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lu-undy · 3 years

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Un-alone, Chapter 19

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“C’mon Marty, we gotta go.”

The German Shepherd brought the stick he had found back to Mundy and sat down, his eyes pleading.

“Alright, last throw and then we gotta hit the road otherwise we’ll never get there before the sun sets, ok?”

“Woof!” The dog went to his four paws in a flash and wagged his tail frantically.

“Alright, go!” Mundy threw the stick on the parking lot of the hotel and the dog ran to fetch it.

“Micky, you’re ready, son?”

“Yeah, oh, let me help you, Uncle Phil.” Mundy went to his uncle and helped him hop on his seat in the car.

“Ah, thank you, son, that’s perfect… Thanks.”

“It’s nothin’, here, gimme your cane, I’ll put it behind ya.”

“Micky, you sure you didn’t forget anythin’ in the hotel?” Caroline popped out of reception and into the parking lot.

“I slept in me van, Mum, you should ask Uncle Phil. “

“Phil?”

“Nah, we’re fine, c'mon Carrie!”

“Alright, alright.”

There were another few hours of driving and the landscape changed as the family neared the coast. Mundy followed his mother and uncle driving the car in front of him and soon, Marty became restless on his seat.

“Recognise the place, mate?”

The dog barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging against the passenger’s seat. He was turning left and right.

“Yeah, you know it, good boy… Oh, that’s where Mum’s parkin’, hm… Guess I'll have to park on the sidewalk… Here… There we go."

A few hours later, all their belongings were moved inside Philip's vacation house. The family had had dinner and Philip was on the sofa, following whatever game was on that night with Marty laying beside him.

"Thanks for helpin' me with the dishes, Micky."

Caroline and her son were in the kitchen. She was washing and he was rinsing.

"You're welcome, Mum."

"I'm sure a few days with the sea breeze will help Phil as much as it will you." She said and Mundy raised an eyebrow.

"What d'you mean?"

"Y'know…" Caroline cast a glance at the kitchen door and saw that it was open. She quickly rinsed her hands and went to close it before resuming her position next to Mundy. "Your breakup…?" She hesitantly added and Mundy nodded, not because he agreed, but because he remembered. His mother was thinking that the reason why he was avoiding talking about his feelings, was because he had broken up with a woman and his heart was aching...

Well, aching his heart was.

Not because of a heartbreak, Mundy simply felt like in the end he would be alone because he had nothing to offer, nothing but road trips, hunting animals, people, puttin ghis supposed loved on in danger through that and oh, yeah, a very poor ability to actually talk to people, verbalise what he felt outside of the confines of his own head…

He sighed.

“I don’t wanna pry or anythin’ but uh…” Caroline’s voice pulled the Aussie out of his daydream. “When we were in New Mexico, had you found someone else? I mean, we’ve travelled pretty far and uh…”

“Mum.” Mundy stopped her yet could not look her in the eye. Each time he did, a voice screamed in his head “Liar! Liar! Tell her! Tell her you prefer blokes over sheilas! She doesn’t deserve you lie to her! You’re the worst son she could ever have and it’s all your fault! You’re breaking her heart!”

Mundy screwed his eyes shut and shook his head to shake those thoughts away.

“No… No I hadn’t, and even if I had, I don’t care.” He put the plate he had in his hand down and left the kitchen. Soon after, Caroline heard the very familiar sound of the van’s engine rumbling away, and sighed.

The Aussie drove first to let his frustration out, and when it did pass, he started paying attention to his surroundings. It was all new afterall… He realised that it was what all the beach cities must look like: restaurants, nightclubs, theme parks for families.

Families.

Huh. Mundy shook his head. He would have loved to have one of his one, someone to go home to, someone to hold, to feel the warmth of. And he had nothing against a sheila and a few kids, he really didn’t. He just had a slight preference for men, that was true; that, and there was the issue with his job too.

“God damn it…” He sighed.

Being paid to put bullets in things was hard enough on himself, he didn’t want to put that burden on anyone else with him. And sometimes those things weren’t just beasts, they were people too… The truth was that Mundy was a paid killer, a mercenary, jumping from contract to contract. When someone needed some lead in their head, he was called in, and more recently, it was even the officials who called to him for his extraordinary tracking abilities. Mundy could find anyone and anything, as long as it had blood pumping in its veins.

He had thought about quitting, multiple times at that. But then what would he do? Farming with his parents? He was already helping them out from time to time and he didn’t like the idea of taking too much responsibility on the farm. At the end of the day, he didn’t want his parents to think that he wanted to take over, the farm was way too big a responsibility for him, especially alone.

Eventually, Mundy parked somewhere, it was a free parking lot. He lowered his window, just a bit, for some fresh air, and he leaned back on his seat, closing his eyes. He dreamt. He dreamt of a man, the man who will make his days flip upside down, a man who would understand him and somehow, manage to bear him through his muteness, through his silence and hardest of all, through his difficulty to express what he felt.

Mundy could of course partake in a little exercise of introspection, as he was doing right now; It was practically a compulsory hobby. Anytime he felt low, he would look into himself, as if he didn’t know why, or as if that particular time the answer would be different. Nah, in truth, Mundy just didn’t know what else he could do but think about his misery on his own. The hard part, and the step that he never took was to take everything he knew about himself, about what frustrated him or made him happy, extracting all of that from his insides to bring it outside, for someone to hear. Even his mother was unaware of half the things he was thinking.

Maybe that was one of the issues he could address as opposed to focusing on dreaming about a man he hadn’t met yet? Maybe that was the “easy” thing to fix and maybe fixing it would bring him some peace?

Mundy opened his eyes and it was night time. He looked around him to see that the city was still busy, even if it was winter now there, the beach still attracted quite a lot of people.

"Right." He started the engine and headed back home.

When he entered the house, Marty came to the door to greet him.

"Hey, Marty, yeah, you're good boy… Oh? Marty, leave my hand alone. Marty-? Alright, alright, I'll follow ya…"

The German Shepherd led the Aussie to the door of his uncle's bedroom.

"He must be asleep, Marty, you'll see him tomor-"

"Come in, Micky." Phil said from the inside and Mundy pushed the door.

"Sorry, Uncle Phil, it's Marty. I don't know why he pulled my hand all the way here."

"It's fine, Micky, I asked him to. Marty, shut the door, boy."

The dog pushed the door until it clicked shut.

"He's a very clever dog." Mundy said.

"Yeah, I got him cause he was too soft to work with us drug sniffin'."

"Oh, I see."

"C'mere and have a seat, Micky." Philip was in his bed. He scooted to free some space for Mundy to sit at his side. “I wanted to have a chat with you, y’know, only men kinda talk…”

The Aussie sighed.

“See? Your Mum’s all worried about ya. Now, I told her you’re one big man and you know what you’re doin’, she shouldn’t meddle in your business.”

"But?" Mundy anticipated.

"But she told me things, see?"

"What did she tell you?"

"That you got yourself a woman and for some reason, you ain't together anymore, and that's why you're all sad and in your own world."

"Pfff…" Mundy sighed and shook his head.

"Now, boy, these things do happen all the time, y'know. It ain't necessarily bad. If anythin', it's better to go each your way if you're not meant together."

"Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Believe me, Micky. Besides, young and handsome as you are, I’m sure you’ll find someone else quick enough, eh?”

“Yeah… I wish…”

“Son?” Phil was confused. He expected to see his nephew in a better mood after a little chat, but Mundy looked worse. “What is it…?”

“Nothin’. I’ll let you sleep now, g’night, Uncle Phil.”

And as usual, Mundy disappeared, leaving his uncle confused as to what he was thinking. The Aussie's mind was as impenetrable as Buckingham Palace itself or the White House…

The next morning, Mundy found his mother and his uncle chatting in the kitchen when he woke up.

"Micky, we were thinkin' of havin' a walk by the beach. Your uncle's physio says it's good for him to walk a bit more now, and we reckon Marty's gonna love it." Caroline said. "You wanna come with us?"

"Sure. I'll just have some coffee before we go." Mundy took a seat at the breakfast table.

"You wrap your neck in a scarf, yeah?" Caroline poured him some coffee. "It's cold outside. And we should get you a beanie, it's gettin' really cold now."

"My hat's fine, Mum."

"It's fine until you catch a cold and then who's gonna have to take care of a big baby with a running nose…?" Caroline asked and Mundy smiled.

"Alright, we'll get some beanies for everyone then." Mundy smiled and took a sip of his coffee. Marty came to the Aussie. "Hey Marty." Mundy patted his head and the dog wagged his tail enthusiastically.

"Right," Phil said and stood up. "I'll go and put on somethin' decent…"

"I brought your thick winter jacket, Phil, you'll find it in your big bag." Caroline said.

"Carrie, I'm not yer son!"

"Uncle Phil, don't even try, even Dad can't tell her anythin' about that…" Mundy said.

"Right, woman, I'll do it your way…" Phil left the kitchen, leaving mother and son alone.

"I had your dad on the phone yesterday." Caroline said.

"Oh, how's he doin'?"

"Same old," She answered and finished her coffee. "He's alright, the chickens and geese aren't missin' us too much apparently."

"Is he managin' on his own to take them to the market?"

"Yeah, he says it's fine. Jimmy comes to lend a hand on the weekends."

"Ah, that's nice of him."

"He sometimes comes after school when he feels like it." Caroline said and Mundy nodded. "His parents encourage him to work with us during the holidays."

"He's only a kid though, can't have him be there full-time I guess." Mundy said.

"Yeah, nah, you're right. His parents told me he wasn't doing so good at school, so they try to give him a bit of work to do. We talked with them a lot. Jimmy's learnin' fast and he likes it at the farm."

"Wanna hire him when he finishes school?"

"Your dad and I are thinkin' about it." Caroline said and nodded to herself. "We aren't getting any younger and it'd be good to leave the farm to someone… Now, we know you like it but not to the point of workin' full time there."

Mundy lowered his head.

"Yeah… I wish it was all different." Mundy took the last gulp of his coffee and left, not giving his mother any chance to ask him what he meant.

The Aussie put some warm clothes on and kept thinking. He wished it was all different. He wished he had been better at school and right now he would have had an office job, nice nine to five kind of routine, a car, a house of his own, a sheila and a few kids…

He could also have liked farming more, and then he would have taken the responsibility of his parent's farm after them. The business would stay in the family and Mike and Caroline wouldn't feel like a lifelong effort of taking care of chickens and geese went down the drain…

Mundy could have not preferred men or liked them at all. That way, it would surely have been a thousand times easier to find someone to settle with. He himself was very shy but females sometimes went to talk to him, hit on him even, but men? Never, or so rarely…

"Hm."

Mundy took Marty's tennis balls with him and went to get the dog on the leash.

"Marty? C'mere, big boy, we need to put you on the leash."

Marty rose from his bed and trotted to Mundy before he sat down in front of him.

"We're gonna go for a walk, Marty."

The dog's ears pricked up and his tail wagged faster.

"Oh, you got that, didn't you? You clever boy…"

Caroline and Philip joined him in the living-room.

"You boys have everythin' you need?"

"Yeah." Both Philip and Mundy agreed.

"Then let's go."

They left the house and walked only a few minutes before reaching the sand.

"You live very close to the beach, Uncle Phil."

"Yeah, got that house a long time ago. There weren't that many tourists and everything was so much cheaper…!" The old man was holding on to his sister's arm to walk. "Now, everythin's so painfully expensive… Oh, you can get Marty off the leash, let the boy enjoy the beach."

"Sure, c'mere Marty." Mundy took a second to undo the leash and took the tennis ball from his pocket. As soon as the dog saw it, he started barking eagerly. "Alright, alright, catch this!" Mundy threw the ball far away in the sand and Marty ran after it at full speed.

"He likes the exercise, this dog." Phil said.

"Course he does." Caroline answered. "Back when the farm was bigger we had a couple of dogs, they kept the chickens safe in the nights. They're very smart, eh."

"So smart we get them to join the police…!'' Phil answered. "That's what Marty was supposed to do, but even as early as a puppy, he was way too gentle and soft, wasn't bad at the obedience stuff, but no predatory instincts whatsoever in this boy. He could have ended drug sniffin', but he wasn't very enthusiastic about it either, so I took him in."

"You did well." Caroline said and Marty came back with the ball, he gave it to Mundy who threw it away again.

The three of them were walking in the sand, along the shore. The air was salty with the proximity of the sea and the breeze was icy but through that, they all breathed some better air. Besides, Marty was loving the large space to play fetch.

"Y'all should come back with Mike in the summer." Phil resumed his speech. "The sun shines beautifully, the water's lovely and this part of the beach isn't as touristy as the rest."

"And who would take care of the farm?" Caroline asked rhetorically.

"You could hire up some folks for summer. I'm sure there are plenty of young people who'd be happy to feed chickens and sell them before college starts again." Phil answered.

"Yeah… We always say we'd do that with Mike but it never happens in the end."

Marty came back, dropped the ball in Mundy's hand and went to run towards the water. He got his legs wet, jumped on the froth coming to him, trying to bite it, and ran back to Mundy for more playtime.

"Why'd you never do it?" Phil asked his sister.

"Cause we have no reason to not take care of the farm… We like it."

"Have you ever been on a holiday, Carrie?"

"O'course I have!"

"Your honeymoon doesn't count." Phil added and Caroline sighed.

"Phil…"

"You haven't, have you? I'm not judgin', Carrie, just saying. I was like you, eh? No holiday on duty. But now, with my bad leg, I've learnt to take some time off and it's not bad."

"Yeah… I reckon you're right but uh…"

"Feelin' bad for the chickens and geese?"

Marty came back again and Mundy threw the ball for him. He then dusted his hands off of the sand and put them in his pockets.

His parents had never taken a bit of holiday since forever. They cared a lot about their farm and it would surely feel weird for them to stop. Mundy understood it in the sense that if he had been asked to stop hunting completely, he would feel lost.

Well, he had been asked to stop completely, and multiple times at that. His parents weren't supporting his choice of profession, and Mundy's father grew more and more keen on his son taking over the farm. As Mundy grew into hunting more and more, Mike's frustration with the realisation that his son had other plans than taking the family business grew too. Father and son weren't on the best terms and tried to keep their disagreements away from Caroline, but she was far from stupid and knew that she was the only reason that Mundy and Mike still talked.

"I'm just sayin', Carrie. If you wanna come back come summer time with Mike and Micky, I can give you the house for a few weeks." Phil went on.

"That's very nice of you, Phil." Caroline answered.

Their voices were a blur on which Mundy was writing his thoughts. He took a deep breath of sea breeze and looked around him. There were a few people here and there, a few happy dogs enjoying their outing as much as Marty was. Mundy's eye lingered on the occasional couples. He had passed the age to feel jealousy towards them, or even envy. What he felt was the bitter punch of knowing that there had been no one so far who had made a positive difference to his days, no one with whom he could have a decent bit of conversations, no one who had seen in him more than a hunting vagabond, and a promise for an assorted, nomadic adventure. A trip with a starting line but no arrival.

Mundy sighed.

Looking back at the past and seeing the emptiness that all of Mundy’s previous encounters left was one thing, the bitterness of it was one thing, but what really hurt was that stubborn glimmer of hope that he could not shake off, however hard he tried. And God knew how he tried, he tried to look at the facts: a man with a man was unthinkable enough, a man with him, the loner, the socially awkward, ever stammering, unable to communicate his feelings to even his mother, a mess of an almost forty-year-old man.

Oh he wished. He wished he could open himself wide open and scoop that hope out of him because in truth, that was what was killing him. That part of him that believed that one day, he would open his van’s door to see a pair of masculine eyes full of love, loving him as much as he did them…

God, why did he have to bear the double sentence of preferring men over women and hoping to find one…?

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Emp-ire, “Deputy.”

Hope you are all having a good day, and I hope you enjoy the story :)

Sparks leapt into the air vanishing to blend in with the wide expanse of the night sky overhead. Spoons clattered and rattled against cans, as the small group of men sat under the stars eating their meager rations. Adam shifted feeling the weight of his new gun on the opposite hip from his old: McBride’s gun.

The Sheriff spooned another mouthful of ration under his mustache before grunting as if he had remembered something and reached behind him, pulling out a sheathed knife and tossing it over to Adam, “Believe that belongs to you.”

He caught it with one hand, and set the can he was eating from down beside his boot, pulling the knife from its sheath, only to see the familiar decorative glint. He felt his face flush a bit, and when he looked up at the sheriff, seeing the look on the man’s face he knew that he knew.

He opened his mouth to speak, “I am so sorry sheriff, I really had no idea what came over me, I-” The man’s booming laugh cut him off mid apology, “No need to apologize to me boy. That man was nothing better than a crawly little maggot in my book, and deserved a lot more than losing a knife.” He snorted and leaned back in his seat, “Why take it, though, you being such an upstanding citizen and all. Doesn’t seem to fit your profile.”

Adam, still a bit flushed, rubbed the back of his neck, “I…. well.”

That’s when Ramirez butted in, leaning over the fire and announcing in a very loud voice, “To impress a girl.”

Adam turned a sharp glare down on Ramirez who was grinnin fit to burst.

“A girl!” The sheriff exclaimed, “Now that is something, isn’t it. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about this girl.”

Ramires rolled his eyes,”How about that time he dumped that girl, and decided to pine after her later.”

Adam glowered so hard at Ramirez he hoped he would explode, but when no spontaneous combustion occurred, he simply sighed and slouched down in his seat, “Look, not to get into too many details or seem sorry for myself, but I’m not exactly in a great mental headspace to…. To be dating right now. It isn’t fair to her, and I refuse to drag her into my mess, especially one she didn’t sign up for.”

Around the fire, he could see the other men rolling their eyes largely.

“If she’s any kind of woman, it wouldn’t matter..” One of them said, “A real woman’s always got your back, covers you blind spots, and she’s shooting when you reload. A real woman makes you a better man at the same time you make her a better woman…. Course that is assuming that you are any kind of man.’ Adam blew out through his cheeks long and drawn out, “Very poetic, deputy, but let's assume I’m not any kind of man…. At least not right now, and she doesn’t deserve that.” “And so what, did you hope to find your manhood out here with the roughians and the hooligans.” one of them asked motioning around at the planet behind him.

Adam sighed again, “Actually, no.” he motioned to Ramirez, “that one dragged me out here to cheer me up, but since we’ve been here, I’ve been threatened, had a horrible hangover, been kicked in the face, kidnapped, threatened, fallen off a horse, and been kicked in the face a second time.”

The group of men laughed, “Sounds like a good time!”

They laughed, and he laughed with them.

“Anyway, she likes weapons, loves them actually, any kind, so it made me think of her, and I thought that when I get back, maybe my apology would go better if I soften her up first.”

The men eyed each other, “Or give her a weapon to carve you up with in her rage.”

He snorted and smiled slightly, “I guess you’re right about that. Anyway, I don’t expect to get her back, not really, but I at least want to say sorry, man up and explain to her why I did what I did. I was so messed up at the time, that I didn’t really provide a good explanation, and I think she deserved to know the truth. I am hoping this is a case of better late than never, and not a case of too little too late.”

Ramirez sighed and shook his head but let it go.

The sheriff watched him with some interest, head tilted this way and that, scrutinizing him as if he was some strange looking crustation the man had found under a rock.

He stared down at the knife he now twisted between his two fingers before strapping it to his belt,

He expected the sheriff or one of the other deputies to keep going on about it, but they dropped the subject, and instead the sheriff leaned forward over the fire, “You boys did a pretty good job with those men back there. That was some good shooting, and back at the bar was some pretty good teamwork.” he looked sidelong at Adam, “Now, I can’t vouch for the intelligence of a man who would flying tackle a bandit off a horse at twenty miles an hour, but that remains to be seen I suppose.”

Ramirez and Adam lifted their head in interest.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You trying to say something sheriff.”

The man paused scrutinizing them still, “Well McBride and his men have been bothering this community for a while now, and it needs to stop. Now we captured a few of them back there, but McBride is the one we are really after, without him his whole group falls apart and vanishes back into whatever cesspit they came from.” he paused tapping his boot thoughtfully against the dirt, “We need good fighting men to help us take them down and you two….”

Ramirez and Adam both leaned forward in some measure of excitement eyes wide.”

“And well, the two of you have more than proven your metal when it comes to the fighting aspect so….. I am more than willing to deputize you boys until we catch McBride, the help would be most appreciated.”

“HELL YEAH!”

The sheriff almost fell off his log as the two of them jumped to their feet in vehement and unbridled excitement.

A few of the deputies just shook their heads.

“City folk.” one of them whispered but the smile on his face made it clear enough that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“Calm down! Lest I rethink my offer,” the sheriff muttered, clearly trying to appear more annoyed than he actually was. He stood, “Both raise your right hands or some shit, I don’t know.”

The two of them did as asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now in the power vested in me by the Bramble county justice system bla bla, I hereby deputize you that you may bring justice and all that stuff or whatever. Do you swear to protect this county and all the citizens in it.”

“We swear.”

He grunted, “Good.”

The two men stared at him, grinning expectantly, “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed, grumbled, and walked over to his saddle, reaching into the bag and pulling out two shiny golden badges both in the shape of a star. He tossed them across the topen fire at the two men, “Here, and try not to wet yourselves.”

They didn’t wet themselves of course

But there was certainly a moment of girlish screaming and jumping up and down around the fire that probably shouldn't have been done in front of a group of other men whose respect they were trying to gain.

When they sat back down finally clearing their throats and awkwardly adjusting their hats, the other men stared at them with some measure of both amusement and concern, though no one said anything.

Of course neither of them really cared.

Ramirez was still admiring his badge when a sudden frown came over his face, and he reached down to his shirt, “Damn it.”

Adam tilted his head,”What.”

“Hole in my shirt.”

He turned to see that there was, indeed, a hole in his shirt.

“Shit, I liked this shirt.” “Oh stop bitching and hand it over.”

“What.”

“Just give me the damn shirt.”

Ramirez did as told, though as he handed it over, the suspenders of his pants now hanging down at his sides he looked up grinning, “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.”

Adam, not looking up from the hole replied, “I’ll be interested in your sweaty man boobs when hell freezes over.”

There was some light chuckling form around the fire as Adam reached into his bag and pulled out a small sewing kit. The group of men watched as he deftly threaded a needle, wetting the end of the thread with saliva before threading it through the small hole. Within the next few seconds he was pulling the hole in the shirt closed until it was neatly stitched back up and he handed it back to Ramirez .

He stared looking between Adam and the repaired shirt, “dude…. This… this is clean… since when have you known how to sew.”

Adam looked almost offended, “Seriously ramirez, think about who my mother is for five secons.”

“I mean yeah, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the sitting in the living room sewing with mom type.”

Adam crossed his arms, “I had a life once. Before I joined the UNSC I used to make my own costumes for conventions. My mother taught me everything she knows, and since I didn’t have a lot of friends at school I got pretty good at it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can knit.”

“Dude I will Knit or crochet you the best damn scarf you’ve ever worn and maybe a nice pair of mittens to go along with it.”

They stared at each other neither breaking eye contact.

“I make a mean beanie.”

Ramirez began to laugh, “You never cease to amaze me. What else can you do. I mean, you can Knit and crochet, and sew.”

“I am also pretty handy at cross-stitching, embroidery, and needlepoint.”

The other men around the fire began to laugh, though it was good natured enough.

Adam shrugged, “Laugh all you want, but I never had to worry about holes in my pants.”

“That it”

He paused and shook his head, “Well, no. I used to be able to do makeup ok, just for the costumes I did, could practically change the structure of my face. I was pretty good at it, I would say.” he frowned, rubbing his chin a bit, “I mean there were a lot of the things my mother and father taught me how to do…”

“Why…. why did you stop. That all seems fun.”

Adam paused, and then shrugged, “I…. well, I joined the UNSC and then didn’t really have time to do those things anymore. They just sort of… fell away until I kind of forgot I could even do them…. It was the same with riding horses and woodworking.”

“You used to draw too, didn’t you.”

Adam shrugged, “A little, probably could have been pretty good if I had practiced, but there wasn’t really time to do that either.”

One of the deputies prodded the fire with a stick, “Let your job kind of take over your life, didn’t you.”

He paused and shrugged, “I guess.”

“Not something that's good for a man.” The sheriff gestured around the circle, “The boys here all have things they like doing outside work. I mean I own a little farm. I like getting my hands in the dirt, and watching things grow. Clayton over there makes his own booze, and is pretty good at if I don’t say so myself. Tom there and his girl like to go dancing, won a few competitions, haven’t you Tom.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head, “Well I do have things outside my work I like to do, like flying or, watching vintage movies.”

“You're a fighter pilot, Adam, so that doesn’t count, and sci-fi movies are too close to home.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, maybe I let the life take me over a little too much.”

Ramirez snorted, “Maybe…. Maybe?”

“Ok yeah, I DID for sure.”

“Don’t lose yourself kid. The moment you allow your job to define you, there is always the chance it could be taken away, and then you’d lose your identity all together.”

Adam grimaced at the thought, but realized they were…. Right.

What was he?

And there walsall the possibility in the world that he could lose his job. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but he was sure it could happen. There was always the possibility of politics chasing him out of his role if he got too important. Or perhap, he would just get to old, and they wouldn’t trust him anymore.

Either way, one day he was going to be out of a job, and when that happened, he needed to make sure he was stable enough to handle it. And if he couldn’t handle his real life, right now, then he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he lost it.

“Get some sleep, all of you, we ride out tomorrow…. To catch a train.”

The men grumbled and maneuvered their saddles into more comfortable positions leaving one man on watch for that night.

Adam leaned back against his saddle to stare up at the stars.

There was…. An overwhelming sense of vertigo that came with looking up, a familiar sensation he had had since childhood. The stars overhead were comforting and familiar, but tonight they also seemed distant. They had been distant for a while, he supposed, and the thought left him with a deep well of sadness.

When had it been, when had he lost it….. The wide eyed childish love for what he did.

When had he become so…. So lost.

Was there a moment he could pinpoint, was there an instance he could look back on and see?

Or had it come on slowly pernicious and insidious creeping up on him slowly from behind to tackle him and bind him with such doubts and indecision.

He closed his eyes, and in his dreams he flew through the sky trailing his fingers through he stars.

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hjh-ceilo-monster · 3 years

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Who live next door? : Dragon next door (KSJ)

Author note : Finally, I’m back you guys. My uni decide to move my final exams schedule for the third time. Anyway, hope you enjoy my first os after break.

Shout out : The plot belongs to Hybrid Prompts @Ungnyeo in wattpad. (I think you also have your blog here, but I forgot. Sorry.)

Summary : Your ancestor was a well known dragon hunter. However, now is 21st century and you decided not to continue training. You moved out from your hometown and started a new life in a city. What you didn’t expect was your handsome neighbor/love at first sight will turn out to be a dragon. Not to mention that he is a sassy one.

Author pov.

“Be safe, dear.”

“Don’t forget to visit us, y/n.” Those were the last sentence from your parents before you left the house. Inhaling the fresh air for the last time and mumbling a goodbye for the last time, you jumped onto the bus.

You tried to calm your nervous self down by plugin the earphone into your ear and listen to music. Gazing out the window, you sighed. Many thoughts ran in your head.

Is your decision correct?

Will you have friends there?

Will your neighbor like you?

Train of thought lost you from reality. You didn’t realize yourself until a voice calling you.

“Miss, can I sit here?” You just nodded and moved a little for that someone to take a seat.

“You seem nervous. Perhaps, are you from out of the city?” Now you looked up and find a guy sat beside you. The beauty of his face made you quickly looked down and flushed. What a handsome guy.

“Did I startle you? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s..I...nervous.” Your stutter made him chuckle.

He seemed to use lots of effort to strike a conversation with you. However, thanks to your stutter, it made things awkward. Still, he continued talking to you and ensured that you were doing great.

“And here we are, our stop.”

“Our?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention it. Your address is next to mine.” He scratched his nape and glanced at your house. He then jogged toward his house and turned around.

“Welcome, new neighbor.” Giving you the last wave, he entered his house.

There my heart, shaking as if it wanted to come out. You think you have a crush on him.

A week later everything seemed to be good. You found a job at a local bookstore. The owner was so kind and gave you the job without any interview. Saying that it isn’t common for someone in the town to want a job here.

“Namjoon-ah where should I put this box?” You stood still at your spot. Waiting for the boy to give you an order.

“Oh over here.” He ran toward you and picked the box out of your grip.

This boy was the grandchild of the owner. He was as sweet as his grandpa. Having you as the employee, he didn’t let you work much. All you need to do was the cashier work. He became your friend here in no time besides.

Your neighbor, Seokjin, which you got to know his name three days after your first encounter, was great. He was really helpful and always walked with you downtown.

Despite his warmhearted persona and stunning face, you noticed some odd things about him. First, he always wore a beanie or a hat when he hanged out with you. Secondly, no matter how hot the weather was, he would always wear a jacket or some days layer it all.

Finally, his body temperature seemed to be warmer than usual. You once joked around with him and clung around his arm. However, you felt hot so you suddenly ask whether he has a cold or not. He said that it was normal.

Another week later you guys plan to have a movie marathon and sleepover. Honestly, you tried to convince yourself to act normal and not to imagine that this was an indirect date.

Ring... Ring...

“Oh you ar...rive” You glanced at pillows in his embrace. You didn’t mean to look as if you were judging him. Counting the number, he carried 4 pillows from his house.

“You don’t need to carry them here since I have mine.” Now Jin was panic. He forgot that you didn’t know his secret yet and it was the reason behind his weird act.

“Ummm I just don’t want to use your belong that much since I always see you do laundry 3-4 times a week.”

‘Wow, he notices?’ You impressed and got distracted a bit.

“Can I go in?”

“Oh sure.”

Watching a movie wouldn’t be fun if there was no Jin. He could turn every serious moment into jokes, even if it was a scene in a horror movie. Both of you now cuddled on the sofa. The pillow he brought become useful since they all fluffy. It made the place fluffier and more comfortable.

“Tired?” Jin asked. Notice your body that busied cuddling with him and wiggled in his embrace to get sleep. Your eyes were half open and seemed to not focus on the screen anymore.

“hmmm,” You only hummed with a nod.

“Good night then, blossom.” He bent down and kissed your forehead to you who already drifted to dreamland.

Next morning

You woke up because you heard a growl and mumbled of someone. The realization then hit you. Looking around. you were in Jin’s embrace. All the growl and mumbled sounds came from him.

“Mine...” Your eyes widen when you got to hear those sounds. Every question started answering on its own in your head. Connecting all dots, you got the final answer.

He is a dragon.

“No!” You got out of his embrace by pushing him. Seokjin was awake and looked at you with eyes full of confusion.

“What happen blossom? Did I do something wrong?” He asked with a sleepy voice.

“You...you are a dragon.” Now he was fully awake from his beauty sleep. All of sudden he felt his heartbeat drop.

“Uhhh I can explain i-”

“You tried to fool me, did you?”

“No, I di-”

“I am very disappointed in you, Kim Seokjin. I thought we were a friend and it turns out you fool me. Perhaps, you want to kill me? Why yo-”

“Stop! If you are going to accuse me then stop. Ok, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I trust you, y/n, but I also know you were a hunter. What do you expect me to when I meet you the first time and find out that my mate is also the dragon hunter?”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. First, you fired your anger toward him. Second, you accused him without thinking straight. Now, knowing a piece of new info that you were his mate.

“Seokjin, I a-”

“Save it, I know this will happen. Sorry for bothering you all this time and I won’t do it again. Have a good day.”

And he left.

2 weeks later

“Namjoon I fuck up.”

“For the hundred of time, when will you stop saying this to me? I suggest you go to his house and apologize to him.”

“No, it isn’t that easy. You know I...” You told Namjoon the full story without missing any detail. You trusted him when it comes to advise.

“Now I know. I’m not surprised that hyung feels upset. I will all feel upset if that happens to me as well. We only have one mate in a life time s-”

“Wait right there, what do you mean we?” Namjoon then chuckles with your reaction.

“I thought you know about this city.”

“I have no idea.”

“Y/N-ah This is a dragon city. Most people here aren’t just human. The ones who look like normal humans are mostly not human either. You are one of a few citizens here that are pure human.”

Namjoon then explained more about the town and promised to bring you and meet his friends.

“Now go to him and apologize to your man.”

Ring... Ring...

“Who dares to interrupt my bea- huh?”

“Is Jin here?” You asked the guy who opens the door. You assumed that this must be one of his friends. He nodded and let you inside.

“Upstairs, turn right.” You bowed as a thank you before went to the room according to the direction.

You gathered all your courage together and knocked on the door. Waiting there for a while, there was no answer. You dropped all the manner and entered Seokjin’s room.

“Yoongi, I swear I’m not hu- oh it’s you. What brings a little missy here?”

“Jin, we need to talk.” You spoke and tried to be calm.

“And what do you want to talk about? How I will kill you? How you will kill me?”

“No Jin it is no-”

“So what is it then? I didn’t pay for the grocery bill last time that we hang out? Oh no, I brought some of my food too. Let me think again. I parked the car too close to your entrance?”

“Jin stop, I come here to apologize, ok? I fucked it up, yes. I will admit that. I just want to correct things between us. I know I said those words and you are upset. I want to apologize for that. I didn’t know why I got so angry when I found out you were a dragon. I shouldn’t do that. Hell, I should be happy because I am your mate and you are my crush from the first day I arrived here. You might not forgive me and that’s fine. At least, remember that I am sorry for everything.”

Jin froze in his place. He didn’t know how to act, what to say, or even what is his feeling right now. He felt the guilt eating him because of his attitude toward you minutes ago yet his heart full of delight when he heard that he was your crush.

The moment of silence made you upset little by little. His face showed no emotion. You assumed that you were too late.

“I’ll go now and sorry again.”

The moment you opened the door, it closed immediately. The door slammed shut and then your body toward it. Jin towered your body and stared deep into your eyes. You felt like he was searching for your soul.

“I love you blossom.”

“I...” You didn’t get the chance to reply when his lips connected with yours. The kiss was heat and rough yet passionate. He continued to savor the sweet taste of your lips without caring that you were now out of breathing.

Your hand tried to push his check as a signal. His lips left yours with a string of saliva. Your face was flushed. Your heartbeat echoed in the room. Jin then grinned widely before carried you to his bed.

“Wh..what are you doing?”

“Cuddle.” He answered and placed you on the mattress. Kissing your forehead, he wrapped his arm tightly around your figure. Making you feel secure.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow then”

“Hmmm just sleep for now blossom, I’m tired. Besides, you have your whole life with me anyway.”

“Nah, you didn’t ask me out yet, Seokjin.”

“Very well, then be mine?” You turned around and faced him. You decided to tease him a little by peck him before answered.

“I’m yours.”

“Bold and eager are you?” He flipped then hovered you.

Guess what? No nap time for both of you.

Author note 2.0 : I hope you enjoy this one. I’ll see you next story(not sure whether it’s going to be in this series, but will write something soon). Thanks a lot and take care of yourself.

38 notes · View notes

vkookjamz · 4 years

Text

⋆☽Kitten☾⋆

|| Prologue. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

| 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑥 𝐶𝑎𝑡-𝐻𝑦𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑑 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 |

"𝘉-𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭..?"

𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..

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

Y/n's POV

Eyes now widened, you gripped the arm rest on your left. Your ears stood up, becoming stiffened along with your tail twitching in alert.

Who said that- What said that?? That definitely wasn't your conscience- It sounded- familiar, but your mind couldn't seem to come up with anything to pair the voice to.

The voice was feminine, deep and smooth it sounded almost like a mother's who was singing their child a lullaby.

But deep down in the pit of your stomach you just had a feeling it was instead masking a siren. Who's sweet sound would slowly lure you into its trap leading to your ultimate demise.

'I will awaken' 'do not fear what you are that's their job' Who is going to wake up and why would people be afraid?

You felt your head get dizzy and your body heat up. You felt as if you were about to pass out until it spoke again.

Calm yourself.

That's rich, how exactly were you supposed to do that when you're pretty sure you've gone mad.

'you're not crazy y/n- just close your eyes, take a nap, you're probably just tired and hungry that's all'

You spoke to yourself, repeating affirmations inside your mind until you heard it once again.

ha..

Growing irritated at whatever this was, you heard the eerily seducing tone giggle softly, causing you to let a snarl form on your face as you growled under your breath.

Oh come on now it's laughing at you?? How the hell was this possible- one second you're just staring at the moon on your way to dinner with the boys and now you've completely lost your shit?

Dear child, I am you. You are me.

'what are you talking about- I'm me..'

"Uh baby girl? we're here" Jungkook rubbed your back softly, tilting his head as he scanned his eyes over you.

Inhaling a deep breath from your nose, your eyes snapped open glancing around the car you saw the other members lazily unbuckling their seatbelts.

They all were getting up with slight groans and happy sighs while putting on their masks and coats, preparing to enter the restaurant you all were currently in the parking lot of.

Shaking your head you frowned your brows together confused. Had you been asleep? Was what you experienced a dream?

You didn't remember falling asleep- just looking at the moon, then everything got quiet, then the voice. Your eyes never closed, you know they didn't.

Looking back at Jungkook you blinked a few times to focus then nodded quickly. "Ah- yes I'm sorry Appa- I spaced out I guess"

He chuckled giving you a cute side smile, shaking his head he quickly threw his own coat over your shoulders, helping you out of the car and reaching down to hold your hand, knitting his fingers together with yours.

"It's alright baby, now that you had a little snooze during the drive I'm sure you should be plenty hungry yeah?" he ruffled the top of your head closing his door.

"I-I- slept..?" you frowned looking up at him, your grip on his hand tightening. Jungkook nodded looking back at you with pursed lips letting out a small laugh. "Yeah the moment we got in the car you looked out the window for a moment then passed out- I was worried at first but Namjoon-Hyung said you were probably just exhausted since- you know, first time being a human and we did a lot"

So you had fallen asleep..

Maybe what you heard was just you having a dream, after all Namjoon was right, you had done a lot since you were in your new form.

And one time when Hoseok woke up to take out the trash in the middle of the night, he swears he heard racoons talking to him- but we all thought he was just too tired and his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe it was the same with you?

"Yah come on you two! Tae is starving!" Jimin spoke with a chuckle as he jogged down to walk beside the two of you. Wrapping an arm around both yours and Jungkook's neck.

You smiled with a nod, looking between him and Jungkook then facing the doors of the restaurant as you all approached it. Hopefully dinner would put you at ease.

~Time Skippy~

After you all had entered the restaurant, you noticed there wasn't too many people inside, which was equally good and bad.

Good because that meant you wouldn't have any trouble finding a table, or have to wait to long for your food, but bad because with no people around, the boys wouldn't have to hide their crackhead selves as they ate.

And when they ate, they would be at the peak of their crackhead energy. It was embarrassing at times but you loved it regardless- so okay maybe it wasn't BAD, just them being themselves.

"Yah where is the meat- I need meat" Namjoon spoke scrunching his nose up at the sight of the many lobsters on their table.

Taking a large bite of his own lobster Jungkook hummed singing with his cheeks stuffed. "I need you meat~"

"Jungkook please don't be like Jimin and start singing memes-"

"To be fair Hyung, you ordered a ridiculous amount of lobster-" Yoongi pointed out taking a swig of his wine.

"Oh so you want me to ask the waiter to take yours back?" Jin raised his brows eyeing the second oldest.

Yoongi pursed his lips grabbing his plate and pulled it closer to himself. "....No"

"Exactly, now hush and eat like Taehyung, he hasn't said a word since he sat down so that means he's eating well~" Jin praised continuing to eat his own plate of food.

Taehyung's head poked up, his cheeks filled with his noodles as he held a fork with meat attached to it in one hand and his other dipping into his bowl of soup.

"Wah you're eating like a pig- slow down or you'll choke-" Hoseok chuckled shaking his head as he took a small bite of his own food.

Jimin merely smirked at Hoseok's comment as Taehyung pouted then scrunched his nose to frown as he proceeded to eat. You on the other hand where just sitting watching all of the males as they joked and ate, you hadn't even touched your salmon.

"Princess you're not eating are you alright?" Yoongi nodded over to you from across his spot at the table, your ears perked from under your beanie and you nodded with a small sweet smile.

"Ah yeah uncle Yoongs, I'm just watching you all- it kinda entertains me more than eating I guess" you chuckled as you picked up your fork, beginning to dig into your meal.

"Ahh, you know- this actually reminds me of our very first meal together you know? The night Jungkook-ah brought you home and we all ate ramen in the dorms" Namjoon smiled revealing his dimples at you, as the waiter came placing his well waited for steak in front of him.

Jungkook's eyes brightened as he licked his lips nodding at the other. "Yeah Hyungs sent me out in the middle of the night to get them food when I could've been kidnapped"

"Oh shut up you muscle pig you're too heavy for anyone to kidnap" Jimin laughed leaning back in his chair, his sweet smile causing you to giggle as you looked back at a slightly offended Jungkook.

"Yah I was fifteen! you never know!" Jungkook huffed. You patted his hand gently nuzzling your head against his shoulder with a purr.

"Actually- I don't remember much of that night- what was all of your reactions when you first saw me..?" you blushed sitting up as you took a bite of your food nervously.

Everyone seemed to smile to themselves after your question, which made you a little uneasy and worried- but you were still curious.

"Well, I opened the door for Jungkook so I of course was the first to see you- but then Jungkook told me to 'sHuT uP' so I had to hold in my excitement" Jimin nodded giving a little glare to Jungkook who sat across from him.

Taehyung raised his hand and sat up clearing his throat as he took a sip of his Pepsi with a hum. "Well I was next to see you, since me and Jungkookie shared a room at that time, and he looked really excited and very fond over you so I was happy you made him happy"

You smiled pursing your lips as you looked up to Jungkook who was blushing a bit. "Then I was happy because I remember when you first saw me you pounced on me and made Kookie jealous" Tae laughed causing you to choke widening your eyes at his words.

You forgot when you were a young kitten you had a slight crush on him-

"Anyways- uh, uncle Hobi what about you?" you laughed a bit nervously as you felt the slight tension in Jungkook's body at Tae's words.

"Ahhh, when I saw you the first time I was actually even more excited than Jungkook- I was prepared to beg him to let me help take care of you but he wanted that job all to himself- I guess he wanted you to understand you belonged to him" Hoseok smiled with his mouth closed as he ruffled your head with his hand carefully.

"Yeah plus when our manager found out we had you in the dorm and that Jungkook had brought you he kinda made sure Jungkook was the one doing all your caretaking since he didn't want all of us getting side tracked when we were still in the process of debuting" Jin nodded cupping both of his cheeks as he rested his elbows on the table watching you.

"But when I saw you, you were automatically one of my children as well, it's just my instinct to be the 'eomma' of you all" he smiled winking at you as you giggled in return.

"I don't think I ever told you this Jungkook-ah- but actually our manager at that time made it up to me wether or not we would keep y/n or not-" Namjoon mentioned at Jungkook who raised his brows.

"Really Hyung? what made you say yes?- I mean I'm glad you did but- you know-" Jungkook questioned.

"Well when I saw y/n she was very tiny- and like Taehyung, I saw she made you really happy and she kinda helped you open up more with us since you were pretty shy" Namjoon replied as he gave a reassuring smile towards the younger.

"Thanks Hyung.." Jungkook smiled bowing his head once as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder protectively.

You purred pleased, becoming soft at all of their answers before you let your eyes fall to Yoongi.

"And you uncle Yoongs..?" you asked tilting your head, blinking once curiously since the older male had stayed pretty quiet the entire time.

Everyone seemed to stare at him awaiting his response, since of course he wasn't known for sharing his own feelings too often.

"Actually, I love animals so I was happy with you" Yoongi shrugged, his small answer making you pout a bit along with everyone else around the table, which he noticed.

"Aish alright alright, I thought you were really cute and I would baby you when you were a kitten and sometimes I'd have Jungkook almost get a heart attack because I'd sometimes take you to have naps with me in my office after I'd finish writing music because you helped me sleep" Yoongi sighed running a hand through his hair.

You smiled blushing as your tail twitched pleased at his words, everyone seemed to have loved you from the beginning. Most people wouldn't be so accepting of animals especially in their circumstances at that time.

As everyone proceeded to laugh and praise Yoongi for his answer, you kept your smile letting yourself slip into your own thoughts.

You saw how far they all had come from where they had started. Their company was basically nothing when they started their group, they didn't eat some nights yet they worked their asses off practicing hours on end. And through it all they had and cared for you, loved you, and basically raised you as they grew up themselves. It amazed you that from how much they've accomplished, still they are so genuine to themselves as well as with their feelings towards you. Even now that you've almost completely changed into an entirely different person, they still accept you like they did the very first day.

Finally you managed to snap yourself back to reality, looking back up to Yoongi who sighed with a smirk as he looked at everyone.

"Alright, who's getting the check"

A/n: I hope this isn't too sappy-

-ⓙ

166 notes · View notes

kaleidoscopeminds · 4 years

Note

Hi meg!! “If it snows, wake me up.” with lashton please?

hi em!!! remember when i solicited prompts weeks and weeks ago? yeah me too... anyway here is some very late and very baby lashton for you, loads of love 💖💖

It’s late, well not really late, but late enough that Ashton’s considering that it might be time for showering and sleeping when he decides that before he does, he wants to go and make a cup of tea. He drags himself out of the warmth of his bed to go downstairs, pulling on a hoodie and some socks as he goes. They’ve been in London for over a month now but he still wasn’t getting used to it being cold in January, and especially not this cold. He debates putting on a beanie but decides to just pull his hood up and head downstairs. He makes his way to the kitchen, but sees there’s still a light on in the back room, so after he puts the kettle on he pokes his head around the door.

Luke is sat curled up on the sofa next to the french doors, nose almost pressed up against the glass, staring into the dark. Ashton can see his reflection in the doors, lit by the side lamp casting Luke in a glow, his tired eyes blinking slowly and chewing slowly on his lip.

“I thought you were watching a movie with Mikey,” Ashton says, and Luke jumps, having been so absorbed in watching outside he didn’t hear Ashton approach.

“It’s meant to snow tonight,” Luke says, turning his big eyes to Ashton, glimmering with wonder and excitement, fringe just flopping in them slightly before he hurriedly pushes it out of the way.

“That’ll be why it’s so fucking cold,” Ashton grumbles, leaning on the door frame, but smiles slightly at Luke being so thrilled.

“Snow, Ashton. Aren’t you excited?” Luke says, grin growing, shining and radiant. He shivers a little and Ashton frowns, he’s sat on the sofa in just a T-shirt and some pyjama bottoms, feet and arms bare, and the heating in the house clicked off an hour or so again.

“Why don’t you have a hoodie on?” Ashton asks. “You must be freezing.”

“Okay Mum,” Luke says rolling his eyes. “I have my actual mum upstairs, you know. I don’t need you too.”

Ashton comes into the room slightly to flick Luke’s foot, even just doing that he can feel that it's the temperature of ice, and he makes a disapproving noise.

“You’re going to get frostbite,” He reprimands. “No one wants a lead singer with only one foot. Here, have this.”

He pulls off his own hoodie despite the temperature and drops it in Luke’s lap, before digging around under the sofa.

“Aha!” He says, extracting a slightly worn blanket. He shakes it out before draping it over Luke’s lap as Luke pulls on Ashton’s hoodie.

“You’ll be cold now,” Luke protests, but he’s already got both his hands in the arms and is pulling the rest of the hoodie over his head.

Ashton looks at Luke fondly as his head pops out the neck of the hoodie, eyes glimmering and hair flattened against his face. Luke was growing at the speed of light these days, upwards and also outwards, his shoulders stretching Ashton’s hoodie far more than Ashton knows his own shoulders do. A small part of him hopes he stops growing soon, he wouldn’t want to live in a universe where Luke wearing his clothes is an impossibility, however much he might complain about the other boy stealing his socks.

“I’m good.” Is all Ashton says. “Do you want tea? I’m making a cup.”

Luke nods and Ashton grins at him before going back into the kitchen and pulling out a second mug. He pours the hot water, pulls out the sugar for Luke and grabs the milk out the fridge, humming a melody that he and Michael had been working on earlier that week. He picks up the two mugs and heads back through to the other room to find Luke, head turned back towards the window with the hood up on the hoodie, feet tucked under the blanket and the sleeves stretched even further to cover his hands. He looks back at Ashton as he returns and makes grabby hands for the mug.

“Do you wanna sit with me for a bit?” Luke asks. And really, what was Ashton going to say, with Luke sat there in Ashton’s hoodie, curled up on the sofa and gleaming blue eyes blinking at him hopefully.

“My bed was calling me, but I guess I can sit with you for a bit, loser,” He teases, placing both mugs on the coffee table and sitting down next to Luke.

Luke immediately stretches his legs to stuff his feet underneath Ashton’s thighs, a typical move from Luke, unable to keep his limbs to himself if any of his bandmates were close by, but tucking his feet under Ashton’s leg was a thing Luke had always done. He had perpetually cold hands and feet, but often refused to wear socks, and so whenever Ashton would sit next to him Luke would take the opportunity to stuff his feet under there to warm them up. Ashton would bitch about this, but secretly he’d be pleased, he knows that if there was a definition for the saying “cold feet warm heart” it would be Luke Hemmings, with his shy smile and easy kindness, anyone who met him would be immediately enamoured with his radiance. As was Ashton half the time.

“Write anything good today?” Ashton asks Luke, hand resting on his knee, fingers beating out a small rhythm there.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Luke says absentmindedly, fiddling with his sleeves and scrunching his nose.

“What’s on your mind Lukey?” Ashton says, reaching out and tapping the tip of his nose before sliding his finger up to the bridge, smoothing out the creases. He knows Luke has something playing on his mind more than the snow, it wasn’t Luke’s usual move to isolate himself, he does best with a group of people nearby.

“Do you ever feel like this can’t be real?” Luke says thoughtfully, tipping his head to one side.

“What do you mean?” Ashton says patiently.

Luke sighs and plays with his fringe. It's getting a little curly as it's the end of the day, loosening from its normally straightened place on Luke’s forehead and Ashton likes it all the more for it, despite him normally sporting an identical straightened look.

“Just, like, I wake up in the morning and I feel like I’m still in a dream half the time, like none of this should be happening. We’re living here in the UK, we’re about to go on tour with One Direction and we wrote with James Bourne from Busted last week,” Luke says, laughing a little and shaking his head. “I’m seventeen, I feel like I’ll wake up any second and my mum will be banging at my door trying to get me to get up for Year 12, and then I do wake up to my mum banging on my door but I’m here in London and I’m living with my best mates and I’ve signed a record deal. It’s not real Ash, it can’t be.”

Ashton looks at Luke curled up on the sofa next to him and slips a hand into Luke’s, stopping him fiddling with the sleeve of Ashton’s hoodie. Luke looks at him in surprise but holds on tightly as Ashton runs his thumb over the back of Luke’s hand and smiles at him.

He finds it funny that Luke has these doubts of the reality of the situation they find themselves in, he himself has them every day, has to pinch himself that he’s no longer struggling through uni working shitty jobs and trying to take care of his family, remind himself that he’s waking up to do what he loves rather than dragging himself through another day. But Luke, well, in Ashton’s head Luke was always meant to end up here. End up doing something more than the life he was born into. Even without the rest of them Luke would end up a star, he glowed too bright, his light far too dazzling to be turned down or ignored. Ashton was grateful every single day to be bathed in its glow for even half a minute let alone the last year, and if Ashton was lucky, many of the years ahead of them.

“It’s real, Luke I promise,” Ashton says instead. He squeezes Luke’s hand, taps his fingers on the other hand onto Luke’s knee, and wiggles his legs on top of Luke’s feet. “Feel that, Lukey? It’s all real, you’re here with me on this sofa in a random house in the outskirts of London and we’re gonna be a fucking huge and successful band in a couple of years.”

It's not something he hasn’t told Luke before; Ashton had an unwavering faith in the band, in what they could achieve, in what they had which made them special, but Ashton thinks that with the One Direction tour coming up and all the doors that were being opened to them, that the others might just be starting to believe it too.

Luke laughs, biting his tongue, and shakes his head. “If you say so, Ash.”

“I know so,” Ashton says, picking up their teas from the coffee table and handing one off to Luke, taking a sip of his own before continuing.

“Who told you it was gonna snow then?” He asks.

Luke has both hands wrapped around his cup for warmth and takes a gulp of tea. “Mum did,” He says.

“I thought Michael might have been trying to wind you up again,” Ashton says with a grin.

“I hope it snows, I want to see snow,” Luke says pitifully, drinking his tea.

“It’s cold rain, Luke,” Ashton says rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be so boring, you’re nineteen, not ninety,” Luke says playfully, punching Ashton in the shoulder with his free hand.

“Well as I’m so ancient, I should probably go to bed,” Ashton says. “As should you, Luke.”

“Fine,” Luke says, frowning. “But in the morning, if it snows wake me up, please.”

“Why am I waking you up?” Ashton asks.

“Because you’ll be awake first I know you will, and I don’t wanna miss out on any of the snow.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

“Ashton, please?” Luke says. Ashton looks at Luke, illuminated by the side lamp, eyes glittering and smile beaming, and thinks of the way Luke will light up if it really does snow. He nods his head slowly. Ashton will never refuse an opportunity to be the cause of Luke’s happiness, taking every chance to stand in the glow he emits for another minute.

#prompt #prompt fic #5sos fanfiction #lashton #lashton fic #meg fic #if u see me posting a fic at 3:15am no u don't #i cannot sleep so i thought i would be ~useful~#love u em #redrattlers #ask

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

Text

Champions: Part 2

I said when I wrote part 1 for Stanuary last year that I planned on continuing this... it just took way longer than I expected.

Well, now I get to use part two for @stanuary 2021!

Chapter 2

“Gather ‘round everyone!” Linkara called in his team one morning. “I just got the dossier on my first opponent in the Contest of Champions.”

Jaeris, his coach, Dr. Linksano, his science expert, Pollo, his producer, and Harvey Finevoice, the general voice of reason, were all gathered in Linkara’s office.

“Who’s the guy?” Harvey asked.

“A man named Stanley Pines.”. Linkara answered, passing out photocopies of the documents.

“Huh, so they set you up with another first-timer.” Jaeris observed, scanning over the information. “He even comes from an alternate Earth a lot like yours.”

“So, they have you fighting a sextagenarian old man who runs a tourist trap?” Linksano asked incredulously.

“He’s a sextagenarian old man who destroyed an interdimensional chaos demon.” Linkara corrected. “He wouldn’t be in the Contest of Champions if he wasn’t a serious contender. Besides, I’m a middle-aged guy who reviews comic books on the internet, I’m hardly one to judge what this guy’s day-job is.”

“So who gets to choose the battle this time?” Pollo asked.

“We don’t know yet.” Linkara answered. “I think they’re supposed to let us know later today. But with the interdimensional temporal differences, we might not find out until next week.”

One of the Temlin’s hooded envoys appeared in the middle of the room, interrupting the discussion.

“Or, y’know, we could find out right now.”

* * *

Meanwhile, in Gravity Falls....

It had been a few months since Stan’s preliminary round in the Contest of Champions, and the elder Pines twins were back at the Mystery Shack for the summer. The Temlins had left them with a sort of “open channel” for communication, which Ford had connected to his monitoring equipment.

It’d been so long since they’d heard anything, that Stan was beginning to wonder if the whole thing wasn’t some sort of elaborate joke. Then one day, while Mabel was making breakfast, the alarm went off, and that creepy hooded hologram from before showed up in the middle of the kitchen.

Poor Mabel was so startled she almost dropped her pitcher of Mabel Juice, and Stan nearly made a move for his nearest gun before he realized what it was.

“Ford, that thing’s back!” He yelled.

The old researcher had already been rushing to the kitchen after he heard the alarm go off, and he appeared in the doorway just a second after Stan yelled. A still-sleepy Dipper was not far behind him.

“What’s going on?” the boy asked, rubbing crusties out of his eyes.

“It’s that stinkin’ contest thing I told you about!” Stan explained. “They finally remembered I exist, huh?”

“It’s all due to temporal differences.” Ford assured him. “I’m honestly surprised we didn’t have to wait longer.”

“Champion Stanley Pines, the time has come to set your first contest.” The hologram informed him. “For this round, you have been randomly selected to choose the nature of your competition.”

“Oh, really?” Stan grinned and slipped into conman mode. “Well, I’m really happy to hear that! Why don’t you have a seat and join us for breakfast while we talk?”

“Stanley, it’s a hologram.” Ford pointed out, but the Temlin emissary sat down at their little table.

“Why don’t you pour the nice alien hologram some Mabel Juice, Pumpkin.” Stan suggested. Mabel beamed and poured a tall glass for their guest.

“Oh boy, you’re in for a treat! I added extra Fizz Flints this time!”

Just as Ford was about to point out that, as a hologram, their guest couldn’t even pick up the glass, much less drink it, the Temlin emissary stared intently at the drink, and it began to empty, almost like an invisible straw was sipping it away.

“Incredible. We have explored the vast reaches of time and space. We understand the most intricate machinations of the universe. And yet we have never encountered a beverage like this.”

“Aww, thanks!” Mabel accepted their compliment graciously. “There’s more where that came from!” She filled the glass again.

“Heheh, yeah, sure there is sweetie.” Stan scooted her away and took a seat opposite of their guest. “Don’t give ‘em too much at once, kiddo, we want ‘em to savor it!”

Mabel nodded sagely. “That is so true. Let me know when you’re ready for more, Mr. Temlin.”

“Alright, alright, you kids run along. Me and Bigwig here are gonna talk business.”

The kids left with only minor protests. Ford was still standing in the doorway, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just witnessed.

“Ford, didn’t you have some sort of big project you were workin’ on?” Stan asked his brother pointedly.

“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing particularly urgent, at least….”

Stan shot his brother a significant glare.

“Oh! Oh, yes, I do have er, temporal disturbances to, ah, compare. Just… let me know when you’re done.”

“Now.” Stan said slyly as he sat across from the Temlin Emissary and steepled his fingers. “About this competition…”

* * *

“Champion Linkara, the time has come to set your first contest.” The hooded hologram declared. “While for this round, the decision ultimately rests with your opponent, you will be granted time to meet together and discuss the conditions of the competition. Speak aloud your readiness to begin the meeting, and it shall be done.”

“What, right now?” Harvey wondered incredulously.

“Eh, no time like the present.” Linkara reasoned. “So, is he coming here, or am I going there?”

“Champion Stanley Pines has agreed to meet in this location. He has also requested permission to bring a guest. Do you find this acceptable?”

“Sure, why not.” Linkara shrugged.

With a shimmer, the hologram disappeared, and two nearly identical old men took its place. They were both tall, broad-shouldered, and square jawed, with large ears, bulbous noses, and fluffy grey hair. One word a navy blue hoodie, the other a dark brown fisherman’s coat and a red beanie.

“Huh, not what I was expecting.” The one in the beanie grunted. “Just looks like someone’s basement. I thought the file said this guy had a spaceship.”

“I do, it’s undergoing some repairs right now.” Linkara stepped forward and extended a hand in greeting. “So, which one of you is Stanley Pines?”

The one in the hoodie gave him a piercing look, but the one in the beanie grinned and accepted the handshake. “That’s me. You can just call me Stan. This here’s my brother, Ford.”

Ford was looking around at Linkara’s gathered team. His gaze lingered on Linksano and Harvey. “Triplets, I presume? Incredible, what are the odds that two Champions from sets of multiples would end up competing against each other?”

“Whaddaya mean, triplets?” Harvey asked in confusion.

“Oh, come on, you three look even more alike than me an’ Ford, and we’re twins!” Stan scoffed.

“No we don’t!” Linksano protested. “I wear goggles, and he wears a hat!”

“What hat?” Linkara asked innocently.

“Yeah, you two wish you were as good lookin’ as me.” Harvey quipped.

“Er, weren’t we supposed to be setting the terms of your first match?” Pollo reminded them.

“Remarkable! Are you a sentient robot?” Ford leaned down for a closer look.

“Yes, and like most sentient beings, I don’t enjoy being stared at.”

“O-oh, of course!” Ford quickly folded his arms behind his back. “I apologize.”

“Uh, anyway, about that contest thing…” Stan steered the conversation back to the point. “I already talked with those Temlin guys, and it’s gonna be dirty boxing! They promised us a ring an’ everything!”

“What!?” Linkara protested. “How the h___ is dirty boxing a fair and reasonable battle? It has dirty in the name!”

“No hard feelin’s, kid, but you’re half my age, I need all the advantages I can get!” Stan defended. “‘Sides, I’ve read your file, I know you’ve got some experience fightin’ hand-to-hand.”

“I’ve read your file too, you used to be a professional prize fighter!”

“Tch, yeah, when I was in my 20’s. An’ it didn’t last long, believe me.”

“I thought the whole point of this meeting was to discuss the terms of the fight and come to an agreement!”

“Eh, that’s more of a formality than anything.” Jaeris clarified. “Since the final decision rests with whoever the Temlins chose, this time’s more for sizin’ each other up than convincin’ the other guy to even the playing field.”

“So what, whoever gets to pick the contest is basically guaranteed victory!?”

“Eh, not necessarily.” Jaeris corrected. “I didn’t get to pick my first round neither, an’ I still managed to come out on top by outsmartin’ my opponent.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, bucko.” Stan smirked.

“Stanley, don’t antagonize the man.” Ford chided him. “You’ve already literally given him an excuse to punch you in the face.”

“That’s the idea, genius.” Stan rolled his eyes. “But seriously, good luck with your preparations and stuff. I’m lookin’ forward to the fight, should be fun.” He grinned warmly at his opponent. “So, uh, are we done here? How do we get back to the boat?”

The air around them shimmered, and they disappeared just as quickly as they’d arrived in the first place.

“...He seemed nice.” Jaeris commented after they’d left. “H___ of a lot nicer than my first opponent, that’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah, perfectly nice!” Linkara agreed with false cheer. “If you ignore the fact that he’s basically been given permission to cheat. What a load of bullcrap!”

“You’re not going to give up just because your opponent has an unfair advantage, are you?” Pollo asked.

“Oh no, I told you guys, I’m in it to win it.” the comic reviewer assured them. “I just need someone to complain to.”

“I mean, I guess you could try and file a complaint with the Temlins, but I wouldn’t count on it makin’ any difference.” Jaeris said.

“Alright. Dr. Linksano, could you start drafting a complaint letter?”

“I’m a mad scientist, not your secretary!”

“I’ll pay you by the word.”

“Deal.”

“In the meantime, if I’m gonna beat this guy, I am going to need a really great training montage!”

* * *

The day of the first round came. Both parties were teleported to a boxing ring that had been set up within the Temlins’ stadium. Linkara and his crew were set up in the green corner, while Stan and his brother were in the red.

“Why are both of you fully dressed?” Linksano asked. “Don’t boxers usually just wear a pair of shorts?”

“You really think folks wanna see two outta shape guys fight topless?” Stan reasoned.

“Well, yes. Many people throughout the multiverse are very into that!”

“If you both feel more comfortable keepin’ your shirts on, then that’s the fight the Temlins are gonna put on.” Jaeris said.

“Contestants, enter the ring to begin your first round in the Contest of Champions!” The Temlins’ holographic envoy commanded.

Stan and Linkara both climbed into the ring, meeting in the center to shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

“So, uh, how long’s it been for you?” Stan asked.

“Eh, a couple of months. You?”

“Almost a year and a half. I almost forgot about this whole thing!”

“The contestants are in place. Fight with honor, fight with pride, most of all, fight well. Begin!”

“Kick his a__ kid!” Harvey cheered.

“You can do it, Stanley! Show him what the Pines family is made of!” Ford encouraged.

Stan made the first blow with a quick pop to the stomach and followed up by stepping on his opponent’s leading foot.

“...oww…” Linkara groaned and reeled back a step or two, but otherwise looked as ready as ever.

Stan raised an eyebrow in surprise. He’d expected the out-of-shape comic reviewer to be a push-over, but the guy could take more punishment than he thought.

Linkara landed a haymaker square in Stan’s chest. It was clear the kid had no form and no training, but he certainly packed a wallop.

They exchanged more sloppy blows. Most of the time, Stan didn’t have any trouble blocking the kid’s punches, but some of them were so wild and out there that he either didn’t see them coming or didn’t know how to block them.

“I AM A MAN!!” Linkara shouted, and despite the fact that it was as clearly telegraphed as possible, the punch was somehow impossible to block. The blow knocked Stan onto his back, and he was pretty sure there’d been a flash of light and some sound effects.

“What the heck was that!?” Stan quickly pulled himself up off the mat before the ref could ring the bell on him.

“I dunno, it does something different every time.” Linkara shrugged.

Stan squared his shoulders. It was time to end this. “Left Hook!” He wound up and socked the guy right in the jaw. The blow was actually enough to spin the comic reviewer on his heel, and he fell to the floor.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… It’s a knockout!” The ref declared.

Stan stood over his defeated opponent. “You ok, kid?” He asked, offering a hand up.

“...and tha’s why Pow-Rangers Megforssss.... Iz zah bes’ seezin of all…” The comic review offered only a slurred non-sequitur as a reply.

“Champion Linkara is unable to continue the fight! This match goes to--” The ref was about to hold Stan’s hand aloft in victory, when another Temlin Emissary, this one clearly different from the first, appeared.

“Stop these proceedings at once!” The hologram commanded with a booming voice. “There is reason to believe that Champion Stanley Pines bribed one of the Temlin Judges in order to receive an unfair advantage in this contest!”

“Ha! What? I dunno what this guy’s talkin’ about!” Stan insisted nervously. “I don’t even know what a bribe is!”

“How could anyone possibly bribe the Temlins? They’re all-powerful!” Ford asked. “I know Stan is quite the charmer, but what could my brother possibly offer them as a bribe?”

“A good question. We never would have guessed it was possible either, but Champion Linkara filed an official complaint. As we looked into his concerns, we found that our representative sent to determine the first competition with Champion Stanley Pines made themself unobservable for approximately 10 Earth Minutes. As for what Champion Stanley could have offered as a bribe, the answer is as simple as it is shocking: A new experience.”

“What the h___ is that supposed to mean?” Harvey asked.

“The Temlins started this competition because they were bored with all their limitless power.” Jaeris recalled. “So if this guy was really able to show them somethin’ new, that might actually be enough to work as a bribe!”

“When we further investigated the representative in question, we found them in possession of a large quantity of a heretofore unknown beverage called Mabel Juice. Upon interrogation, the representative confessed to accepting the beverage in exchange for approving ‘Dirty Boxing’ as the round’s competition.”

“Dang it, should’ve known that alien jerk would rat me out.” Stan muttered under his breath.

“As a consequence, the representative has been suspended from duty, and Champion Stanley has been disqualified from the Contest of Champions.”

“And you guys couldn’t have disqualified him before he beat me up?” Linkara asked incredulously as he picked himself up off the mat.

“The match was already set to be broadcast, and there was no alternative to fill the time slot.”

“So, what, this guy wins after all?” Stan pointed to his opponent.

“Champion Linkara will be assigned a new opponent for his first round. We shall choose another Champion who had previously been in consideration for this tournament.”

“Oh come on! So I have to fight two first rounds!?” Linkara complained.

“We shall inform you when your new opponent has been chosen.” The Temlin emissary continued as if they hadn’t heard him, before disappearing.

“So, uh, no hard feelings?” Stan grinned sheepishly, extending a handshake to Linkara.

“Yes! Yes, some hard feelings!” Linkara shouted at him.

“Welp, that’s my cue to get outta here. C’mon Ford!”

The elder Pines twins ducked into a portal back to the Stan’O’War II before the comic reviewer completely lost his temper. They sat down at the table and shared a hearty laugh.

Ford shook his head. “Stan, you’re the only person I know who could possibly bribe a race of all-powerful beings, and get away with it."

"Didn't quite get away with it, did I?" Stan shook his head.

“Well, you may have been disqualified, but you weren’t zapped or banished to a featureless void, which is more than most people who have crossed the Temlins can say.”

Stan grinned. “Heh, well, that might’ve been because they all want a shot at trying Mabel Juice. I’d better call her. Somethin’ tells me she’s gonna get some extra-dimensional visitors in the near future.”

#Gravity Falls #Stanuary 2021 #Stanley Pines #atop the fourth wall #Stanford Pines #Linkara #Fanfiction #My Writing #The silliness continues #Charm

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one-with-the-floor · 4 years

Text

Tuesday Morning Rush

Day 1 of @ineffablehusbandsweek!

Today’s meet cute features extremely competent Aziraphale, extremely sleep deprived Crowley, and poor Newt having no idea what’s going on. Also on AO3 right here!

“Anthony!”

Aziraphale set the paper cup on the serving counter and turned back to the kettle screaming at him. It was nine a.m. on a Tuesday, and everyone in London wanted their morning caffeine fix. Michael was handling the ordering station like the pro she was, and Uriel was making good use of their patented “hurry up and leave” look to keep the shop’s limited seating in rotation, but that left Aziraphale to man the coffee making on his own.

Not that he really minded it. He liked his job. It was quiet, sort of. No matter how loud the shop got, he’d learned to tune it out and go about his business behind the counter. Get an order, check off all the steps to make the drink, pop the cup up on the counter and shout the name on the cup. It didn’t take much thought anymore. He could run a Tuesday rush in his sleep by now.

“Er, excuse me? Sorry?” Aziraphale turned away from the milk steamer and nearly ran into a boy in an impressively stained apron. ‘Newt,’ his name tag read. Aziraphale wondered if that was the result of a prank someone was playing on the poor boy or just a name even less fortunate than his own.

“You’re the new lad, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asked. He always thought it was important to be polite, regardless of how many people were crowding the shop.

“I am, yeah, just started today. I’m meant to be barista…ing?”

Aziraphale looked Newt up and down. Besides the apron stains, his shirt buttons were askew, his hair was already escaping his cap, and there were no less than six plasters on his fingers and hands. Aziraphale glanced at the line of waiting customers. He looked back at Newt. “Right. Well, if you could just stand there, by the espresso machine—”

“Here?”

“That’s the steamer dear boy—no, no, that’ll do fine, just stand right there.” Aziraphale assessed his new co-worker, now standing squished between the back counter and the wall. “Perfect.” A kettle started screaming, and Aziraphale threw himself back into his coffee making, darting around the little work space with ease.

“Tracy!” he called as he plopped the next drink on the counter. A boisterous shop regular in an orange wig bustled forward, and Aziraphale waved as she took her drink. Then he stopped, and frowned at the other cup still sat on the counter. He read the name on it. “Anthony!” he shouted again. Probably the man just hadn’t heard him the first time. It had gotten quite loud.

Aziraphale scanned the room. No one came forward to claim the cup. “Oh, dear,” he tsked. Some poor soul must’ve gotten pinned at the back of the crowd, or stuck on a distracting phone call. He glanced at Newt, still standing nervously in his assigned corner. “Mind your ears.”

“Huh?”

“Your ears, dear, cover them.”

Looking even more terrified than before, Newt did as he was told. Aziraphale took a deep, strong breath.

“ANTHONY!” The chatter of the shop hushed while Aziraphale’s shout rang through the room. He’d enjoyed theater in high school. Still had the booming stage voice to prove it. The noise picked up again a moment later, but Aziraphale noticed a tad smugly that a man in a soft grey beanie sitting in the back corner had startled and stumbled to his feet. He walked sheepishly up to the counter, smothering a yawn.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No trouble,” Aziraphale said as he pushed the cup toward its owner. Anthony looked up, and Aziraphale saw deep circles under his eyes and a furrow down his brow. “Are you quite alright?”

Anthony tried to smile, but was defeated by another yawn. “Yeah, great, perfect. Totally fine, me.” He reached for his coffee and missed, jambing his fingers into the counter.

“Are… are you sure?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nope,” he popped. “But I gotta get to work, so. Y’know.”

Aziraphale did. He was an early bird by nature, but the early mornings and lack of sleep hit him sometimes, too. “Here,” he offered, handing over the cup. “Drink that up, take a nap if you can sneak one, and I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

Anthony took the cup. He was staring at Aziraphale. “...thanks,” he said. “Been, uh. Been a rough week, I guess.”

Aziraphale was just about to commiserate when Anthony reached up to scratch his neck and knocked his beanie off kilter. He pulled the hat off, and suddenly there was a cascade of fire red curls tumbling down his back. Aziraphale stared. His mouth may have been open. He wasn’t sure, and couldn’t seem to care. The whole thing had seemed to be in slow motion, like something out of a movie.

Anthony was quick to bundle his hair back into a knot and tuck it into his hat again, snapping Aziraphale out of his head. But he couldn’t seem to leave the counter, despite the alarms and timers starting to go off behind him. He couldn’t make himself look away from Anthony’s face, his cheekbones, his beautiful golden-hazel eyes, made even brighter by the shadows under them, the little curve of his lips, the—grimace?

Anthony was taking a second sip of his coffee, a look of pain on his face. Aziraphale’s heart plummeted. “Sorry,” he said hurriedly, half reaching for the cup. “Is it wrong? I must’ve messed up the order, I’m so sorry, I promise this doesn’t happen—well, it, it does, it happened to you, but it won’t happen again I promise pleasedon’tnotcomebackI’msorry.”

Anthony blinked at him. Aziraphale could practically see the sleep clogged gears in his mind trying to parse what he’d said before he gave up with a shake of his head. “No, sorry, ‘s my fault. Could I… sorry, ‘s there any chance I could have just a little bit of milk in this?”

Aziraphale’s face went hot. “Yes,” he said quickly, snatching the cup away from Anthony so fast the man was left blinking at his empty hand. “I really am so sorry, your order said black coffee so that’s what I made, there must’ve been a mistake at the register or in the system—”

“Er. No, actually.” Anthony said sheepishly. He scratched the back of his neck again, and Aziraphale found himself slightly disappointed when his hat stayed in place. “I, um. I did order black coffee. Just. I don’t actually like it.”

“Oh! Oh,” Aziraphale said. The panic in his chest started to ease, replaced by a much more welcome feeling of amusement. He passed Anthony’s no-longer-black coffee back to him. “Have a reputation to uphold?” he teased.

To his delight, Anthony smiled. “That and a debilitating need to avoid long interactions with cashiers.” Aziraphale laughed. The tips of Anthony’s ears went red, but he looked pleased. Aziraphale wondered what that blush might look like with his hair hanging loose around his face.

Then the timer on the kettle right next to him went off, and they both jumped. Aziraphale glanced at the growing list of incoming orders, and Anthony checked the time on his phone. “I gotta run,” Anthony said, sounding disappointed in a way that went right to Aziraphale’s heart.

“I need to get back to work, too. But, um. I’ll see you another time?”

Anthony grinned. “Yeah. Think I might become a regular customer here.”

“Oh?”

“Well, y’know. They’ve got great service.”

Aziraphale thought he might start floating off the ground, he felt so giddy. Then Anthony tried to take another sip of coffee and very nearly missed his mouth entirely. “Oh, dear. Here.” Aziraphale passed him a large fistful of napkins.

Anthony blinked at them for a moment before his sleep deprived brain figured out where it was again. “Right,” he said. “Thanks. No more all-nighters, I’m getting too old for this.” He snapped open a pair of sunglasses and jammed the napkins into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said again, and flashed Aziraphale an exhausted but grateful smile before he took off. Aziraphale watched him go, wide eyed as he pushed through the crowd, wincing as he nearly tripped over air on his way out the door. The wind outside pulled a stray lock of red hair out of his hat as he turned down the sidewalk, and Aziraphale watched it bounce next to his ear until Anthony was out of sight.

“Oh, dear,” he said to himself. The man was pretty. The man was really pretty, and polite, and really rather sweet. Aziraphale was already thinking about whether he’d be back tomorrow. How many coffee orders was it considered appropriate to wait before writing one’s number on the cup?

“Er,” a voice said behind him. “Sorry, is there something I should be doing?”

Aziraphale blinked and snapped back into action. “No!” he said cheerfully. “No, my dear Newt, you are doing wonderfully just there. You keep doing as you are, and I’ll handle this.” He popped a cup out of the rack and swung it towards the coffee makers with ease, slapping on his work smile and getting back to business.

He didn’t stop thinking about him, though. It was ridiculous, falling into a crush so fast, but the heart would do as it would. Aziraphale let out a happy wiggle when he remembered he was working the same shift the next day. If he was lucky, he’d get a chance for a real conversation with Anthony tomorrow. Until then, he would make the coffee, and boil the tea, and reassure Newt that he was perfectly fine standing just there, really, just hold on till things slowed down a bit, and daydream about fire red hair as he worked.

#ineffable husbands au week #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #newton pulsifer #coffee shop au #my fic

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nevernotwriting · 4 years

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You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 1: A Proposition

Read me on AO3!

It had been a normal morning so far. Well, as normal as it could get when you worked for a kind but, quite frankly, sketchy group of people.

You pulled off of the freeway, making your way through crossroads and down a path you previously thought abandoned. After graduating from a master’s in cyber security from Caltech, you’d been lucky enough to land a job almost immediately after your project was handed in, meaning you didn’t have to haul yourself and your belongings all the way back home to the backwaters of Pennsylvania. Sure, you did have to haul yourself across Los Angeles in a giant moving van, but a couple of hours of California traffic was much better than a several thousand-mile journey across the States. Over the last few months, you’d settled nicely into a life you could call your own, filled with people from all walks of life, and with much warmer weather.

You smiled to yourself as you scanned your ID card at the gateway to your HQ, thinking of all the people you’d met so far at this bizarre yet wonderful job. There was your boss, for a start. She’d changed her name so many times that everyone lost track and instead settled on calling her ‘Shark’, which she welcomed with a hearty laugh and a flash of a mouth full of teeth. The name suited her, you thought.

You and some of your other colleagues also liked to use unusual codenames, both for privacy and for fun. There was Vakarian, who had an affinity for calibrating everyone’s computers and was a killer shot with a sniper rifle. Next was Shrike, who had named herself after a type of bird known for piercing its prey on thorn bushes. You decided not to ask her why she chose that name. For yourself, you settled on Zero, a reference to your almost lifelong affinity for binary code which led you down the tech path in the first place.

There were others who just chose to use their real names – Jasmine, Gareth, and Mark. You and Jasmine worked together regularly in the tech department, spending hours chatting in between your hacking sessions and gaining intel on building layouts for the heist experts. Jasmine had been on two heists herself, and always came in the next day talking at a million miles per hour about how fun it was, how it sent her adrenaline skyrocketing higher than any rollercoaster ever had.

By her mannerisms today, you guessed she’d been on a third heist last night. You’d been settled at your desk for all of two minutes when she waltzed in, placing a cup of coffee down for you and twirling in her chair with a gigantic grin on her face.

“Mornin’ Jazz,” you greeted her. “Another heist last night? How was it?”

Jasmine began her spiel before you could even reach a hand towards your coffee. She rambled on and on about the thrill of scaling buildings, how good her new night vision goggles were, and how she nearly got caught but managed to make it out right on schedule.

“Zero, you have to go,” she finished at last, taking a sip from her own cup. “You won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, shrugging your shoulders. “I dunno, Jazz. I’m more of a behind the scenes tech monkey.” You’d been on a few scoping exhibitions, but that just involved sitting on a rooftop watching guard rotations until the early hours of the morning. You’d never done anything more adventurous, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just yet.

She rolled her eyes, wheeling her chair closer to you. “But think about it. You could get some more up-close-and-personal time with Mark,” she whispered, nodding her head to your left.

You followed her gesture. Mark had just entered the office, dressed in all black. He took off his beanie and swept a hand through his dark hair. It immediately flopped forwards again, so he shook his head to one side. The action seemed to go in slow motion, and you tried not to stare.

Before you could chastise yourself for definitely staring, Mark’s eyes landed on yours. He shot you a warm smile that lit up his whole face, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks as you smiled back, giving a little wave before swizzling round in your chair.

“No way,” you hissed in embarrassment, snatching up your coffee before it turned cold. As it turned out, it was still very much burning hot. You tried not to wince as you forced the liquid down.

“Why not?” She shot back. “Look, he’s clearly into you. He practically jumped at the opportunity to show you the ropes of all the heist gear, and to a rooftop night shift with you. You guys are always lingering by the water cooler together on breaks, giggling away like little schoolkids. And, Shrike told me he asked you out on a date last week.”

You nearly spat out your second mouthful of molten coffee. Jasmine sat back in her chair with a smug grin as you glared at her.

“How does she know that?!” You tried not to yell as Vakarian milled into the workplace, throwing around cheery greetings.

“You know Shrike,” Jasmine shrugged. “She gets around. She skimped on the details, though. So, what did he say exactly?”

You could see Jasmine wasn’t going to let this go. You sighed, mirroring Jasmine’s posture as you began to recount the details of that evening.

You got out of your chair and stretched triumphantly, knowing you were just about done for the day. The last thing you had to do was collect the blueprints you’d sketched up from the printer, then leave it on Shark’s desk for her to look at in the morning. You did just that, and dusted your hands off with a satisfied smile as you made your way down the corridor to the exit.

You’d been so caught up in your daydream of getting home, changing into your pyjamas, and curling up in front of the TV that you hadn’t realised that you weren’t the last one in the building. That is until you walked straight into another person.

You gasped at the abrupt contact, shutting your eyes as your prepared to hit the ground. The fall never came. A strong hand caught yours and pulled you upright with a gentle grunt of effort. When you opened your eyes, you were face to face with a kind smile and dark, inquisitive eyes.

Mark’s eyes.

Blood rushed to your face immediately, and you stumbled out an awkward apology.

“Jesus, s-sorry Mark. Didn’t realise you were still here.”

Mark just laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, but not an unkind one. “No problem Zero.”

Your eyes travelled back to his from where they had chosen to fixate on the floor. He was still smiling at you, and you managed to smile back sheepishly. His face only brightened as you curled out of your awkward posture to face him properly. He’d been incredibly sweet to you ever since you joined, and you two became even closer after many hours spent on that rooftop in the middle of the night a few weeks back. That night in particular really caused a stir in your feelings, and brought up a whirlwind of emotions you’d never felt before.

That whirlwind started all over again as you realised he was still holding your hand. You cleared your throat and he broke your shared gaze, letting go and scratching the back of his head.

“Hope I didn’t hurt you,” you said, gaining a small amount of bravery and dusting off his shoulders from where you’d collided. A hint of pink appeared on his cheeks at your action, but he covered it up with a barrage of his usual confidence.

“Me? Nah, I’m a big strooong man,” he replied, puffing out his chest and grunting in an exaggerated manner. He curled his biceps for an exaggerated effect, clearly trying to make you laugh.

And boy did he. You doubled over, failing to stifle a snort. Your face grew hotter at the embarrassing noise you hadn’t intended to make, but Mark seemed to revel in it, his grin growing wider with pride at getting such a strong reaction from you.

“Anyway,” he started again as you both calmed down from your shared laughter. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”

You raised your eyebrows and stayed silent, waiting.

Mark let out a short exhale, running a hand through his hair and then across his stubble. Despite the joy on his face mere seconds ago, he now looked a little uncertain. It wasn’t an expression that came naturally to him; he normally paraded around with a kind yet confident smile as he told you about the heists he’d pulled off in the past, about his family, and as he asked about yours. You’d never seen him like this before, and you didn’t know what to expect.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Look, I really like spending time with you here. Showin’ you all the gear, chatting over coffee, all the usual work stuff.” His voice was quiet. He cleared his throat again, taking a step closer to you and looking into your eyes once more.

“But I’d like to get to know you better, in some place that’s not work related. Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

Your mind screeched to a halt as you stood frozen on the spot. Did you hear him correctly? It sounded like Mark just asked you out on a date. Mark the heist expert, Mark the previous engineering student, Mark your very cute co-worker, wanted to go on a date with you.

You couldn’t lie to yourself - the thought had crossed your mind several times over the past few weeks. When he held out a hand to you after you fell flat on your ass when you failed to use the grappling gun. When his form lingered around yours as he taught you how to aim a tranquiliser pistol. When you sat on that rooftop together exchanging stories and his eyes never looked away as you started opening up to him. You just never expected it to actually… well, happen.

A gigantic grin, bigger than all those before, broke out onto your face. “Mark, I’d love to!”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Great!” He exclaimed, a relieved laugh escaping him. “When works best for you?”

You hesitated, remembering your schedule was pretty booked for the upcoming weekend. “In all honesty, I’m pretty busy this weekend. Family visiting,” you tried not to sound too negative. “But maybe after then?”

Mark nodded understandingly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling on the spot. “Sure thing. I’m free most of the time, so whenever works for you, really.”

You smiled back, heart skipping beats as reality set in. You and Mark were going on a date. Sure, you didn’t know exactly when you were going on this date, but it was definitely happening soon.

“I’ll let you know, for sure! For now though, I guess we’d better be heading home,” you replied, a spring in your step as you and Mark made your way to the exit. It was dark when you got outside, so Mark insisted on walking you to your car, even though it wasn’t too far from where he’d parked his own. You turned to Mark when you stood next to your vehicle, unsure of what to expect but not wanting to seem rude.

Mark stood with his hands in his pockets again, beaming at you like before. You felt heat rise to your face again; you’d never get used to him looking at you like that.

“Goodnight, Zero.” He took his hands out of his pockets and held his arms out for a hug, which you more than happily accepted. He was warm and his hold around you was strong but comforting, making you feel safe and at ease. Your heart was beating rapidly again as you wound your own arms around his waist and spoke into his ear.

“You can call me by my real name if you want.”

You let your arms trail away from him as his grip softened. Mark looked surprised, but flattered, by your suggestion. He pursed his lips in thought.

“How about we keep it as Zero for work?” He suggested. “I’ll switch to your real name for our date.”

You nodded as you unlocked your car. “Deal.”

He winked at you as he walked away backwards, almost tripping on his own feet. You covered a small laugh with your hand. Mark regained his composure and waved you goodbye. You waved back, getting into your car and driving into the night.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #my writing #nevernotwriting #ahwm yancy

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sdottkrames · 4 years

Text

Purple Peter Eater

Summary: @comfortember prompt 1 - rescue

Halloween is interrupted by none other than Flash Thompson, and when he’s mean to her big brother, Morgan has something to say about it. After all, even superheroes need rescuing sometimes

Read it on A03: here

***If anybody would like me to tag them, please let me know. I don’t have very many followers, and I don’t know how many read my stories, but I’ve seen tag lists and would love to start one of my own!***

“Petey! Psssssst. Petey!!!” something nudged at Peter’s side. “Wake up!”

Peter groaned and turned over in bed, opening his eyes to meet his little sister’s unfathomably energetic ones. He looked at the clock, rubbing his eyes until the blue numbers revealed themselves to say 6:15 am.

“Mo, it’s too early,” he mumbled, rolling back onto his back and closing his eyes again. “You need to go back to sleep.”

She climbed onto the bed and started patting his cheek insistently. “But PETER!” She paused to take a breath as if the next word held all the weight of the world. “ Candy!”

Peter’s eyes cracked open and he gave her a small grin as he remembered the day.

“Okay, okay. I understand why you’re excited. Why don’t we go downstairs and turn on a movie until breakfast?”

Morgan’s eyes widened and Peter could see the plan forming there. “But no candy for breakfast, little monster. We’re going to watch a movie, and that’s it.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get to eat plenty of sugar tonight after Trick-or-Treating.” He ruffled the little girl’s hair as they headed down the stairs into the living room of the Stark lake house.

Once Morgan was settled on the couch, snuggled into his side with Frozen II playing quietly in the background, Peter slowly fell back asleep.

He was jolted awake about an hour later as Morgan shouted joyously along with Elsa as she discovered Ahttohallan, and he giggled at her enthusiasm. Like most girls her age, his sister loved Frozen. He was surprised that she wasn’t wearing her white Elsa dress already and figured Pepper must have hidden it for that exact reason. Morgan would wear that dress day in and day out if she were allowed. She’d been begging to wear it for weeks, and he knew Pepper wanted to save it for Halloween.

“You excited for tonight, Momo?”

Morgan turned around and leapt into Peter’s arms. “SO excited!”

He kissed her forehead, natural as anything, and hugged her to him. When he’d first met Morgan, he was definitely a little scared. Scared because suddenly he was questioning his place in Mr. Stark’s life. Now that he had a daughter of his own, how would he ever find time for Peter? Peter was just…some kid from Queens that Mr. Stark had taken pity on. Morgan was real flesh and blood.

But then that little girl had looked up at him with wonder and awe in her eyes, and any doubt that Mr. Stark loved him started to fade as she said, matter-of-factly, “You’re Spider-Man. Daddy’s told me about you.” She had hugged him then, her little arms firm around his neck. “I’m so glad you aren’t lost anymore.”

Peter had most definitely cried. And then his fears morphed into something else. Suddenly, he was a big brother, and that scared him. He’d never had a sibling; how would he even know what to do? Would he be a good example? Would he be able to protect her? Would she love him when she got to know him more? But Morgan fit into his life just as naturally as she’d fit into his lap, and soon the two were nearly inseparable. (Tony denied it, but he got teary-eyed when he saw his two kids together, alive and well.)

Peter could hear and smell bacon sizzling in the kitchen, and soon Tony called them in for breakfast. The next few hours passed in a blur. They ate and then took on the battle of keeping Morgan entertained until she was allowed to get into her costume. Pepper coerced her into helping clear the table and helping Tony feed Gerald, and then Peter is enlisted to entertain her. He took her swinging in the woods near their house, raked a pile of leaves for them both to jump into (cause c’mon, it’s a pile of leaves! Of course, Peter jumped in them too!) and even played tea party in her backyard tent.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Morgan got more and more impatient until it was close enough to trick-or-treating time that she could finally, finally get into her costume. Pepper made it a whole thing to make Morgan feel special, curling her hair slightly and letting her wear makeup (Pepper and Tony had decided she would wear make up until she was at least 13 except on very special occasions). Morgan preened in the living room as Happy, May, Peter, Tony, and Pepper smile and clapped and assured her she looked beautiful.

The adults dressed in casual outfits, but Peter had been roped into being Kristoff for Morgan. It hadn’t been too difficult to find a costume, and he wasn't going to complain about an excuse to dress up and get free candy, no matter his age.

So they headed out, the adults in their jeans and halloween shirts (Peter insisted on some festivity from them, thank you very much) and Morgan in her white Elsa dress and a white jacket, and Peter bundled up as Kristoff. He wore a brown shirt under a black sweater, coupled with black pants, brown boots and a red belt. He even found a black beanie to really commit to the look.

Morgan was thrilled, and Peter couldn’t ask for more.

They headed into New York, because the lake house didn’t have many neighbors, and Morgan threw herself into getting candy with gusto, knocking on doors like it was her day job. The adults lagged behind, leaving Peter, with his limitless energy, to keep up with Morgan.

Time suddenly slowed down and stopped as Peter made eye contact with a familiar face, and not in a good way.

“Hey, Flash,” Peter said, and Morgan paused as she watched Peter’s face fall, shooting a frown at this newcomer that made her big brother’s smile go away. He was some kind of character in a purple suit with green hair and some weird scars on the side of his mouth. Morgan didn’t know what he was supposed to be, but he reminded her of the song her dad had played this morning, Purple People Eaters.

“What’s up Penis,” Flash sneered. “Aren’t you a little too old to be Trick-or-treating?”

“Aren’t you?” Peter shot back, finding strength as his sister’s hand slipped into his. His hand still trembled and his heartbeat was loud in his ear, but he had his sister at least.

However, that presented its own problem.

Why, of all places, is Flash here? Peter wondered bitterly, and prayed that the bully wouldn’t say anything more. He was determined to be a good example to Morgan. He couldn’t let her hear what they said about him, what he sometimes let himself believe. She was too good and pure.

“Duh. That’s why I’m not.” Flash grinned and pointed to a house down the street that was lit up, colorful lights filtering through the windows, and music seeping out the front door, pulsing like a living thing. “I was at this thing called a party, which you might have heard of if you were ever invited to one. Too bad you don’t have friends.”

Suddenly the small hand that was holding his wrenched away, and Peter looked over at Morgan, surprised. Only...she was already several steps away, marching right up to Flash, her eyes blazing and mouth set firm in the way she does when she really doesn’t like whatever they’re having for dinner.

“That is my brother ,” she said, glaring up at Flash, who stood about twice her height. “He is the best big brother in the whole wide world, and you should be nice to him. It’s not nice to be mean to people.” She took a breath and her glare became a little less frosty. “But Daddy says that when people are mean to other people, they are hurting on the inside, so we should be extra nice to them.” She sniffed, considering, and then shocked the heck out of everyone (because by now the others caught up and heard Morgan’s little speech) as she wrapped her arms around Flash. His face goes completely blank. “So I’ll be nice to you. But now you have to apologize to Petey.”

She pulled back to level the teenager with a look that is so Pepper, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she gestured to Peter. Nobody, absolutely nobody , can resist that look, even given from a five year old, and Pepper preened a little with pride.

“Sorry, Peter,” Flash mumbled, not meeting Peter’s eyes.

Peter’s eyes widened slightly. “Thanks. Happy Halloween, Flash.”

“You too.”

Flash looked like he’d rather be literally anywhere else, his defenses crumbling slightly, bravado effectively brought to nothing by a little girl. He brushed past the group, heading towards his car.

Peter marveled at how good and mature his little sister is. Here he was worrying about being a good mentor to her, and she taught him! He decided to follow her example and extend some good will.

“Flash,” he called. “Do you wanna come with us? You’re never too old for free candy.”

Flash flushed. “Thanks, but I actually have to go,” he said vaguely. “Places to go, people to meet. You know.”

He quickly turned and hurried off, and Peter looked back to his little sister.

“Thanks, Mo.”

“Even heroes need rescuing sometimes, Peter,” she said sagely, wrapping her hand in his again.

“I guess you’re right. You’re my hero then, Princess. Now, your majesty,” he said with a flourish, offering Morgan his arm. “shall we go procure some more candy for our loyal subjects?”

With that, they resumed their activities, knocking on doors and filling their baskets with more candy than anyone could possibly want.

They didn’t notice Tony quietly following the boy, Flash, to his car.

“Aren’t my kids just amazing?” He asked, grinning to himself when the boy jumps.

“Do I know you?”

In answer, Tony flipped off his hood, gratified even more when the teenager’s eyes widened and his mouth popped open.

“Y-your kids, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, Princess Elsa and Kristoff over there. I believe my daughter made you apologize for being mean to my son?” Tony raised his eyebrows, and Flash’s mouth moved, but not a sound came out. Tony’s eyes softened, and he decided to take pity on the kid. “Here’s the deal, I bet you’re a good kid. Probably got a rough home life, so you take it out on other people. I get it. But how about you stop doing that. You might make some real friends that way, yeah?” Just to be sure he got the point across, Tony hardened his voice again. “But if I ever hear about you harassing my son again, I will find you, and we will have another little chat. And I won’t hesitate to bring the little girl, either. Understand?”

Flash nodded mutely, practically jumping into his car after Tony patted his shoulder and started heading back to his family, now a block away.

Once Peter and Morgan have filled their baskets, they head back to the lake house to snuggle by the fire, watch Hocus Pocus together, and eat as much candy as they possibly can. Tony situated himself on the couch with Morgan between him and Pepper, and Peter on his other side. Happy and May elected to avoid the already squished couch, instead snuggling on the loveseat.

“Tony, quit stealing all the Reece’s!” Peter complained as his mentor pilfered a fifth one.

“Fine.” Tony rolled his eyes and took one of Morgan’s instead, eliciting a loud complaint from the little girl.

“Daddy, we already gave you so much candy. You can’t have more.”

“Will you guys pipe down,” Happy grumbled, and the others laughed before turning their eyes to the screen.

But Tony’s eyes never left his kids- his beautiful, brave, selfless, kind kids- watching as they slowly slip into a sugar-induced food coma.

Once the movie is over, he carried them upstairs, kissing his love and whispering his assurances into their hair.

Happy Halloween,” he whispered, standing in the doorway, drinking in the still somewhat overwhelming sight of them snuggled together on Peter’s bed before shutting out the lights.

Morgan really couldn’t have a better role model. Morgan may have rescued Peter earlier that day, but she learned it from him.

What a happy Halloween, indeed.

#happy halloweeeeeeen #mine #comfortember 2020 #comfortember

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screamxqueenx94 · 4 years

Text

Heart Monitor Part 1// Teen Wolf Series Rewrite

A/N: Finally have time to post this! Hope you guys enjoy! (Not my GIF)

Warnings: none

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x OC!Charli Vérszívó; eventually Stiles Stilinski x OC!Charli Vérszívó

Italics= inner thoughts

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I wake up the next morning and get ready for school. I put on a black rose shirt and ripped skinny jeans and throw a flannel over it, unbuttoned. I throw on my beanie and head downstairs to the kitchen where my dad is waiting for me with his arms crossed.

"What's up?" I ask, reaching for the mug sitting on the counter for me.

I got to take a sip, when he puts his hand over it and guides back down. He crosses his arms back over his chest. He looks down at the floor, then back to me.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"There was an attack at your school last night…" He informs me.

"Sheriff Stilinski was hurt..." He continues with sympathy filling his voice.

"What happened? Is he okay?" I ask concerned.

"He'll be alright, nothing serious, but that's not important right now."

There's a pause of silence. I get a sense of chills up my spine, fearing what he's going to say next.

"We were attacked by a mountain lion." He continues.

"You stopped it, right? Y--you stopped it before it could hurt anyone, right?" I ask, setting the mug down completely and approaching him a little closer.

"No, but someone else did…" he answered quietly.

"W--who?" I ask nervously.

"Chris Argent…"

I look at him confused. "Allison's dad?"

He just nods his head.

"Well that's good then, right? I mean, if he stopped it from hurting people then it's a good--" he cuts me off.

"It's not good for us, Charli." He states.

"I'm confused." I state.

He sighs, uncrosses his arms and rests one hand on the counter, then looks at me with a thoughtful look. "The Argents are supernatural hunters… they kill people like us…"

I just look at him in shock. I step back, unsure what to do or even say. He then steps closer with a stern look in his eye.

"I want you to stay away from Allison, do you understand me?"

"B--but, Dad--" he cuts me off again.

"I mean it, Charli! Stay. Away. From Allison." He spits harshly.

I huff and cross my arms across my chest. I look down, then back to him.

"Fine…" I answer through gritted teeth. I grab my mug, down it, wipe my mouth and start heading to the door.

As I open the door, he calls back to me. I turn to him. He tosses me my keys. "Just got it back from the shop this morning. Drive safe."

I turn back to the door and slam it behind me.

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I get to school and already, its hard to avoid Allison. She's around literally every corner and I practically collide with Scott. He quickly helps me pick up my stuff and is all nervous about something.

"What's going on with you?" I ask.

"Trying to avoid Allison, Jackson and Lydia…" he hands me my last book "...what about you?" He continued.

"Pretty much the same. My dad's rule." I inform him casually.

"Have you talked to Stiles today?" He asked.

"No, I think he might be mad at me." I answer.

"You too?"

I just nod. We both look forward as we walk to class.

"My dad's worried that the Argents are gonna hunt us." I admit.

"I haven't even had the chance to even think about that." He confides.

"Me either… until my dad said something." I sigh and look away.

Scott puts his hand on my shoulder. I look back at him. "Hey, it's gonna be okay." He reassures.

"You really think so?" I ask, not fully convinced.

"Yeah, we'll figure something out." He reassures again.

I faintly smile at him. He smiles back. The warning bell rings, then we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways.

As I enter my Geometry class, Allison and Lydia are sitting in the back of the class, talking and giggling to each other, then Allison sees me and waves me over.

Remember what Dad said. Stay away from Allison…

I try to go for the desk on the other side of the room, but someone else took the seat, then I try to go for the desk in the front next to Danny, but Jackson sits down and gives me a smirk and stupid air smooch that makes me wanna gag. Now the only seat left is in front of Allison. I keep my head down and slide into the seat.

The late bell rings and Allison leans forward and taps on my shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" She asks concerned.

"Y--yeah. Jus--just got a lot on my mind." I stutter, barely looking back at her.

"Oh, did you get a bad report at parent teacher conference?" Lydia asks, fixing her make up in her compact mirror.

I roll my eyes and lie through my teeth. "Yeah. I'm totally grounded. I got in so much trouble."

"Well if you want, I can help you bring some of your grades up…" Allison offers. "Hey, maybe we can go to that cute little cafe down the block after school and I can help you study!" She continues positively.

Quick, lie! "Oh, I'd love that, but I can't. My dad won't let me go anywhere since I'm grounded." Good job.

"Oh… well, hey, no problem, I'm sure we can work something out!" Oh my God, she actually believed it! I don't know if I can keep doing this to her…

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I leave class and start walking down the hall when I catch some of Stiles and Scott's conversation.

"So he wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?"

"Yep."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone. That someone is usually me." Stiles reminds

"Or me." I insert, walking up next to Stiles, who seems surprised to see me.

"I know! That what he means by he's not sure he can teach me. I have to be able to control it." Scott informs us.

"How's he gonna do that?" I ask.

"I don't know. I don't think he does either." Scott answers.

"When are you seeing him again?" Stiles asks, slightly frustrated.

"He told me not to talk about it. To act normal and get through the day." Scott tells him.

Stiles stops Scott, making me stop too. "When?" He asks.

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work."

Oh boy, I can see those gears turning.

"After work, okay. That gives us the end of the school day then." Stiles tells him.

"To do what?" Scott asks.

"To teach you ourselves." Stiles answers, gesturing between me and him.

He walks away and Scott and I look at each other.

"Don't look at me like that." I tell him, then follow close behind Stiles as Scott just watches us, mouth hanging open.

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At lunch, Scott is hiding behind a text book, while I sit next to him, using my hair and beanie to hide my face. We watch as Lydia walks away as Stiles eats an apple.

He grabs the top of the book and pulls it slightly down. "I think the book is making it more obvious." He retorts.

I try to hide my smile. "You're not doing any better of a job either." He shoots at me, making my smile disappear.

"Besides, she's reading anyway." He tells us as he looks behind him.

I push my hair out of my face and fix my hat while Scott still hides. I start picking at the food on my tray and listening in on the rest of our conversation.

"Did you come up witha plan yet?" Scott asks, peeking out from behind the book.

"I think so." Stiles replies, taking a bite from his apple.

"Does that mean you don't hate me now?"

"No, but your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it..." Stiles takes a second to chew. "...plus, I'm a way better Yoda than Derek."

"Yeah, you teach me." Scott tells him, still peering over the book.

"He'll be your Yoda." I add, making Stiles smile.

"Yeah, you be my Yoda." Scott says nervously, while looking over the book at Allison.

"You're Yoda I will be." Stiles jokes, doing his best Yoda impression.

I stifle my laughter, but Stiles notices and keeps smiling at me.

"I said it backwards--" Scott cuts him off.

"Yeah, I know." Scott clearly can't take a joke right now…

"You know what, I still definitely hate you. Uh huh! Oh yeah!" He exclaims, packing up his stuff and snatching the book from Scott and leaves.

Scott gets up to go after him, leaving me sitting there by myself. As he leaves, I see Allison notice him. I'm staying out of this one.

I keep eating, until I see Isaac approaching me with a big grin on his face. I smile at him and pat the seat next to me. He sits next to me and I give him a peck on the lips.

"What's up? I haven't seen you all day." I push some hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, I was kinda late this morning, some stuff going on with my dad." He answers.

"Everything okay?" I ask, caressing his cheek.

"Yeah, just some stuff with work." He tells me quietly. I don't believe that…

"You sure?" I ask him softly, guiding his eyes to mine.

"Yeah. Honestly, don't worry about it." He assures me, taking my hand in his and softly kisses the lower part of my palm.

I feel my cheeks get warm and smile softly at him. Why do I feel like this about him?

"We still on for Saturday?" I ask him, changing the subject, knowing that's what he wants.

"Wouldn't miss it." He answers sweetly.

He gently takes my face in his hands and softly kisses my forehead. I peck his lips again, making both of us smile. Our moment is sweet until we hear the sound of a throat clearing. We look up there's Allison standing their awkwardly.

"Charli, can I talk to you for a sec?" She asks, almost desperately.

I'm about to decline when Isaac speaks up. "I'll give you two some space, I gotta go talk to Mrs. Ramsey about some extra credit anyways." He gets up, grabs his backpack and kisses the top of my head.

"I'll text you later." He calls back as Allison sits in front of me.

"Is everything okay with Scott?" She asks me.

"Why do you ask?" I ask in return.

"It seems like he's avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" She asks concerned. Dammit… sorry Dad…

"Scott is going through some stuff. Stuff he's not ready to share yet. I wouldn't take it personal, he's just a guy who doesn't know how to fully express his vulnerability yet… just give him some time." I explain kindly to her.

She nods her head and looks down at the table. I rest my hand on top of hers. "It'll be okay, just trust me." I reassure her.

She half smiles and nods again. The lunch bell rings and she walks with me to toss my lunch and we say our goodbyes and head our seperate ways.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

I meet Scott and Stiles out on the lacrosse field. They go directly to the team bench. Stiles places down two lacrosse sticks and a duffle bag and sits down. He opens up the duffle bag and goes digging through it.

"Okay, put this on." He tells Scott, handing him a black strap.

"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" Scott asks him.

"Yeah, I borrowed it." Stiles answers.

"Stole it." I retort.

"Temporarily misappropriated."Sitles shoots back, focusing his attention back to Scott. "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate on his phone while he jogs. You're going to use it for the rest of the day."

"Isn't that Coach's phone?" Scott asks. Wow, you sure do have some keen wolf sense there, don't you, Scott?

"That I stole." Stiles answers, nodding and licking his lips.

"Why?"

"Alright, well your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you play lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to controlling your heart rate." That actually makes a lot of sense…

Scott smiles and nods. "Like the Incredible Hulk?"

"Kinda like the Incredible Hulk, yeah." Stiles answers, now realizing the comparison.

"I'm like the Incredible Hulk…" Scott declares proudly.

"Would you just shut up and put the strap on?" Stiles commands.

I help Scott put the strap around himself and notice Stiles pull something else out of his bag, which looks like a roll of duct tape. I back up and he turns Scott around, but his hands behind his back and starts taping them together.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period." Scott states.

"Alright, ready?" Stiles asks, getting a no from Scott.

"Charli, over here." Stiles calls me over, gesturing towards himself.

I jog over to him and he hands me a lacrosse stick. I take it, but just stare at it.

"You're gonna help me." Stiles states.

"How? I have no idea how to use this." I remind him.

"Just watch what I do and copy that." He tells me.

I nod and take my position.

"Alright, now remember, don't get angry." Stiles reminds Scott.

"I'm starting to think this is a really bad idea." Scott mutters to himself.

He sets up the phone and dumps a bag of lacrosse balls on the ground and scoops one up with the net. I do the same thing and prepare myself for what's next. Stiles winds back the stick and throws the ball at Scott, hitting him in the stomach. Scott grunts in pain and Stiles laughs. I go next, I wind it back and throw it and hit Scott dead center of his chest.

He coughs and Stiles fist bumps me. He scoops up another ball and hits him directly in the face. I scoop up on and I hit him in the thigh, awfully close to his family jewels.

"Okay, those ones kinda hurt." Scott admits, wincing.

"Quiet, you're suppose to be thinking about your heart rate, alright? About staying calm." Stiles reminds him.

"Stay calm." Scott tells himself as Stiles hits him in the shoulder with a ball.

I hit Scott directly in the eye, making him grunt. Stiles looks at me impressed.

"I never would've guessed that you never did this before, let alone never having even heard of lacrosse before." Stiles compliments.

"Fast learner I guess." I humbly reply.

Stiles hits him in the shoulder again. I hit him directly in the mouth. We continue to hit him with every ball we have for awhile, both of us getting some really good shots in.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Scott cried out.

"You know, I think my aim is improving..." Stiles remarks. "...and I think we might've found a new player." He continues, pointing at me with his lacrosse stick. "I wonder why?" Scott asks with sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick to doing MMA with my dad." I comment, throwing another ball at Scott, hitting him in the opposite shoulder from the one Stiles has been hitting.

Stiles looks at me surprised, yet scared, but quickly focuses back on what we're suppose to be doing and hits Scott in the sternum.

"Guys, wait stop!" Scott cries, but Stiles hits him in the chin and I hit him where the sun does not shine, getting a God awful sound coming from both me and Scott and making Stiles wince.

He gets to his knees and grunts really loudly. The beeping on Coah's phone gets louder and faster. Stiles bends down to check it out, when he gets up, I look at it over his shoulder. Before either of us can react, Scott rips the duct tape apart. Panting loudly as both arms rest on each side of his head. Just as soon as it seems like something is about to happen, his heart rate starts to go down. Stiles and I get closer to him, both of us reaching down to each side of him.

"Scott?" Stiles calls to him.

"You started to change." I inform him.

"My anger…" Scott continues to pant. "My anger was more than that. The angrier I got, the stronger I felt." He continued.

"So it is anger then, Derek is right." Stiles stated.

"I can't be around Allison." Scott pants sadly.

"Just because she makes you happy?" I ask.

"Because she makes me weak." Scott answered.

Stiles and I look at each other.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

As I'm leaving choir class, I see Scott and Stiles come through the white doors leading into the hallway. As I approach them, I overhear them talking.

"It's her." Stiles states.

"Who?" I ask curiously.

"Allison." Stiles answers.

"What about her?" I question.

"Okay, you remember that night of the full moon when Scott told us he was thinking about her? About him protecting her?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah?" I answer, not sure what this has to do with the conversation.

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game when he heard a voice out on the field?" He continues.

"Okay, yeah, I remember that too." I say.

"Well that's what brought him back so he could score." He pauses, then continues. "And that's why in the locker room he didn't kill her, at least not like how he was trying to kill us." He explains.

Despite me understanding, Scott looks lost.

"She brings you back, is what he's saying." I explain a little simpler.

"No, no, no, but it's not always true. Because every time I'm kissing her, or touching her-" Stiles cuts Scott off.

"No, that is not the same." Stiles states.

"When you do that, you a normal, hormonal teenager thinking about sex, y'know?" I explain, while Stiles nods in agreement.

"You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah." Scott admits, grinning a goofy grin.

"Back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay? I think she makes you weak. I think she actually gives you control, like an anchor." Stiles informed him. This all makes so much sense.

"Because I love her." Scott states without realizing it. Uhh...what?

Exactly." Stiles replies back.

"Did I just say that?" Scott asks, shocked.

"Yes, you just said that." Stiles and I answer simultaneously.

Scott thinks about it for a moment, smiles and repeats it. "I love her."

"That's great. Moving on…" Stiles tries to change subject.

"No, no, really. I think I'm totally in love with her." Scott explains.

"And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please because you can't be around her twenty-four seven." Stiles remarks.

"Y--yeah, sorry." Scott apologizes. Don't apologize, it's beautiful to be able to express love…

"So what do I do?" Scott continues.

"I don't know...yet." Stiles replies, sliding his hand down his face.

He slowly spins in a circle, looking every possible direction other besides forward.

"Oh no, you're getting an idea aren't you?" I ask.

"Yeah." He answers matter of factly.

"Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?" Scott asks.

"Maybe." Stiles answers.

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?" Scott asks again.

"Yeah, definitely. C'mon." Stiles answers surely, patting Scott on the chest to signal for him to follow.

Scott and I just look at each other, shrugging as I follow behind him.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

@softpeteparker @mummybear @ficus-fig @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @sporadiccookiebagel @inschi @wil2space @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @nicole-lynne @fullangelimagines @hufflepuff-foodie @pure-ghost @lavenderrosegoddess @blueraindrops

#teen wolf series rewrite #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf x oc #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #allison argent #lydia martin #jackson whittemore #isaac lahey x oc #isaac lahey

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years

Text

Parent Trapped

Warnings: Anxiety before a show, crying, feeling like you’re not good enough, food mention

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~2.6k

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Masterlist

Chapter 6: The Play

“Virgil! Patton!”

The twins looked up from their lunches, seeing Roman heading toward them at full speed. Logan had opted to walk instead, lingering behind his brother.

“What’s up?” They asked in unison.

“I hate that you guys can do that.” Roman said, before waving around a packet of paper. “Remember that play I was talking about a few weeks ago? I tried out and got the lead!!”

“That’s amazing!” Patton threw himself into Roman’s arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Virgil gave him a fist bump. “Good job, man. You’ve been working really hard on that monologue they gave you.”

Logan gave them an exhausted look. “At least now that he’s in the play, he’ll have someone other than me to practice with.”

“Aw, c’mon Lo. You were a good partner.”

“Just because I remembered the lines doesn’t mean I performed them well.” Logan took his seat at their lunch table, the others following suit. “I’d appreciate if you used someone else in the future.”

Patton glanced up from peeling his orange. “I’d be happy to help!”

“I can’t wait for you guys to see it!” Roman handed out his Gushers, trading them for Virgil’s Nutty Bar. “And hopefully in the spring I get a part in the musical and you guys can come see that too!”

“We’d be happy to!”

Over the next few months, Roman spent most of his time after school at play practice. Logan saw him every night when he got home, but the twins only saw him if they were at the Sanders’s for dinner. Which was more often than not, but they still missed their friend.

It only got worse during tech week. Roman was at rehearsal past dinnertime, often dragging himself through the door around eight. He’d quickly do whatever homework he had before going to bed, completely exhausted.

When the big day finally came, Roman was finally able to come home right after school.

“What is this stranger doing in my house?” Remy asked as Roman and Logan walked in the door. “I haven’t seen this boy in weeks.”

“Oh, shut up.” Roman slid his backpack off. He twisted, cracking his spine. “I have to be back by five but I figured I’d actually eat something here before I head out. Gas station food is good on occasion, but not every single day for two months.”

“You picked Leftover Night to eat at home?” Logan let out a laugh. “I think we have some bacon in the fridge, lasagna, and some pizza rolls.”

“Honestly, anything is better than eating a burger or a wrapped sandwich at this point.”

Despite it being so early, Remy pulled out the leftovers from the fridge. “So, Roman, are you excited? Nervous?”

“A bit of both.” Looking over his choices, Roman grabbed the pizza rolls and dumped them onto a plate. “We’ve been working really hard and I’m excited for everyone to see it. But I’m worried that I’m going to forget my lines or a cue or something.”

“I’ve known you most of my life and I highly doubt that you’re going to make a mistake.” Logan said. “If anything, one of your fellow actors will be the one to mess up.”

“...and now I’m worried about that.”

Remy threw an arm around his son’s shoulders. “The only thing you can do is your best.”

The microwave beeped and Roman pulled his food out. Logan steered the conversation away from the play, hoping to distract Roman from his worries. It seemed to work, as Roman went on a rant about how Mr. Lockwood claimed he was doing his math wrong.

Soon enough it was 4:30. A horn honked outside and Roman darted to his feet, grabbing everything he needed.

“I’ll see you guys there!” He called out as he left the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

Logan headed up to his room to work on some homework until it was time to go. He’d set about 10 alarms on his dad’s phone to make sure that he wouldn’t fall asleep or forget.

Despite the alarms, he came downstairs to find his dad asleep on the couch.

With a sigh, he headed over and shook Remy’s arm. “Dad.”

“Mmm.”

“Dad, come on, get up.”

Remy rolled over into the couch, pressing his face against the cushions. “Mmm.”

“We’re going to miss Roman’s play if you don’t get up.”

Shooting up, Remy grabbed his sunglasses before they could get launched off his face. “SHIT!”

A horn honked outside. Logan headed to the window, moving the curtain to find the Picanis parked in the driveway. Patton had leaned over the center console to wave through the windshield.

Logan held up one finger before dropping the curtain. “That’s our ride.”

“What do you -”

“I asked Patton if his dad could drive us because I knew you’d forget.” Logan opened the closet, grabbing his shoes. “Now hurry up or we won’t get decent seats.”

“Called out by my own kid, I can’t believe it.” Remy grumbled as he quickly threw his shoes on, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way.

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. “I’ll be in the car.”

“I’m not that slow.” Remy caught the door before it could close, following his son outside.

Patton slid into the middle of the backseat, allowing Logan to climb in and get buckled up. Remy jumped in the passenger seat.

“Let’s ride.”

Emile raised an eyebrow. “Seatbelt.”

“Oh, right.”

Once everyone was buckled in, Emile pulled out of their driveway and headed to the school.

The parking lot was only about a quarter of the way full when they pulled in. The boys jumped out of the backseat to get in line and get tickets while Emile parked.

“You could’ve gone with them.” Emile told Remy as he found a decent spot.

Remy waved a hand. “They don’t want to be babysat by an adult. Besides, it’s not like they’re going to get kidnapped at a high school play.”

“Wouldn’t this be an ample opportunity to kidnap a child? There’s plenty here.” Emile pulled his keys out of the ignition and slid out of the car. He reached into the backseat, pulling out two bouquets of flowers.

Remy walked around behind, nearly being hit by a car looking for a spot. He held up a choice finger. “Asshole!”

“Maybe you should get out of the road?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Remy moved to the sidewalk, spotting the flowers in Emile’s hands. “F-fudge! I forgot to -”

Emile handed over one of the bouquets. “I thought you might forget.”

“Em, you are a lifesaver.”

The two of them headed inside, spotting their kids toward the front of the line. Virgil pulled out his phone. A moment later Emile’s phone buzzed.

Virgil: We’ll grab seats.

Emile: Thank yo!

Emile: *you

Virgil gave him a thumbs up before the boys headed into the theater.

“How do you think Roman’s feeling?” Emile asked as they slowly moved through the line.

Remy shrugged. “He said he’s both excited and nervous. It’s probably just pre-show jitters. The kid has some raw talent for acting.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Don’t go all therapist on me now.” The teasing tone was clear in Remy’s voice. “But yeah, I’ve let him know. That’s the one thing I’m pretty consistent at. I didn’t get much praise growing up, so I figured that they deserved to hear it.”

Trying to hide his smile, Emile said, “Sounds like you’re opening up to a therapist.”

Before Remy could respond, they were at the front of the line. A person wearing an orange beanie looked up at them. “How many tickets?”

“Two please.”

Emile reached for his wallet, but Remy was already handing over a few bills. “Keep the rest. Consider it a donation.”

“Thanks, dude.” They took the money, handing over two tickets. “You can sit anywhere in the auditorium as long as there isn’t someone else in that seat.”

“You didn’t have to pay.” Emile said as they walked in.

Remy gave him a look. “You got an extra bouquet. It’s the least I could do.”

Glancing around, they spotted Patton waving and headed over to their kids.

“If you don’t want to sit with your parents -”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Patton cut Remy off, before flushing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Remy shook his head. “All good.”

“I guess that makes us the cool dads.” Emile said as they sat down.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

The five of them chatted idly until the lights overhead were dimmed and brightened again. People that were still standing quickly moved to their seats. A few minutes passed before the person in the orange beanie headed up onstage with a microphone.

“I’m pleased to announce that we are sold out tonight!” They said. The audience let out a loud cheer. “I’d like to thank you all. With the money we raise, we’re able to put on our spectacular productions, as well as take our students on some field trips. With the extra that we received from selling out, we’ll be able to get a new stage for next year.”

The audience began to applaud. After a moment, the person held up their hand and everyone quieted down. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Joan Stokes. I teach English here as well as run the drama department with our principal, Thomas Sanders. He’s somewhere backstage making sure no one is dying.”

A ripple of laughter made its way through the audience.

“Which means it’s my pleasure to introduce our play! Thank for your coming and we hope you enjoy Clue.”

As soon as they were off the stage, the curtain opened.

The five of them were silent as the show went on, watching as Roman nailed his lines. There was a brief issue with one of the backdrops, but the show continued without a hitch.

When it ended, the entire audience leapt to their feet, clapping and whistling. The applause only increased when Roman and the leading lady came out for their bows.

Once the curtain closed, everyone started making their way back to the front lobby. By the time the Picanis and Sanders managed to get out, the lobby was full of people, making it hard to find Roman in the crowd.

Instead, he found them.

“What did you think?” He asked as he darted through people effortlessly. His eyes lit up as they landed on the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Yes!” Remy and Emile handed the flowers over. Remy shot Emile a grateful look over the kid’s heads.

“You did fantastic!” Patton started gushing over Roman’s performance, Virgil adding in a comment here and there.

Logan gave his brother a smile when they were finished. “You did great.”

“Thanks, nerd.” Roman teased, throwing an arm over Logan’s shoulders.

Remy huddled the group together, keeping his voice down. “Now, I think we should get out of here so we can grab some ice cream before the crowd.”

Roman nodded, bouncing on his toes. “I just have to put my costume back in the dressing room and then we can go.”

“What about the makeup?”

“I can take it off in the car!” Roman shouted as he sprinted back down the hall.

Twenty minutes later, all of them were sitting in a booth at Leon’s Parlor. They’d managed to beat the crowd and had grabbed the best spot to sit. As they talked, the parlor began to fill up.

After a while, Virgil asked, “What made you want to do the play anyway?”

Roman shrugged. “I thought it would be fun. And I wanted to get involved with an extracurricular. Logan says that they look good on college applications.”

Logan nodded.

“And I wanted to do something that I liked, you know? I did an acting class for summer school and I thought it was super fun, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

Virgil stared at him. “How can you just...do things?”

“It helps that I don’t have anxiety.” Roman pointed out, digging his spoon into the last of his ice cream. “Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.”

“I can’t do that though.”

Roman nodded, looking sorry for Virgil. “Sometimes it helps to have a friend. Are there any clubs you wanted to join? One of us could go to the first meeting with you.”

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you guys know?”

“Of course!”

As everyone finished up their ice cream, they left a tip on the table and headed out. As soon as they stepped foot on the asphalt, Patton heard a sniffle.

He turned just in time to see Logan break down, sobbing. Darting over, he held open his arms. Logan dove into them, burying his face into Patton’s cardigan.

Roman started to head over, but Virgil grabbed his arm and shook his head. “We shouldn’t crowd him.”

The two of them stood nearby, listening. If anyone tried to see what was going on, their glares sent them on their way.

“Logan, what’s wrong?” Remy asked as he came over, kneeling next to Patton. Emile knelt on Patton’s other side, eyes wide with concern.

Letting go of Patton, Logan moved to his dad’s lap. “I just...Roman did so good in the play and he’s so talented. I - I’m not good at anything except for school. That’s not - I’m not going to be able to get a job because of that! I need to be good at something else...anything else…”

Remy wrapped his arms around Logan, glancing at Emile over his head. He had no clue what to say, and he really didn’t want to make the situation worse.

Patton caught their look, getting up to go stand with Virgil instead.

Emile slid over, reaching out and rubbing circles onto Logan’s back. “Logan, how much time do you spend on homework?”

“Approximately half an hour per class that assigns homework.”

“So when you have homework in all of your classes, that’s about two and a half hours?”

Logan nodded, the tears finally slowing enough that he pulled his face from Remy’s shirt. “Mhmm.”

“How much time do you spend doing something you like to do?”

There was a moment of hesitation. “I - I’m unsure.”

“It’s not good to overwork yourself.” Emile said, continuing to rub Logan’s back. “You have to make time to do things that you enjoy.”

“I don’t know what I like.” Logan admitted. His face, which was already red from crying, grew even redder.

Emile and Remy exchanged another look. “I could help you figure it out.”

“You can?”

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow? We can look at a list of clubs the school offers and figure out if any of them speak to you.”

Scrubbing his face with his sweater sleeve, Logan nodded. “Okay.”

“Ro, can you start the car?” Remy asked, tossing his keys.

Roman caught them, gathering up his brother and heading toward the car. Virgil and Patton hesitated until Emile nodded.

Once the kids were gone, Remy got to his feet, pulling Emile up as well. “Thank you. I have a feeling I would’ve made it worse.”

“We need to learn from each other, remember?” Emile teased, flashing him a smile. “Now let’s get out of here before you get run over for real.”

#platonic logince #platonic moxiety #platonic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts sleep #remy sanders #emile picani

123 notes · View notes

d-c-it · 5 years

Text

New side AU: Anger

But he is not a villain.

He is actually very shy.

Anger likes sunsets, which we know Thomas loves. He loves cuddling. He gets along with Remus and Gray, and has a little (enormous) crush on the pink side.

He is Deceit's little sunshine were Anxiety was his little stormy night. He's Deceit's little boy.

You couldn't say what he represented by looking at him. He wore a gray beanie, a black undershirt, an orange plaid button up with black pants.

They also watch disney movies in their living room. His personal favorite is Hercules, because one time Deceit told him he looked like a very pissed off Hades when angry and it stuck to him.

He is in charge of making sure Thomas never loses his cool. Works with Deceit by controlling the anger. He holds it close giving time to Deceit to whisper sweet lies in Thomas's ears.

'He didn't mean it.'

'I'm making this a big deal when it's not.'

'Yes, they promised, but there must be a good explanation...'

'They don't know what they're talking about and I don't care about what they think anyway.'

He's worked with Logic too, although, from afar. He's never interacted with any of the lights sides and for a very good reason.

He loves Dee, not the same way he loves Pink, tho. He sees him like a parent. A mom, really.

It's Deceit who holds him tight when he gets on one of his episodes (even tho at first he didn't), just like he used to with Virgil. Only, Anger's are worse... more dangerous.

It can't be helped. He tends to hide in his room when the burn in his stomach gets too much. Everything in his room can be replaced anyway, he thinks, as he goes on rampant and destroys everything.

That's how he used to cope with it anyway, until he hurted himself... and Virgil.

Remembers parts of it. He's never himself when he's in one of those. He recalls hearing the others running straight to their rooms to lock themselves except... Except that time when he broke a vase. He got his episode in the living room. He remembers his sobs of pain, when the shards cut his hands. Remembers hitting the floor breaking the pieces even more making them pay for the pain they caused him. Then a purple blur.

Virgil holding his wrists, putting Anger's bloody hands between them, tears running down his face while he begs him to stop. Anger is stunned but it doesn't last. Next thing he knows he's standing, Virgil is on the floor in front of him, looking scared and covering his right cheek with his hand. Deceit is suddenly there, dragging Anger towards his room, not without having to almost physically fight him. He knew Dee was yelling instructions, but he doesn't know if Virgil followed them or what they were at all.

That was by far, one of the worst he's had.

He went to find Virgil the next day, to apologize, to explain. But his door wasn't there anymore. He got another episode shortly after and Deceit was there to stop him from hurting himself again.

He asks Deceit if its his fault Virgil left. He knows the truth. He knows Deceit is devastated, that he blames himself and not Anger. Virgil should have known better than to go out of his room when the orange side was lost in his rage, he holds onto that thought like a lifeline.

'It's not your fault.' Deceit says.

It doesn't make him feel better.

Months later he watches as Deceit enters their living room, he's cuddling with pink on the couch. They're watching Who Censored Roger Rabbit? Pink just loves Jessica Rabbit and Anger couldn't say no to him.

Deceit looks weirdly content. Later on, Gray will tell him Thomas finally acknowledged Deceit as part of him. Deceit shows them his two headed snake logo. They're all happy for him. Anger is even more so, because it means Deceit can finally see Virgil again.

After what Deceit calls 'The courtroom fiasco'. He seems very upset. He tells them, in a sour tone, that Thomas wants to be more honest and be direct dealing with his issues, he will no longer deceive himself about the 'ugliness' within him, he finished, bitter. So, I don't care anymore, he wants the truth? He'll get it, no matter how ugly it is. You're free to go up there, no more hiding behind the innocent light sides to do our job. That includes you, Remus, go and push Patton off that cloud he's floating into, show them the ugly truth.

With that he leaves, they hear the slam of his door. Anger wasn't sure but he swears he saw tears in his eyes. Pink starts jumping excitedly next to him, but he holds him tighter and shooks his head when the other looks at him. They both look at Gray, who curls into an even more tiny ball and then, the three look at Remus, who is smiling creepier than ever.

'I guess it's time I pay a visit to my bother!'

'... You mean brother?' corrected gray in a tiny voice.

'Nope'

Months pass and Thomas has learned to deal with his intrusive thoughts, has even acknowledged Gray, who presented himself as Depression.

The only ones left are him and Pink. He knows the pink side wants to show himself, play a little bit with Thomas's mind and mess up with him for making Dee cry (aparently he was right, not that they've seen it happen again.) They still treat Deceit as the villain, treating the others like Deceit's manipulated victims.

It's getting very annoying.

The day Dee enters the living full on sobbing and runs straight to his room is the last straw. Pink gasps as his eyes turn bright orange and unwraps his arms from him, slowly leaving and locking himself in his room. It's for the best.

They want a villain? Anger will get them their villain.

The next time Thomas is upset, a bad comment on his work, a friend who broke a promise, Logan insisting on his schedule, Patton scolding him for ordering food again when he could have cooked, Virgil acting up for all the stress piling up. That's when anger strikes.

He waits for the episode, embraces it as it comes. When Deceit comes to help him he makes sure to hit him in the human side of his face, were the bruise will show. He feels bad, hates himself for it, but this is for Dee. He runs out of his room out of the mindscape, Deceit tries to stop him but it's to late.

He lets go of the anger he once was sure to never let free.

Thomas finds himself hanging on his friend and throwing the phone against the wall, stepping on it viciously. Then he starts kicking chairs and hitting walls, when that doesn't calm him. Yelling on his pillows and then punching said object in fury.

The four light sides are watching him, unsure of what to do. Patton looks horrified, even Logan looks lost. Virgil hugs himself and Roman has his sword on the ready in case Thomas decides to take it out on them. It's until Deceit shows up and starts talking that Thomas seems to get his thoughts straight. He looks at his hands and around, surprised at the mess he's made. Deceit keeps talking and doesn't stop until Thomas starts crying, the lights instantly going to him and making a hugging pile.

It's only when Thomas thanks Deceit that they all look at him. He is looking around nervously and they spot the big bruise around his human eye.

'Oh my god, Dee what happened!?' exclaimes Patton, running toward him but stopping dead on when a figure appears behind the yellow side. Deceit flinches, Anger would be lying if he say it didn't hurt more than a little, but works for him.

'How sad, the fun ended too soon.'

All the sides step in from of Thomas, Patton makes an attempt to reach for Deceit and pull him towards him. Get him away from Anger, but the orange side wraps his arms around Dee, his chin on the yellow side's shoulder. He mockingly kiss his purple eye.

'Here I was hoping you punched some mirrors.' he says, smirking.

'That's quite enough.' says Deceit, shoulders tense. Grabbing his arms and putting them off his waist. 'This is not like you, A. Go back to the mindscape, now.' he insists.

'Mmm, nah.' he answers and pushes Deceit towards the moral side, who immediately catches him. 'I'm done listening to you, I'm done holding back for "Thomas's sake", I'm done dealing with his anger and hurting myself in the process. I'll let him hurt, instead.'

'Who are you?' says Thomas, from his position behind the others.

'He smirks, isn't it obvious, Thomas? I'm your Anger, I'm rage. But you can call me Lucius.' he bows.

Deceit gasps at him for revealing his name to the others. The yellow side attempts to touch him but Patton holds him back. Anger smirks and the others step back.

'Well, as fun as it was to watch you go nuts… It seems I got nothing more to work with here.' he puts his hands in his pockets and smiles sweetly at Dee, who looks a bit hopeful. 'I'll see you at home Dee, the bruise suits you, maybe I'll give you another one to match.' and with that he sinks down.

The last thing he sees is the horrified expressions of the others, mostly Virgils. And Patton hugging Deceit tightly, telling him there's no way they're letting him go back there. But Dee isn't paying attention to him. He's looking at Anger but the orange side cannot look at him in the eye.

A few days pass and Deceit doesn't show up.

Until he does.

He comes in barging through the door, gasping for air as if he had to run a marathon to actually reach their part of the mindscape.

Depression, to everyone's surprise, bolts from his position in the couch and hugs Deceit's waist. He starts crying of course and Dee just hugs him back and shush him a little. The next one to move is Pink, who clings to his right arm, not crying but Anger can tell he is trying hard not to. Remus appears next hugging the snake from behind. Anger walks towards them slowly, wary of Deceit. But he can't hold back anymore when the deceitful side reaches for him with his left arm.

'I'm so sorry, Dee.' he sobs on his neck. 'It was the only way.' Dee shooks his head, murmuring that it wasn't.

'They're treating me like some sort of abuse victim now.' he says, rolling his eyes. 'No matter what I say, they think I'm lying… Actually is worse, they think I believe what I say and then Logan comes up with a really long explanation of why my behavior is completely normal… Good God I was about to flip.' he complains, but Anger can sense the laughter in his voice.

'How is that spider doing?' asks Pink and Deceit smiles.

'He is doing great.' he says and Pink sniffs.

'Good.'

Later that day they listen as the light sides try to knock their door down. Anger decides it's best to sink down to his room. Smiles to a sad looking Deceit.

'You know I was never interested in hanging out with them, anyway.' he shrugs. 'Just don't turn light and leave us.' he warns, and Deceit snorts, as if.

He leaves just as the others come in. Probably to "save" Deceit.

'We're watching Maleficent, wanna join?' asks Pink, and is the last thing he hears.

#sanders sides #oc side anger #deceit sanders #oc side depression #oc side lust #remus sanders #light sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #mention of logan sanders #character thomas #dark sides au #my writting #my child just wants dee to be happy #*sobs*#long post

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397bartonstreet · 5 years

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Hey @johnny-and-dora this is for you for the fall fic exchange!! This prompt I wrote for was “autumnal walk in the park” I’m really sorry a pre-series, pre-relationship undercover case is probably not what you asked for but it’s what came to me. Hope you like it!

Also thank you @b99fandomevents for organizing this. These types of things always strike excitement and activity in the fandom during the hiatuses. You guys are awesome!!

About a month ago, Detectives Peralta and Santiago made a huge bust of one of Brooklyn’s most prolific drug rings they’d been investigating since the early summer months. And it was awesome. They smashed into the doors of an abandoned warehouse straight out of an 80’s cop movie. All the men and women inside scattered and refused to go down without a fight, but they were no match for the Nine Nine. There were gunshots, screaming, kicking, punches, all the shebang that make these kinds of events extra epic. They got every single one of those sick, surprisingly attractive bastards. And Jake walked out of that place holding two handcuffed men in slow motion, with an ambient orchestra, an explosion behind him, and wearing sunglasses at night. He looked so cool.

Except they missed one dude. The leader of the drug ring. A fearsome man having hundreds of thousands of dollars to his name, elusive in records, and several deaths on his hands. His name… is Frank Smith.

Jake is still bitter about that.

The day before, Jake got a tip that this Anatole Kuragin (he refuses to call him Frank Smith) would be exchanging information with another dealer in plain sight at Prospect Park in the middle of the day. Jake guesses he understands the logic, no one would expect such a wanted criminal prancing around in daylight. But if he were truly smart, he wouldn’t risk it. And you can never tell if strangers walking through the park are also hiding in plain sight, waiting to catch you in the act and arrest you.

Captain Holt gave the orders for Jake and Amy to disguise as a married couple simply taking their child on a stroll through the park. Which is where they were now. Casually walking through Prospect Park pushing a clunky stroller they found in the precinct and wearing probably the dorkiest outfits Jake has ever worn on a case. He’s dressed like a father in suburbia, not a dope ass detective about to make a dope ass arrest.

“This is the worst. How am I supposed to look cool when I’m wearing a sweater vest and khaki pants?” he grunts toward his partner.

“Jake, this is not about looking cool, it’s about making the arrest and making the community a better place,” Amy says haughtily.

“This is like, the 20th case I’ve done with you and every single time you say something lamer and lamer,” he responds.

“I’m not the one keeping count.” Jake ignores her and instead makes his first survey of the park. They were told that the perp would be wearing a golden chain around his wrist to be easily recognized, but so far he sees no intimidating assholes wearing the friendship bracelet. Everyone here seems to be teenagers totally not smoking pot and families that look just like they do right now. They blend right in.

“The tip said that the exchange would be near the bridge. Let’s casually walk over there and take a ‘break’ on the bench and we’ll wait there,” Jake whispers to her.

“Ooh, it’ll give us time to enjoy the view. New York parks in Fall are the best. Everything is all colorful and beautiful, it’s like one of the only good things about this state,” Amy says. Jake switches his view from the people to the trees. It is beautiful, if he took casual strolls - which, who would want to be alone with their thoughts for that long- this would be the perfect time to do it. It’s picture perfect, with the way the leaves steadily drizzle down like rain, and the cloudy sky seems to bring out their vibrant colors. And the slight chill causing a want for warm drinks and comfy sweaters. It’s romantic, and he almost wants to pretend he’s not here for a case, and instead just take in the view. With his earphones in of course, he meant what he said about being alone with his thoughts.

“It’s a shame we’re working, I’d totally challenge on you who can make a bigger leaf pile,” she says with a smirk and he’s pulled out of his thoughts to cast her something impish.

“Oh, you’re on. We’ll come back tomorrow, I’ll even bring a pumpkin pie because I’m going to cream you,” he smirks. They reach the agreed bench to wait out the perp, and Amy struggles a bit to align the stupid stroller when she sits.

“What? That made literally no sense,” she says as he sits down beside her.

“Of course it does. What do you top pie with? Whipped cream and I’m going to whip you into cream, title of my sex tape.” Amy cringes and he can tell she’s resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.

“That’s disgusting, and if you have to explain the comeback then it wasn’t a good one.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Alright, back to business. You watch this way and I’ll watch that way,” he says and points in the opposite directions. All playfulness immediately leaves Amy’s demeanor and she’s back to being completely professional. It’s one thing Jake can admire about her, she’s incredibly dedicated at her job. She can flip the switch from casual to focused in a second, he can’t even do that.

Jake blinks away his thoughts, turning his attention back to his side. A comfortable silence falls between them, the only noise being Amy rocking the stroller back and forth and her shushing at the doll inside.

He’s trying not to show that he’s definitely staring intently at the man sitting alone on a bench, when he feels a sudden weight on his thigh. He looks down to see Amy’s hand opened expectantly. When he turns to her, she’s still just scouring the scene.

“What?” Jake asks. Amy turns back to him and flexes her hand in gesture.

“Hold my hand,” she says impatiently, as if this is just another everyday bit of police work.

“Hold your hand? For what?” he’s incredulous when he asks this, but he still places his hand on top of hers and Amy grips back.

“Because we’re supposed to be married,” she says.

“Isn’t the giant stroller in front of us indication enough that we’re straight smashing it?” Amy flashes him a glare.

“A stroller only goes so far, we won’t be very convincing if we’re stiff as boards.” She has a point, but of course he’s not going to say that out loud. Instead, he tightens her hand around his and pulls it closer to his lap. Out of instinct, of course, because that’s what couples do.

He can’t help but note that it feels kind of nice, her hand a cold contrast to his warm one. He tends to overheat, even in the Fall weather, and her hand provides some nice relief. He doesn’t dwell on that though, he has a case to solve, and it’s the last time he’ll ever hold Amy Santiago’s hand anyway.

Jake tries squinting as discreetly as possible at the wrists of those in his line of sight, trying to spot the golden chain. There aren’t many men lurking around the park, and none of them seem to be wearing any bracelets. Except for one guy, who has his hands behind his back. Jake keeps an eye on him.

“Are you cold, Patricia? You need mommy to give you another blanket?” Amy says loudly so anyone around them can hear.

“Patricia?” Jake asks.

“What about it, Jake” she groans, bracing herself for a round of teasing.

“That’s what you would name your daughter? Patricia?”

“It’s just the first one that popped into my head okay,” she hisses. “What would you name her?”

“Me? I’d probably name her something badass. Like Rogue, or Rebel,” he says, nodding his head.

“Rogue sounds like the antagonist of an awful racing movie,” she laughs. “If I had a daughter, I would probably want to name her something that’s kind of meaningful and touching. I’ve always thought about naming my daughter Carmen, after my grandmother,” she says.

“Aw, that’s actually really nice. Then I’d call her Caramel. Caramel Carmen. Giving your daughter nicknames is Peak dad.”

“Your daughter? Are we having this baby together,” Amy snorts, a mischievous glint in her eye. She absolutely knows that pointing this out will make him squirm, and Jake hates that she’s right.

“What? No! It’s just… the undercover situation that’s all… stop looking at me like that” he says and doesn’t wait for her reply, just puts his attention back to the mission. Thankfully she doesn’t press, just lets him continue the surveillance. What he sees is lots of people that look like them, but then again not really. There’s at least one parent with a kid around them or pushing a stroller as awkward as theirs. And in the park, with the autumn leaves falling around them, and the kids making piles and kicking at them. They’re real, natural, unlike they are.

He remembers having that with his own mom. Whenever his mom found time and wasn’t working, she would take him to the park. And in the autumn months, he’d do exactly what that little kid with the chocolate curls and Ninja Turtles beanie over there is doing. Shoving pine cones into his pocket and then chucking them into the arm to see how far he can throw them. Looking back to his mother for praise.

If he was a dad, he’d be throwing pine cones with him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t know why, he lets himself imagine what it would be like if this was real. If he was sitting in a New York park during its peak season, with a stroller in front of him holding a baby, a real baby that would be his, that would grow up to be like that little boy over there. The hand he’s holding in his lap would be his wife’s, a woman he actually loved. If it were his wife, he thinks, he wouldn’t just hold her hand, he’d lace their fingers together. He does just that, changing positions to demonstrate how he’d do it. He would also stroke her thumb softly, and he gives the hand he’s holding an experimental caress. He looks up at Amy, who is still rocking the stroller and her eyes still focused on what’s in front of her. If Amy were his wife, he’d playfully tug on that strand of hair that’s gotten loose from her ponytail- he stops. If Amy were his wife?

He blinks several times, pulling himself back to earth and away from whatever just happened. He even shakes his head a little for good measure, to rid of whatever the hell kind of intrusive thought that was. Amy would be the last person in the entire world he’d marry. He’s known her for a year now and the only non work related thing he’s ever heard her talk about was a seminar for perfecting the art of nonverbal communication. Which is like the nerdiest thing he’s heard anyone ever say. If anyone were to be his wife, it would be the hot, flirty, movie ticket seller that’s always giving him eyes.

He looks down at their hands to see that they’re still joined. Not only joined, but laced together. Not only laced together, but his thumb is still slightly caressing hers, and he quickly lets go like he’s burned himself. Amy doesn’t even seem to notice his internal struggle, or acknowledge the way he let go suddenly. She just puts the hand on the handlebar to aid the other.

Well… he guesses Amy is pretty in that pre-makeover nerdy type before the transformation that makes her popular kind of way. Not that he watches those movies.

But not for him, no way. Not Amy. He doesn’t even know why he’s still thinking about this.

“You want to yell at me for being stiff? You look like an animatronic,” he teases, hiding his awkward cough through a laugh.

“Shut up Peralta. I’m just trying to do my job here,” she says. A shiver suddenly wracks her body. “God, I need this guy to hurry up, I’m freezing.”

“Seriously? You’re wearing a scarf and gloves.”

“I get cold easily, leave me alone,” she says, and another shiver chatters her teeth a bit. It makes him feel kind of bad, the only reason they’re out here anyway is because he didn’t go for the ring leader first like he normally would before getting away. The boss is always the biggest collar, and in the excitement he didn’t think. So, before he can think about it too much, he’s shrugging off his leather jacket.

“Here, take this,” he holds it out for her.

“Oh, no, I’m fine man, I’ll just-“

“It’s fine, you wearing my jacket will add to our undercover look and make us less suspicious,” he says with a lowered voice. Amy purses her lips in contemplation for a moment more before taking the jacket and sliding into it, shuffling a little to make sure her badge, gun, and handcuffs are still easily accessible.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice betraying some shyness and embarrassment, she’s about to say something more when something catches her attention, her brows furrowing and lips pursing. “I found the guy. Gold chain on his wrist in plain sight.”

And just like that they’re back in the zone. Two detectives lurking about twenty feet away from the bastard they’ve got their eye on.

“Alright you get left, I’ll get right. Rosa is waiting for us in a black van over there so we have to grab him and take him to the car. Remember, be as quiet about this as possible, we don’t want to scare anyone.” Amy says. Of course with cases like these they can never be too quiet, but the quieter it is, the less panic there will be.

They both stand and walk the stroller towards the perp, Amy going left and him going right like instructed. Away from the bench they were sitting on, and away from the happy children and parents enjoying the daylight. Away from the little boy with the Ninja Turtles beanie that reminds him a little too much of himself. Away from the fathers he’ll probably never be.

And sure, maybe he won’t ever be a father, or have a wife to have autumnal strolls with. But right now he’s got what he does best. And he gets to do it right now, take down a badass crime boss in… maybe not the most badass outfit. You win some you lose some.

Being a detective is all he’s ever wanted, and he’s totally good with that.

He really is.

He swears.

#b99 2019 fall fic exchange #b99 fic exchange #b99 #b99 fics #my fics

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somethingusernameworthy · 5 years

Text

Hi. - WonHan [SEVENTEEN]

Title: Hi.

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo & Yoon Jeonghan

Tags: Fluff. Established Relationship.

Length: 5.3k words

Summary: Yoon Jeonghan gets swept away by work for the new year’s and is trying to search for the right words to greet his sick lover.

Also posted in AO3 as: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050919

Hope you like it!

________________________________________________________________

Hi. |

The cursor blinks in Jeonghan’s screen and he just stares at it. It’s way past midnight and Wonwoo’s already asleep, a little early for the new year’s but there’s nothing that can be done. His Wonu is sick and alone all the way back home because Jeonghan had to leave for work. He thinks it’s bad enough that he can’t spend the holidays with his lover, it’s just unfair that he can’t even take care of his man when he’s sick.

Jeonghan’s work as a photographer took him everywhere – from the busy parts of Changwon to Seoul and, on really lucky opportunities, even as far as New York. He and Wonwoo usually didn’t have problems about it. Wonwoo is an author who is now also dabbling in art. His parents own a bookstore and café in Changwon and on the holidays, he helps their family business breeze through the busiest times of the year while Jeonghan either stays or flies wherever his company sends him.

But this time was special for both of them. It’s their third year together and fifth year as friends so both Jeonghan and Wonwoo wanted to celebrate the holidays together for a change. Wonwoo already told his parents that he wasn’t working for the holidays this time around and Jeonghan has already informed his company months prior so he was sure they would not, at all cost, give him an assignment. He even kept on talking about their plans weeks before to guilt-trip their office in case they even try (and contrary to whatever Wonwoo would say, that is the true reason and not his excitement, thank you very much).

Still, shit happens, and plans can get ruined. Jeonghan was already dressed up in his ugly Christmas sweater and beanie, his bag packed and already waiting for Wonwoo by their door when his phone rang. (God, he should have known. He should have ignored it the moment it rang.) He was being called to the office at the last minute because one of their photographers was rushed to the hospital – in his rush to get there and support his wife in labor. It wasn’t anything serious, but the job required good motor skills and his co-worker couldn’t possibly make it to the job with a badly sprained foot (Soonyoung, that dumbass). All the other photographers have already been booked for a job or outside of the country.

Thus, Jeonghan being called to take his place.

Thus, Jeonghan having to grudgingly cancel his holiday plans with Wonwoo to which Wonwoo was surprisingly very understanding and okay about. He was even the one who convinced Jeonghan to take the job because – and to quote him - Soonyoung would do the same for them. Jeonghan countered that they will never be biologically capable of bearing children so Soonyoung couldn’t even if he wanted to. Still, he took the job because he understood what his partner meant.

This leads him back to the blinking cursor in his laptop. He glares at it menacingly, as if his glare can make it magically write words on its own. No such luck. He returns to typing.

Hi, it sucks that I’m here in Seoul while you’re all the way in Changwon and I can’t kiss you happy new year like we planned to. :( It sucks that you’re sick. :(

He deletes his words, chuckling a little. He can’t send that to Wonwoo. He’s whining again and even if he knows the boy doesn’t mind, he wants to write a touching and emotional love letter that will make that surprisingly romantic nerd boyfriend of his have company while he was away eat his words when he said Jeonghan wasn’t sweet at all.

He remembers his last gift to Wonwoo. He tried baking him brownies for his birthday. He and Jihoon thought of it on a whim, knowing that his partner preferred small celebrations than large ones and thinking that cakes are mainstream so the way to go is brownies. Homemade no-bake brownies. From scratch. They even got Chan to help.

It was a horror.

Jeonghan was already looking up pastry recipes online while he was waiting for Jihoon. The guy messaged him the night before, asking if he could swing by Jeonghan’s place in the afternoon. He said he hit a snitch in his thought process and needed to get out of his cave studio for inspiration; maybe Jeonghan’s place would work. It was something they usually did, hanging out and just talking for hours. But that was something back in college, now they just meet like this and pretend they’re working when all they do is catch up with their own lives.

When Jihoon arrived, he was unusually late. He had a very distracted gaze, as if looking at everything and nothing at the same time, and his eyes didn’t meet Jeonghan’s. He was wondering if Jihoon was worried about something – maybe another fight with Seungcheol? – he was willing to listen, but if Jihoon wasn’t saying anything, then neither was he. Yet. When Jihoon was ready, he’s sure they’ll talk.

He led the boy to the living room where his laptop and camera was set up on the coffee table. Jihoon settled down on the adjacent corner of the table, setting up his own laptop and portable equipment while blabbering about random things that happened on his way to Jeonghan’s place and something about his older brother buying him clothes. None of them were doing actual work and they talk about the randomest things that recently happened in their lives. He contributed to the conversation as much as possible while scrolling through brownie recipes.

Finally, Jihoon ran out of things to fill the silence and peeked at his screen. “You’re making brownies?”

“I’m still thinking,” he answered, grinning. “It’s Wonwoo’s birthday soon and I wanted to make him something special this year.”

“Soon?” Jihoon perked up, remembering that Wonwoo’s birthday was indeed around this time of the month. “How soon?”

“Tomorrow soon,” Jeonghan chuckled guiltily. If he was being honest, he planned to make the brownies that day, but since Jihoon was coming over, he thought he could just go and buy the ingredients and then make the actual thing the next day. He’s meeting Wonwoo in the evening anyway. But since Jihoon already brought it up, Jeonghan was made to realize the absurdity of his plans. “Want to come buy ingredients with me?”

They found themselves in the grocery store fifteen minutes later with Jihoon pushing the cart while Jeonghan tried to make sense of the ingredients. They’re halfway through the list when their cart bumped into Chan. Jeonghan insisted that it’s Jihoon’s fault for distracting him to which the younger would retort that it’s Jeonghan’s fault for being lost in a grocery store in his own neighborhood. Chan argued they’re both as bad as the other and decides to stick around to make sure they don’t mess up his Wonwoo-hyung’s birthday brownie cake.

“Okay, so it says here to sift the flour and cocoa,” Jeonghan read and put down his phone, preparing a cup each of flour and unsweetened cocoa. Jihoon then proceeded to sift the flour, “this is nice.”

“Hyung, let me try,” Chan said and gestured to accept the sift from Jihoon which the older boy lets him do. Jeonghan then checked the next procedure so he can prepare the next ingredients when he realized it only required half a cup of cocoa instead of one. “Wait, stop!” he told his friends of his mistake to which they answer that it’s no use as the cocoa has already been sifted with the flour. He urged them to scoop at least a tablespoon of cocoa out.

“Nah, it’s alright, hyung,” Jihoon said. “Just treat this as practice and make Wonwoo the right one later.”

Chan jived in, “Yeah! Then we can just eat whatever we make together.

“I don’t think I have time for that so we're just using this one and I’ll just let this slide,” Jeonghan decided after a while. “Though that’s the last time we’re saying ‘it’s alright!’” They nod.

It wasn’t the last time.

Because he was controlling the phone, Jihoon and Chan functioned as the extension of his hands, making the brownie. The problem was: they’re very uncooperative hands. Jihoon kept adding extra milk while they were cooking the batter, Chan kept on playing with the fire settings and both of them kept on reassuring, “it’s alright.’”

“It’s nooot!” Jeonghan would protest every time. “It’s not as if we’re the ones eating this! My boyfriend is!”

“Why can’t we just be the ones to eat this?” Jihoon suggested.

“Serves you right for having a boyfriend,” single-Chan dissed at the same time and they do a high five while Jeonghan palmed his face, all while still letting his dongsaengs handle the cooking.

More ‘it’s alrights’ and ‘it’s nots’ later, the batter had been transferred to a container and stored in the fridge. Jeonghan took a quick break from the world and heads for the couch, resting his back. He felt his dongsaengs follow, Jihoon returning to his spot on the floor and Chan replacing him in his. Both seemed to be just as tired as they engage in casual discussion while checking their phones. Jeonghan took this time to complain about his problems to Jisoo, his best friend from uni who already went back to the states for work.

He sent Jisoo photos of the successful looking brownie cake as well as photos of the pests who decided to infiltrate his home and sabotage his brownie for Wonwoo. “I’m so tired,” he shared. “But I’m glad I was able to put the brownies in the fridge right after we placed them in the container. You know, before these two could sabotage it more. Chan even wanted to put it in the freezer for faster chilling, can you believe these men?”

“Uh, Hannie,” Jisoo asked after a while.

“Yes?”

“Shouldn’t you let the brownies cool before putting them in?”

“What?”

He found himself curled up in Wonwoo’s lap a few minutes after they’ve gone back home from a small dinner with Wonwoo’s parents. Wonwoo already lived separately, but they always found it a pleasure to visit and have meals with his parents especially since his mom was just so nice and sweet, and his dad so funny. They often joke they’d adopt Jeonghan because he’s such a sweeter boy than Wonwoo, but said guy paid no heed and instead goes for the kill. “He’ll be a part of the family soon, Ma, Pa. No need for adoption papers.” They did that joke again that night and although they’re both tired, Jeonghan went home with a lightness in his chest.

With his arm loosely wrapped around the man’s neck and Wonwoo’s arms around his waist, he peppered the underside of said man’s chin with small, light kisses. “Happy birthday, love,” he said just loud enough for both of them to hear. Wonwoo smiled back and tilted his head down so he can meet Jeonghan’s small kisses with his own.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo says softly, each word punctuated with a press of his lips to Jeonghan’s. Jeonghan smiled and closed the day after his eyes, already relaxing in the embrace of his partner, the meeting of their lips leaving small chus across the room. He always loved moments like this – quietly holding each other on the couch, lips meeting softly, silently, with no rush or pressure at all. Even after so many years, Wonwoo still mde his heart flutter like the first time they touched.

He could have stayed there and kissed Wonwoo to sleep, but he was a man with a mission and his mission was to deliver his gift. He chased after Wonwoo’s lips one last time before sitting up properly, “Stay there.” He got up, but a confused Wonwoo pulled him back for another kiss and he stayed there straddling Wonwoo for a full minute, giving each other lazy kisses before Jeonghan finally got the strength to pull away. He playfully slapped Wonwoo’s shoulders and planted the guy’s palms down the couch. “Stay,” he said, pressing them down, “here. Okay?”

Wonwoo chuckled and nodded, but when Jeonghan turned his back to finally get the brownies, he inched forward and pulled Jeonghan back. “Looove,” Jeonghan protested as he found himself flopping back down the younger’s lap, a big stupid grin stuck on his face.

“It’s my birthday,” Wonwoo protested back, arms snaking around the older man’s waist once more. “Can’t we just stay here longer?” He lets Wonwoo steal a kiss.

Jeonghan thought it’s absolutely unfair for a man with such sharp features to be capable of pulling off puppy eyes, but he should have known he dug his own grave when he decided to date this guy. “Isn’t that my line?” He squinted, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was the guy who usually asks for a minute more to laze around is the one itching to get up.

Wonwoo shrugged, a coy smile on his face, “I don’t know, is it?”

He’s about to let Wonwoo pull them into lying lazily on the couch again when he stood up, this time pulling Wonwoo along with him. “You know what,” he decided, harnessing all of his self-control. There was no budging Wonwoo when he was like this. “Just come with me.”

They don’t bother to turn the lights on as they made their way to the kitchen. He had a hand holding Wonwoo’s and the other covering his eyes. “What’s this?” Wonwoo laughed, trying to take Jeonghan’s hand off. “Serves you right for not letting me go alone,” he bit back, keeping his hands firm. The other just laughed him off with a “Yes, yes,” and shifted their position so Wonwoo could awkwardly wrap an arm around Jeonghan’s waist as they walked awkwardly to the kitchen, fingers laced.

“No peeking,” Jeonghan reminded him as Wonwoo ended up covering his own eyes on their way to the fridge. He briefly let go of Wonwoo and made him stay put by the kitchen counter before moving to get the brownies from the fridge and a small candle and a lighter from one of the kitchen drawers. He set them up nicely on the counter. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Wonwoo made a show of opening his eyes but keeping his hands on top of them. “Can I take the hands off too?”

He laughed and peeled them off himself, slipping a quick peck on his lips.

“What’s this?” Wonwoo asked with a little laugh that’s a mix of surprise and disbelief. “You made this for me?”

Jeonghan let out an excited squeal. “Yes!” He sliced them a piece and gave Wonwoo a fork. “I made it with Jihoon and Chan, so if anything’s wrong it, it’s their fault.”

Wonwoo laughed and tentatively looked at the sight before him. Jeonghan had to admit, he didn’t have much time to prepare. The brownies were still in the metal container they were frozen on, they weren’t sliced yet except for the part he gave Wonwoo and that means he hasn’t tasted the brownies himself either. He could have messed up and used salt instead of sugar and wouldn’t have a clue. He ended up very nervous and twiddled his fingers as he watched Wonwoo take a bite.

Please like it. Please like it. Oh, please like it.

But then Wonwoo’s hands flew to his mouth and he gagged.

“Shit! Was it salt?! Quick, spit it out!”

Wonwoo seemed to be taken aback by this response and laughed. He waved his hands and finished the whole bite before responding to him. “What do you mean, was it salt?” He laughed. “I was just kidding. It tastes great.”

Jeonghan let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t poison his boyfriend on his birthday, nice. But then it dawned on him that Wonwoo was playing with him and he slapped the guy on the shoulder. “That was so uncalled for!”

The birthday boy laughed and wrapped his arms around Jeonghan who pretended to put up a fight before wrapping his arms around the boy’s neck. “I’m sorry. The brownies were delicious.”

“Thank yo–”

“If they even were brownies-” Wonwoo earned another slap on the shoulder. “Kidding! I’m kidding! I loved them, thank you.” He tried to placate Jeonghan with a peck on the lips that Jeonghan did not dignify with a response, but they both knew it was working. “Now why don’t we go back to our bedroom so I can show you how thankful I am for this surprise?” Jeonghan allowed him to steal another kiss before returning the brownie cake in the fridge and letting himself be pulled away.

He found out the day after that the brownies tasted raw and had Wonwoo – who was unfairly better at him in these things – bake them.

Of course, the guy is so much better at planning surprise birthday presents than him too.

His birthday that year started off already amazing.

He woke up with a little disappointment at not finding Wonwoo in bed with him but was immediately placated by the strong scent of waffles that made its way to their slightly ajar bedroom door. Excited, he made his way to their kitchen to see Wonwoo plating some waffles on the table and then returning to the kitchen to cook some eggs. “Oh,” Wonwoo said, looking back at him for just a moment, “I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

Jeonghan slowly made his way to the kitchen and coudn’t help but notice the wild mix of food on the dining table. There was waffles with a can of whipped cream and a bowl of blueberries on the side, Japanese rice balls, a small serving of kimchi and an unfinished plating of bacon where he thought the eggs Wonwoo’s still making was going to go.

This was a strange arrangement for Jeonghan. Wonwoo wasn’t a fan of preparing different sets of food that wouldn’t normally go on the same table so he was trying to piece together what theme could be behind this morning’s breakfast when he realizes what day it is. It was his birthday. And these were all his favorite breakfast food.

A new level of fondness bubbled in his chest and he cooed at his cute chef. He wrapped his arms around Wonwoo’s waist. “Aw, sweetie,” he started, planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to prepare all these for me.”

“Great, should I pack them all away?”

“No!” He laughed and playfully slapped Wonwoo on the arm when he sees the glint of humor in his eyes. “You’re such a meanie. Just admit that you prepared all this food for me and greet me happy birthday like a normal person.”

All he got was a laugh and a kiss on the lips as Wonwoo moved away to plate the scrambled eggs with the bacon. He pouted. He wasn’t getting a happy birthday, was he?

Once Wonwoo was done plating the eggs (which looked fantastic, by the way) and putting away the kitchenware, he made a grand gesture of pulling a chair for Jeonghan who curtsied and took it before they both laugh and Wonwoo took the empty seat beside him. That was their thing that started a few months after they started dating. They realized they were both more comfortable when the other was sitting beside them than in front of. They found it more intimate.

They talked about their lives and their plans for the day as they started eating. They both woke up too early for work so they took their time in their stories, even slipping in what little they could remember from their odds dreams that night. Of course, Jeonghan made sure to remind Wonwoo every so often that he made a wonderful breakfast and that he enjoyed every single bite of it to Wonwoo’s embarrassment/annoyance. He only stopped when Wonwoo threatened to not do it ever again. (Of course, Jeonghan slid an excited “There’s gonna be a next time?” before letting it go.)

By the time they finished doing the dishes and preparing for their individual days out, Jeonghan had given up on the idea that Wonwoo was ever going to greet him happy birthday like a normal person. He took his time putting his keys and phone in his bag as he remembered everything Wonwoo did for him that morning that were enough of a happy birthday for him than anything. Wonwoo was so sweet and thoughtful that what he lacked in normal people speak, he made up for in Wonwoo Secret Language. And Jeonghan wouldn’t have it in any other way.

They were both on their way out of the door (with Jeonghan trying to sneak a quick goodbye-before-we-go-separate-ways kiss to no avail) when Wonwoo started patting down his trousers and the pockets of his bag. “Hey, I think I left my phone in the bedroom. Hold on,” was all he said before running back to their bedroom. Jeonghan just laughed and shouted after him, “I’ll wait for you here!” before he turned his back, leaned on their doorframe and took out his phone to check the daily news. Or puppies on his Twitter feed.

He’s too absorbed in giggling at cute little puppies tripping over themselves as they try to climb the stairs when he heard Wonwoo call, “Found it!” behind his back.

“Great-” he started to say as he turned around and saw Wonwoo, who instead of holding his phone, was holding a huge bouquet of pink tulips – his favorite flower – and a small circle of red velvet cake – again, his favorite. “Wha-?”

“Happy birthday, stupid.”

Jeonghan could feel his eyes tearing up. He slowly pocketed his phone and put down his bag before reaching over to kiss Wonwoo on the lips. “Thank you, dum-dum.” He gave the guy another peck before accepting his gifts. “Best birthday gift ever.”

Or so he thought.

Wonwoo prepared the sweetest, most thoughtful gift for him that morning that he didn’t suspect there would be a sequel to it anymore after work. He was full of blissful energy that day that no petulant kid at the photo booth could ruin his day. His day wasn’t even ruined when Wonwoo texted him after work that he couldn’t pick Jeonghan up on time and he had to carpool with Soonyoung instead, if he could. He had enough happiness to last him a week.

So, when he opened the door for Soonyoung who asked if he could drop by for coffee, he didn’t expect a bunch of his friends from work and college to surprise him with confetti, a few drinks and food. He didn’t expect his indoor I-prefer-it-with-a-few-friends-over boyfriend to throw a whole party for his birthday. But that was the thing with him and Wonwoo. They were generally the same in their very core, but they had different preferences like how they both knew Wonwoo would have preferred a quiet time with just the two of them on his birthday and that Jeonghan liked being part of a crowd or overused cliché gifts like cake and flowers.

Jeonghan was so happy, he couldn’t erase the giddy smile from his face even as the guests have all left and they were both laying down on their comfy bed, arms wrapped around each other. “Thank you for this beautiful day, Woo,” he said, planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips.

He felt Wonwoo smile as he deepens their kiss, pulling Jeonghan closer, hand slowly creeping under Jeonghan’s shirt. They remain that way for a while, content and giggly, when all of a sudden Wownoo pulled away and smirked. “And that,” he plants a small kiss on Jeonghan’s lips, “is how you throw a proper birthday surprise.”

“HEY!” Jeonghan laughed as he pinched Wonwoo on the side and hugged him close.

Hi. |

He continues to struggle figuring out what to write for his sick boyfriend and decides to wing it. Typing whatever it is that comes to mind as if he was back at home, talking to Wonwoo and they were spending the holidays together. He lets in a few complains about their arrangement because, let’s face it, it’s not really a message from Jeonghan if he isn’t being a bitch honest about his feelings.

But if he’s being honest, there’s another reason behind his bitterness about the situation. This holiday trip is supposed to be extra special for both of them. He planned three different romantic places they could go to: a fancy schmancy restaurant that serves Wonwoo’s favorite food, a hotel that was near the baywalk so they could take a calm morning walk, just like how Wonwoo wanted, and a quiet day on a park with the most beautiful trail he’s ever seen.

He looks at the small red velvety box lying on top of his bedside table. These are all places he planned for them to go to so Jeonghan could propose to Wonwoo. He made sure he got three tries in case he chickens out or loses the timing. But now he couldn’t even get one chance and he’s stuck writing his sick boyfriend an email because the guy can’t muster up the strength to video chat him.

He manages to write the cheesy email and send it to his boyfriend a few hours after midnight, not that Wonwoo would be able to read it in his current state. But Jeonghan thinks it’s the thought that counts.

Over the next two days, Jeonghan busies himself with work. He calls Wonwoo every so often to check on him, too. Wonwoo is still sick and Jeonghan has the slightest idea that it’s because every time he’s about to get better, he overexerts himself, probably to finish another deadline, and ends up getting even more sick. He really can’t wait to get home so he can take proper care of his stupid boyfriend.

On the day Jeonghan is finally allowed to go back home, he drops by the bookstore and picks up a book he knows Wonwoo will like. He has it wrapped and write a quick cheesy note on top of it before putting it inside his bag and leaves for the airport.

The sun has just risen when he gets back to his home in Changwon and he quickly makes himself comfortable, putting his bags on his desk and taking a quick shower. He takes a peek at the lovely man sleeping on his bed (with a laptop beside him that just confirms Jeonghan’s overworking theory) and puts his hand on his forehead, checking Wonwoo’s temperature. He’s not that sick anymore, but Jeonghan takes this opportunity to cook him chicken soup for breakfast. It’s just around the time Wonwoo is about to wake up when he finishes the soup and rice. He makes his way to their bedroom carrying a small tray for Wonwoo’s breakfast in bed.

“Good morning, Woo,” he calls entering their room. Wonwoo starts to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning. How was your flight?”

Oh, Wonwoo, ever the considerate guy. “It was great, thank you. I slept all the way here. Even on the taxi ride.” He sits down beside Wonwoo on the bed and sets up the tray. “I prepared you some breakfast.”

Wonwoo makes way for him on the bed. “At least you didn’t miss your stop,” he says. “Thank you for the breakfast, Han. You didn’t need to do this.”

“Oh, come on. I wanted to make up to you for being gone over the weekend.” He leans in to plant a kiss on the top of Wonwoo’s head.

Wonwoo smiles. “Thank you.” He takes a spoon and starts eating. They talk all the while, with Jeonghan telling ridiculous stories of the photoshoot he just had and Wonwoo sharing his own ridiculous stories with the people who came over to visit and take care of him. They laugh and eat and generally have a good time. Jeonghan is still contemplating about the right time to bring up the little velvet box he kept in his bag.

Right after Wonwoo finishes his food, Jeonghan takes the tray away and says, “Oh wait! Stay there! I got you something!” He rushes to leave the tray in the kitchen and heads over to his desk to pick up the wrapped book he got for Wonwoo. He takes the ring with him too, just for good measure. “Here you go,” he says as he hands Wonwoo the book.

“Gee, thanks!” Wonwoo says with a big smile when he unwraps the present. He looks through the pages, as if he can’t wait to read the book when Jeonghan remembers something.

“Hey, why didn’t you ever respond to my email?”

“What email?” Wonwoo asks a little confused. He puts down his book.

Jeonghan laughs. “And here I was wondering why I didn’t receive a snarky remark about my writing skills nor a quick thanks from you,” he jokes. He reaches over to pick up Wonwoo’s laptop and puts it on top the man’s lap. “Quick! Quick! Read it!”

And, with a laugh, Wonwoo does.

Hi.

It sucks that I’m here in Seoul while you’re all the way in Changwon and I can’t kiss you happy new year like we planned to. :( It sucks that you’re sick. :(

But I know it must suck even more for you because you were really looking forward to this trip and it just proves how much of a good friend you are that you were willing to set this trip aside for our good friend (who should really be naming his firstborn after us because of this!)

You’re really a treasure, Woo. You give your best in everything and give your friends all the best things you can ever give. I’m sure I’m speaking for all of our friends when I say this, but we’re lucky to have you in our lives. You’re my treasure. And I plan on keeping you for as long as you’ll let me.

Gosh, Woo, I’m really no good at this. You’re the writer here, don’t laugh at me! Anyway, my point is I’m glad to have met you for another full year and I hope you’d let me for even longer. I love you, Wonwoo. Always.

Still wishing I could kiss you happy new year,

Jeonghan.

“You can still kiss me happy new year now,” Wownoo says after reading, putting his laptop down.

Jeonghan pouts. “But it isn’t new year’s anymore.”

“Does it matter?” is all Wonwoo says before leaning forward and meeting his lips with Jeonghan’s. “Happy new year.”

Jeonghan smiles and thinks, this is it. Now’s the right time. “Hey, Woo,” he starts. “Cover your eyes.”

“What now? Don’t tell me you have more gifts?” Wonwoo complains but nonetheless closes his eyes.

Jeonghan pulls the velvety box from his pocket and opens it. “You can open them now.” The mix of joy, confusion and loss on the Wonwoo face confuses and brings giddiness to Jeonghan. “Will you marry me?”

They stay silent for a moment, both smiling with giddy faces as they look into each other’s eyes – before Wonwoo breaks contact and doubles over laughing.

“What? What? What did I do?” Jeonghan laughs, even more confused. Wonwoo doesn’t grace him with an answer and just reaches over to their bedside drawer, pulling an equally small, equally velvety black box. He opens it and Jeonghan is surprised to see another ring inside.

“I should have known you were going to propose to me too,” is all Wonwoo offers for an explanation. “So, if I say yes, does this mean you’re saying yes to me too?”

Jeonghan just laughs and wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s neck. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The sudden action makes his ring fall out of its box, jumping behind the headrest, and they both spend the entire morning trying to fish it from underneath the bed, but it doesn’t matter. He’s got a groom-to-be now and that’s enough happiness to last him a lifetime.

#Wonwoo and Jeonghan #WonHan #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #SEVENTEEN #Yoon Jeonghan #Jeon Wonwoo #Seventeen rare pair

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thesoftsoobin · 5 years

Text

➳ part: 2/?

➳ pairing: taehyung x yoongi

➳ genre: angst (with a happy ending), hanahaki au

➳ warnings: mention of death, non-kinky choking

➳ word count: 5k

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

yoongi was letting sunflowers overtake his lungs, and taehyung had a hard enough time watching him slowly die instead of telling hoseok his true feelings. but taehyung’s own crush was getting the best of him, and life managed to complicate itself even further when he began coughing up flowers, too. and not just any flowers, either. they had to be cherry blossoms, yoongi’s favorite.

There had been many times in the last two years that Taehyung had looked at Yoongi and thought, “I like him.”

The first, of course, was when he met him. It had been the first week of classes during his freshman year, and Taehyung saw Namjoon – only known to him as his orientation leader at time – talking to his friends in the brightly-colored lobby of the student union.

Taehyung looked over for just a second too long, long enough for Jimin and Jeongguk to run off to the mail room without him and long enough for Namjoon to make eye contact. In just a few seconds, Namjoon seamlessly transitioned from saying goodbye to two of his friends as they headed off to class to waving to Taehyung.

It wasn’t weird or anything, for him to say hi. The two of them hit it off fairly well during welcome weekend, Namjoon brightening as soon as Taehyung told him he was an art major. He had asked Taehyung his favorite artistic movement, his favorite artist, what he thought of the art on campus, and their conversations flowed effortlessly. But being a third year to Taehyung’s first year, Namjoon was still intimidating.

And his friend still sitting at the table Namjoon was leaning against was even more so. He was a complete juxtaposition to Namjoon’s smiling, fresh face, with a resigned demeanor, fading pink hair covered by a beanie, and three piercings in each ear. He was clicking around on his laptop with laser focus, a pair of headphones hooked around his neck, and he just looked so cool.

Not that Namjoon wasn’t cool. This guy was just cool in a different way – effortless, intriguing. The kind of cool that made you question your entire worth as a human being.

Taehyung took slow steps as Namjoon beckoned him over.

“Hey,” Namjoon had said, and Taehyung waved awkwardly, glancing between the two of them. The intimidating boy hardly acknowledged his presence, and he wasn’t sure that was relieving or upsetting. “How’s your first week going?”

“Good, it’s—”

“The kid’s barely gotten his syllabi yet, Joonie,” the pink-haired boy said, looking up from his computer. Taehyung flitted his gaze to him, but immediately looked away when their eyes met. “Ask him how he’s doing in a few months, once he’s drowning in midterm work.”

Taehyung let out an unconvincing laugh while Namjoon rolled his eyes. “It’s my job to make sure he hasn’t gotten lost or anything, Yoongi hyung.”

“Fair enough,” Yoongi said and went right back to clicking away at his laptop.

“Don’t let him scare you,” Namjoon said to Taehyung then. “Midterms aren’t that bad, but—”

“They’re hell,” Yoongi said, grin playing on his face while Namjoon sighed. “Not as bad as finals, though.”

“You’ll get through it,” Namjoon pressed his lips into a smile, dimples showing, before he turned back to Yoongi. “Oh, Yoongi hyung, this is Taehyung. He’s the one I was telling you about. The art major.”

Yoongi seemed to brighten at this news, too, which made Taehyung feel prouder than he probably should have. Even when he was teasing Namjoon, he sounded bored, so there was something satisfying about piquing his interest within the first few moments of knowing him.

“Is that your major, too?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited, or look too disappointed as Yoongi shook his head.

“I’m music tech,” he said. “But I—”

“He’s minoring in photography,” Namjoon said. “You said that’s your favorite medium, right?”

Taehyung nodded, and Yoongi laughed to himself as he shut his laptop. He took his headphones off from around his neck and started slipping everything into his backpack at his feet. “Namjoonie, you’re too much of an art nerd to be an engineering major.”

“You forget I make music too,” Namjoon said. “Humans are complex creatures.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yoongi said, standing and pulling his bag up with him. “I need a nap before my 3 o’clock class. But that’s cool, Tae. You should eat lunch with us sometime.”

“Okay,” Taehyung nodded again, quicker this time, as if Yoongi might not see it. “Yeah, totally.”

As Yoongi gave them a tired goodbye, Taehyung began tallying the things he knew in that moment. One, Yoongi not only looked cool, but he was interesting too, with hobbies like mixing music and photography. Two, Yoongi was generous and invited freshmen to eat lunch with him. And three, Taehyung liked him.

Once Namjoon’s and Taehyung’s friend groups merged, he found himself thinking that a lot.

There were the moments where Yoongi would break out of his shell and crack obnoxious jokes, his gummy smile making Taehyung’s boxy one appear on his own face. Yoongi’s laugh would ring clear and genuine through whatever room they were in, and Taehyung would think, “I like him.”

Then, things started going downhill for Taehyung during spring semester, and Yoongi was the only one who seemed to notice. Or, at least, notice and care enough to ask and listen.

They’d sit on the floor of Yoongi’s apartment with empty cartons of ramen around them, and Yoongi would listen to Taehyung cry. Together, the two of them would weigh Taehyung’s options day after day, and Yoongi was the voice of reason when a tough decision ultimately had to be made.

When the semester finally came to a chaotic close, and Jimin and Jeongguk started dating, Jimin decided he was going to room with Jeongguk the following year. Yoongi gave up his comfortable apartment housing to return back to the dorms for his senior year, just so Taehyung didn’t have to live with someone random. It was in that moment, too, as Yoongi filled in their information on the housing website, that Taehyung thought, “I like him.”

And, of course, there was this year, just before he found out about the sunflowers. It was their first night in the new dorm, and Taehyung woke up in the middle of the night.

Yoongi was sitting awake in his bed, working on another song with the light of his computer shining on his face, and Taehyung finally understood why he took so many naps during the day. He was so invested in what he was doing, he didn’t even notice Taehyung slip out of bed and into the hall to go to the bathroom.

Eyelids heavy as he peed, Taehyung had thought of Yoongi’s heart and passion, and his tired brain repeated, “I like him, I like him, I like him.”

But those thoughts had all been strictly platonic, and he didn’t think it would end up like this. Even when the first few flowers grew in his chest on Halloween, he managed to shrug it off by the time he fell asleep.

He’d had crushes before, grew flowers that promptly died within a few weeks. And the only time they hadn’t died, his love was much more obvious to him than this. Surely, this would be over soon.

But it was December now, and the plague in Taehyung’s lungs was only getting worse. Even just remembering these moments on his way back to the dorms, he began coughing, and a few pink petals found their way into the snow at his feet.

It wouldn’t be long until Yoongi found out. That was a disaster he wasn’t looking forward to going through again.

That was unless Yoongi died first, which was a heart sinking realization Taehyung had the moment he unlocked the dorm’s door and found Yoongi still in bed. He hadn’t moved, still in the same fetal position he was in when Taehyung left for class this morning.

And, well, Taehyung didn’t think he could hear him breathe, so he held his own breath and reached out.

“Hyungie,” he said, nudging Yoongi’s shoulder. Lightly, because Yoongi hyung hated being woken up. He had to be alive, and Taehyung didn’t want to piss him off.

But there was no response.

“Yoongi hyung,” he said, pushing harder.

Still nothing.

“Wake up,” he said, practically shoving him now, his voice breaking. “Come on.”

Miraculously, Yoongi reached up and smacked Taehyung’s hand away from him with a grunt, and Taehyung breathed out. As he did, there was another tickle in his throat.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi grumbled, turning back over and pulling his comforter up over his shoulders.

The petal in Taehyung’s throat was threatening its way up, so he stepped further into the room and took a long swig from the week-old bottle of water on his desk. His heart was still hammering in his chest.

“It’s noon,” he tried to say casually. “Didn’t you have a 9 a.m.?”

“Nnh,” Yoongi grunted again, tightening the covers around him.

“And don’t you work today? At 1?”

“Shit,” he sighed, and that did it. He threw the covers off of him and, albeit slowly, got out of bed. As he dragged his feet to his dresser, he said, “I don’t think I’m going to go to class anymore.”

“What?” Taehyung slipped his canvas backpack off his shoulders and set it by his desk. He kept his eyes on Yoongi while Yoongi pulled his drawers open and searched lazily for his work shirt. “Why?”

“Because these—” Yoongi started hacking, each cough harsh and rough like usual. “Because these fucking flowers are going to kill me before graduation.”

“I get that, but you shouldn’t—”

“And I have a fever—” he kept coughing. “—every day anyway. I can barely focus at work, and serving coffee is—”

Just as Taehyung’s heart rate returned to normal, Yoongi’s coughing devolved into choking, a deep guttural sound escaping him. He stumbled backward, and his eyes filled with tears and desperation, hands gripping his throat as he took small, ragged breaths.

For a brief moment, Taehyung didn’t register what was happening. It happened fast, the way Yoongi began gasping and his face started turning purple.

Suddenly Taehyung was jumping from his place at his desk, rushing to his roommate’s side. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do in this situation, and his mind raced too fast for him to even catch a thought.

Somehow, though, his arms found their way around Yoongi’s waist from behind, and he pressed hard on Yoongi’s abdomen with clenched fists. Tears were slipping from his own eyes by the third time he did this. He was justmet with the relief of knowing Yoongi wasn’t dead in bed. This wasn’t happening.

But at some point, Yoongi brought a hand up to his mouth and reached in, and he gasped for long enough breaths that Taehyung could stop his clumsy Heimlich maneuver. He had to take a step back anyway, once he saw what Yoongi was tugging from his throat.

It was an entire devastating sunflower, stem and leaves and all, damp and covered in blood. Yoongi threw it into his trash can as though if he held it any longer, it was going to find its way back into his esophagus and kill him right then.

He gripped his bed frame and bent over, taking heavy, deep breaths. And though Taehyung couldn’t see his face, he thought he could hear him start to really cry, not just out of reflex.

“Fuck it,” Yoongi whispered, clearly unable to speak any louder. “They can—they can deal without me at work today. I’ll be dead by m’ next paycheck.”

“Hyung, you have to—” Taehyung tried, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You can’t just—”

“What?” Yoongi snapped, standing up straight and letting out a groan. He limped around to fall back into his bed.

“You have to do something.”

He was still audibly congested, and he let out another cough before he rolled over and said, “He doesn’t—he doesn’t like me. It’s clear. So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You don’t know that,” Taehyung mumbled, but Yoongi gave him a look. “At least go to the doctor, hyung! You can’t let it take over you without trying anything.”

“Not all of us can afford to pay 11 million won for a surgery whenever we fall in love with our best friend, Taehyung,” Yoongi said, mouth pinched.

Taehyung blinked and opened his mouth to respond but found that he didn’t know what to say. It was the struggle of Jimin’s favorite orchids growing in Taehyung’s chest while he watched Jimin and Jeongguk fall mutually in love that Yoongi noticed last spring.

Yoongi was the only one who knew, the only one who supported Taehyung’s decision to spend his college savings on the surgery instead of letting the orchids kill him. He was the one who drove him to and from the operation and covered for him on the days he wasn’t at the dorms, but instead recovering in a hospital bed.

It was unfair of him to use that against Taehyung, especially now, when it was happening all over again. When Yoongi was in love with someone else right in front of his eyes, and Taehyung had cherry blossoms inhabiting his lungs and was now too broke to do anything about it. He was in the same place as Yoongi.

But he couldn’t say all that, so he just blinked. He shut his mouth.

“Ah, Taehyungie, I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, sitting up and rubbing a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just—I’m just frustrated. Going to the doctor won’t do anything unless I have that money. You know that.”

“I know,” Taehyung said, voice small.

“I shouldn’t have said that. This all just sucks.”

“Will you at least talk to him?” he asked. He refused to say his name out of fear that it would cause another whole sunflower to suffocate Yoongi. “I don’t…look, I don’t want you to die.”

Maybe he could hear the sincerity and fear in Taehyung’s voice, see it on his face. Maybe he just realized it was his only option now. Either way, Yoongi nodded.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “I’ll talk to him. Just don’t tell anyone about this.”

“He what?” Jimin asked the very next day at dinner, ramen hanging off the chopsticks hovering in front of his mouth.

Yoongi had to have known that “anyone” didn’t include Jimin. Taehyung couldn’t nottell him, especially now that he and Jeongguk knew about Taehyung’s own affliction. It felt like any updates on Yoongi were an update on Taehyung’s own chance of survival.

“It was an entire sunflower,” Taehyung said, leaning in to whisper. “The flower, the stem…he literally choked. I had to give him the Heimlich maneuver.”

“Dude,” Jimin dropped his chopsticks back into his bowl without taking a bite. “That’s—”

“It’s not good,” Taehyung finished for him. “He can’t have more than a few months left, especially when he refuses to go to the doctor.”

“Why won’t he just tell him?” Jimin pouted.

“He said he would soon.”

“But then if they date,” Jimin said, picking his chopsticks back up and then promptly putting them down again, “…I mean, what does that mean for you?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Taehyung said, but his stomach dropped at the mere thought. It was bad enough having to hear Yoongi talk about Hoseok and his dimples and all the other things he had that Taehyung lacked.

Having to see them actually be together – constantly, considering he lives with Yoongi – could go one of two ways. He could learn to get over it, find someone else to fall in love with, and the flowers could stop growing. It’s early enough in his disease that maybeit could be possible.

Or his love, so unrequited it hurt, could grow so much that the flowers grew at twice the rate. That’s what happened with Jimin, and he was lucky he could get the surgery and make both the flowers and the feelings go away entirely. But that wasn’t an option now, and it almost felt like the 11 million won spent last spring were pointless.

It’s not like it extended his life expectancy very far.

“Maybe you should tell him too,” Jimin said, and a small smile spread across his face. “It could be like romance movie, where he realizes what’s been in front of him all along, and you both live happily ever after with clear lungs.”

“That’s exactly what wouldn’t happen,” Taehyung said. As much as he’s been pushing Yoongi to tell Hoseok, he understood now. But at least for him, he knew for a fact his chances were nonexistent. The evidence of that was still rotting in Yoongi’s trash bin as they spoke. “I wish things could be easy, like they were with you and—”

“So, I have an idea,” Jeongguk said, sliding into the seat beside Jimin. Judging by the way Taehyung and Jimin were huddled in secrecy, he knew exactly what they were discussing. “We perform the surgery ourselves.”

“Babe, no.”

“There are a million reasons why that wouldn’t work, Jeonggukie.”

“Hear me out,” he said as he tore open his chopsticks. “I know a few pre-med majors. They studied the procedure like last week, so it’s fresh in their brain. It’s foolproof, rea—”

He stopped abruptly, eyes trailing up behind Taehyung, and soon Yoongi fell into the seat beside him. Yoongi sighed, glaring down at his food, and decided to take a sip of his water instead of trying to eat.

“How’s your fever?” Taehyung asked. He was surprised to even see him there; the last he saw Yoongi, he was curled up in bed like yesterday, refusing to do anything or go anywhere.

“S’fine,” Yoongi said, more to his tray of food than Taehyung, but the way he shivered told Taehyung otherwise.

“I’m not saying he’s not strong,” Namjoon said, joining the table with Jin before Taehyung could prod any further. “I’m just saying Naruto could beat him in a fight.”

“And I’m saying you’re wrong,” Jin said.

“What’s Namjoon hyung wrong about?” Jeongguk asked.

“Goku or Naruto, who would win?”

“Oh, Goku would destroy Naruto.”

“Exactly.”

Hoseok was the last to join the table, and on his way to the seat across from Yoongi, he pulled Yoongi’s beanie off his head with a chuckle. Taehyung watched, the rest of the table’s bickering being tuned out, as Yoongi blushed down at his tray. Hoseok sat down and pulled the hat on over his head, rudely flashing the dimples that were causing all of this.

“You never came over last night, hyungie,” he said to Yoongi, who looked anywhere but him.

“Oh yeah, uh,” Yoongi mumbled, pushing his food around on his plate but still not taking a bite. He cleared his throat, looked up. “Uh, you know. I was working on my final project for workshop. I kinda lost track of time.”

What really happened was this: Taehyung sat across from Yoongi in his bed while he drafted a simple text message to Hoseok asking to hang out, just them. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, for Hoseok anyway, but Yoongi overthought every word with the knowledge that the text would eventually lead to his confession. Taehyung picked at his nails and did his best to help, flushing down the cherry blossoms that kept working their way up his throat with stale beer.

But then Yoongi started choking up more petals and a few leaves, and once the coughing subsided, he passed out. He fell asleep at the ripe hour of 7 p.m. and stayed that way until…well as far as Taehyung knew, until he got up to come to dinner.

“Maybe I could…come over after this?” Yoongi asked slowly. “I have something I want to…talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Hoseok nodded. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed off. I can’t describe it.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine!” Yoongi answered with just enough enthusiasm for it not to be believable. Hoseok lifted an eyebrow, and Yoongi looked at Taehyung for a brief second before turning back to Hoseok. He let his chopsticks clatter onto his plate and set his hands in his lap, shoulders falling. “It’s just…you know…stuff.”

“…Okay,” Hoseok said. “I have something to talk to you about too, actually.”

Hoseok’s words made Taehyung’s chest feel heavy. It was probably another case like Jimin and Jeongguk, where they both just had to tell each other their feelings and all would be well. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong to not deserve a case like that himself.

He hated himself for it, but regardless of how heavy he felt, he still reached under the table, took Yoongi’s hand in his, and squeezed. To his surprise, Yoongi placed his opposite hand on top of theirs and squeezed back.

Hoseok and Yoongi left the dining hall together with Hoseok’s arm slung over Yoongi’s shoulders, and Taehyung headed straight to the campus art studio to get his mind off of it.

He had everything necessary to distract himself – his final project for his painting and drawing class was due soon, pop music was blaring from the radio and echoing off the walls of the wide-open room, and his friend Sana was there working on her own project. Still, his mind wandered with every few strokes of his paintbrush.

They’re talking right now, he would think. They’re talking right now, and there’s not a single possible outcome that’s particularly great. Every fifteen minutes, he’d pull his phone out of his pocket and check for an update from Yoongi, but he was met with zero notifications every time.

It wasn’t until three hours later that he sat back and really looked at his painting, and nothing about it was right. The anatomy of the tiger was off, it wasn’t anywhere close to the skill level he was used to producing things at, and even at this stage, he could tell it wouldn’t get him anything close to a good grade.

But of course that’s how it looked – he had been too distracted to even glance at the reference image he was meant to be replicating. Taehyung groaned and resisted the urge to kick the easel and let the whole thing come falling down.

That had to be the very moment he started coughing, too. One cough after the next, he let the petals come all the way up his throat for the first time in the last two days.

“Are you—” Sana peaked from behind her canvas, paintbrush still hovering in front of it. “Do you need some water?”

“I’m fine,” he squeaked, waving his hand at her and standing from his stool. “It’s just—just the fumes, from the acrylics.”

She lifted her eyebrows, and he knew she didn’t believe him. Why would she? She’d been watching him barely work all night. She gave him a confused look by the fifth time he pulled his phone out, all too aware that he was giving more attention to his text messages than the canvas in front of him, so she had to know something – someone – was on his mind.

It didn’t matter if she believed him, anyway. He couldn’t stop himself from coughing, and soon he had to run to the nearest garbage can to spit the truth out in the form of cherry blossoms.

“No way,” Sana said, right behind him. “Who is it?”

She wasn’t concerned; most people wouldn’t be. To the majority of society, the flowers were a rite of passage. They killed hundreds of people every year, sure, but something like 87% of those people were cases of failing relationships that became one-sided. Outside of relationships, the love usually didn’t run deep enough to kill. You got a crush, you grew flowers, and if they didn’t like you back, you got over it.

The thing Sana didn’t know was that Taehyung didn’t see himself getting over it any time soon. The other 13% of cases were people with crushes on friends, people whose love already ran deep and was taken to another level. People like Taehyung. People like Yoongi.

“You don’t know him,” he lied, waving her off again. He kept coughing, spitting out petal after petal into the trash.

“That’s…a lot of flowers,” Sana said. “Are you sure you’re—”

She was cut off by him gagging and resigned to patting his back, periodically rubbing slow circles that he could now say didn’t actually help. He could feel her looking over his shoulder as she did, peering to see what kind of flowers they were.

When he finally stood up straight several coughs later, she squinted at him, trying to figure him out. His shoulders fell, and he sighed.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll get over it soon. It’s just a random—”

“Is it Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung blinked fast, shaking his head. “What?”

“He was in my photography class last year. His phone case had cherry blossoms on it,” she shrugged. “Plus, you guys are friends,aaand you kept muttering, ‘Come on, Yoongi,’ every time you’d check your phone.”

Taehyung just kept shaking his head, stepping around her to return to his easel. He didn’t need anyone else to know, and besides, he didn’t have time to explain himself. Not when he still didn’t know what was going on with Yoongi and Hoseok.

“I have to go,” he said, tugging his coat on and slipping his bag over his shoulder. “Will you put my canvas on the rack? And clean my brushes? Sorry.”

“Sure. Are—Are you—”

“Don’t worry,” he said, waving over his shoulder. “Like I was saying, it’s just a random guy in one of my classes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taehyung didn’t get back to the dorm until well after 11 p.m. The lights were off, and the room was silent aside from the buzzing of the heater in the corner. He tiptoed inside and set his bag down as gently as possible, careful not to wake Yoongi.

Chances are, regardless of what happened, Yoongi came right back here and let his exhaustion take over once more. Taehyung would have to wait until morning for answers, but at least he could rest assured knowing Yoongi was okay for now.

That relief only lasted seconds, though, because when Taehyung turned on his desk lamp to change into pajamas, Yoongi’s unmade bed was empty in the dim light.

“Wha—" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He glanced around at Yoongi’s side of the room, as if hoping he was hiding among the clothes falling off of hangers in his closet or behind the camera equipment on his desk.

Taehyung waited and waited, but he never got a response. Ten minutes later, and a typing bubble still didn’t appear. He tried to convince himself that Yoongi was just busy working on a song or a project for class, but the more he read over Yoongi’s typo, the more chills ran up his spine.

Before he knew it, he was putting his boots and coat back on and making the trek to the other side of campus. The snow crunched beneath his feet, and sharp winds stung his cheeks as his breathing became shallow.

For once, the excessive warmth of the campus buildings was welcomed by Taehyung. He could barely feel his hands as he pushed open the door of the media building and took the stairs two at a time to the basement.

There were multiple recording studios downstairs, but Taehyung had visited Yoongi there enough times to know that Studio E was his favorite. He knocked once, then twice, fist heavy on the door.

He was met only with a groan, but it was a groan nonetheless. A sign of life. He tried the door handle and was able to let himself in.

Taehyung wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It’s not like a groan meant Yoongi would be sitting up straight and working away at a mix with the same passion in his eyes as he had that night three months ago. But he wasn’t expecting to find Yoongi slouched over the desk with his cheek on the mixing console, eyes closed. His phone was at his feet.

The only thing that kept Taehyung from panicking more was Yoongi’s heavy, labored breathing.

“Hey,” he whispered, slinking over to poke him. That, at least, elicited another groan. “Did you—did you tell him?”

“Nnh,” Yoongi grunted as he worked to sit up straight again. His eyes were bloodshot, but Taehyung couldn’t remember if they’d been that way for a while from all of the coughing and choking or if it was something new. “Yeah, I told him.”

Taehyung rung his hands together, feeling his entire body tremble as he awaited the details. “Well, does he…”

“Let’s just say I’m still dying.”

Taehyung gasped so quickly that he started coughing, and he was lucky another cherry blossom petal didn’t come flying out. “What?” he asked when he managed to catch his breath.

“He doesn’t like me,” Yoongi rasped, turning to look at the monitors in front of him and away from Taehyung. He was still somewhat slouched over, frown pressed into his face. “I told you. This was stupid.”

“But—But it’s like they say,” Taehyung tried. “You—you planted the seed. He’ll think about it now, a-and there are plenty of cases where—”

“No, Taehyung.”

“He said he had something to tell you, though!” Taehyung whined, his throat going raw as he held back from crying. His own fate was sealed from the very start of this, but Yoongi hyung couldn’t die. “It was that he liked you, wasn’t it? That he was growing cherry blossoms, that—”

“No, that wasn’t it,” Yoongi said, lying his head back down on the console controls. “It’s…nnh…it’s too late. There’s not enough time to change anything.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung begged. “Stop being so cryptic.”

“He likes someone else,” Yoongi said, as matter-of-fact as he could get, and Taehyung thought he saw him wince. He cleared his throat and went on, “Taehyung-ah, he…he’s growing cherry blossoms, but they’re not for me.”

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