more clues he might’ve missed.

It was her.

It had to be her.

The sheer impossibility of it made him laugh under his breath, but the sound was strained, laced with disbelief. His penpal—the girl he’d poured a piece of himself into, letter by letter—was the same person who’d sat in his passenger seat just days ago, teasing him about fishing and Fortnite. The same person who’d made him nervous enough to blurt out she was pretty.

Hamzah leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at the pile of letters. He buried his face in his hands, groaning softly. This wasn’t just some coincidence—it felt bigger than that, like some cosmic joke he wasn’t sure he was ready to laugh at.

Like the universe promised him a fate where he can’t ignore the vague mistake he made when he pressed that ‘female’ button.

This just keeps getting worse.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

Are you dead? I’m actually getting worried now lol. You’re probably busy, aren’t you? This is making me feel like the unemployed friend >:(

Joking. Not really. Maybe.

But you know what I’m not joking about? Seeing ‘wife me up’ guy. My friend is hosting this party for her boyfriend, it’s for a milestone he hit! I was invited. And his friend (cute guy) is most likely invited too. I think you’re putting two and two together. WE ARE SO BACK.

Get back to me when you can! I miss you.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Your lips puckered as you scrutinized your reflection in the mirror. Was this dress a little too much for a casual dinner? You’d had all of last week to plan your outfit, yet here you were, second-guessing yourself at the last minute.

Nothing in your closet seemed to meet your standards. Everything was either too plain, too formal, or too revealing for a winter night out. Frustration bubbled up as you sifted through your options.

You sighed heavily, your grip tightening on your phone as though willing it to stop you from texting Mandy and bailing. You sank onto the edge of your bed, trying to calm your spiraling thoughts.

Why were you overthinking this so much? It was just dinner with Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah—Mandy, your close friend; Martin, her boyfriend; and Hamzah…

Hamzah.

The guy you’d totally flirted with last time, assuming you wouldn’t see him again for months. Yet, here you were, almost two weeks later, preparing to sit across from him at a celebration dinner. A dinner Martin insisted on hosting to thank you for your work on their abandoned house video, which had apparently performed so well that he felt the need to show his gratitude. And the fact that you refused any payment from both boys made his gratitude only worsen. “Great,” you muttered to yourself. “You really can’t back out now.”

This was for you, after all. You couldn’t skip it. You groaned, dragging your hands down the fabric of your dress to smooth it out as you stood. One last glance in the mirror made you hesitate, but you shook it off.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, resigning yourself to your chosen outfit. A knee’s length, wine-red velvet maxi dress, grabbing a large black leather jacket to cover your shoulders and warm you for the night.

The cold air nipped at your skin as you stepped out into the night, the soft velvet of your dress brushing against your hands as they moved with each step. You pulled your leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, boots crunching against the frosted ground.

The walk to the restaurant felt longer than it should have. Each step was weighed down by the thought of seeing Hamzah again. You kept reminding yourself it was just dinner to celebrate.

The restaurant came into view, its warm golden glow spilling out onto the street. You stopped short, peering through the glass. Mandy and Martin were already seated, laughing together as they huddled close. Across from them sat Hamzah, his hands folded in his lap, his shoulders stiff despite the casual setting. Your stomach twisted. He wasn’t looking at anyone, his gaze fixed somewhere over Martin’s shoulder.

You took a deep breath, adjusted your jacket, and pushed open the door. The chime above the entrance drew everyone’s attention. Mandy was the first to spot you, her face lighting up as she waved. “There she is!” she called, standing to pull you into a warm hug. “You look amazing!”

You nodded shyly, your grin easy. “Stop. Oh my god.”

Your eyes involuntarily peeked at the quiet figure still seated, Hamzah. He had turned toward you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but he just gave you a curt nod and muttered, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to read into his clipped tone.

You took the seat Mandy gestured to—right beside Hamzah, in front of Mandy.

The conversation started off easy, mostly led by Mandy and Martin. They gushed about the video’s success, recounting how unexpectedly popular it had become. Hamzah chimed in here and there, but stayed mostly quiet, his eyes focused on his glass of water or the corner of the table.

Every so often, you’d catch him sneaking a glance at you, but the second he felt your eyes on him, he’d look away, his jaw tightening as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It was awkward. Painfully so.

At one point, Martin cracked a joke about the abandoned house shoot, something about you jumping at a shadow, and Mandy let out a giggle. You couldn’t help but chuckle, too, but Hamzah barely reacted. His lips twitched into something like a smile before he took a long drink from his glass, his eyes focused mainly on Martin.

“You okay, Hamzah?” Mandy let out, leaning forward. He shrugged, forcing a casualness that didn’t quite land. “Yeah, just tired. Long day.” His fingers playing with the rim of his glass.

The rest of the dinner continued in a similar pattern—Mandy and Martin carrying the conversation while you tried not to notice how Hamzah barely addressed you directly. It was clear he was trying to act normal, but the stiffness in his posture and the way he avoided looking at you made it impossible to ignore.

Was it something about the car ride? God, maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t know how to address the fact that you made him uncomfortable and brushed you off thinking he won’t see you again until months later—like you thought as well. You bit your lip as Mandy’s rant about Carl being clingy became background noise to your thoughts. Humming to what she was saying, responding strictly to the only few words that do end up registering into your brain.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, though Hamzah’s quiet tension never fully dissipated. By the time the check arrived, you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed that the dinner was over. As the group began gathering their things, Mandy turned to you with a playful grin. “‘You walking home?”

You nod, putting your leather jacket back on you. “‘Home’s nearby.”

Mandy frowned slightly, glancing out at the frosty street beyond the restaurant windows. “You sure? It’s freezing out there.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured her with a small smile. “It’s not a long walk.” Before Mandy could say more, Hamzah cleared his throat. “I can drive you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, but still firm.

Huh…? you thought he was upset? Were you overthinking this again? I mean, if he was uncomfortable the first time he wouldn’t ask again, would he? Or is he trying to make amends with the tension between you? Whatever it is, it’s driving you crazy.

Your eyes darted to him, surprised. He wasn’t looking at you directly, his focus fixed on zipping up his coat, but his posture was tense, like he was bracing for your reaction. “Oh,” you started, unsure. “You don’t have to. It’s really not far.” Deja vu. You lived this moment before and you can pin-point exactly when, and how.

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. And your heart reacted to his insistences. He adjusted his puffy jacket, still avoiding your gaze. Yet your eyes lingered, drawn to the way his hands moved down his torso, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

“Cool.” Was all you managed to let out, slowly turning back to Mandy who wasn’t paying attention to the crazy situation (according to you) that was happening. She fixed up Martin’s jacket as they talked about something that you definitely weren’t paying attention to.

Her eyes turned to you as though she felt you staring. Smiling. “Hamzah will take you home?” She asked, wondering what you both finally decided on. Once again, feeling too annoyed with yourself for agreeing without a second thought, you just nodded. A half smile on your face.

The walk to his car felt heavier than it should have. You both stayed silent, the space between you filled with unspoken words. When he unlocked the doors, he hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to open the passenger side for you.

You stopped short, caught off guard by the gesture. He hasn’t spoken to you the entire night, where is all this coming from? His hand lingered on the edge of the door, his knuckles brushing the cold metal as he glanced at you. For the first time all evening, his eyes met yours.

It was brief, a fleeting connection, but it was enough to send a ripple through your chest. His expression was hard to read—his gaze uncertain, like he was searching for something in yours. You thought you saw a flicker of hesitation, or maybe it was determination, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“Thanks,” you murmured, breaking the quiet, your breath curling in the chilly air between you.

He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice was low, almost inaudible, as he stepped back slightly to give you room. His hand shifted from the top of the car door to the edge of the roof, hovering there protectively, as if anticipating the need to shield your head when you bent to get in.

You slid into the seat, the warmth of the car immediately wrapping around you, but the moment lingered—his presence, his silence, and the unspoken tension that seemed to hang between you like a thread stretched too tight.

Hamzah shut the door carefully and walked around to the driver’s side, climbing in without a word. He started the engine, the hum breaking the silence, and adjusted his seatbelt with deliberate focus.

“Which way?” he asked, his tone neutral, but his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

You gave him directions, and he nodded, pulling out onto the road. His eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead, his jaw tight.

It was familiar. The same hesitation, the same careful distance he seemed to put between you. It was like the beginning of the first car ride. And yet, beneath it, there was something else—something that felt like it was just waiting for permission to surface.

You stole a glance at him, your stomach flipping at the furrow of his brow and the slight downturn of his lips. “You okay?” you asked quietly. A part of you hoping he’ll tell you why he’s been acting so differently around you.

He didn’t answer immediately, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. Finally, he let out a breath. “Yeah. Just…tired. Long day.” And that part of you was crushed in that moment. ‘Yeah, right. Long day my ass.’ You thought to yourself, mentally rolling your eyes at how vague he was being. But, you would never want to pressure someone, you let it go. Resting your back against his passenger seat—averting your gaze to the window beside you.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

I think he hates me. He drove me home that night, but he was so quiet and was avoiding me the whole night as well. Is he trying to say he’s not into me? I don’t get it, he called me pretty. Do people just say that to other people?

I’m reading my paragraph back; what am I saying? I sound ridiculous. People can compliment people. Maybe I read too much into it. Way too much. God, this is driving me crazy. ALSO! Christmas eve is coming up next month and Mandy will probably host a party the night of and invite me. I can’t say no! So, I’ll have to sit there and see him again.

That sounds negative. I don’t hate him. Obviously it’s the opposite. He’s cute. Like really cute. Super nice. Well-spoken. Funny. I like him. And I knew I did since I first met him that’s why I fucking flirted with him when I got the chance.

This is so stupid. Sorry, I usually don’t make boys my main topic for the month—deal with me this time, yeah? Tell me what you think when you can get back to me. Hopefully I wouldn’t have blown everything apart.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Hamzah was trying his best not to open them. He really was. But the itching urge to see your words was unbearable. His fingers hesitated before he unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning each line, the handwriting blurring into something painfully familiar.

It was you. This wasn’t a “maybe” or a “perhaps.” This was you.

His heart sank. The way you described how you felt—it hit harder than he’d expected. He’d already been replaying that night in his head, berating himself for the silence that filled the car ride. The memory of you stepping out of his car with a quiet “Thanks, goodnight” played over and over like a broken record. Now, knowing how you felt about it made him feel even worse.

“I like him.”

The words burned in his mind, clearer than anything else on the page.

Hamzah had always wanted the ability to read people’s minds, to know exactly how they felt about him. But now that he had something close to that, it was too much. Not because he didn’t like you back—God, no. The opposite. He liked you too much. Too much that he hates how much his actions are affecting you.

His thumb brushed over the paper absentmindedly, a weak attempt at comforting himself. This killed every chance he might’ve had. This stupid pen-pal experiment he’d gotten involved in with you. He groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

“Fuck.”

He stood abruptly, needing air, and grabbed his lighter from the shelf beside the balcony door. Stepping outside, the cold air bit at his skin, turning his cheeks pink almost instantly. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a practiced flick of his thumb before leaning against the railing.

The problem was spiraling out of control. He needed to do something. Ignoring you clearly wasn’t working. He briefly considered telling Martin he felt “uncomfortable” around you—but that wouldn’t hold up. Not when he’d deliberately offered to drive you home. Twice.

“What am I even doing?” he muttered under his breath, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. His chat with Chase was still open, their last messages flashing back at him.

Chase: What are you doing?

You: mail

He stared at the conversation for a moment before typing a response. Wondering what Chase wanted from him.

You: u ok?

The message sent with a soft chime, and Chase’s reply came almost instantly.

Chase: Yes…?

Chase: Are you okay?

You: no

Chase: ???

Chase: What the fuck happened?

You: idk

Hamzah rubbed his temple. Halfway through him trying to vent, he remembered that no one was supposed to know about this. About you. About how badly he’d messed up. This is annoying.

Chase: Are you nervous about the party?

The party. Of course. Chase was coming, too—an idea sparked. If he could just stick by Chase the whole time, he could avoid you without making it obvious.

You: yea

You: could you stay with me the whole time?

He waited, his leg bouncing as Chase’s typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Chase: Okay

Chase: Don’t worry about it too much. It’s in two weeks.

Relief washed over him. A small grin tugged at his lips as he typed a teasing response.

You: u wowwy about me :3?

The ridiculousness of it made him chuckle, cigarette dangling from his lips as he hit send. He stubbed it out in the ashtray and headed back inside, his anxiety eased—if only slightly—as Chase fired back with a string of sarcastic messages.

For now, this would have to be enough. Enough to rest him easy.

—

“Thought you were gonna bail.”

“Almost did,” Hamzah admitted.

Chase raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead handing him a cookie. Hamzah took it without much thought, his gaze drifting back to the living room. He knew he’d see you eventually, but the waiting was eating at him.

The past two weeks had been strange. Almost unbearably so. Not because the days had been particularly busy or stressful, but because something was missing.

GamingJournalingReader has not sent him a single letter.

At first, he chalked it up to timing—maybe you were busy, or maybe the holidays had gotten to you. But as days turned into weeks, the silence began to weigh on him. It wasn’t like before when your messages arrived sporadically. This was different. And it felt bitter. As weird as it was to admit—even to himself—he missed you.

He missed you.

Not just the you in front of him at parties, or the you he’d driven home twice. He missed the way you rambled about your favorite games in real life, then your little quirks in writing, the warmth that radiated from even your most mundane thoughts. How he felt a safe, steady presence, even if the reality of who you were had started to overlap in confusing ways.

“Hey,” Chase said, snapping his fingers in front of Hamzah’s face. Hamzah blinked, realizing he’d been staring blankly at the ground. “Sorry. Just… thinking.” Chase gave him a skeptical look but let it slide. “Alright, try to relax. You’re gonna burn a hole in the floor.”

Hamzah huffed a laugh, finally biting into the cookie Chase had handed him. But even as he tried to focus on the party, the absence of you lingered like a dull ache.

He spotted you a long time ago. You seemed to have been here since the afternoon with Mandy. All you did was greet him quietly then went back to mumbling something to Mandy when he first got here a few minutes ago.

Currently. You were standing by the Christmas tree, holding a mug of hot chocolate, your sweater dress catching the soft glow of the fairy lights. For a moment, it was like the noise of the party faded away, leaving just the sight of you.

Hamzah’s chest tightened. This was the first time he took a good look at you since he got here—he understood why he couldn’t bring himself to in the first place; the way your eyes filled with stars when you’re talking to anyone, your tone sweeter than the marshmallow floating around your cup.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too caught up in a conversation with someone beside you. But when your eyes finally flicked over to his, there it was—that flicker of recognition.

And he knew. He wasn’t the only one feeling the weight of the past two weeks. A hint of something in your eyes he recognized; too fearful to name.

He looked away. Clearing his throat. Chase typing away on his phone; too caught up to notice his friend’s romantic demise. “Chase.” He called, and his friend only hummed in response.

“These cookies are good,” Hamzah muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Chase, still glued to his phone, gave a distracted nod. “Mandy made them.”

Hamzah nodded absently, his gaze flickering back toward you. He didn’t mean to look again, but he couldn’t stop himself. This time, you weren’t talking. You were standing still, holding your mug and watching him. His breath caught in his chest. Before he could decide to smile or look away, you set your mug down on the nearest counter and started walking toward him.

Hamzah stiffened, his grip tightening on the half-eaten cookie in his hand. Chase finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow at the shift in his friend’s demeanor. Not noticing the fact that you were walking over to them.

“Hey, mind if I sneak Hamzah with me for a little?” Your voice was soft, your tone polite, but your eyes darted nervously between him and Chase.

Chase smiled knowingly, nodding. “All yours.”

Hamzah shot Chase a glare, one that clearly said ‘why would you leave me?’, but didn’t resist as you motioned for him to follow. The faint murmur of conversation and laughter from the party seemed to fade as you led the way toward the balcony door.

Hamzah fell into step behind you, his heart thudding in his chest. His mind raced, wondering what this was about, whether you were going to confront him about something or if this was just a casual chat. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his fingers fidgeting with the lining as he tried to steady his breathing.

You paused and turned to him, your expression softer now, almost nervous. “Can we… actually go outside?” you asked, your voice quieter this time. Your finger pointing at the balcony that was behind you.

Hamzah’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, the request throwing him off guard. “Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice almost automatic.

You offered him a small, uncertain smile before reaching for the door to the balcony. He followed closely, the chill of the winter air biting at his face as soon as you stepped outside. The quiet outside was stark in contrast to the muffled noise of the party behind you, and for a moment, it was just the crunch of snow beneath your boots and the soft puff of your breath visible in the cold.

Hamzah stayed a step behind, watching as you stopped near the railing of the porch. You rested your hands on it, looking out into the yard. The strings of lights hanging from the roof cast a soft, warm glow over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how still you were, like you were trying to gather your thoughts.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms against the chill. “I just—” You paused, searching for the right words.

Hamzah watched you, his own hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. He could see your breath in the cold, the faintest wisp of white against the dark sky.

“I just wanted to… talk,” you finally said, your eyes meeting his.

“Alright,” Hamzah said quickly, his throat dry.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap at the wrong word. You exhaled deeply, your breath visible in the air. “I’ve been meaning to apologize. For the other night.”

Hamzah’s brow furrowed. “Apologize?”

“Yeah. I mean…” You glanced down at your boots, your voice faltering. “I feel like I made things awkward. I shouldn’t have flirted like that if I wasn’t sure you feel some type of way about it. And then—”

“Stop,” Hamzah cut in, his voice soft but firm.

Your eyes shot back up to his, wide with surprise.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his words coming out in a rush. “If anything, I should be apologizing. I—I’ve been acting weird, and I know it.”

Hamzah flinched, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I-”

“I was ignoring you. But not because of anything you did.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “Then why?” Your tone growing a little louder.

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—that he’d been overthinking, that he’d read your letters, that he felt like the biggest idiot for how he’d acted. But all he managed was:

“Because I didn’t know what to say. To you.”

Your expression softened, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. “You could’ve said anything, Hamzah. You didn’t have to avoid me.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just…” he ran his hand through his hair, shutting his eyes in irritation. What does he even say?

‘Hey, by the way! The girl you’ve been talking to for the past few months has actually been me and I know how you feel about me in every nanoscopic detail.’ He rolled his eyes at this own thought.

Hamzah inhaled sharply, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as if the motion could somehow ground him. He glanced at you, his jaw tightening. You were standing there, waiting, watching him with an openness that only made his hesitation feel heavier.

“Fuck. I don’t know…” Hamzah muttered, his voice strained, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

“Hamzah,” you said softly, taking a hesitant step closer. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you or anything—”

“I’m fishing Fortnite journalist.”

The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them, raw and unpolished. He immediately froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched your expression shift from concern to confusion.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed, turning his gaze to the other side. He can’t look at you. Not right now at least. This was embarrassing, for the both of you. The way you looked at him only confirmed his suspicions. It was you.

“I know. This looks really bad. But, I promise. I can explain.” He shoved his hands in his pockets again.

“Oh god.” You shut your eyes, pressing your lips into a thin line as you remembered what you wrote the past few letters. “I can’t believe Mandy was right.” You rub your temple, Hamzah turning to you when the mention of his other friends was brought into the conversation.

“What? Mandy knows?”

“Obviously not that you are who you are! God, I didn’t even know that.”

Hamzah’s shoulders stiffened, his eyes flickering back to you, unsure whether he felt relief or a deeper sense of dread. “Then what did she say?”

You crossed your arms, shifting your weight nervously. “She said I was being naïve. That I was putting too much trust in someone that was probably a man in his twenties being a creep.” Hamzah winced at your description. The words of his friend sharp against his chest.

“Why did you…” you started. Even you didn’t know where to start or go with this.

“Just. Listen, okay? I… I kept getting messages from weird porn bots, then I was just testing the settings out—then I met you and I didn’t think it’ll actually go anywhere.” He paused, looking back onto the view over the balcony. “By the time you sent me that letter I completely forgot that I changed my gender to female and kept writing to you.”

“But when I realized that you thought I was a girl. The letter where you mentioned Claire’s party. I freaked out, I stopped replying.” Hearing himself re-explain everything made him realize how stupid he must look right now.

“Then when you kept sending them—and fuck,” he paused. “I don’t even know why I kept opening them—everything I read…it kept becoming more and more familiar. I realized it was you pretty early on. That’s when I started ignoring you.” He sighed, “I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You stared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The tension between you was palpable, each word sinking deeper into the weight of the moment. You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “So what, you just thought you’d keep it to yourself forever? Pretend none of it happened?”

Hamzah flinched, his jaw tightening. “No. I was trying to figure out how to fix it. But every time I tried, I just… made things worse. Like when I ignored you at dinner. That wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to you—it was because I didn’t know how to.”

Your brows knit together, your expression softening slightly despite your frustration. “This is…”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said firmly, finally turning to meet your gaze. “That was all me. And I’m sorry. For everything.”

You looked at him for a long moment, searching his face as if trying to decide whether to believe him. Finally, you exhaled, your arms dropping to your sides. “This is… a lot, Hamzah. I don’t even know how to feel right now.”

“I get it. You don’t have to say anything,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He looked down for a second, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

The sincerity in his words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart was still racing, the weight of everything he said mixing with the uncertainty of what you were feeling. You stood there, unsure of whether to close the distance between you or step back. The space between you seemed to stretch, even though you were both standing so close.

He nodded, understanding, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he reached out, his hand almost trembling as it brushed against yours. “I didn’t mean to throw all this at you. I’ve just… I've been thinking about it nonstop. And I’m scared I’ve ruined everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the softness in his touch making your chest tighten. For a second, you wanted to pull away, to stay distant because it felt safer. But something in you wanted to believe him, to let the vulnerability between you both have a chance.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady. “It’s just… it’s confusing, and I need time.”

“All the time you need,” Hamzah said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to push you.”

The silence between you only got heavier, you thought that once you both addressed everything it’ll all end. Though you stood still, his fingers faintly brushed over yours, the way he looked down at you—there was something there.

“You read my last letter.” It was more of a fact stated than a question.

Hamzah cleared his throat, remembering what you said in that letter. It made him spiral, but he tried to maintain his composure in front of you. “I… did.” He muttered.

You looked up at him. “None of that changes.”

Hamzah swallowed, his throat dry, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of your words had settled on his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he stepped just a fraction closer, the subtle movement sending a wave of warmth through you. He was waiting for you to guide this moment, but there was also a tenderness in his gaze that made your chest tighten.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still tingling from where they’d brushed against his. The space between you was shrinking, but there was still a part of you that hesitated—partly because you weren’t sure where this would lead and partly because of the vulnerability in his voice. He was laying himself bare, in a way, and you could feel it. You could tell he was embarrassed by this whole ordeal just as much as you.

His hand moved, almost instinctively, reaching for yours. His fingers brushed over your knuckles, the touch so light, yet enough to make your heart skip a beat. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him, your breath catching in your chest as his hand finally closed around yours.

“I really like you,” he let out, his words simple but full of meaning, like he’d been holding onto them for longer than he could admit. He leaned in, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I just… didn’t know how to say it before. And I’m sorry for all the confusion I caused. But I mean it. I like you. A lot.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in them wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Without thinking, you leaned in slightly, your lips brushing against his. It was gentle, almost questioning, like you were both waiting for confirmation that this was okay—that you were both ready to let go of the doubts and fears that had kept you apart.

“I like you too,” you whispered, your thumb gently caressing his hand. “Obviously.”

Hamzah’s eyes met yours, and the warmth in them was undeniable, a mix of relief and something deeper, something more. Without another word, he leaned in, this time with more certainty, pulling you closer as your lips met once more, the kiss deepening, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time.

When you pulled away, it was quiet. Both your lips meeting the cold air again—your quivering at the temperature change. Your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him; “You’re an idiot.”

Hamzah snorted at your comment, resting his forehead on your shoulder to continue his giggles. “Stop.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension that had been building between you two finally dissipating. The warmth of his laughter, the feel of him so close to you, made everything that had come before seem insignificant.

“Seriously,” you said, your voice teasing but soft, “you really are an idiot.”

He pulled back slightly, still chuckling, and looked at you with that same familiar warmth in his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone light but there was a trace of something deeper, something real. “But I think I’m okay with being an idiot if it means this.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “This?”

Hamzah nodded, the laughter fading as his expression grew more sincere. “Yeah. This. Us. Whatever this is. It’s worth being an idiot for.”

“Shut up.”

“Dork.”

(A/N): is the ending ass… be honest guys. ;( I felt like it seemed rushed ;-; anyway, hope you enjoy it :3 (I literally used AI to proofread—lazy city)

[secretlovezz]

Simon with an s/o who has a cat

Prt.2 here! <-

He hates your cat 😭

Their literally mortal enemies it's ridiculous

The cat glares at Simon 24/7 and he stares right back

You finally make it home after a stressful day at work ready to shower and relax. You open the front door and call out, "I'm home!" You get no response. It makes your brows furrow in confusion, having been used to a little furry friend lying on your unused shoes waiting for you to get home or hearing the heavy steps of your boyfriend making his way toward you. But today there was no welcome wagon for you.

Your heart immediately racks in worry the once steady beat of it moving to an unnaturally quick pace. Your hands move faster to remove your shoes and jacket wanting to look for the person and cat that once populated your apartment.

You call out again, "Simon? My Baby?"

"In here, dove." At the sound of your lover's voice, you're on the move heading to where his voice had been most prominent.

When you get to Simon- in the bathroom -he's clad in only a towel water still dripping from his hair and body and condensation on the mirror signifying he's just gotten out of the shower. Then your gaze goes to his face and his eyes aren't on you they're focused on something on the counter.

Your cat.

They're staring at each other both of them refusing to look away from one another. They were barely blinking. Then you realize why Simon's having a glaring contest with your pet, it's because the cat was on his clothes refusing to move out of pure stubbornness.

Suddenly you're glaring at the both of them too, "Are you guys being serious right now? This is getting ridiculous," you tell them and with Simon's response you roll your eyes and walk away.

"Oh, this is deadly serious, love"

Sometimes when Simon walks by your cat it latches onto Simon's leg kicking and biting the shit out of him (your poor boyfriend is just about ready to chuck the cat into outer space)

Your little fur baby definitely steals or tries to steal food from Simon's plates. Simon swears the cat gets stronger when determined to get into his stuff

Simon's cups have been knocked off of tables more often then not being left to clean up a mess that isn't his

Your looking up from your plate of food as soon as you hear grumbles and silverware clanking roughly against a porcelain plate. You smile a little at the sight in front of you. Simon's pushing your cats head back away from his food, while the cat uses all of his strength. Simon's scowl at the animal only gets deeper when he sees you smile at his unfortunate situation.

"You better not be smilin'," He says annoyance clear in his tone.

Now your laughing, a sound simon usually adores, one that makes his body relax, one that makes him feel safe, but now it has him clenching his jaw and has his eyebrows furrowed.

"Make 'im stop," He growls.

You pretent to think about it for a moment, pointer finger tapping your chin in faux thought, "I don't know si... this is thoroughly entertaining. What's in it for me if I help you?" The vein on his arm looked like it might burst at your question.

"If you don't get this dammed cat away from me it's gonna go missin'," you roll your eyes at his dramatics but called your cat to you regardless.

When you cuddle with one of them the other gets sooooo jealous

Simon will literally toss your little baby off the bed

The cat hits and claws for simon to get away from you

(Your constantly having to scold them its like having two children)

These two will argue with each other Simon's voice is stern its how you imagine he talks to new recruits and your cat is meowing loudly at him clearing cussing him tf out

Groggily peeling open your crused eyes open but quickly closing them as the bright morning sun peeked through your bedroom window you start to awaken. You rubbed into your eyes with the back of your fist before opening them again moving to look at the clock on the bedside table.

11:23

You slept in, or really someone let you sleep in because to your right your boyfriend seemed to have long since left the bed leaving the side he usually accompanied empty and cold.

You stretched and groaned the sheets and blankets moved with you weird groans and grunts leaving your yawning mouth as your joints crackled and popped. You sat up in bed still drowsy with sleep barley aware of your surroundings but still you gripped the enormous blanket and wrapped it around yourself as an act to shield the breezy-ness of the winter weather that leaked into your apartment.

Mreeeooow!

Your head whips to the door at the loud sound. Your cat was talkative but he was never very loud about him. This time the usual cute sound was replaced with an almost screech that made you cringe.

You take a deep breath before standing up and making your way to your room door. Once you open it the sounds of your cat get louder and now you can hear Simon too. His voice is booming but isn't loud it's stern and serious but filled with frustration and anger.

As you walk down the hall to the living area your duvet drag behind you on the floor. The floor creaks and groans under your feet alerting the two others in your home. Both their heads snap towards you. Your little baby's ears are pinned back in airplane mode and his pupils are dilated. Your big baby has his nose scrunched and lips downturned into a frown.

Your voice is laced with tiredness and a little deeper than it normally is, "What are you two arguing about this time?" The back of your hand is rubbing one of your eyes again as you speak.

"The little fucker is bein' disrespectful, he's not listenin' to me."

The cat meows loudly in response to Simon seeming trying to say he was lying.

You sigh and move to pick your cat up, he turns to putty in your arms and nuzzles his head against your chin. You walk towards Simon now. Leaning into him and humming contently when he wrapped his arms around you and the little one in your arms pretending to be annoyed but fully relaxing against your body.

[latin5mamii]

competition

warnings: cuteness (my heart literally melt)

genre:fluff; kylianxfem!reader

summary: Kylian can't stand kitten videos anymore, so what's better than actually gifting you one?

author's note: I’m really going to miss seeing our little croissant play for the next three weeks! It’s just so sad and i want to cry. Every time I watch him on the pitch, I find myself literally ADMIRING him , and honestly, it’s starting to worry me about my mental health...

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

You’ve been dreaming about adopting a kitten for what feels like forever—weeks of obsessively sending Kylian video after video of fluffy kittens, each with the same unspoken message: “I need one.”

He’s honestly not sure how this kitten craze of yours even started. Maybe it was that time you found a kitty on the street and immediately dropped to your knees, practically begging him to take it home with you. He still remembers the way your face fell when you found out the kitten already had an owner. Ever since then, you’ve been on a mission.

It’s gotten kind of relentless. At first, Kylian thought it was cute, how every few hours you’d send him another kitten clip with heart eyes and a not-so-subtle, “Look at this one! Isn’t it adorable?” But now, it’s reached a point where every time his phone dings, he knows it’s another video of a kitten doing something cute, followed by your predictable "I want one so bad."

The man can only take so much.

And for Kylian, saying no to you is basically impossible. He could ignore the hints for a while, but the way you light up whenever the topic of kittens comes up? Yeah, there’s no way he’s letting this one slide much longer.

“Amour,” Kylian’s deep, playful voice echoes through your temporary apartment as he closes the door behind him. You barely glance up from your phone, lost in yet another kitten video that you’ll definitely be sending him in a few minutes.

But his tone catches your attention. There’s something different in it—something secretive.

“Amour,” he repeats, this time a bit more mischievous. “I have a surprise for you.”

That’s all it takes. Your heart skips a beat, and you scramble to your feet, tossing your phone onto the couch without a second thought. You rush down the hallway toward him, excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Kylian, what is it? What’s going on?” you ask breathlessly, practically bouncing on your toes. You’re not great with surprises, mainly because your curiosity knows no bounds, and Kylian knows that all too well.

He grins, clearly enjoying your impatience. “Patience, chérie,” he teases, holding his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes first.”

You let out an exaggerated groan but obey, squeezing your eyes shut. “You know I hate this, right?”

He chuckles, and you can hear him moving closer. “I know. But you’ll love this.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re going to explode from anticipation. Then, just as you’re about to cheat and peek, you hear it—a tiny, delicate meow.

Your eyes snap open before Kylian can even tell you to, and your breath catches in your throat. In his arms, nestled against his chest, is the most adorable, tiny kitten you’ve ever seen. Its fur is a mix of cream and gray, and its big, round blue eyes blink up at you with curiosity.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth as you stare in disbelief.

Kylian laughs softly, clearly proud of himself as he watches your reaction. “I couldn’t handle the constant kitten videos anymore,” he teases, shifting the tiny bundle of fur in his arms so you can get a better look. “So I figured I’d just… bring you one.”

You’re speechless, your hands trembling as you reach out to take the kitten from him. It’s so small, so delicate, and it lets out the tiniest purr as soon as it’s nestled in your arms, pressing its little head against your chest. 

“I love you,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure whether you’re saying it to Kylian or the kitten. Maybe both.

“I know,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But do you love me more than the kitten?”

You giggle, shaking your head as you hold the kitten closer. “Well, the kitten is pretty cute. You’ve got some competition now.”

He feigns offense, raising an eyebrow as if wounded, but the act doesn’t last long. Watching you tenderly cradle the tiny kitten in your lap, gently stroking its soft fur, his heart can’t help but melt.“So… have you thought of a name yet? Or are you just going to call it ‘kitten’ forever?”

You look down at the tiny fluff ball in your lap. A name? You hadn’t even gotten that far in your daydreams.

“Hm, I don’t know… I kind of like ‘kitten,’” you joke, earning a groan from Kylian. “No, seriously! Look at this face. It’s like pure kitten energy.”

“Amour, we are not calling it ‘kitten,’” Kylian says, though he can’t help but smile.

You tap your chin playfully, as if deep in thought, then look up at Kylian with a soft smile. “I think I need to really take my time with this,” you say, your tone serious but with a hint of teasing. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re telling me we need to schedule a whole naming ceremony for this kitten?”

“Obviously,” you reply with a grin, gently stroking the kitten’s fur. “It’s an important choice. I’ll need some time… and maybe a little inspiration.”

Kylian leans in, his voice playful. “Oh? And how do you plan on finding this inspiration, chérie?”

You tilt your head and flash him a warm smile. “By cuddling with my two favorite babies,” you say softly, looking between him and the kitten. “That should give me all the inspiration I need.”

Kylian’s expression softens instantly, his eyes sparkling as he leans in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Your two babies, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning into him as you settle against his chest. “My big baby and my little baby. Both equally important.”As you lean into Kylian’s embrace, you watch the tiny kitten stir slightly before making its way to his stomach. With a delicate hop, it settles right on top of him, curling into a tiny ball, its soft purring almost harmonizing with the rise and fall of Kylian’s breathing.

You can’t help but smile, feeling your heart practically melt at the sight. There’s something about seeing Kylian, this towering, athletic man, with such a delicate creature nestled on his chest that makes the moment even sweeter.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “Look at her.”

Kylian glances down at the little fluff ball, a small chuckle escaping him. “She’s already making herself at home,” he says softly, his fingers lightly grazing the kitten’s fur. “Can’t say I blame her, though. I’m pretty comfortable, right?”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [17] - Disagreements

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Petty fights can start out of nowhere.

Word Count: 2800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Waking up and not finding Bucky in bed next to you wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

He always woke up before you, but this was the first time you were hearing a second, very familiar voice booming through the house and you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes.

What on earth was your father doing in your apartment this early on in the morning?

You pushed the covers off of you and looked around the room for Alpine but she wasn’t there either. Grabbing the first thing you found -which turned out to be one of Bucky’s crisp white button up shirts- you pulled it over your tank top and shorts, then went downstairs, following the voices.

“If this has been your plan all along,” your father’s stern voice reached your ear from Bucky’s office, “I swear to God—”

“I don’t have any plans,” Bucky’s much calmer voice replied and you pulled your brows together, approaching the doorframe but still shielding yourself from their gaze. Alpine meowed when she saw you, running to you but neither of them seemed to notice it.

“No?” your father asked. “So this is not some sort of elaborate plot to take over my territory?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why was she having a briefing with Rogers?”

“Because I don’t think my wife should be kept out of the business entirely,” Bucky said as you bent down to scratch at Alpine’s head before straightening your back again. “It’s the new generation, we do things differently now.”

Your father let out a furious breath.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t care what you do with your own business, but if you’re putting ideas into my daughter’s head—”

“Arthur, she’s smart as fuck, you do realize that?” Bucky snapped, making you smirk. “There’s no idea I can put into her head that she hasn’t thought about to begin with.”

“Not to mention,” you said and stepped into the office, making both of them turn to look at you. “She has a phone. So if you wanted to see me, you could just let me know.”

Your father gritted his teeth and stole a look at Bucky. “Give us a minute.”

If it were anyone else, you were sure they would be hurrying off to the door because you had seen your father intimidate countless men throughout your life, but Bucky didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as he leaned back to his desk.

“This is my house,” he replied, making your father blink a couple of times.

“And I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”

Bucky turned to look at you as if silently asking if you wanted him to leave and you shook your head, then crossed your arms.

“Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of my husband,” you told him, making Bucky grin proudly. “So?”

Your father’s glare at you was enough to make the sudden chill of nervousness shoot through you, but you didn’t let it show on your face as he shook his head.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I literally woke up to you guys’ yelling to be honest—”

“Having a meeting with Rogers,” he cut you off impatiently as if he didn’t have the time for your jokes. “What is that about?”

You let a smirk pull your lips.

“Did Ian come and cry to you about it?” you asked. “Honestly.”

“He did let me know, yes,” he said. “As he was supposed to. Seeing that you weren’t planning on telling me about it, I’m glad he did.”

“You have your messenger boy there already,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s clear you don’t need me to tell you anything.”

He took a deep breath like he was trying his hardest to stay calm and you stole a look at Bucky who gave you an assuring smile, watching you two.

“Sweetheart,” he said, the slight condescending tone in his voice making you clench your jaw. “I know that you want to be a part of the business, and Bucky is for some reason fueling this nonsense, but—”

“He’s not fueling anything,” you growled. “I happen to have my own mind, unlike what you seem to think.”

“Y/N—”

“I mean who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“Okay!” Bucky cut you two off before your father could answer. “Can I suggest we all calm down before anyone says anything they might regret?”

Both you and your father looked at him before turning to glare at each other again and your father pursed his lips, heaving a sigh.

“I’m not trying to patronize you,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Might be too late for that.”

“But I need you to be safe,” he said, making Bucky frown for the first time. “And becoming a part of the business…”

“To repeat, I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not putting her in danger, Arthur,” Bucky said, his voice calm despite the stern expression on his face. “You know I would never.”

“Right,” your father scoffed and gave you a warning look. “Y/N, I mean it. What you’re trying to do—”

“What makes you think I’m trying to do anything?”

“Because I wrote the playbook you’re following,” your father replied. “I taught you every single trick, and now you’re going to turn around and treat me like I’m clueless?”

You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.

“I’m not doing anything that you haven’t been doing with me for years now,” you said. “You pushed me out of the picture, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and you have the audacity to give me that speech right now?”

He ran a hand over his face.

“I’m only doing what your mother would like, for you.”

You let out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No,” you said. “You’re doing what you would like, for me. And I’m done letting you.”

You could see a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at you for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“We will talk later when you’re calmer,” he said and stormed out of the office before you heard the front door slam. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bucky who gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” you asked back and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Hungry though. Breakfast?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded your head.

“Yes please,” you said. “Jesus, what a morning.”

                                               *

It wasn’t that you kept the fact that you were meeting Ethan this afternoon a secret, it was just that you didn’t think Bucky needed to know about it. This marriage was fake yes, and it wasn’t like you were having a secret affair meeting, you two were just friends and it was a normal gather up with your friend.

Or at least, that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of the whole morning.

You drummed your fingernails on the table and reached out to grab your cup to take a sip of your latte, but lowered it when the wind bells by the door chimed and your gaze fell on Ethan. He looked around the café, then gave you a small smile and approached you as you stood up.

“Hey,” he said, giving you a curt hug and you smiled as he pulled back, then sat down again.

“Hi,” you said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you two,” he said as he sat down and ordered a coffee. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “You?”

“Busy a bit. You look—” he paused for a moment when his eyes fell upon your wedding ring. “Married.”

You let out a nervous laugh and heaved a sigh.

“Mm hm.”

He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, making you shake your head.

“Ethan…”

“I do,” he said. “I’m—It was stupid to say all that shit. Trust me, I wanted to text and apologize so many times, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice.”

You rolled your eyes at him in a lighthearted manner.

“Ethan, you happen to be the only person in my life who’s not…” you trailed off and he gave you a small smile.

“Who’s not following the same career path?”

You clicked your tongue. “That’s one way to put it,” you said, making him chuckle. “So yeah, I reacted badly as well. I was very tense when we had that conversation.”

He offered his hand. “Truce then?”

You scoffed a laugh, then reached out to shake his hand.

“Everyone knows I’m a big fan of truce,” you said and he grinned, then thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.

“So,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it then? Do guns go off when you and Barnes enter the building or…?”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Ethan.”

“Do you guys do that Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit?”

“Wrong movie reference.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Does he still dislike me?”

The correct and honest answer would be that Bucky didn’t even think about Ethan, at least in your opinion. Not only did he have bigger problems what with HYDRA and their attacks in the city, his dynamic with the other bosses were bound to get tense with you officially becoming a part of the business.

So, he was probably too busy to sit around and think about Ethan.

“Nah I don’t think so,” you managed to say, leaning back. “That night at the club, I know he was an asshole but we were…things were weird between us then.”

“I’d say so,” he said, and licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said. “As long as I can answer it hypothetically, that is.”

“Is it real?”

That managed to make you pull back slightly and you blinked a couple of times before heaving a sigh.

“I don’t understand what you—”

“Because I’d like to think that we had something, back at college,” he said, making your brows furrow. “And that night at the club, you weren’t looking at him like…I could’ve sworn you hated him, Y/N.”

“Like I said, things were weird between us then,” you muttered, turning the coffee cup in this saucer and he shook his head.

“And it changed that fast?” he asked. “Listen, I’m going to shut up if you don’t want me to talk about this, but if it’s not real—”

“If it’s not real, you’ll save me?” you asked with a scoff. “I’m not some princess in a castle Ethan.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Hypothetically, even if it weren’t—”

“Hypothetically,” he cut you off. “I’d happily wait for your divorce.”

That made you stop talking as your eyes snapped up to his and you gawked at him in a dumbfounded silence.

Ah.

Alright, this was…

The idea was quite lovely, to be honest. As you had told Becca, being with Ethan would be so simple, he was a civilian so there would be no ulterior motives or plotting or any of the tension you knew each and every couple in business had. Not only that, but Bucky had broken your heart so terribly all those years ago and you were sure that if you decided to see or treat this marriage like a real marriage, he would do it again.

Unlike Ethan.

Dear God, it would be so peaceful.

But you knew you couldn’t deal with whatever this was when you were going for your father’s crown. This right here was a distraction, and you couldn’t entertain the idea of a distraction.

You clicked your tongue and sat up straighter, checking the time.

“Sorry, I just remembered I had this thing,” you muttered, desperate to get away and he stood up as you did.

“Y/N,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry if that sounded—”

“No no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t…I get what you mean, I really do. And as much as I know you mean well, saying this now is very disrespectful to Bucky so I’d rather if we didn’t speak about this again.”

He pursed his lips and nodded his head.

“Understood,” he said. “I won’t, I promise.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you asked and gave him a short hug, then walked out of the café, your heart beating fast.

“What the fuck was that?” you muttered to yourself as you got into your car and let out a breath, then started driving.

                                                         *

As you walked into the Barnes skyscraper, you were still trying to comprehend just why the hell, out of all things to say to Ethan, you had chosen ‘disrespect to Bucky’ as your answer. What Ethan had said wasn’t even so bad, you had been reminding Bucky that you two would eventually get a divorce and even talk about all the things you’d do on your second wedding and marriage to someone else, but when Ethan so much as mentioned waiting for your divorce, you had decided to draw the line?

This was rather absurd.

You rolled your shoulders back as someone escorted you to the elevator and pressed the button for you and you checked your reflection in the mirror until you got to the top floor and the doors opened.

“I can find my way, thank you,” you said told the bodyguard and walked out of the elevator to make your way to Bucky’s office.

“Is he in?” you asked the receptionist who stood up when she saw you.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Great, thank you,” you said and knocked on the door, then opened it to step inside. Bucky was sitting behind his desk, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the computer screen, but he turned his head when he saw you and raised his brows.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said and approached the couch to fling yourself on it, crossing your legs. “So my father didn’t call me after this morning, has George called you?”

“No.”

The curt answer made you tilt your head and you frowned at him.

“Have you heard from anyone else?” you asked. “Because I feel like—”

“How was lunch with Ethan?”

That made you stop talking and you raised your brows, your stomach doing a flip.

“Are you having me followed?” you asked sharply through your teeth and he let out a bitter chuckle.

“I don’t need to have you followed,” he said. “You met the guy in my territory in case you forgot.”

You licked your lips, crossing your arms defiantly.

“So what, am I supposed to report back to you every single thing I do now?”

“I think I’d like to know if you’re meeting your ex -who by the way, still wants to fuck you- like a week after our wedding, yeah,” he shot back, making your jaw drop.

“Easy there, cowboy.”

“Y/N we had an agreement—”

“Does it look like I’m sleeping with him from where you’re sitting?” you asked. “I know the agreement. You don’t sleep with anyone else and neither do I, until our divorce.”

“Then?”

“Then I can have lunch with whoever I want.”

“To repeat, he wants to—”

“It was a friendly lunch and he just apologized for reacted badly when I told him we would be getting married,” you defended yourself hurriedly, knowingly leaving out the part Ethan said about your potential divorce and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh I wonder why he reacted badly to us getting married,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What could it be? Any ideas?”

God damn it.

“This is not even a real marriage,” you hissed as you leaned in, careful not to speak too loud in case anyone outside could hear. “Or did you forget about that part?”

“Did you forget about the part we’re supposed to act madly in love?” he asked back, his voice calm unlike yours and even though he did have a point, the petulant part of you refused to acknowledge it, so you did the first thing you thought of and got up from the couch.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m done I said!” you snapped over your shoulder and walked out of the office without looking back, making your way to the elevator. Your heart was beating in your ears and you grabbed your phone, and touched Becca’s name as the doors closed, the elevator moving.

“Hey,” Becca’s voice reached you. “What’s up?”

“I snapped at Ethan for disrespecting Bucky and then snapped at Bucky within the same hour,” you said and she paused for a moment, then hummed.

“I’m getting the wine ready,” she said. “Grab some sushi on your way here?”

“You got it,” you said and hung up the phone, then leaned your head back to the elevator wall. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”

Chapter 18

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hii, I love your fics, especially the Moon Knight ones, sometimes I'm so giddy that I need to take a step back and remember myself that they aren't real.

May I request headcanons about the Moon Boys overhearing reader talking to their pet (probably a kitten) about how much they love the boys, and their quirks and their little differences and just going on and on about how perfect they are?

I understand if not, I will love whatever you post regardless!

Oh my gosh, this is so adorable! I hope I did it justice!

Just Happy

Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Jake eavesdrops.

Warnings: Fluff, Jake being emotional, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 482

You stroke behind Salem’s ears, the small kitten’s eyes are closed, his head pressed as close as he can to your hand. 

“You like that, hmm?” You smile, “Who’s my favourite little guy?” 

Salem purrs loudly. 

Jake smiles from his position in the doorway, his hair still damp from the shower. Both Marc and Steven were still asleep, Steven hadn’t come to bed until well into the early morning and now that things in their life were calmer Marc was using the opportunity to catch up on fifteen years of rushed power naps. 

“Who is it, hmm?” You lean down and kiss the top of Salem’s head three times. 

Jake can’t help himself, he slowly takes out his phone from his pocket, not wanting to alert you to his presence. He finds the perfect angle and then starts filming, he’d have to send this to the group chat Steven had created. Affectionately called ‘The Body 💪📖🚗⚾’

“It’s yoooooooou!” You say sing-song to Salem and grin, “Well you’re my favourite little cat guy. I think Steven, Marc, and Jake might complain if they’re not my favourites too. Though I don’t think they’d mind being second best to you.” 

At the sound of Steven, Marc, and Jake’s names Salem perks up his ears and meows softly. 

“Yeah! You love them too, don’t you? They are the best, we love them so much. Because they’re so kind and great. And they give you the best pets, don’t they? Well, second best, I’m best obviously.” 

Jake covers his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. He’s smiling so hard it’s hurting his cheeks, his chest so light it’s almost painful. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, his throat thick. He tries to force the emotion down, but it just builds and builds. 

“I know part of the reason you’re so excited when you hear their names is you think you’re gonna get extra treats, I know they give you more than they should.” You smile. “Can I tell you a secret?” You lean a little closer and Salem looks up at you with large eyes. “I love them so much, literally so much. Every day my heart gets a little bigger with how much I love them. Opposite Grinch situation going on in here.” You tap your chest. 

“Amor,” Jake’s voice makes you jump, and you turn from your position on the floor just in time for him to wrap his arms around you in a bear hug. 

You let out a little oof of air and then giggle, “Were you spying on me?” 

“Yes.” He mutters into your neck, his voice is thick and wavering. 

“Hey, you okay?” You stroke his back and try to move to see his face. But he just snuggles deeper into your chest and squeezes you tighter.

“I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” 

“Just happy, my love. Just happy.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes ho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood 

@pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 @sub-aro @killerdollz

 @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist @dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious

@homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus 

@mandytrekkie @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 @pigeonmama @marcsb1tch 

@iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan @faretheeoscar@lonelyisamyw-0love 

@queerponc @twwcs @Spnwhore2430 @mari-thesimp @ominoose

@ierofrnkk @have-you-seen-my-sanity @to-be-a-sunshine @blushingrn @missdictatorme

@musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick

@soft-girl-musings @casa-boiardi @theratscorner @krakenkitty @amasdaydream

@i-have-all-these-freakin-uwus  @purple-amaranthe @brunlocc @bookoffracturedescapes

@marcsb1tch @pigeonmama @sergeant102105 @weekendgothgirl @silvernight-m

@klillah @howellatme @mystic-writings @f0url3af

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[hoshinasblade]

Got some cute ideas.

Hoshina Soshiro coming back to work saw the fem reader carrying a baby kitty and smiling at it and her smile is like it was from heaven so soft and gentle.

You can FREELY at any twist on it be my guest. 🤌🏻

lmao can we all agree that hoshina is a cat person but in my head this can mean two things - he is fond of cats, and he is a cat in human form iykwim.

hoshina does not consider himself a jealous man.

from an early age, he has learned the virtue of being contented of whatever he is given, and on scenarios when he cannot help but to be discontented with what the world has dealt him with, he has also mastered the art of being competitive enough to always come on top.

an ugly feeling started to gnaw at hoshina's insides when he saw you smile with a brightness he's never seen you worn even when he is around. maybe it's his instinct, but he cannot stop himself from already hating whoever is at other end of your smile.

you spotted hoshina by the corner of the street and though your first thought was ask him why he is frowning, the animal you are cradling in your arms started meowing. "look what i found!" carefully, you waved at hoshina who has started to walk towards you - his mouth is in a straight line, but you could not stop your excitement from spilling over. "he looks just like you, soshiro-kun!" you giggled.

on your left arm rests a kitten, its orange fur stained with so much grime it almost looks like a used feather duster. the animal gave out a high-pitched meow when you lightly touched its head, petting it. the kitten was such a small thing, he noticed, and the fact that its eyes are also half-closed does not escape him. "you think i look like a gremlin?" he asked you.

"sssh! he is gonna hear you!" you scolded hoshina in the lowest volume of your voice you could muster. "i already named him, by the way."

"i literally just saw you picked it up like, not even fifteen minutes ago," hoshina bantered. seeing it squirming against your chest, he attempted to touch the kitten, only to receive a soft hiss. hoshina gave you a betrayed look.

"you called hinata-chan a gremlin.” you laughed at your boyfriend’s offended expression. “you gotta be nice to our son, you know”, you added sheepishly. you lifted the kitten a bit and nuzzled your cheek against its fuzzy head. hinata-chan mewled, and hoshina’s frown deepened until he realised what you just said.

the topic of having children was something you have discussed with hoshina not long ago, and although both of you dream to have miniature versions of each other running around the house someday, you have also decided that neither of you are ready to be having kids at the present. a boy and a girl - that’s what you and hoshina are planning to have maybe five, ten years from now.

the kitten looks awfully like a baby by the way you are holding it, and hoshina melted. you could sense his hesitation, so with your free hand you grabbed hoshina's wrist and directed him to put his palm on the kitten's fur slowly. "poor thing's only a few weeks old, i think. we gotta take care of it, or it's not gonna survive," you told him. the kitten, still resting on your arm did not make a move, and gaining confidence, hoshina began to gently stroke and scratch its forehead.

"i thought hinata would be a nice name - something sunny, something warm," you explained. "it reminds me of you."

the kitten's eyes remained half-closed, but after a moment it opened its mouth and its small tongue lapped on hoshina's finger, purring.

touched, hoshina breathed a sigh of relief. "nice to meet you, hinata-chan. you're absolutely going to be one spoiled cat."

a/n: lmao this is so messy but i see the potential, hoshina would definitely have beef with a literal kitten over you.

[bookshelf-dust]

loving you

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 961

warnings: um, literally none? let me know if i missed something though

a/n: wanted to write something for baby’s birthday. don’t bully me about the age i’m being self-indulgent, okay? but anyways, posting this now so it’ll be up all day on his birthday. also tagging @clovermunson for helping me out with a certain fuzzy fellow. love you guys!!! <3

————

Billy is warm beside you. That’s one of your favorite things about him. 

Even if there are times where you get hot and have to push him off because he’s making you sweat, there are still the times that you get to cuddle up to him when you’re cold. And he’ll tuck you into his side to warm you up. Just like he’s doing now. 

His socked feet are propped up on the coffee table, the rest of him covered by a blanket that the both of you share. His arm is wrapped around your back, fingers spread across your stomach where his hand has slipped underneath the fabric of your shirt. 

Every once in a while he’ll scratch over your belly, dull nails sending chills up your spine. Your hand is tucked underneath his thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth over his leg. 

Billy’s eyes are on the tv, yours glancing back and forth between him and the clock on the wall. 

You’re starting to wonder if you’ll disturb him with your little plan, just based on the way his eyes are starting to flutter shut, the way he’s melting into you. 

But you don’t think he’ll mind. Not really. 

The clock hand moves that little bit and the microwave numbers change, their light leaving a green cast over the kitchen counter. 

12:00 am.

You sit up, twisting some so that you’re facing Billy, and your movement wakes him up a little. 

He straightens, looking at you. He quirks a brow, trying to figure out what you’re up to. It’s always something. 

You reach out to touch his face, and he automatically leans into it. You cup his cheeks with both hands, and then you’re pressing your lips to his. 

Your mouth is warm, and he can both taste and smell the lip balm you’d put on earlier in the night. It’s a sweet kiss, long and heartfelt. 

Billy brings his hand up, holding onto your wrist.  

You’re thinking: I love you, I love you, I love you, and hoping you can somehow transfer the message directly into his brain through the kiss. He kisses you back, knowing exactly what you’re trying to say. Billy hasn’t shaved in a few days and his skin scratches against yours. You don’t care. 

When you pull away, his lashes are fluttering and if it weren’t so dim in the living room you’re sure you’d find a blush spreading across his face. 

“Happy Birthday.” 

Billy smiles at you. When he speaks, his voice is tired, lovesick. “Was that my birthday kiss?”

“Only the first one,” you tell him. 

“Oh, so I get more?”

Billy presses his forehead against yours, still holding onto your wrist. Your hands never leave his face, thumbs sweeping underneath his eyes. 

“You want another?” You ask. The question makes him chuckle. 

“Pretty please.” 

His lips tick up at the corners, enticing you. You press a kiss to both, to his cupid's bow, his chin. He pouts at you. 

“Come on. It’s my birthday,” Billy whines. 

“I really set myself up for this one.” You kiss him. “Should’ve known you’d use that to your advantage.” You kiss him again. 

Billy hums against your cheek where he’s now pressed his own mouth. He knows that makes you go all warm. 

There’s a noise behind you, a subtle added weight to the cushion you've settled on, and you know what it is without having to turn. The mewl makes Billy aware of the presence, and he grins against your face, a slow laugh leaving his throat. 

“I think he wants us to come to bed, B.”

Billy hooks his chin over your shoulder, meeting eyes with a little brown cat. 

You hear the first meow your cat lets out in greeting. The second is almost like a question. Why are you still up?

Billy reaches around you, scratching behind his ears. You can hear his purring. It’s always so loud. 

There’s a clambering, and Billy leans back, allowing for the young cat to squeeze between your body and the couch and up into his lap. 

“Night, Cosmo,” you say. Billy snorts. “What? It’s too late to be evening.”

Cosmo ignores your words, preferring to stare at you, waiting. You scratch his chin and he mewls. It’s not unlike the response Billy might have for getting the same sort of attention.  

“What do you wanna do in the morning, birthday boy? How would you like to celebrate your release from teenagedom? The big 2-0?”

Billy rolls his eyes at you and kisses the palm of your hand, having snatched it from where it was flailing midair. 

“Don’t care,” he says. “We could sit here all day and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

You lean in like you need to whisper, as if you’re not in your own home. “I think Max is gonna come see you. Don’t tell her I told you, but she bought you a sash.”

“No.”

You start to laugh. “Yes. A birthday sash.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

You kiss him again, though you’re laughing and can’t take it seriously. 

“Sure, baby.”

He pecks your lips once, twice. “No, I’m not.”

The polaroid you stick in the frame of your vanity mirror the next evening says otherwise. Billy is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, though loosely enough that you can see the words “Birthday Princess” in sparkly lettering on a pink sash. 

He’s not looking at the camera, he’s looking at Max, listening to something she’s saying. Lucas is on the floor, back between her knees.

Billy looks so happy, cheeks flushed from all of the attention he’d had, the start of a laugh on his face. 

It’s a pure, candid photo, for a true birthday princess. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[pansy-picnics]

can ask that you spill everything about your Splatoon OCs? 😺

ABSOLUTELY i did not expect anyone to ask to be honest….goodness where do i even begin. Let’s see. I’ll start with my main little doomed love triangle thing i suppose

Cecilia Paek, she/her, 24 yrs old, aka: cece, celia, eight, whore, freak, slut, etc. My agent 8. born in the domes under the name Paek Seo-Mi, but renamed herself to cece post-memory loss. A freak both in the not-safe-for-work sense and just. In general. She says the most unhinged shit in such a passive formal manner. Marina has to consistently tell her she’s not allowed to eat the jelletons. She bites. A lot.

aside from being a freak cece is curious and observant, but incredibly blunt and fierce. In the past Seo-Mi was a much quieter and more repressed person, but hearing the Inkantation awakened a flame within her, so to speak. Cece is incredibly vocal about her thoughts and feelings, and she does not like to be pushed around. although shes always been a very nostalgic person, shes been trying to look forward more often than not. (she was on team future!)

cece has a very mature, almost sisterly presence, and is especially close with neo 3 (ikra) and her pseudo sister agent 4 (yottsu). she also has a daughter of her own, yumi! ikra and yottsu are my friends ocs so i cant say too much about them but ikra is like, basically her and kyle’s adopted kid

Kyle Lastname, (Actual surname to be determined Eventually) he/him, 25 yrs, aka three, cap, kyle, ceces silly rabbit /j. he’s my captain 3. has a stupid ass name bc he’s a stupid ass guy. Basically started as a joke oc but i put him through the Horrors. he’s the malewife of all time.

Grew up the only hearing person in a deaf/hard of hearing household so he’s fluent in sign language. He joined squidbeak when he was like 16 mostly bc he was a MASSIVE FUCKING LOSER with a huge ego who wanted the attention. Now he has Trauma and hates his teen self more than anything. (The egotistical little white kid phase is like, a rite of passage in his family. His little sister is still in that phase.) Now that he’s mellowed out hes just a sopping wet cat. Dating cece and is obsessed with her + will do literally whatever she wants.

Hes a lot more talkative than canon 3, hes the kind of guy who copes with humor all the time. he tries to be cool and mysterious but hes really awkward and gets flustered or worked up super easily. He’s overall a pretty boring guy and thats his charm. She’s barbie and he’s just ken. etc etc.

Hes SO dad coded btw. He and cece have a daughter together, Yumi. Since he was young he spent a lot of time looking after his little sister and he’s basically adopted his protege, neo3 (ikra). he makes me think of RTGame for reasons i could not describe to you, it’s just the energy somehow. He’s my babygirl. My little meow meow if you will (Cece voice)

Victoria Mendoza, she/her, 25 yrs, aka Tori. SHE is the fucked up one. Literally doomed by the narrative. Eye love her.

She comes from a long line of elite soldiers and was a child prodigy, but also the Problem Child. Got expelled from multiple schools for beating up other kids. from a young age she’s been incredibly critical of the octarian society and she was basically your average teen rebel. into alt music/fashion, incredibly vocal about her distaste for the system, fairly closed off with a cold exterior. the only person she truly cared for was Seo-Mi (Cece).

Seo-Mi was quiet and sweet and generally pretty average academically, so she didn’t have nearly as much pressure on her to succeed compared to Tori. the two were childhood friends and teenage lovers. The only ones who truly matched each others freak if you will. When they were little girls they used to dream of escaping to the surface together. this changed when they were about sixteen years old.

the most important thing to know about tori is that she is a pessimist and at her core a Coward. She’s all bark and no bite. She’ll scream her hatred of authority from the rooftops but immediately crumble at the sight of her leader. and as she got older and officially entered her career, she lost hope. she determined the surface wouldn’t have anything more for her than the domes did. she became complacent, while Seo-Mi, who had previously been more neutral, had heard the inkantation and only become more determined to leave the domes.

The two desperately tried to change each other’s minds but they were far too stubborn. both of them were crushed by the supposed “betrayal” of their beloved. Inevitably Seo-Mi left for the surface, eventually being taken in to Kamabo Co. while tori stayed behind to rot.

Since Seo-Mi left, tori became more bitter than ever before. she turns her focus to her career, and her family, but she never truly moves on from the loss. Unfortunately, Cece did. Cece met someone else, she’s started a family, she has a completely new name. she’s essentially a new person. and Tori is still the same.

Canonically i don’t think they would ever meet again and actually recognize each other, but i like to play with the idea sometimes bc if they did they would Hate each other. Tori is completely incapable of accepting that her Seo-Mi has moved on. She is clinging on to a version of someone that doesn’t exist anymore. tori is a deeply self destructive person and will never move on in any sense of the word. Sad!

Also this is Yumi. Age varies but shes like. Very young toddler as of the current timeline. She’s cece and kyle’s favorite surprise (Accident). They’re both freaks and shes the consequences of their actions. She and smollusk have playdates together. She’s obsessed with off the hook but doesn’t realize that her weird lesbian aunts pearl and marina are the same people. She’s baby

[marinkwrites]

Falling for Nanami Kento- A life with him

This is slightly longer because he's my little meow meow. Non-curses A.U

Falling for Nanami Kento was an exercise in restraint. It was loving you so much that he would beg, he’ll plead on his knees for you to just look at him and he doesn’t know when any of this started except, he heard your laugh once and he wanted to see your smile. It was that giddy feeling, his heartbeat drumming away in his silly little chest every time he heard you call out, Nanami-kun, wanting so badly to feel your lips shape around Kento but, you were here, calling out his name and it was his voice so hoarse as he replied, the tips of his ears a lovely shade of red and oh, it was his face souring as you grin, ear to ear, shoulders bumping together as Haibara starts yelling at the two of you to hurry up! Geto-senpai is waiting for us. There was so much restraint packed into his frame that it was almost painful for you to look at, a sly little grin on your face as you imagine all the ways you could pluck at that restraint, bite down on it until it snaps, relishing in the aftermath because imagining Nanami Kento, with his pressed suits and severe frame after he fucking looses it and stops holding himself back, does things to you, very bad things because you just want whatever he would give you. You took it when it was ignorance, took it when it was derision and when it blossomed into friendship, and you would take anything and just thank him because you are in a car with a beautiful boy and you love him but you cannot tell him. It was visiting bakeries together, a hint of wonder in his eyes when you get him his favorite bread because, I was just passing by Nanami. It was something like satisfaction weaving through your fibrous parts that feel like they might unravel at the seams as you look at Nanami, in the watered-down sunshine and the afternoon dust motes as he looks around your favorite bookstore, fingers tracing the spines as you offer to buy him whichever book he likes for his birthday. It was the spark in his chest that now became a conflagration at his fingertips, because Nanami Kento was looking at you, a beautiful smile stretching your lips as you play with Yuuji, the neighbor’s kid, using all the baby talk in your vocabulary, Yuuji’s giggles filling the air and something twists inside him, shredding every thread of self-control he might have left, and he could taste his heartbeat as he walks closer to the two of you, dropping a kiss on your forehead as he takes Yuuji to another room, switching on his favorite cartoon and walking back to you, a man on a mission as he kneels in front of you, and you finally hear it, the sound of his restraint snapping as he confesses his love-devotion-adoration for you, a sinner at the altar and a lovely stream of stupid pouring out of his mouth about how he would understand if you did not want to talk to him if it made you uncomfortable, looking like he’d do anything, anything to have your lips on his and how in the world could you resist this lovely specimen of a man. Falling for Kento was his hand flexing with a possessive grip on your waist, the back hugs and the polaroids. It was beach vacations, sometimes just the two of you, the others with Gojo, Geto and the kids tagging along, with you calming your husband down, promising to make it up to him after. It was the quiet evenings spent curled up next to the fireplace with your head on his chest, the rumble of his voice lulling you to sleep as he reads a book. It was also the chaotic evenings when the kids visited you, Megumi laying down immediately next to the dogs as they slobbered all over him, Yuuji always hugging you first as Nobara immediately latches on to the absolutely ravishing earrings you’ve got on. It was Nanami looking at you like you hold his entire world in your hands as the entire counter was covered in flour, some of the chocolate literally in your hair as you bake cookies with Yuuji, the poor guy trying to clean up because Nanamin will be furious, Nobara and Megumi snickering in the background.

If you notice any inconsistencies in the writing, NO you did not ;)

[molarbeardoc]

Me when I write

Hope you all enjoy Cheshire Cat doomed yuri. This ship has grown on me a bit chat.

Also they start out dating? Woah that's rare from me

Enjoy hurhurhur

Edit before Posting #1: WTF SHE’S 6’7?! 9’0+ WITH THE HAT?! Oh my God she’s literally a fucking GIANT!!!!!!!

EBP #2: Urg I made myself jealous can’t wait to cause suffering

EBP #3: OH YEAH I should probably mention blood and character death warning. It does get a bit graphic towards the end. Viewer discretion is advised.

The elevator was noisy...

And full

Full and noisy...

She hated that.

Two of the things that she hated the most, combining into one awful physical hell.

Her ears flattened as each voice jumbled with one another.

"Brick boy."

"*KRRTZ* WA-WARNING PROTOCOL INITIATED! Animals of such large aren't allowed in the estabilishment! Please re-relocate."

"You wouldn't even hear a fly buzzing around through that thick wooded skull."

"I hate that um... dumb green cat."

So much noise, so many arguments. And then that dumb animatronic had the nerve to say she wasn’t allowed. Sure she wasn’t the thinnest cat but what she lacked there she made up for in strength. At least she thought she was strong.

Ugh! Why is she thinking so hard about this?! She just needs to get to the WHEEL OF floor, then she can get off this elevator and not have to worry about psychos anymore.

As if she spoke it into existence, the elevator dinged before its doors opened, revealing the floor as she let out a quiet prayer and sighed. She wasted no time to push past the others, earning her a few confused stares as she exited the elevator.

She made sure her tail wasn’t caught in the door, as that had happened before and trust her, not only was it painful but she nearly lost it entire, before turning her gaze to the purple suited deity that sat on the crates near the wheel. Her closed eyes opening at the sound of someone’s arrival.

"Retro!"

The feline purred as she heard the adoration in Mach’s voice, rushing over and climbing onto the stage before sitting next to her.

"Mrrow!" «Hi Mach!»

"What brings you here?"

DrRETRO rolled her eyes as she looked at the deity, who was now leaning forward with a knowing grin on her face.

"Meow!" «I know that look. You know why I’m here!»

"Yeah I know! I missed you."

"Meow.." «It’s only been a day.»

"That long?! Yeesh I don’t wanna know how two days are like!"

Before DrRETRO could respond, she heard the sound of a metal door slamming open. Of course being a cat, well katball, she was startled by it; instinctively jumping back to avoid possible danger.

Instead, she was met with the cowardly, caterpillar, clown. Pilby was staring at the two awkwardly, their face contorting into one of anxiety.

"D'ohhh… I’m sorry. Am I messing something up. Heugh I always mess up :0(…"

"Pilby we’ve talked about this, you’re not a mess up. You’re not interrupting anything."

"Oh good golly. I’m sorry Mach."

"It’s okay. You’re fine! If you wanna go on the elevator, you can. They haven’t left yet."

Pilby turned towards the open doors. Upon hearing and seeing the chaos that occurred, they shook their head rapidly.

"Oh fiddle faddle! That looks overwhelming! I prefer to stay here please…"

"Suit yourself."

She turned towards the startled cat, chuckling quietly as she lifted her top hat. At least the caterpillar wasn’t alone when it came to feeling afraid..

The doors of the elevator closed, taking the rowdy crowd with it as it began to ascend.

"Me-" «So-»

The doctor couldn’t even finish her statement- erm meow before she was pulled close and given several kisses on her forehead by Mach. As much as the feline loved it, she wouldn’t let her get away with this. At least not without a challenge, trashing around as she purred in an attempt to escape.

"Hey stop that! I’m not finished with you yet!"

DrRETRO continued her attempt at escape, her purring becoming louder before she eventually gave in. It’s not like she didn’t enjoy it, after all, anything that came from the deity was practically a gift… At least to her.

"Mrrrooow.." «I let you win this time.»

"Sure you did."

Mach held the face of the feline, looking down at her with a smile as she rubbed her cheeks.

"You’re really soft you know that?"

"Mmmrreow!" «Who do you take me for? Bive? I shower every day!»

"Yet you’re still a big, fat, stinker."

"Purrrr…" «I’m your big, fat, stinker.»

"Touché."

Pilby was left watching the two from the side, smiling as they listened to their adorable conversation. They found their relationship to be like two middle schoolers who had just gotten together, being all lovey dovey and overly affectionate with each other. They were glad they had fallen for one another.

Mach being the keeper and caretaker for the "[X] OF" floors, had a tendency to overwork herself. The last time that happened, someone ended up getting a hammer straight to the gut; and based off the sound, they were pretty sure it took a while before that person had actually healed. Not to mention Mach was left were a darker coloured hammer than what she originally had.

She did eventually attempt to apologize to them but the damage had been done and they immediately ran off before she could get halfway through her statements. They never heard or saw it happening again… But they were pretty certain it did when they weren’t around…

DrRETRO was similar. Usually overworking herself to give others check up. From what Pil heard, Bive was the most difficult one to handle, typically having to either be held down or knocked out to get her to comply. Just the sound of it seemed exhausting and irritating…

The difference between the two was DrRETRO fought dirty, going for quick and deadly attacks or attempting to cause some sort of permanent damage to her opponent. They were certain this had to do with her going to prison as they once witnessed, first hand, along with Mark and Spud!, her and Gnarpy get into a giant cat fight. Fur flying in frenzy as they fought tooth and claw. Even with the alien having the extra limbed advantage, xe still lost horribly due to Retro’s size and strength. Pilby even thought with Gnarpy’s zapper or whatever xe called it, xey would still lose!

They were certain the only reason why the katball even decided to heal xem was because Spud! asked her to! The very guy that hated Gnarpy ended up feeling bad for how badly xe lost the battle. Apparently that was enough to get the doctor to lift her glasses and beam the poor Gnarpian. As stoic as Gnarpy was, they had never seen xem look at someone with such hatred yet also pure terror in their four eyes.

Ever since then if either one saw the other on the elevator they flat out refused to enter it. They could’ve swore they even saw Gnarpy flinch one time when DrRETRO narrowed her eyes at xem.

However, it’s like they both tried to better themselves for the other. Both never overworked themselves since they got together, like they wanted to be the best version they could be for each other. It was absolutely adorable in the caterpillars eyes. Sometimes they even had little sleep overs! Mach typically left Pilby in charge when she was gone but always made sure that every task, except the easier ones so they didn’t feel useless, were already completed to prevent any accidents.

They watched as the two enjoyed each other’s company, talking and dropping the occasional pet name or tease. After a few minutes they decided to leave them alone, quietly walking across the stage and walking through the other metal door.

"Waowee, they’re adorable! I’m happy for them."

Mach listened as DrRETRO ranted about her day. From the rowdy elevator, to uncooperative or annoying patients, and even Jermbo not helping her out as he promised. He was always selling his pops that made everyone drop like flies… Well more like turn to dust. Mach witnessed it happen once, it freaked her out to think that something so simple could disintegrate someone just like that.

"So in other words, your day so far hasn’t been ideal."

"Mrraow…" «Yeah...»

"Well at least you’re here with me. I’m sure my mere presence can brighten it."

"Mew." «You’re so egocentric.»

"I am not! I’m just being honest!"

The feline rolled her eyes as she looked towards Mach, continuing to purr quietly with a small grin on her face.

"Mrrow..?" «Hey Mach?»

"Hm?"

"Mrreoww… Meow…?" «Maybe I’ve been listening to Split talk too much about Bive’s conspiracy theories but… You really think there’s other versions of you?»

"What?"

"Meow! Meww…" «You know like if there are different versions of you! Maybe a you that wears pink suit instead of purple?»

"That sounds like a fashion disaster, everyone knows purple is the superior colour."

"Meow! Mmmeow? Mrrow…" «Oh come on I’m being serious! Maybe in a different universe we switch roles? I take care of the Wheel of or Hall of or Wall of or whatever and you’re the one taking care of the others.»

"I mean… It sounds like an interesting concept. I don’t think it’s entirely plausible though. Well maybe it could exist…"

"Meow!" «Maybe I have a giant top hat or I’m just a dog in another reality!»

"I’m sure my catself would still love your dog self."

…

"Merrow.." «That makes me wonder…»

"What?"

"Mrroww…" «Are we together in those realities?»

"Well I’m sure we are! Seems unlikely that we aren’t."

"Mew…" «Yeah… You’re right…»

"When am I not?"

Mach would take her hat before covering the doctor’s face with it, mischievous grin on her face to contrast her usual neutral expression.

"MROW!" «YOU LITTLE-!»

She pulled the hat off her face, an amused purr erupting from the feline as she gazed up at the deity.

The next few hours of theirs were just spent talking and enjoying each other’s company, and before long, it was time for DrRETRO to go. She bid her farewells as she made her way back to the elevator and pressing one of the buttons. As she waited, she felt a slight tug on her sleeve as she looked down towards the cowardly caterpillar she saw earlier.

"Heugh, you don’t mind if I come with you do you? I’m pretty sure most of the ones from earlier got off. Plus, I need to get something from Enphoso’s shop..."

She nodded with a purr, she never minded Pilby. They were a sweetheart and one of the few more tolerable beings to be around. Plus, it was just a quick trip to the store and back; she could wait that long for them. The elevator dinged, opening its doors to reveal a nearly empty elevator; minus a tired Lampert and reserved Pest.

The two didn’t say a word at DrRETRO and Pilby entered the elevator, keeping to themselves rather than engaging in small talk. Pilby was already completing the necessary steps to make it to their desired floor before shuffling back over to stand near DrRETRO.

Soon enough Lampert exited onto his IKEA floor and Pest left to scrounge the subways, leaving the caterpillar and katball alone.

"So uhm…"

She looked down at Pilby, tilting her head.

"How are you?

"Meow." «Good…»

"That’s nice… That’s good… D’ohhh sorry for making things awkward. I just couldn’t stand the silence anymore."

"Mrrow." «It’s okay, I understand.»

"Are you gonna get anything from Enphoso’s shop?"

"Mmmmrew." «Hmm, I don’t think so.»

"Maybe you could get a gift for Mach?"

"Mrow-?" «What-?»

"W-Well you don’t have to! I was just suggesting since you two are together now you could get something for her? Heugh! Sorry for invading I don’t mean to be a nosy busybody…"

"Meow!" «No no, that’s a good idea!»

"Oh… That’s good!"

Retro nodded. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?! It was perfect! But what kind of gift could she get her? Enphoso had some of the most… interesting items. She could’ve sworn she remembered seeing some sort of plushed golden doll. When asked about it, apparently it was called The Token of Midas. What it did, she didn’t even wanna find out. She knew little of Midas but she knew about how everything he touched turned to gold.

That wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a small ding was heard, the doors of the elevator opening and revealing the cheery music of Enphoso’s Shop. The katball and caterpillar stepped out of the elevator as its doors closed behind them.

"Hello!"

An overwhelmingly cheerful and echoing voice spoke out. One she had heard many times, it was like a broken record.

"Welcome to my store. I only sell glig glags and doo dads, so be sure to pay up at the front desk! BUT DON'T STEAL ANYTHING FROM ME."

Yet another empty threat of the yellow, smiling, cashier. She had witnessed Pest swipe items from the shelves and face no consequences almost as many times as she heard its voice. Either Enphoso was extremely blind or extremely stupid; maybe even a bit of both.

Pilby had wasted no time to gather their items, which was simply some more apples and a small tub of frosting. DrRETRO was taking much longer however, carefully scanning the shelves for the perfect gift as Pilby watched from afar.

"What’s she looking for? Are my glig glags and doo dads not enough? Or is she planning on stealing..?"

The caterpillar jumped back out of fear. They never heard Enphoso speak in such a quiet yet malicious manner, the glare it sent them didn’t help either.

"Honk! Sh-She’s just looking for a-a gift for someone..!"

"You better not be lying caterpillar. I hate accomplices just as much as their thieving frie-"

It was cut off as someone cleared their throat. Enphoso looked up, its chilling smile remaining on its face as it looked at the katball doctor.

"Took you long enough, silly!"

DrRETRO merely rolled her eyes and placed a purple bowling ball on the counter. She would have preferred flowers but of course it didn’t have any… Weird smiley face.

"Will that be all?"

"Mrrew.." «Yes..»

The two watched as it rung up their items and sent them on their way.

"See you later! Hope you enjoyed your stay…"

Enphoso’s high pitched giggles could be heard as the elevator doors closed, freaky weirdo smiley face. What was wrong with that thing? It was always acting so weird.. She didn’t like it at all.

"I don’t think that thing likes you very much."

"Meow." «I don’t like it either.»

"That’s fair. What’d you get?"

"Mrrow. Mraow." «This purple bowling ball. I wanted to get her flowers, but just my luck that thing didn’t sell them.»

"Maybe you can get her flowers later?"

"Mrow-" «Maybe I could-»

The sound of metal and concrete scraping against each other cut her off. Both she and Pilby lifted their heads and looked at the ceiling towards two holes that replaced where the fluorescent lights would be.

"Mrrow..?" «What in the…?»

The caterpillar had already backed away, not wanting to get too close in case electrical wires fell from the openings. For DrRETRO? Curiosity killed the cat. One moment there was just confused staring and questioning mrrows, the next the sound of the bowling ball cracking as it hit the floor along with a cut off excruciating yowl.

Pilby could do nothing but stare in horror as the sound of metal pierced flesh and broke through bones filled their ears, the feeling of warm blood splattering on them as they dropped their newly bought items and covered their mouth in shock.

The caterpillar watched as DrRETRO quivered a few times before falling completely still, her eyes dull and lifeless as the metal spike that pierced her body slowly lifted back into the ceiling; dripping the thick crimson liquid from its tip and onto the floor. The katball laid there motionless, her fur stained red and skull cracked open.

The sight was too grotesque for Pilby, causing them to look away while crying. They felt sick to their stomach, they wanted to throw up. They were covered in blood, good GOD they were covered in her blood. What were they gonna do? They what COULD they do?! They can’t just carry her back to her floor she was way too heavy and-

Wait…

How were they even gonna explain this to Mach?

How could they break this down for her?! "Yeah sorry your girlfriend is dead.." THAT’S NOT HOW YOU TELL PEOPLE SOMEONE DIED! Christ they had no idea what to do..

They turned back to the lifeless body behind them before looking at the cracked bowling ball. She bought it for Mach, it’d only be fair that she received the gift, even if it was not of use. It laid partially in the small crimson pool that had gathered around the doctor, Pilby picked it up and held it carefully before backing away. Their once white and green pale paws now stained as they picked up their own belongings.

They continued growing more and more queasy as the metallic smell of iron filled their nose. Upon hearing the ding of the elevator, they waited impatiently for the doors to open before running out, tears still streaming down their face as they rushed towards the stage.

Mach was still there, sitting on the wooden crate with her eyes closed before opening them as she heard the arrival of the elevator. A smile nearly graced her face before she saw the distressed and bloodied Pilby running towards her. Immediately she grew concerned, getting up and stepping off the stage.

"Huh- Pilby? What’s wrong? What happened?!"

Her grip on her hammer tightened as the caterpillar stopped abruptly in front of her, unsure of how to begin. She noticed the clown makeup on their face had started to run due to their tears, she noticed how they struggled to speak, she noticed the items that they held in their many arms. She kneeled down, carefully taking the items before placing them on the floor along with her hammer.

"Pilby. Calm down, it’s okay. You’re safe now."

"Hng- She- The-"

"Shhh… Calm down… It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re not in any danger."

"The spikes-"

Spikes? She never really took the elevator anywhere, so she had no earthly idea what they were talking about. She knew a few of the floors such as the one where its bottom fell out, she thinks it was called the frightening floor..? She couldn’t entirely remember.. However, she did her best to comfort them holding two of their hands.

"What about spikes?"

"The lights moved an-and-"

"And…?"

"They killed her!"

Mach grew more concerned as they spoke.

"Killed who?"

"We were just coming back from the shop.. And it killed her."

"Pilby, who died?"

"She was looking at the holes in the ceiling, she was just looking, and then the spikes fell and one of them killed her. It killed DrRETRO!"

Mach felt her heart drop, her already pale face turning whiter at the news. There was no way… There was absolutely no way she was dead. She didn’t want to believe it. She refused to believe it!

"What..?"

"She’s in the elevator. I didn’t know what to do. I can’t carry her, she’s too heavy. I didn’t know if I should’ve taken her to her floor or not. I didn’t know! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

"…"

Mach listened as the caterpillar repeatedly apologized, slowly looking towards the elevator. The doors hadn’t closed yet, it was like it was begging her to take a glance. Begging her to see what it did. Like it wanted to prove her wrong..

"Stop apologizing… Head to your room…"

Pilby stood still as they watched the deity slowly make her way towards the elevator, they had stopped apologizing but they didn’t leave. Not yet. They were still too distressed to leave.

Mach cringed as she got closer to the elevator, she hadn’t even looked inside yet she could see the blood dripped off the railing and running down the walls. She took a deep breath before stepping inside, her stomach churning in disgust and despair at the grisly sight before her.

Before her lay the body of DrRETRO. From what she could tell the 'spike' had fallen through and pierced her from her skull through her stomach. Bits of bone and brain laid near her, her eyes were dull, blood had dripped from her mouth and stained her fur.

Mach let out a quiet sigh, forcing herself to stay calm for now. She couldn’t just leave her here but she had no clue what to do with her body. She looked at the buttons of the elevator, her mind coming up with an idea as she pressed them with shaking hands.

She pressed the frightening floor, searching her pockets for a coin before placing it in the slot.

She stepped off the elevator, staring into the eyes of DrRETRO as the doors slowly shut.

She turned towards Pilby, staring at the caterpillar as they trembled.

"Mach..?"

"Go get cleaned up.."

"… Okay…"

She sighed as they didn’t press further, however they did pause for a moment, picking up the cracked bowling ball and slowly making their way over to Mach.

"She heugh… She bought this for you… Enphoso didn’t have any flowers so she got this instead.."

Mach carefully took the bowling ball from the caterpillar before they left, going to get cleaned up as they muttered quietly to themselves and went through the metal door.

She stared at the purple bowling ball, gripping it tightly in her hands as tears began streaming down her face, staining her cheeks as she trembled. She wanted this to be some sort of horrible nightmare, she wanted this to be some sort of sick yet false reality. But the more she stared at it, the worse she felt. The more she stared, the more it sank in, the more she stared, the more she realized there was nothing she could do to change this outcome.

All Mach could do right now, was breakdown in silence..

RAHHHGGGGG LIVE LAUGH LOVE YURI!!!!

I fell asleep while writing the end and woke up with a headache sorry for any silly typos and horrible grammar that appears.

Hope you enjoyed it!!!!!

[jake-g-lockley]

Lucky Charms (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

A/N: Storytime! I was volunteering the other day and had a little special patient who jumped up at my counter. Picture of little Tefe at the end of this + some beautifully curated puns by the lovely Dellie Williams (@pakhiya). Thank you to @in-between-the-cafes for suggesting this and for all the lil ideas, my heart is literally so full as I write this. 

Word Count: 2 k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steven pursed his lips and stuffed the last of the cataloged items back onto the shelf. Oh, how he hated stock checking. He had to, Donna would be furious in the morning if he didn’t. He stepped back to admire his wall of souvenirs and sighed, finally done for the night.

He looked around him and the whole museum was dark, except for the spotlight that was illuminating him and his gift shop. He turned to stuff his belongings into his bag when suddenly a sound made him stop.

“I must just be tired innit?” he mumbled to no one in particular when the sound caught his ear again.

“Steven, I hear it too,” Marc’s voice echoed from inside of his head and Steven audiably gulped.

The last time Marc and he had heard a sound in the museum so late at night, it ended with Steven almost getting thrown into jail and sacked, not to mention almost ripped apart by an Egyptian Jackal.

“Hermano, we’re gonna break the table.” Jake’s soft voice hurled Steven back to reality as his hand unwillingly let go of the edge of the table he was gripping. The sound made Steven swivel his head as his eyes grew big with fear.

“Must just be an echo, look, I think it’s coming from our right.” Marc urged, trying his best to keep Steven calm. 

As Steven walked towards the centre of the museum, a gust of wind carded through his curls from the open entrance. Only then he noticed that it had started pouring outside. He watched the rain wash over the entrance of the museum for a while until the soft sound came again, this time a little louder. 

“Steven, look down.” Jake suddenly says, making Steven stop in his tracks.

There were tiny puddles of water that ended behind a statue in front of Steven. He mumbled a little prayer and tiptoed to the front of the statue, his eyes landing on a tiny bundle at its feet. Steven scrambled slightly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning on the flash as his eyes failed to register what the bundle was in the darkness. He shone his flashlight to the bundle, only to see wet orange and black fur was curled up.

“Guys! I think it's a kitten!” Steven whispered, earning a small meow from the kitten.

“Poor thing, it's all wet, must have crawled in because of the rain.” Steven’s eyes drew together as Jake spoke up, his voice a touch softer than it had even been when he was with the boys.

“Since when did you become soft?” Marc huffed and Steven chuckled softly, kneeling down. 

Steven pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, slowly wrapping it around the cat and picking it up. Big sad green eyes stared up at him and Steven swore that his heart physically broke a little. She had ears that were too big for her head and was shivering from the cold. Steven began to shush the kitten, rubbing her head with soft circles as he cradled her close.

“We should give you a name.” Steven whispered as the kitten meowed at him.

“No, Steven, no naming the cat, we don’t need another living thing to take care of, we have fish.” Marc rushed through his words, but Steven smartly pushed him to the front and Marc ended up face to face with the tiny wet kitten.

“Awe man, fuck you Steven, lets call her Angel.” he said softly, stroking her tiny paw.

“Don’t swear in front of the baby, dumbass.” Jake pushed forward and kissed her forehead. “I think we should call her Luna.”

“You guys wait, I know what we can name her.” Steven pushed forward once again, staring up at the statue before him. 

The goddess Tefnut stared down at Steven and he raised the kitten up so that her face was beside Tefnut’s. 

“Our little lioness, Tefnut, Tefe for short.” Steven sighed and the boys agreed enthusiastically in the back of his head. 

The kitten meowed again at Steven and he brought her to his chest, giving her his body warmth. 

“Alright, let's go home, shall we? A nice warm hot water bottle and a bowl of food should get you all happy.” he whispered softly to his new friend, walking towards his work station. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You let the spoon rest on your mouth and paused as you heard a large crash outside. Immediately, you grabbed your bowl of cereal and walked to the front door, swinging it open.

There stood your cute neighbour, Steven Grant. His hair and shirt were drenched from the rain and he was holding something in the crook of his arm and had an expression of pain on his face as he stared at the flowerpot he broke and the soil on his foot. 

“Fuc-shit sorry, did I wake you?” He whispered worriedly, his weight all on one foot as he leaned against his door.

You shook your head and he took note of the spoon in your mouth and cereal bowl in your hands, smiling through the pain that was edging in his foot. A small meow made your mouth drop open, the spoon falling out as your eyes dropped to the bundle in Steven’s arms. You stepped closer, crossing the threshold hesitantly, eyeing what looked like Steven’s jacket at the crook of his arm. Protectively, Steven stepped back until his whole back was flushed against the door.

Another meow sounded and you stared wide eyed up at Steven, caging him in, eyes scanning the bundle. A small paw popped out and you swooned, smiling at Steven before tickling the paw with your pinky. Steven couldn't move, not because a human in a huge snuggie holding a bowl of cereal was blocking his way, but because that human looked like an angel who was tickling his kitten’s paw.

“The simp is stuck again.” Jake murmured in the headspace and Marc stifled a giggle. 

Steven internally rolled his eyes and stared down at you as you unwrapped the little bundle without a word. Your fingers grazed his bare forearm and goosebumps made Steven shiver. 

“Awe, who are you sweet baby?” you cooed, clearly at the kitten but Steven looked up to the rickety ceiling hoping that the real Tefnut could hear how grateful he was from the universe beyond. 

He looked down just in time for you to search for his eyes again. You batted those dangerous eyelashes at him questioningly and Steven gulped again.

“I, uhh, she crawled into the museum and was wet and cold, couldn’t leave her there.” he mumbled and watched as you ran a finger along her nose. 

“You wanna come over to my place? I have a new hot water bottle.” you softly said and Steven was already peeling himself off his door to stand upright. 

You opened your door and ushered Steven inside. He kicked his wet shoes off and stood at the front, a little unsure, his arms still cradling the kitten protectively

You set the bowl of cereal aside and ran to the kitchen, turning the kettle on. You grabbed the laundry basket and lined it with two towels that were fresh out of the dryer. You went outside and set the basket on the table. Steven didn’t know what got into him but he nudged you and gestured for you to hold the kitten and place her into her basket. Steven stepped ultra close to you as his arms opened up and the kitten gently transferred into your arms. You stood there, staring at him while he looked on lovingly at the kitten, your heart swelling to the tune of his soft breaths as you bit your lip softly. 

“Pretty.” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Isn’t she?” Steven said without missing a beat.

“Ay dios mio.” sounded Jake’s voice at the back of his head and loud laughter echoing in his head, making Steven’s eyes snap to yours. 

Maybe it were the two men causing an absolute catastrophe in his head or maybe it was the way you were already looking at him that made Steven realise that you were not talking about the kitten in your arms. A red tinge creeped up Steven’s face and you turned around with the cat, smiling to yourself. You kissed the kitten’s forehead as you cooed gently, setting her into her new cot of towels. 

The kettle clicked off and you rushed past Steven to the kitchen. Steven’s eyes followed your quick feet and he found himself following you, leaning against the doorway and watching as you twirled around the kitchen. You pulled tea bags and mugs out of the cupboard and methodically started to make tea, saving some of the hot water to pour in the hot water bottle.

You didn’t notice Steven standing at the doorway until you turned to grab a smaller towel to wrap around the hot water bottle. You stared at the dazed expression he wore on his face and your eyes dropped to his lips were set, like flowers that were ready to be picked for offerings. You found yourself stepping closer to him as you took in his beautiful face. His hair was still dripping and his lashes curled magnificently, shielding his beautiful chocolate eyes. Suddenly, you felt his hands against yours and you blinked up at him.

“The kitten…” Steven whispered, breaking your spell. 

You yanked your hands away and left the bottle in his hands, turning to the tea and Steven grinned at your cuteness, skipping slightly as he walked back to where his Tefe was. 

A few minutes later, you came out carrying a new towel and a tray of things that you set down on the dining table. You handed the towel to Steven and set out a plate of biscuits and tea in front of him before taking the bowl of mashed sardines mixed with water and setting it in the kitten’s basket. She immediately crawled out of her warm dwelling and sniffed at the food you put out in front of her. You softly encouraged her and in a few seconds, she was going to town on the mashed fish.

“Lucky Charms?” Steven’s voice cut through the thick atmosphere.

“Hmm? Oh right, my late night snack.” you said, clicking your tongue and smiled.

Steven smiled at you and couldn’t help but think that he had found his lucky charm and it was now noisily licking fish off a plate. 

“Thought of any names?” you asked Steven softly, not taking your eyes off the hungry kitten 

“Tefnut, or Tefe for short. Like the goddess of moisture and rainfall.” He answered softly.

“Interesting. Any reason?” you turned to him and your heart quickened. 

“Well, it's a real coincidence really, we- I found her under the statue of Tefnut and it’s well, raining.” You knew Steven was itching to say more but was holding back nervously.

“Come on, tell me more.” you pushed on and Steven’s eyes lit up.

You both spent hours like that, taking turns holding little Tefe and her new hot water bottle, talking about everything under the light of the moon that was slowly emerging out of the storm’s clouds. 

You didn’t know how you ended up on the couch, your head in Steven’s lap, slowly waking up as the sun’s rays tickled your eyes. You sat up to see the kitten curled up against Steven’s neck, Steven’s eyes pleasantly closed as he snored softly. You gently kissed the kitten and turned to look at Steven before kissing him on the cheek too. 

You sit up a little more to look past Steven, grinning at your boss who was sitting at your dining table. Her cat eyes sent a wink your way and you blushed at the little trick she had played after you spent hours ranting about Steven to her. You look back down at Khonshu’s avatar and kissed him once more on his forehead before getting up and starting your day, letting him sleep in a little more.

Steven swore that he could feel something soft touch his forehead and his eyes fluttered open moments after you left the room, leaving your signature dewy and monsoon scent in your wake as the little kitten snuggled closer into his neck.

Bonus: @pakhiya’s puns and Tefe baby 🥺

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @celiaswife @violet-19999 @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

[wooahaes]

latent power

pairing: non-idol!I.N x gn!magic-user!reader [ft. magic-user!lee know]

genre: magic au.

word count: 1.2k~

warnings: reader depicted with injuries. reader has a familiar (black cat).

daisy's notes: ngl reader and minho's friendship in this was fun to write

There was a black cat sitting in front of Jeongin, and he shouldn’t have followed it… But in his defense, it literally won’t stop meowing. 

He’d just been on his way home from his part-time job, his bag bouncing with each slow step he took as he dragged the trip out. He needed to do laundry when he went back to the sharehouse, and then he had to study, work on a paper due by the end of the week… Ultimately, he’d probably be up later than usual, and he was only prolonging it by taking more time. Work was tiring, too: he’d been saddled with some unsavory customers and tried to handle the situation as best as he could. But even Jeongin had limits.

Following a random black cat that was yelling at him wasn’t one of them, though. He could hear Minho’s voice in the back of his mind: what if it had kittens somewhere? Stray cats only acted out like this if something was truly wrong, right? The cat kept running ahead, stopping long enough to turn back and fuss at him, ensuring he was following.

Sure enough, something was wrong, because he found you, crumpled up on the ground. The cat returned to you, immediately nuzzling its head against you. Jeongin rushed over, falling to his knees beside you as he began to check you over. You were bleeding from your side, and Jeongin gasped.

“Don’t—Don’t worry,” he said, hands shaking as he went for his phone. “I can call for help—”

Yet your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist, “No!” Your voice was stained, yet your eyes met Jeongin’s and he felt a newfound tension wash over him. “No, I… Call someone else.” 

Before he could question who, you started reciting a number. Halfway through, he started to recognize the numbers, and by the time you finished…

He stared at you, brows furrowed. “... You know Minho?”

You furrowed your brows. “You’re…?” Then a pause as realization hit you. “Fuck.” 

The moment you let go of his wrist, he went to call Minho. At first, he’d been confused, yet when Jeongin started to describe you (due to lacking a name), he heard frustration in his voice. He asked (or, well, demanded would be a better word) where he was, and told him to stay there and keep an eye on you. All too quickly, Minho had run up, pushing Jeongin back as he made his way to you.

“How do you know them?” Minho said, a hand resting on Jeongin’s chest. “You should have left them here.”

“Piss off,” you grunted from the ground. 

“I mean it!” He said, “You should have sent your familiar to someone else,” he turned to you, already kneeling down to roll you onto your back. “Stop going after those things and let the council take care of it.”

… Council? Jeongin watched as Minho, despite his hardened gaze, gently pulled your shirt back. It was true that you were bleeding from your side, but something seemed… off about it. The oozing black liquid that ran alongside your blood made his stomach churn, yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away. It was like he needed to say there and see this, despite the fact Minho kept yelling over his shoulder for Jeongin to leave. 

“And I told you that those fuckers can barely take care of themselves,” your eyes screwed shut as Minho pressed his palms down on your wound. 

“Stop being so dramatic,” Minho clicked his tongue. “You’re not dying… unfortunately.” 

Without missing a beat, you flipped him off. Oh. You knew Minho, then: there didn’t seem to be venom in any of these actions, except whatever disdain you held for this “council” the two of you mentioned. Minho pushed down harder, ignoring the way you grunted in pain again, yet this time Jeongin could see a light protruding from underneath his palms. 

His voice came out barely above a whisper, “... Hyung?”

Jeongin felt something rub against his legs, and he looked down to see your cat there. With a slow blink, he resumed rubbing against Jeongin’s legs, as though to calm him. Then he looked ahead again at the way you’d reached up, a hand curling hard around Minho’s bicep. Slowly, the wound had begun to close itself up, pushing something out as it did so. When Minho brought his hands away, he was clutching something black and sharp within them, palms still wet with your blood and whatever else had been oozing out of you.

“You should have called me,” Minho said, looking at this broken piece of something. “I told you. Jeongin isn’t like us.” 

Jeongin just stood there, staring for a moment longer. He felt a paw press against his leg. “Like you…?”

Minho shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “You don’t need to worry about it—”

“I was right, though.” You had begun to push yourself up, slowly standing back to your full height. You stumbled, hands latching onto Minho to brace yourself. “He could be.” 

“He won’t,” Minho pushed you away, letting you brace yourself on the nearby fence instead. “He doesn’t need to be involved.” And for the first time, Jeongin could see a thread of resentment when Minho looked at you. “Not if you’re involved.”

“Minho—”

“I mean it,” he said. “People like us live dangerously. Jeongin is normal.”

“He is not normal,” you argued back. “I told you the last time I was at the sharehouse—He could be powerful if you’d just teach him to tap into that ability.”

Jeongin looked between the two of you, stepping forward. “Hyung, what are they talking about?”

“Nothing,” Minho said, voice cold. With one arm, he brought Jeongin behind him, shielding him from your vision. “Don’t say anything else.” 

Yet Jeongin was an adult. He pushed his way past Minho. “What do you mean?” He could feel Minho’s fingers curl around his wrist, yet he tugged himself free with ease. Regardless of what Minho wanted for him… He couldn’t not know now. “You’ve been to the sharehouse?”

Your gaze met Minho’s for a moment, and he could see you commit to what you’d said thus far, nodding. “I told Minho you have potential. I can feel it. But you’d have to be trained, and Minho refuses to do it.”

“Because he’s too young,” Minho said. “He’s a student. I don’t want to find him like I find you—”

“Would you teach me, then?” Jeongin’s eyes bore into your own. “Do… I get one of those, too?” He pointed at your cat, who you kneeled down to scoop into your arms.

“You wouldn’t get something just like Crow, but most witches get familiars. Some of us even get multiple,” you huffed, staring down Minho again with a pout.

“It’s not my fault they chose me.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning back to Jeongin. “So you want to learn?”

With a final nod, Jeongin decided to seal his fate. “Teach me.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm

[nelolio]

Heads up for my favorite boys.

Aaron, Seth and Matt (best friends)

1. They don’t remember when they managed to get so close. Neither can remember. In general, they think that they were the best bros from birth (only Matt thinks so.)

2. Aaron once messed up Seth’s new tattoo, and then saw Matt’s almost identical one and got one too. “Well, I’m not some kind of outcast.” And then he made excuses to Gordon, saying, “I didn’t say that. hey, I didn't say she was terrible. Don’t look at me like that.” Now they are paired.

3. Alison jokes that Seth is cheating on her with Aaron. Seth is sulking and angry at the same time. Firstly, he is not gay☝🏻and secondly, he will never betray his beloved girl☝🏻and thirdly, he is already with Matt.☝🏻 And then he runs to Aaron, begging for help with a chemistry topic, screaming at the top of his voice how much he loves him.

4. In fact, as the guys got closer, their girls (and Renee) also became VERY close.

5. Seth is afraid of Aaron.

6. Matt is afraid of Aaron.

Aaron: -Then listen to me here..-

Matt: - Chill, bro!

Seth: *addressing the guy who hurt Matt* -You better run, dude.

7. AARON BECOME TERRIBLY BAD WHEN HE SEES SETH OR MATT IN A DEPRESSED STATE. Maybe he doesn't show it? But? everyone sees it.

8. Matt is the kind of person whose mood depends on the mood of those around him, but Minyard and Gordon are so toxic, according to Matt, that he simply cannot catch the same vibe. And rightly so.

9. Seth is too embarrassed to ask Matt for boxing lessons, so Aaron has to do it.

10. When Aaron came to Matt, starting to talk about boxing, Matt interrupted him. Literally:

Matt: Why do you need boxing? You're already killing everyone with your chemicals, don't ruin people's lives!

Aaron: -I didn’t finish. Seth needs boxing, but - Wait, what?

11. Matt is that person who is terribly afraid of all the Friday the Thirteenth crap, and Aaron and Seth take advantage of it.

“Matt, did you hear? something fell there,” they said.

12. MATT always takes two more helpings in the cafeteria, because he knows that Aaron is probably finishing some notes, and Seth was simply left for almost the entire recess in class for bad behavior. And EVERY TIME he guesses what his friends want. Aaron does him good.

13. Seth and Matt joke about Minyard's height.

[coffeelovesdramasalatte]

LITA Ep 2 rewatch thoughts

This is such a long post bc I included screenshots oops

I forgot to mention it last time but the opening is so catchy!! I also didn't know BossNoeul sang it until I'd already seen the whole show but that knowledge makes it even better :)

Since we're at the second episode, ofc they start us off with a lil recap. I'm happy to see P'Aon again, yay! Also I like the fun background music. Rain is giving inquisitive puppy vibes in this scene and I'm here for it <3 And then P'Aon mentions Phayu and he instantly turns into disgruntled kitten AHHH what a cutie

VERSUS

Also "how do I know your boss didn't do anything weird to my car" oh sweetheart, he already DID something weird to your car, it's all good now

Once again we get puppy!Rain vs. meow!Rain in the next scene (I'm serious, how tf does Noeul fit all this cuteness inside?)

VERSUS

P'Aon looking at Rain's number like it's the Holy Grail PLSSSS

Yassss Rain call your man out!! What have we got so far? Asshole, bastard, unprofessional, pervert - our boy sure has a range of vocab

Loving that weatherperson foreshadowing that Rain's future is about to have some storm-wrought turbulence - I think it's so funny when a character is like "I never wanna hear/see/think/experience X person again" and then one narrative later they take back those words real quick

I'm also a huge fan of the brothers' dynamic! P'Saifah is always down to call his brother a massive simp to his face, but can you blame him when Phayu literally has this besotted look on?

Ok but what happens next is really short but I think quite interesting. Saifah asks Phayu how long he's been single, and there's a long pause where the camera cuts to this look (see below) on Phayu's face. It kind of looks like he's been single for a while, and not exactly by choice - I get the impression he's been hurt in the past or he hasn't found what he's looking for. BUT then it's immediately followed up with Saifah checking in and Phayu saying "I'll tell you when something happens" with a rather gleeful look. He's already expecting Rain to meet his standards and not run away from him!!! I love how happy Saifah looks for his bro too

And then we get Rain channeling some meerkat energy (I know I've said this a thousand times but URGH WHAT A CUTIE). Also Sky's BS-meter firing so high and Rain's voice jumping like 5 octaves has me cackling every time

Actually, this whole section is quite funny - Rain skipping into the middle of the crowd and then immediately getting ready to run when he sees Phayu, and also there's something yellow+blue color-related going on here but idk what it is (it's cool tho!)

Here are the live reactions to Rain grabbing Phayu's arm to drag him away:

Phayu: mission accomplished 😎

Sky: prayin for ya bff 😇

Ple: I want that to be me 😒

Me + the rest of the students: hmmmm 🌈???????

Ok Rain really has a colorful vocabulary and Phayu is apparently is NOT here for it. Also are Phayu's lips magnets to you Rain? You did not have to stick your lips out like that when you're just tryna have a conversation about manners

I also find it very interesting that Rain is the one to pull Phayu along, first into the bathroom and then into the actual stall. On one hand I know he just doesn't want to be found out by other people but I do think it's rather telling that Phayu who is clearly much larger than Rain allows himself to be manhandled so easily.

First lip touch alert!!!

I'm talking about things I only know marginally about here but idk what else to call it so... I've never heard of a person dropping into subspace so friggin fast I mean all Phayu did was breathe on his neck for 0.2 seconds and Rain's goneeee. I was absolutely unprepared the first time I watched this, and even now on my nth rewatch I'm still feeling some type of way

I didn't notice this until someone pointed it out but Phayu does take a second to pull back and check in (peep the surprised eyebrow raise - clearly he didn't expect Rain to be so into it after like 2 seconds, but he's certainly not complaining)

I also didn't notice this before but Rain actually moans here. Very understandable. Also Phayu telling Rain he did a good job? Praise kink activated (Phayu really just awakened things in Rain one after another lmao)

Another entry into the Rain death-grips Phayu library

I'm actually a bit surprised Rain got yanked out of his headspace so fast - no wonder he collapses by the sink. It's good that Phayu verbally communicates with him right after instead of just leaving. Also interesting choice of words here... there def is something hard involved

I am a SUCKER for headpats. Give them all to meeeee

I can't tell if it's just a translation thing, but when Rain curses Phayu when Phayu is leaving, he doesn't immediately use any cuss words. Look at Rain being a good boy even when he's angry <3 Phayu looks SO satisfied lmao

WAIT SOMEHOW THIS FLEW RIGHT BY MY RADAR UNTIL NOW

Fruity siblings alert! Also Sky coming in clutch here. I don't really get why Ple is so insulted tho, she met Phayu for all of one min (tbf I'd probs react that way if I got to experience Phayu's presence irl though)

Cut to Red Blue boys racing heck yeahhhhhh let's go!!!

It's criminal we didn't get to see Rain fawn over Phayu in this racing outfit. He'd come undone like the rest of us

Also Prapai has a really nice smile! another cutie!!

Ok who is doing perimeter security for these races? Two boys with two shared braincells practically wandered right into the crowd with no trouble - I think if Rain hadn't looked so clueless he could've blended right in

I think the camerawork in these street racing scenes is interesting - I can't quite put my finger on it but it feels like there's something different about the technique or lens bc it looks different than other scenes

I feel like this is a good time to tell y'all I love the Fast and the Furious franchise so I'm right at home here

How strong is Phayu? Rain was actually going pretty fast but Phayu didn't even flinch when he barreled into Phayu's chest. Brick wall I tell you

They did the yellow blue thing again!

This must have been HILARIOUS to film like imagine going into work one day and your boss is like ok now spank your coworker and we're gonna record you

So the first couple of times I watched this I thought that Phayu was being unnecessarily harsh to Rain, but I think now I understand that it was to impart the gravity of the situation. Phayu really just wanted Rain to be safe and also his "grow up" comment comes into play later during the convo after Rain misses a deadline

Rain's death-grip on Phayu Counter: 3

I cannot believe this boy just BIT him so hard Phayu's lips bled. Phayu was so into it though lmao - did y'all hear his voice become so soft after the third kiss?

The line above is so funny to me like sir, the only kind of man you are is a capital F Fool-In-Love

Some more yellow-blue for us

Also he calls him P'Phayu here... what a good boy!

We love chef!Phayu in this house!

I love that Phayu has such confidence in Rain's abilities right from the start - this kind of encouragement is so healthy (in the screenshot below, Rain has just said that he wants to create designs like Phayu)

ALL MEN DO IS LIE (exhibit A see below)

PLSSS HE WAS ALMOST SELF-AWARE my dumb lil son

YASSSS YOU GOT YOUR PRIORITIES IN ORDER PHAYU

And that brings us to the end of episode 2! I'm having so much fun with this <3 Hope anyone reading this has a lovely day or night!!

[multistanisms]

Be My Forever | OneUs

FANDOM: OneUs

PAIRING: YoungjoxReader

WORD COUNT: 5212

RATING: Everyone

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A 

SUMMARY: Dating an idol has been an interesting part of your life the last two years. Youngjo is always making some kind of plan for fun things, and this time is no exception. ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: Hey baby, do you know if your gonna be off Tuesday night next week?

⬅️: Next Tuesday? Yeah, I have Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday off because I had so much overtime this week and Chris didn't want me overworked.

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: He's a good boss. I'm glad he took over.

⬅️: He is. He takes care of the employees very well. 

⬅️: Why did you wanna know if I was off?

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: I wanted to spend some time with you. 

⬅️: Next Tuesday? Youngjo, you literally have a show that night.

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: I know. It's fine.

⬅️: “It's fine”? Youngjo, what are you planning?

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: I don't know what you mean. It's just a backstage pass.

⬅️: Ravn! 

You don't use your boyfriend's stage name often, it's usually reserved for moments like now when you want to scold him. You're certain he can hear your voice through your text after your time together. You've just gotten home from work, shaking the rain from your jacket and umbrella, changing into pajamas and making tea to warm you up. Your head shakes as you hit send, knowing full well Youngjo is planning something, but you can't figure out what. 

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: It's not bad, baby. We get time together and the guys get to see you.

⬅️: Hwanwoong and Geonhak have been bugging you, haven't they?

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: Perhaps. But mostly I just miss you. We haven't been able to spend actual time with each other in over a month.

The message hits you hard, because you are very aware of how busy he's been in preparation. Add the long practices against your work schedule and there was hardly any time to meet for coffee pickups, let alone any quality time. 

⬅️: I know. Gods, I miss you. 

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: I miss you, too. We're making it work, though.

⬅️: Yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't miss the way you hold me, Youngjo. 

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: I miss hearing you sing when you cook.

⬅️: Don't start a missing war with me. 

[From; My Boi RV🌹]: Why? Scared I'll win this time?

⬅️: As if. How busy are you? 

The smile on your face is obvious as you sit back, sipping your tea. The warmth is nice in your hands, and the liquid warms your body. Your cat hops onto the couch and meows, distracting you from the conversation to pet him. “I know, Hades. I miss daddy, too.” you muse, scratching the himalayan between his ears. Your phone ringing makes you answer, smiling. “Well, speak of the Devil and he shall call.”

“I’m only a devil for you.” Youngjo teases from his end of the line. “We’re headed back to the dorm, and I figured you’d like to hear my voice.”

“Hyung, is that Y/N?” one voice asks, making you giggle when Youngjo tries to deny it. The others have picked up on what he’s saying, though, and it’s all for naught as someone else chimes in.

“Y/N-nuna!” you hear another voice chime in. “Nuna, we miss you!”

The laugh that escapes you when you hear Hwanwoong and Dongju, respectively, call out to you is undeniable. Soon there’s greetings from the others as well, and you can barely keep up with their excited words as they all try to talk to you over Youngjo. “Guys, guys, I can’t translate when you’re all talking so fast.” you manage to scramble out, and you’re grateful when Youngjo quiets them by reminding them your native language isn’t Korean. The group’s laughter makes you smile as Youngjo lets you know you’re on speaker. 

“Hi, everyone!” you say, trying to get the conversation paced again. “Are you staying warm in the weather?”

“We are. We filmed a little in the rain.”

“Tell me you had jackets on.” 

“Of course we did between shots. Seoho-hyung wouldn’t let us take them off.”

“It’s raining during a cold front, Geonhak-ah. None of us need to get sick from playing around.” You hear Seoho scold, and can’t help but remember why you (and several others that know the boys) consider him the mom of the group.

“You guys start a tour in two days, listen to your elders.” You tease, and the conversation turns to the looming excitement of seeing fans again, a few questions about when they’ll see you on Tuesday, and you are reminded of brothers excited to see their older sibling after a long time apart. You hear Keonhee say something about pulling in, and you give a sad smile. “All of you get rest, I’ll see you all soon, okay?”

“Bye, Nuna!”

“Bye, get rest, too Nuna!”

“See you soon!”

When you don’t hear the echo anymore, you know you’re off speaker and give a chuckle as Youngjo speaks to you. “I’ll try to come by on Monday, that way we can go to the venue together.”

“I love you, Youngjo.”

“I love you, too, darling.” Youngjo replies. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

Hanging up makes you a little sad, but you set your phone on the arm of the couch and return to petting the fluffball that is your cat. You turn on a drama you’ve been meaning to finish, letting the loud purrs from Hades become background noise as you watch. Your alarm for bed goes off and you put your now empty cup in the sink, walking over to once more pet Hades before turning the TV off and walking down the hall. The bell on Hades’ collar is heard as he hops down from his perch on the couch to follow you to the bedroom. You settle into bed, Hades curling up at the foot of the bed, stretching and purring as he curls into a loaf and dozes back off. The lamp is clicked off and you drift off to sleep. 

A gentle nudge wakes you, and you groggily roll over to find Youngjo leaning over you, one hand on your side and the other behind his back. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Youngjo counters, kissing your forehead. 

“What time is it?”

“Just about nine.”

“It’s my day off, Youngjo.” You half-whine, trying to tug the blanket back up over you. 

“I brought you something, though. We can go back to bed after.” You can hear the pout in his voice and push the comforter back down, looking up at him before groaning and sitting up. 

“What is it?”

“Well, for starters.” Youngjo pulls the hand behind his back out to reveal a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “From your favorite flower shop.”

“Youngjo…” You can’t help the loving pout as you take them and breathe in the fresh scent. 

“Let's put them in water, hmm?” 

You roll your eyes and carefully get out of bed, carrying the flowers out. “You purposely got up early?”

“It’s tour time, being up early is normal.” Youngjo replies. “It’s our last days before it starts, and I wanted some alone time with you, so I asked if I could just spend the day with you.”

“You’re such a romantic.” you tease, nudging him as you set the bouquet on the counter to get your vase. “Waking me up with my favorite flowers from my favorite shop.” You’re running water over the ends to trim the stems a little and put them in the vase and arrange them when there’s a knock on the door. You pause from moving the vase to look at your boyfriend, arching a brow at him even as he grins and goes to answer the door. A roll of your eyes starts you moving to put the gift on the table, and you’re too tired to listen to whatever your boyfriend is saying to the person at the door, moving to sit on the couch and pull a blanket from the wicker basket by the coffee table. “What is it?”

“Breakfast, obviously.” Youngjo replies, carrying the bag to the kitchen. “When was the last time you had an actual breakfast?”

“Too long. I’ve been working night shifts, so I’m usually asleep.” you answer, watching as he goes about taking food from the bag, and you’re aware of him plating food before bringing it over. Seeing the food on the plate makes your narrow your eyes at him in a playfully suspicious way. It’s your favorite breakfast plate from a place a few blocks away. “What are you planning, Youngjo?”

“What makes you think I’m planning anything?” he counters. 

“You got the staff to let you have a free day less than a week before the group starts a tour. You got a backstage pass for me for Tuesday night. You wake me up with my favorite flowers and even my favorite breakfast from the shop down the road, and that’s just the start.” You watch as he goes to get his own plate and comes to join you. 

“Maybe I want you to know how much I love you.”

“You do that all the time, baby.” You reply, moving to take a bite of your food. 

“Not enough recently.” The tone of his words makes you pause, setting your chopsticks down to lean over and kiss his cheek. 

“Don’t do that. You’re an idol, Youngjo. I knew that when I met you, and I knew what that meant.” Your voice is soft as you lean into him, reaching up to tuck your fingers against the other side of his face and make him look at you. “We make it work, and I’m very happy for it. I’m happy I have you in my life. That I know you and the guys. You make me happy, Youngjo, and nothing can change that.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, eyes darting as he looks at your face. After a moment, he leans in to kiss you like you're his lifeline, one hand resting at your cheek as he did so. You return the gesture easily, smiling until he draws back to look at you. “You're perfect, you know that?” he asks as he caresses his thumb over your cheek. 

“So are you, and I don't want you to forget that.” You steal another kiss before pulling away to pick up your chopsticks again. “Let's eat, then we can figure out what to do with the day.” You eat breakfast together, put the leftovers away and wash the plates and such before deciding to stay inside. It's a welcome reprieve to your busy schedules to just enjoy each other's presence and you're pleasantly surprised when You go is able to spend the night. The next morning, the two of you leave together; Youngjo going back to the dorms while you make your way to the cat cafe where you work. The remaining time before the tour kickoff goes by far too quickly for your liking - hastily going through every possible inspiration for an outfit. The decision changes at least three times a day as you go through images from past music videos and photoshoots. You finally choose to draw inspiration from one of your favorite videos, and after some contemplation ask Hwanwoong for help in coloring your hair. It takes a couple of days to work around the rehearsals, but he manages to work magic and bleach the strands before adding in highlights of black and purple. It's a beautiful job and you're grateful to your friend. You make him swear not to say anything to Youngjo, which you know is a hard task for him but he agrees. 

The night before you're supposed to be picked up, you're obviously nervous at work and your manager pulls you to the side on your way out to check on you.

“Is everything okay, yeobo?” Chris asks, making you laugh a little with the switch to his Korean term of affection.

“Everything is fine, I promise. Tomorrow I just have to be at the concert and I'm honestly nervous because Youngjo is planning something, I just know it.”

Chris visibly relaxes, giving you a bright smile. “Okay, good. I thought Minho and I were going to have to teach someone a lesson.”

“Oh my gods, Christopher!” You shove at him playfully. 

“I'm protective of all of my friends.” He counters, clearly unapologetic about his words. “And you're an amazing employee on top of being my friend. Anyone who hurts you answers to me.” He taps his index finger on your nose and you can't help but laugh. 

“I'll keep that in mind, Chris. You’re such a brother figure.” you promise. 

“Tell your man and his boys we said to break a leg.”

“Of course.” You answer, rolling your eyes as you head out, waving towards Minho as you pass him. He's currently playing with one of the kittens, and waves back as the feline leaps up to grab onto his shirt with a soft meow. Your job is great, and the people you work with are a blessing for you since you're so far from home. Youngjo and the rest of the group have since been added to that list, but District 325 Cafe will forever have a special place in your heart. You make the short drive home to pack your bag, making sure your lightstick is also safely tucked into place. You know rehearsal is likely to run late, so you make dinner and eat while you watch tv, then shower and start your laundry from the week. You fall asleep on the sofa, waking up to your phone ringing and Hades curled on your side. Blindly reaching to answer, you're well aware that your voice gives you away as you speak. “Hello?”

“I didn't mean to wake you up, baby.” Youngjo’s voice is soft as he speaks, and you can hear the others in the background. “We're headed back to the hotel now, but I wanted to let you know the driver is going to get you at 2:30 tomorrow.” 

“I totally wasn't asleep.” you lie, a smile in your voice. “I appreciate the heads-up, though. How was rehearsal?” 

“Good. We're ready to start the tour. I just wish you could come with us.”

“I don't have that kind of vacation time, baby. You know I would love to see the world with you, though; with or without a tour.”

“I know. It just doesn't feel the same without you there.”

“I'll always be here when you come back, Kim Youngjo. You can't get rid of me so easily as following your dream.”

“I promise I'll take you everywhere you've ever wanted to go one day.”

“And when you do, I promise to never leave your side.”

“I love you, Y/N. Have I told you that?”

“Yes, but I'll never get tired of hearing it.” you reply. “Get home, get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Long day, yes. But we'll all have time for a group meal after dress rehearsal, so plan to come along.”

“You are very clearly up to something, Youngjo.”

“Not at all. The guys just want to spend some time with you before I have you to myself.” He teased, and you can't help the laugh that escapes you. 

“You hopeless romantic.”

“Part of why you love me, dearest.”

“Only a part, though.” You tease, stretching. “Get some rest. I'll see you soon, okay?” 

“You get rest, too. Have sweet dreams.” Youngjo replies, and you wish you could kiss him. 

“I love you, Youngjo.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

“Night.” You manage to get up, get your laundry in the dryer and migrate to your bed, falling asleep fairly quickly. Your internal clock wakes you around 10am and you start by making breakfast. You make sure your suitcase is by the door and Hades is fed before settling to play on your console while you wait. Just before 2:30, there's a knock at the door and you get up to answer it. You greet the familiar face of the driver with a smile, taking the envelope he offers you before going to pet Hades and grab your bag. You lock the door on your way out, tucking your keys into your jacket as you follow the driver to the car. Once seated in the back, which is more for the driver's comfort of routine, you open the envelope to find a card. It's a beautiful card of black with silver and gold stars and mini constellation designs on the cover, with a bronze script that reads ‘My soul found its mate in yours’ - which makes you smile as your fingers brush over the raised lettering on the card. Opening the card reveals a key card sleeve with a room number on it, as well as the remainder of the printed message for the card and the familiar scrawl of Youngjo's hangul in metallic to the left. The English printed on the right side is gold and makes you miss him a great deal despite having spoken to him just the night before. ‘I am eternally grateful that it did. I love you.’. Your eyes slip to the left to read the words Youngjo had written, tilting your head as you translate in your head. 

‘My beloved Y/N,

You don't have to worry about checking in, you can just come up to the room. I put your key here to make sure you didn't need to ask because I know how anxious talking to strangers makes you. We're probably already going to be at rehearsal, so if you want to drop your stuff and come to the venue, just tell Georam and he'll bring you. If you'd rather stay and wait, that's fine, I’ll see you around seven or eight. Final dress rehearsal is tomorrow, so I hope you're ready for behind the scenes stuff, because we got it approved to have you there. I'm excited to have you at the show. I hope you're excited, too. I love you to the moon and back a thousand times.

Youngjo'

The words make your lips curve and you tuck the card into the pocket on the side of your suitcase, holding onto the key card as you watch the scenery go by. 

“Are they treating you well, Georam?” You ask, looking up at the driver. 

“Always, Y/N. They're good guys.” Georam answers, glancing at you through the rearview. “Did you want to go to the venue?” 

“You know what…yeah. Let me drop my bag off and we can head over.” A nod moves your head as you lean back. You know the boys are expecting you to stay at the hotel after the trip, but you are excited to see them all. The last time all of you were together was months ago when recording for the new album began, and as much as you adore your boyfriend, you won't deny that you also miss the other five a great deal. After three hours of quiet music and chit chat with the driver, you walk into the lobby of the hotel, in awe of the place before you head up to the room and drop your bag off before returning to the car downstairs. The venue is barely a ten minute drive, and Georam pouts when you get out before he can get around, but you nudge him playfully and motion for him to lead the way. Backstage is crowded and you can hear the staff roaming around as they go over things, but the sound of music makes you pause in your trail behind Georam to follow the sound. 

“Y/N?” Georam appears beside you as you near the shadowed area near the edge of the stage to watch, chuckling before giving a bow. “I'll leave you be.” 

You nod in acknowledgement as he steps back into the fray, but your eyes are on the stage. The boys are mid-performance of your favorite song and seeing the new angle of them giving their all warms your heart. You stand quietly in the shadows as they go about rehearsal, content to just watch them go about their routine. To see the creative process is an experience in itself that you've never even said you wanted to witness out loud, and you don't want to ruin it. A tap on your shoulder distracts you as the boys go over the ment they plan to do, their laughter making you smile as you accept a bottle of water from a staff member before your gaze returns to the stage. It's akin to watching a masterpiece be painted, and you let yourself get lost in the moment. Time is lost as you take it in, and when the stage manager agrees the boys have done a great job, Geonhak is actually the first to notice you as he's the first to start towards the back.

“Y/N, hey!” He greets as he spots you, reaching to scoop you up into a hug and squeeze. You squeak in response, laughing a little as you hug back. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Geon-ah.” You reply. “You guys look amazing.”

“Stage outfits are going to look even better!” Dongju chimes with a grin, and you don't hesitate to hug the maknae, back shifting to the stage in the action. 

“I can't wait. I'm so excited for you guys.” 

“You're not excited for yourself?” Youngjo asks, arms looping at your waist as he dips his head to nuzzle your neck. The gesture makes you lean into him, eyes closing for a moment before you turn in his embrace to face him and tuck your face into his neck, not caring about the sweat that sheens along his skin. “You smell delightful.”

“Thank you.” You muse, pulling back to pull him down for a kiss. The ‘aws’ and ‘cutes’ don't go unnoticed, but you don't care, the staff is used to your presence at the dorms so they're familiar with you. “And to answer your question, of course I'm excited. But seeing you guys go through rehearsal just makes it surreal for me.”

“You liked rehearsal?”

“I've always wanted to see a rehearsal process.” You admit.

“Why didn't you tell us? Youngjo-hyung could have had you picked up this morning!” Hwanwoong pouts.

“It's okay, Woongie. Just getting to see the second run through was amazing.” You promise, releasing Youngjo to hug the member closest to your height. “I can't wait for tomorrow.” 

“Guys, I hate to break up our family reunion,” Seoho speaks up, a cool towel drapes at his neck. “But we should really get cleaned up so we can go to dinner.” 

“Oh, dinner sounds amazing.” Geonhak agrees. “You're coming with us, right?” He asks you, and you arch a brow at him. 

“No, of course not.” You say drolly with a playful look, trying to reach up and ruffle his hair, but he moves out of the way. “I'll wait outside the dressing room for you guys to finish.” You move to lean against the wall with your bottle of water, laughing as Youngjo steps close to steal another kiss before disappearing behind the door. You wait patiently, sipping at your water and scrolling through your phone, playing a little on your Tetris app while you wait. You can hear the six men inside talking, and it dawns on you how much they really do mean to you. Not just as someone who enjoys the music they work so hard on, but as family. You'd left a lot behind when you'd moved here, but you'd found so much more. You look up as the door opens, and you reach out to ruffle Hwanwoong’s hair. “You guys ready?”

“Almost.” Hwanwoong grins as he speaks, moving to hug you. “We love you, nuna.” 

“I love you guys, too.” You chuckle, and the familiar feeling of a hand between your shoulders makes you look up and you turn into Youngjo on instinct to hold him close. “I love you most of all, though.” You muse to him. 

“I'm glad you feel that way, jagiya.” Youngjo replied, tilting his head to lay a kiss to your hair. “Because there's something I want to tell you.”

There's a ball of panic in your gut, not sure what's about to happen. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect. You're perfect; my moon and sun. I don't know what I'd do without you. You filled a place in me that I didn't even know was empty, and every day I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone.”

“Youngjo…” the words have emotion trapping in your chest as you look up at him, lower lip tugging between your teeth as he speaks.

“I want to take care of you, Y/N. I want to make you feel special and for you to know I would do anything for you. Anything.” One hand finds your cheek and his thumb caresses over your skin. It's not an uncommon gesture, but you can read his face very well.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Youngjo laughs a little, leaning to kiss you gently, resting his forehead on yours as he replies. “I'm great, I swear. But I would like to know if you would give me the highest honor of being your husband.” The words take a moment to process but when they do, you pull back to look up at him, eyes then going to the members nearby to make sure you haven't misheard. In the brief moments it takes to turn away and then back, Youngjo is kneeling with a small velveteen box of emerald green in his hand. 

“Oh my gods, Youngjo…”

“Will you marry me, my beloved Y/N?* He asks properly. “Will you let me take care of you until my dying breath?” 

Of all the possibilities your mind has gone through trying to figure out what your boyfriend and his members have been up to, this was not even remotely close to making the list. For a moment you can only stare, emotion in your chest keeping your words from breaking through as tears bristle in your eyes. All you can do is nod and when Youngjo opens the box, the ring is perfect, the band inlaid with leaves holding a single gemstone accented by a small diamond on either side. The moment he stands and pulls the ring from the box, Hwanwoong and Dongju cheer, which soon causes a ruckus of cheers and applause as Youngjo wipes the tears away and kisses you deeply, one arm secured at your waist as you kiss back enthusiastically with your arms around her neck. 

“I love you, Kim Youngjo.” You whisper against his lips. 

“And I love you, jagiya.” He answers. “Let's go have dinner, yeah?”

“I hope it's not too fancy. I'm not dressed for that.”

“You're beautiful, baby.” Youngjo promises, kissing you again. “And if anyone tries to say otherwise, Mrs. Kim, they'll have to deal with me.” The sound of it makes your face heat up and you tuck into him. “You like the sound of that?”

“Very much.”

Dinner is wonderful, filled with laughter and storytelling paired with delicious food, great company and pure joy. You ride back to the hotel with the boys and greet the staff still trickling on as you all head up to the floor where all the rooms are. Walking down the hall you say goodnight to Dongju, Seoho and Keonhee at one room, then Hwanwoong and Leedo as Youngjo stops at the room the two of you have. Hwanwoong and Leedo give one last congratulations and round of hugs before continuing down the hall to their own hotel room. Youngjo lets you go in first, allowing the door to close behind him as he walks over to join you on the balcony and wrap his arms around you from behind. He places a kiss on your temple, then rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he whispers, nuzzling you gently. 

“How long have you been planning this?” You tease, content to stand in his embrace as you look out over the city. 

“A few months. Still didn't do it how I originally thought to.” He answers. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I originally was going to do it during the show tomorrow. Have you come out during one of the ments, show you off like you deserve to be.”

“What happened, then?”

“I saw you with Geonhak and Hwanwoong after practice. You were so relaxed and happy. The way you're so at home with all of us, with the staff. I needed the moment to be perfect, and that moment made me realize that it didn't need to be extravagant. It just needed to be the important people in our lives.” The words make you gasp a little, a hand covering your mouth.

“Oh, shit. I'll have to tell the guys at the cafe.” 

“They already know. Seoho video called Chris.” Youngjo replied, which finally makes you pull away to turn and look at hi,. 

“Wait. How did he-” you cut yourself off as your brain starts catching up. “What did you do?*

“Your family is all really far away, and you don't really talk to them, anyway. But I was going to do it the right way, and the closest thing to family you have here is the guys at the cafe. So on one of your days off, I went and asked Chris and the others for their blessings.”

“So they knew all this time?” 

“I'd say about three weeks, give or take.” Youngjo confirms. “Why?”

“I just…they never even slipped. Not once.” You laugh a little, leaning back on the rail to look at him. “And I never thought anyone would ever-”

“You are a treasure and every person who didn't see that and treat you right deserves to be in your past.” Youngjo cuts you off, reaching up to run his hand through your hair. “I will do everything to make sure you know how important you are to me, how much I love you, every moment I can. I'm sorry you had all that pain before you came here, but I am making it my job to make sure you don't feel the way they made you feel ever again. I am yours, and yours alone, Y/N. Nothing could make me happier than being with you as we take this next step in our journey together.” 

“I couldn't be happier that you chose me.” You admit. “And I'll be by your side for the rest of my life.” You pull him in for another kiss, your fingers carding into his hair. “Sooo, am I supposed to move into the dorms now?”

“Let's get through tomorrow and then we'll start moving my stuff.”

“Wait, will they let you move out of the dorm?”

“I don't see why not. I’ll have an apartment to move into, and it isn't like it's far from HQ anyway.” He mused. “Let's get some sleep. We start early tomorrow so we're ready for sound check.”

“As long as I get cuddles.” 

“At any time you want, beautiful.”