#first load there was some slight color change and a smell of something burning

[pileofpawns]

bought some of those (cheap) silicone dryer balls that look like dog toys and they got fuckin toasted after a single load.

[deepmentalitycheesecake]

Acrylic - Hwang Hyunjin

Genre(s): late 90s small town romance, slice of life

Pairing: Painter Hyunjin x Protagonist Y/N

Romantic tropes covered: slow burn, strangers at first, the muse, whimsical artist and grounded love interest

Note: The fanfic is entirely from the readers' POV, hence the use of "I" throughout

Word count: ~2K words

Part: 1/3 (ongoing)

The breeze lifted my hair up in a wild daisy dance as I opened the creaky door and stepped out of the house. Next, it caressed my skin in a dainty embrace, making the hair on my arms rise up in a salute. My skirt ruffled against my shins, as I made my way up the trail, the basket hanging off of my elbow, feeling as light as a feather compared to how heavy it felt just a few minutes ago when it was loaded with bread loaves. Cinnamon crusted bread loaves, to be precise. I was on another one of my errands, delivering bread loaves to houses and shops in the outskirts of the village. 

My eyes raised up to the skies in a silent prayer thanking the Gods for a good weather today. I would not have been in this mood if it weren't for the cool breeze and the slight, warm sunshine seeping in through the gaps in the foliage above me, creating pretty patterns on the trail.  Walking with a skip in my step, I for once, admired the beautiful adornment of flower bouquets on the footstep of the florist's, the smell of freshly baked pie wafting all the way from the confectioner's on the other end of the alley, the pretty array of clothing items the wizened old man had on display to sell on his cart, the luscious fruits on the cart next to him, being sold by his cheerful wife whose smile shone brighter than the sunlight reflecting off of the ornaments that a young man had up on small metal bars standing right opposite to them. It all felt like a pretty scenery for a change, when I would usually be breaking out in a sweat, hurling baskets of deliveries to and from the baker's where I used to work at. It would usually be painfully hot on afternoons like these, and my crass self would just need an excuse to be frustrated about how hard it indeed is, for some of us to make a living. 

But today wasn't one of those days, as I couldn't find it in me to complain about the life I was living. Instead I felt a warm sensation of admiration and adoration for all these mundane things in my life and it had me thinking about how I never appreciated such subtle beauties that existed around me. The wind blew my hair across my face and broke me out of my reverie as a few strands fell into my eyes making me stop in my tracks. Right as I was about to resume my walk down the trail onto a path that would lead me to the baker's, something bright caught my eye. I looked to my right and my eyes landed on a surreal masterpiece of a painting that had my breath hitched.

The canvas unveils a mesmerizing scene, featuring a butterfly in a delicate ballet of colors. The background, a canvas of pastel hues reminiscent of a twilight sky, enhances the ethereal quality of the masterpiece. It feels as though I've stepped into a dream, an intimate realm where emotions are painted as vividly as the strokes on the canvas. The butterfly takes center stage, its wings a tapestry of hues that mirror the kaleidoscope of emotions within. The artist's touch is tender, each brushstroke a testament to their affectionate craftsmanship. The wings seem to flutter with a gentle breeze, as if the butterfly is caught in a moment of timeless dance—a dance that mirrors the delicate intricacies of matters of the heart. The colors, the details, and the overall composition weave a tale of love, inviting me to explore the depths of emotions that may mirror mine. 

Something in the back of my head suggested if I was getting too carried away with interpreting the art and just when I was about to acknowledge that thought and tear my eyes away from it and instead focus on the trail ahead of me, something... or rather someone, made me glue my eyes back on right next to the art piece, my whole body involuntarily turning to face the right as this time, my breath most definitely got stuck in my throat and all my prior thoughts just got reaffirmed. I was definitely getting carried away. But in that moment, I couldn't care less as my eyes spanned across one of the most beautiful humans I've ever seen in all my 23 years of existence. 

The lean figure of a man dressed in a loose beige shirt tucked at the sides into his loose trousers that pooled at his ankles, walked out, carrying a wooden easel. His shirt was folded up on the arms and even from this distance I could see the specks and smudges of paint smeared all along his hands, a paintbrush held delicately between his fingers. My eyes drifted upwards and I caught sight of his luscious jet black hair that fell along his nape, the upper section skillfully pulled into a bun, stray strands framing his jawline. Right then, he lifted his head upwards and my gaze locked with his, as I almost audibly awed at how strikingly dashing he indeed looked. His hair accentuated the angles of his visage, and oh my, he definitely has to be one of the finest men to ever have existed. The pair of deep, striking eyes that bore right into mine, had me frozen in my spot, my gaze momentarily drifting to observe the rest of his face, how his eyebrows were slightly scrunched up in confusion, how there was a slight pout on his very pretty lips. Thankfully, my conscience butted in making me quickly avert my eyes in a feeble attempt to not embarrass myself even more and I bunched my skirt up and rushed down the trail, my heart thudding a little faster than usual. 

--

I hate to admit the effect the man had had on me. Undoubtedly, this has to be the first time in my life I have ever found a male species interesting, let alone absolutely fascinating. Aside from his looks, there was something about the painter that had me so intrigued. Was it because of the art piece I chanced upon that day? Or maybe because I just seem to have a thing for people associated with such deep, beautiful art forms? Or rather, was it because it has been a painfully long while since I have looked at a man for so long and observed one so intently? 

I realized that I had, yet again, lost myself in my mind. Heaving out an exaggerated sigh, I got up from my slouched over position on the wooden stool, determined to shun all the thoughts racing through my head. Going behind the counter, I chopped a slice of bread for myself from the loaf that was nearest to me, turning around, eyeing for the butter knife. Once I got a hold of it, I scathed a layer from the block of butter propped on a dish right next to the toast pan. Focusing on applying the butter evenly all across the slice of bread, I tossed the slice onto the pan waiting for it to turn into a toasted delight. Amidst the hustle and bustle going on in the kitchen at the back, I didn't quite hear the dingle of the bells at the door signaling the arrival of a customer. I was busy pressing down on my slice with the knife to get the butter melted well, when a voice cut through the chaos.

"Umm, excuse me?"

"Yeah?" I turned around promptly, only to momentarily lose my rationality the second I saw who it was. God forbid, the painter stood across the counter, looking over at me, his lips pursed into a tight lipped smile as he waited to give his order. He didn't have his hair half pulled up into a bun today, instead it lay loose, framing his face perfectly and making him look so ethereal up close, almost like he straight up stepped out from one of his own paintings.

His eyes briefly shifted to my hands and mine did too, to realize that I was still holding the butter knife, which could be interpreted as pointing towards him, ready to probably give a nice stab.

Oh.

I let out an embarrassing snort and murmured a hasty apology as I quickly turned around to switch the gas stove off and throw the knife there somewhere.

Turning towards him, I cleared my throat. "Yes, what would you like to have?" 

I could barely look at him for more than a few seconds and I decided that it was a better idea to divert my attention towards what was in front of me... the various baked items that we had on display. I felt the sweat building up on my palms and I mentally cursed myself. Why am I nervous?

"I'll have the apple crumble pie and some loaves of sourdough bread to go please?" He spoke, sliding the money across the counter, already having calculated the price based on the chalk writings that had been done on the slate prop board at the side.

Polite.

"Sure, getting them over to you in a minute." I spoke, mustering a smile as I looked back up at him. My entire being was on some strange electric mode. He looked at me for a moment, before nodding with a smile of his own and I figured I almost melted.

After ignoring the faint thudding of my heart that I could almost hear in my ears, I fetched the goodies he wanted and arranged them in a small basket before handing it to him.

"Thankyou for stopping by. Hoping that you'll like these." At this point, I had lost control of what I was speaking and was very well aware that all my rational thinking had flown out the window.

Speaking of windows, the fact that the window at the other end of the bakery was open, allowing the afternoon sunlight to seep in, and cast an angelic golden glow on the man in front, didn't go unnoticed by me.

I saw his smile, warmer than the sun's heat on my back, yet again, before he spoke. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe I've seen you before..? That afternoon when I was stepping outside of my studio... you were there. Was that you?"

Oh. He remembers.

I hesitated for a bit, genuinely not aware of how to respond before awkwardly admitting. "Ah I think so too. I remember seeing you vaguely. You were the one who painted that butterfly?" The latter part kind of came out involuntarily, because a part of me wanted to hear him say that yes, he IS the painter who had made something that has truly been etched in my mind from the moment I saw it.

He chuckled sheepishly and averted his eyes. "Ah, yes that's me."

By now, the nervousness had almost left my body and I found myself really eager to know this person standing right in front of me. Something in the back of mind spoke that he really did have great stories to tell. "It was beautiful" I naturally spoke out, as I looked up at him properly, this time with a genuine, appreciative smile.

His eyes drifted over to gaze at mine for a second, and a smile crawled its way back onto his face before he nodded. "Thankyou. Almost thought that you didn't catch any of that because you seemed to be in a rush." He bit his lip at that, eyes seemingly going playful as he looked back at me.

Oh dear heavens.

"I-- uh, well", I let out an embarrassed chuckle, "yes I was in a rush that day, don't exactly remember why, but yeah."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes still holding that playful gaze as a tiny grin broke out on his face.

"You can .. uhm.. stop by anytime, if you'd like." He straightened, caught sight of my rather taken aback expression and fumbled with his words. " I-I mean, if you'd be interested in seeing more of my paintings.. I, well presumed that you were into art and I could totally be wrong about this--" he was cut off by the chuckle that escaped my lips before I could control it. He looked at me wide-eyed for a split second, before a smile tugged at his lips and he turned his attention towards his shoes.

That has to be one of the most adorable things I've ever seen a man do.

"Yes, you're not wrong about me being into art" I admitted, finding his awkward charm very interesting. At first glance, he does not look like a shy person, more so the opposite. There's something about his natural aura that is very powerful, confident, and rich. Like a royal air to him. No doubt he is the personification of art himself. In the way he looks, walks, talks. But he also has a dominant energy, makes me feel intimidated in the good way, around him.

But who knew he had this side to him as well. Rather interesting.

He was still looking at me expectantly and I realised with a mental grimace that he probably caught me staring again while I was zoned out in my head.

Well I most definitely am giving off a weird and creepy charm or whatever.

"You're new here right? Maybe I can show you around sometime, and yes I'd love to come see your paintings" I let out to which he nodded. 

"Yes, I moved in last week and this really is a very beautiful place." 

"Hm.. can't say much because I've lived here all my life so it feels pretty monotonous to me" I shrugged. "But I get what you mean. The people are friendly, well most of them... so it's actually nice."

He hummed, looking at me for a second longer than usual before shuffling the basket of items to his other hand. "I should get going, I feel. It was really nice talking to you... " he extended his hand out. 

"It's Y/N" I replied, mentally praying for my palms to not be clammy before I reached out and shook my hand with his.

"Y/N." Hearing my name spill out of his lips in that beautiful silky tone of his voice almost had my breath hitched as I looked back at him.

"I'm Hyunjin" he held my hand for a second more, another one of those pretty smiles lingering on his face, before he was out the door like a mirage that disappeared into thin air.

---

[a-dorin]

frustration - kylo ren

word count: 953

warnings: angst/anger, kissing, some smut (near the end), cursing 

summary: after a failed mission, a very angry kylo ren comes back to his quarters to cool down. what he doesn’t know, is that you were sent home sick. you care for him, in all the ways you know how to. 

supreme leader kylo ren stormed off his shuttle, his robe singed, his clothes grimy with dirt. he wasn’t injured, luckily, but he was extremely frustrated. he was coming back from a failed mission. his attempt at locating one of the sith wayfinders was unsuccessful. 

sensing his fury, those on the loading dock did not speak to him as he marched through them. general hux stood at the gate, but forced himself to stay quiet as kylo ren stormed past him. everyone within a two foot radius could feel the anger coming from his body as he moved. 

kylo made his way through the corridors, with the intent of lashing out on his own, in the privacy of his private quarters. he was so frustrated at himself. he wanted nothing more to uncover the relic. the lack of progress was infuriating him, as kylo ren was not a very patient man. 

he stopped at the doorway of his quarters, punching in the code, careful not to push the buttons too hard. if one more thing did not go his way, he would explode. the anger was building up inside of him, a raging torrent within his thoughts. 

the doors opened, and kylo threw his saber against the wall, making a loud clanging noise. a body stirred in his bed, startling kylo momentarily. 

“how did your mission go today?” kylo’s moment woke you up from your nap. 

kylo froze, realizing that you were in the bed, “it didn’t go as planned. why aren’t you doing your tasks?”

you frowned, feeling the waves of fury radiating off kylo, “i wasn’t feeling well today, so i was sent back for bed rest.”

kylo sighed, slipping off his mask. it fell to the floor, filling the room with a loud echo. you sensed his disappointment, his self-loathing. you sat up, throwing the covers off you, heading towards kylo. 

you embraced him, burying your head in his chest. his clothes were dirty, but you didn’t care. you knew he needed your affection. it was the only way he could potentially calm down. his rough exterior crumbled, and he wrapped his arms around you.

he took in your scent, drinking in the smell of your perfume. he adored it, and your smell was one of the things that reminded him of comfort, of his home. you pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a soft kiss.

“would you like me to start some water in the shower for you?” your voice was soft, delicate with care.

kylo nodded, his arms still wrapped around your frame, “please.”

“would you like for me to join you?” glancing up, your (e/c) eyes met his. his eyes were still burning with anger, a deep dark color.

he didn’t have to say an answer. you knew he wanted you there with him, washing away the dirt that tainted his skin. lacing your fingers together, you lead him to the refresher. once inside the small room, you reached for the sonic shower, turning the water on.

“kylo,” you murmured, turning to him, “how warm do you want the water?”

“i don’t care,” he mumbled, his eyes casted to the floor.

“my love,” reaching out, your fingertips brushed the stream of water. it was definitely hot, but it was just the way you knew kylo liked it, “i’m worried about you.”

kylo was slipping out of his clothes, dropping them to the floor, “i should be all right. i should be more worried about you.”

sighing, you tsked, “it’s just a slight fever. my body temperature is barely even a hundred and two degrees.”

“i hate knowing you’re sick,” kylo whispered, “and here i am, acting out because something didn’t go my way today. you don’t deserve this, you deserve better and i-“

“kylo ren,” you cut him off, your lips brushing his, “i am not as important as your duties.”

kylo flinched the words exited your mouth, his jaw clenched, “don’t ever say that. don’t you ever fucking say that. i love you more than anything, (y/n). nothing, and i mean nothing, is going to change the way i feel about you. you’re my soulmate.”

heat filled your cheeks as kylo said the last three words. you knew he loved you. typically, he showed you that side of him when you guys had privacy. however, there were times where he would display his affection for you publicly. the two of you had officially been seeing each other for about a year and a half, but the connection started long ago. 

“i love you too,” you murmured, “do you really believe we’re soulmates, kylo?”

“i wouldn’t say if it i didn’t mean it,” kylo responded, pressing his forehead against yours. his lips were almost touching yours, “i’ve knew we were from the moment i saw you.”

“i adore you,” the shower was now ready for the two of you. you knew the hot water would be wasted, but you didn’t care. you cared more about the moment the two of you just shared. you wished it could last forever. 

“i adore you as well, angel,” kylo grinned for the first time today, “let’s get in the shower. i don’t want to waste any more hot water.”

hastily, you undressed, letting your clothes fall to the floor. kylo picked you up by your thighs, making you squeal. he carried you in the shower, the cold tile pressing against your back as his warm lips kissed down your neck. 

a soldier strolled by the quarters, stopping when he heard a loud moan echo through the corridor. he shook his head, shocked by what he was hearing. 

needless to say, the entire level could hear your moans. 

[writtenbyvenus]

What We Do In The Shadows

( Warning, this is in RP format, but has been edited and proof read for grammar/flow. A change between writers with both characters is symbolized by italics. )

Chapter 2: Entering The Wolf’s Den

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they have too much baggage they carry. 

Alfred could tell he offended his baby bat. From his body language to ‘Don’t wait up’, his vampire was not pleased with being forced alone and having to wait. It seemed that the vampire had a lot of pride, they were prideful creatures after all. Being told by the wolf ‘Hang by yourself then’ must have hurt his ego, as he reached out to hang out with Ivan in the first place. Smelling the man’s disdain, once he got back into his room, he hoped that Ivan would knock on his door again. But when he didn’t he did pout. Perhaps he was too harsh on his crush. Rethinking his actions, he did wish Ivan would have knocked on his door. He would welcome the man in and enjoyed some light cuddling while he watched dragons breath fire on people. However, it seemed to be that the man was too offended by the idea. Watching the show, he got bored as he wished Ivan was next to him. Thinking for a moment, he came up with an idea to tempt Ivan into his apartment. Standing up, he didn’t bother to pause the show as he went into his room. Grabbing his pencil and sketch pad, he decided to let Ivan see his secret hobby: drawing. His love of anime and cartoons inspired him to take up drawing as a hobby. But he was very embarrassed about it, and would rarely show people his artwork. Even if it was great and matched up well with popular artists on social media, his own anxiety made it a hidden talent. He’d let very few people see his drawings, for him it was about the fun of it. He didn’t need validation for it, it was his hobby. He’d color, sketch, and draw, just for himself. Sitting back on the sofa, he decided to use a more cutesy-anime style. Drawing him and Ivan, he gave Ivan little bunny ears, and wolf ears on himself. Nicknames like ‘bunny’ and ‘ kitten’ were ones he saved for people he found cute.

It was ironic since it was the prey of wolves. He did want to eat up a cute bunny or kitten, but more in a playful manner. Ivan’s foreign accent made him think of a hot blonde he’d see at a ski resort. With the cutesy image of him and the bunny, he made sure to draw him smirking and showing off his canine teeth. Ivan didn’t look scared in the art, only giving the cocky smirk he usually gave Ivan. It was only their heads and torsos, and on the top, he wrote ‘After your sister’s leave, wanna get something to eat?’. It was Alfred’s peace offering. Getting up, he walked to Ivan’s apartment door. Instead of knocking, he simply slipped the art under his door. Ivan would come across it once he was around the area. He didn’t want to disturb the blood-sucking bunny current if he truly had plans. Going back to his room, he continued on his Game of Thrones binge, praying that the vampire would come by later. In terms of a ‘meal’, it could be anything the man wanted. They could go hunting together, Ivan finding some unsuspecting human, and Alfred a lonely deer. Or, more orthodox, actually somewhere to snack. Or just stay in his house and cook something homemade. Whatever the man had a thirst for, blood or food.

 Over in his own apartment, Ivan put a sponge to his red-stained mugs, putting his strength into getting the crusted blood left to the bottom. When he turned his heel to load his dishwasher something white caught his eye. He set his dishes in the rack before scanning the floor before his door. Stepping away from the sink, he approached the mysterious note and turned his head to look down upon it. Recognizing the resemblance of his face, his cheeks flushed with red. He bent down and snatched up the paper into his hands. His heart nearly lurched from his chest and onto the freshly spotless floor. He'd have to deal with the recycled blood burning his face for a few more minutes before getting over the gesture. The strange conversation and insight earlier blended oddly with the feeling he had now. Mostly charmed, but slightly uneasy. He found it bold, not unwelcomed, but surprising from Alfred. His finger traced over the leaded indentations as he took a seat at his breakfast nook. It was beyond flattering, a style he hasn't seen before, but charming. He thought of it slightly egotistical to be set next to the man who drew it, but grateful for it. It made it easier on his eyes. Bunny ears. That was a new one for him. Bat wings were a popular addition for scriptures and etchings. He wasn't used to seeing some draw him in a kindly way. Most depictions of him resonated with evil tellings and horrifying accounts of his figure hunched over a decaying body. Town folk never were pleased when he would make an appearance in their streets. It's why moving was a must for him, he needed supplies like everyone else. Curiosity struck him as he wondered how much moving Alfred must have been up to. Being ageless caused too much suspicion. 'My, Avgustin, you don't look a day over twenty-five' were the last words he heard before leaving his old home behind. Sometimes he wishes to grow old.

 The little question scribbled down beside the art was one he had to consider thoroughly. One that made his heart stop. He rattled his fingers across the surface of the table and reread the words. 'your sisters' it didn't make any sense to him, he swore up and down that he didn't whisper a word of his relations. Sighing and sliding the paper away from him, he sat quietly to calm his nerves and lay his head down on the table. He did plan on inviting his sisters over and that included sharing his haul of blood, but now all he wanted to do was head next door and talk to Alfred. The warmth clung to him like it usually did, an unbearable heat holding to his face. It would only embarrass him further to give in so easily. He pressed his face into the cool wood and closed his eyes for a moment before leaving it behind. Nothing would give him closure, he wanted to be next to Alfred and that would be the only way to get the werewolf out of his thoughts. Groaning, he began finishing up the rest of his dishes. After flicking on his dishwasher, he took the art and walked it back to his room. He was trying to wait out the lingering warmth to his face and most of it faded, but not all of it would give him that peace. Before he finally left his apartment, he messaged his sibling group that he wouldn't be home. There wasn't much his poor sisters could do if something were to go wrong, but he just didn't want them asking him to death about where he went. Hesitantly, he knocked on Alfred's door and waited. His heart didn't stop racing, he didn't find himself nervous around werewolves very often, but Alfred had that effect on him.

 It was good for Alfred’s ego that he wasn’t there to witness Ivan’s reaction to the note. Seeing blushing, flattered Ivan would cause the wolf to grin, and show off his canines in the glory of knowing he charmed the vampire. It would be in Ivan’s best interest to let Alfred enjoy it if he enjoyed the ‘bunny’ persona, as Alfred would happily go with it. A cute nickname for a cute boy, not to mention, Alfred understood the niceness of not being referred to something scary. Alfred was like Ivan in that way, no one knew better than him what it was like to be personified into a godless beast, with nothing charming and cute about it. Being compared to something as harmless and pretty as a bunny was probably emotionally soothing, which was part of the reason Alfred did it. A bunny is adorable, warm, and cozy, the last thing that goes to someone’s head is fear over the animal. Ivan could be Alfred’s harmless, sweet bunny if he wanted too. Even if Alfred drew himself to be a wolf, he was still a childlike puppy in many ways, even with the slight bloodlust that he had. Minus that, he was a silly, carefree man. But the transformation did take some part of his personality and make it more intense. Alfred was lost in his marathon when he could smell Ivan walking down the hallway.

 Sniffing the air, a smile popped out when he could smell the nervousness on him. Has the note made him nervous? He wasn’t sure if it was ’I’m nervous about how excited I am to see him...’ or ’I’m just scared of him’ anxiety, he couldn’t smell that. Only that the man was dealing with some emotions due to the note. He wondered if the part about his sister’s had made Ivan worried. In all honesty, it was just a bold guess on who was coming over. Alfred was aware that Ivan had siblings or at least relatives, he could smell other vampires around, and two females had a similar scent to him. He concluded that someone was either related to him, and a female. Sister’s were the most logical answer, but cousins, aunts, and other distant relatives were all possible. Alfred’s lucky guess had helped his case. Standing up, he walked to the door, offering Ivan a gentle smile as he raised a brow. “Did your plans cancel? That sucks. But, you’re welcome to come in, babe. I got a spot on the sofa for you.” He stepped back to let Ivan inside his house, the first time he’s ever done that. Inviting a vampire into your home? The biggest no-no in the world, but here was Alfred not caring, per usual. He was going to bring up how they’d dined tonight, either traditional or unorthodox, but he’d give Ivan a moment to settle in before speaking of murder and hunting. He was a gentleman after all! Sitting down on the couch, he leaned back and patted the seat next to him.

 Being a man who admired his dignity more than his enjoyment, Ivan had already become irritated with his own decision. He was visiting a friend, he didn't understand why he had to make it stand out so much for himself. There wasn't any loss to giving in to spend time with someone you enjoy, but he couldn't help but consider how overly friendly the drawing was. Trying not to overthink it, he mimicked the grooves he felt and pressed them into the palm of his hand. He adored the small act, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Alfred was a suitable match against him. The fact that he actually found himself pining after the chummy little wolfman was alarming at times. He was risking many aspects of his life by even accepting the invitation to come over. If he ever got closer to Alfred, it wouldn't be logical. With the outgoing personality Alfred shined out constantly, he was sure that he couldn't be a lone wolf. There were others. He smelt them when he walked down the street or by chance in the meat section of the corner store. Werewolves, vampires, they all hid in plain sight, but it wasn't right for him to assume that all of their kind knew each other. Much like dogs though, he knew that werewolves must greet each other. Alfred had to have at least, he guaranteed himself that. It confused him to be welcomed in with that case, it scared him almost. He didn't understand why Alfred trusted him so much when he knew what he was. Unfortunately, a vampire's sense of smell isn't as powerful as a dog's thus he wasn't able to detect other bodies in the apartment. His nose was just used to Alfred passing by and in his baskets of clothes.

 He wrote off the name babe quickly, trying to blame it on habit. "My plans didn't cancel. You were just acting particularly lonely so I thought I would give in and offer you some company." Teasing, he calmed down significantly at the sight of Alfred smiling patiently. Elated by the idea of finally setting foot into Alfred's humble abode with the help of some keywords, he beamed and eased his head through the doorway. He's never seen beyond the door so it was a new experience for him. It wasn't much different than his habitat, the layout was a given, but he didn't catch any deers hanging from the ceiling so it was a bonus. Ivan liked to keep his living area tidy along with his kitchen, but once someone hits his room, that's when everything starts falling apart. Never does he bother to make his bed or take out his clothes from the basket to hang them up. His nightstand, though barely a foot wide, somehow holds a lamp, three different alarm clocks, and always a few dirty dishes. A part of him wanted to head through Alfred's apartment and check out his bedroom. "When were you going to tell me that you knew how to draw?" He paced over to the sofa and took a seat away from Alfred, a cushion between the two of them so he had some space.

 Alfred was pleased to have Ivan enter his house. The bunny entering the wolves den, almost. Stretching out his legs, he rested one of his arms on the headrest, eyes lingering to his shows. Ivan's excuse was cute, he didn’t even cover up with a lie about them canceling. He canceled on them for him. What about that, it added to Alfred’s ego. His eyes were careful not to linger too long, but every few moments, they’d turn to Ivan’s body as he found a quick way to verbally eat him up. “Well, thanks for giving the company. And I don’t really like talking about it since I get shy... It’s kind of a personal thing. I just draw things for myself, and no one else.” It truly was a personal hobby, but he would draw more for Ivan again if it made the man come around often. It worked the first time, so why not again? He wouldn’t mind after all. He smirked when someone was murdered on the screen. Alfred’s house proved to be on average with a clean to messy ratio. He wasn’t the cleanest guy, but he wasn’t the stereotypical dirty, living off of paper plates type of dude either. He knew how to mop, take out the trash, and vacuum, but sometimes would get lazy with dishes and let it pile up.

 His habit of being sexually open also gave him a reason to keep his apartment good looking. Showing a cute boy or girl a disgusting, dirty apartment would be embarrassing. His room was surprisingly not that bad, his only problem with being lazy and letting clean clothes stay in a pile and not putting them away. He’d also never make his bed, but he’d always throw away garbage in fear of getting ants in his room. He was proud of a fox fur blanket that he had, he’d love to show Ivan. It was during a couple of days in wolf form, he hunted down several silver foxes. They are known for being used heavily in the fur trade, and lucky enough, he was able to find some living in the wild nearby. It took a few days of stalking, but he was able to hunt down enough for the blanket. Another older werewolf knew how to skin fur and make coats and blankets, and helped him with the process. It was special to him, proving his strength and hunting skills. It was also soft and luxurious; usually, he had to lie to people and say it was a gift or passed down in his family. There wasn’t much pride in saying someone gave it to him. But with Ivan, he could open up and tell how he got something worth thousands of dollars in his hands; he worked for it. The warm fur was perfect during cold winter nights in upstate New York. “I’m so lucky to have a nice friend like you. I owe you a warm meal after this...” He teased, patting Ivan’s leg before putting it back in his own lap, eyeing the TV.

 "You being shy? That's a first. With the way you draw, I thought you would boast about it." Ivan was trying to compliment his host, something small, but not enough to curse himself with. In both ways, Alfred's ego was something he had to handle with caution. Cheer on the man too much and he'll be putting up with cocky smirks up until the time he had to leave. Say something a little too cruel and the bubbly wolf will turn into a babbling mess. Simply acknowledging that fact to Alfred would tear him up one way or another, Ivan knew it and planned to keep things nice and light. "You somehow captured your narcissism on a single piece of paper, it's really impressive." He made sure to sound disingenuous, eyes taking note of Alfred's position. As time went on, the show became less interesting to him. Any shock value or plot development was drowned out by the way the werewolf's face lit up. The small dust of color that humans held in their cheeks was pumping across Alfred's face. He could feel the warmth radiating off the other body. If he buried his face into Alfred's shoulder, he could get a little taste. He didn't plan on chomping down hard, just a small nip. All he needed was a drop of blood to satisfy his burning curiosity. Alfred was too smart, the vampire knew that he'd be shoved away if he even kissed his neck.

 There was pride in tackling down a difficult opponent, he understood that. He had grown immune to feeling too miserable about killing some creature or human off. Animals weren't inherently evil, but humans could be. He's witnessed hundreds and hundreds of years of solid proof of how villainous a single human can be. It gave him some peace to think that he was killing off someone who deserved it, but the consequences of his actions stabbed into his thoughts when a moment was too quiet. They were all just people like him and his sisters, but he couldn't help the survival of the fittest. It was inevitable that he would kill again, he knew that his blood bank job wouldn't last forever. Eventually, he'd have to relocate again, find new prey and discover more immortals. Alfred, for now, was a dash in his timeline, but he hoped to extend it. He wanted to stay a little longer and enjoy his time with the werewolf. The thought of dining outweighed heavily on his mind, but one he was certain that what he was nearly drooling over wasn't what Alfred was implying. He could lurch over and sink his fangs into the nape of his dear friend's neck and sample the blood. "I'm lucky to have a good friend like you too... and, as friends, I'm sure you don't mind me asking how old are you- how old you really are." Returning the physical contact, he reached over and pinched at Alfred's cheek. It slightly broke his heart to be called a friend, but it was what they were and he'd rather be on Alfred's good side than be against him. 

 “I’m glad you like my art.” He commented, rolling his eyes as he slightly blushed from the words. He was embarrassed by the skill but loved it still. He had plans of doodling Ivan later if he had the time. Perhaps even slipping it under his door again. But it was the best of Ivan’s interest to not kiss or go near Alfred’s neck. While he did adore the vampire; he wasn’t born yesterday. Far from it, and it would win a physical push or any other action that showed dominance. The wolf inside him was an Alpha, no doubt. There would be no neck biting, kisses, or smooches unless Ivan wanted a bite back in his neck. But Alfred did accept the pinch, finding it cute that the man was finally getting to the point. After all the time they’ve been neighbors, now he wants to know some real information? He’d play, as long as Ivan played back. “My age? Well, I like to tell people I’m twenty-three. Most people buy it. I was really born in 1941 though, so I guess I look young for my age! Ha! What about you?” He turned, his eyes smiling along with his lips. Raising a brow, he looked at Ivan up and down, checking out the man. He picked up details from his encounters with Ivan and compared to it how other vampires acted. “What are you? Four? Five? Six hundred? Oh wait- Are you post or pre Catherine The Great?” He teased, knowing basic Russian history. His adulthood was during the height of the Cold War, so he knew a lot about Russia.

 He was about to make a joke about if Ivan was post or pre ‘Commie-Russia’, but he didn’t want the man huffing and puffing out of his house. Ivan appeared to be the type that might be highly offended by a stereotypical ‘commie’ joke, so he wasn’t going to play his cards. He had the bunny in his den, no need to ruin it. Taking a chance, he decided to lay his head on Ivan’s outer leg. Adjusting his body, he laid on his sides as his eyes stayed on the screen, but his head was resting on top of Ivan’s thigh. He wanted a way to feel Ivan without touching her per se. His messy, blond hair was screaming to be touched, Alfred’s cheek pressing against his leg. He tried to act relaxed as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Man, sometimes I feel old but I bet you feel ancient when anyone speaks to you, huh?” He joked, appearing not to be startled by the conversation. He wondered, was Ivan’s skin soft? Could he blush? Was his fat soft? If he squeezed him, would it feel like a stone? Or skin? He never got close enough to a vampire to touch them intimately, the only times he’s had his physical contact with vampires was in wolf form, killing them in his bite. Not a great comparison to what he wanted to do to Ivan.

 Ivan was thrilled to receive a blush, it always warmed his ever slow and cold heart. It made the involuntary expression even more rewarding when regarding that Alfred was a perilous creature just as he was. He felt a bit guilty for not having anything ready to give back when he came over. Drawing wasn't much of a passion for him, he was more into crafts. He could knit something for Alfred, but he wasn't sure if that would be too bold. With how high strung he wound himself up to be, he figured that the werewolf didn't fall far from the feeling around him. Anything made to comfort was suspicious as if to butter the other up. He had to be careful not to cross any lines and set alarms off in Alfred's head. Even if he wanted to drag the relationship further along and at least get to hug on Alfred without being awkward or stepping over bounds, he knew he had to be slow. It was a precaution for himself and Alfred. Hearing the werewolf's real age was a good step, not too big but not too small of a step. "Ah, so you're... in your seventies? My, I guess you really have aged well. Twenty-three does fit you more than an old man who's lived through a world war." It was better to congratulate Alfred than to compare himself to him. To be given a seemingly honest answer was a bit of a surprise to him in the first place. There were a dozen more questions he wanted to ask about the American. He's never found a werewolf civil enough to sit down and talk to; he wanted to know everything about the culture and the process. He wasn't clear on whether or not Alfred was joking or not, grimacing either way. "Do I really come off as that young? Young enough to be post Catherine the Great... That's nice to know." The home he knew wasn't quite developed enough to secure the capital and allow a ruler. "I was there before they even had tsars."

 He held his tongue when Alfred cozied up onto his leg, a faint smile to his lips as his hand twitched. "I prefer the term antique... even if being born in 1174 does make me more of a relic." Propping his head upon the armrest, he inched his fingers along his thigh towards Alfred's head. He could abuse the trust, grab the werewolf, and snap his mouth around his waiting neck, but he had better control over his intrusive ideas. "How do people become... werewolves? Is it by a bite from a werewolf or maybe something more ritualistic? I assume they don't consent to it, right?" Asking along, he slowly combed his fingers through Alfred's hair. Later on, he'd have to scrub himself down to get rid of the scent before his family meets him pinching their nose. "Or should I not ask that? It might be too personal." His smile calmed as he teased the other by scratching at the area behind his ear. "I'm sure you don't mind though."

 He was happy to feel Ivan’s fingers play with his neck and hair. Ivan not rejecting his touches, but accepting them was all he wanted. Yawning, he closed his eyes as he let his body relax around the man. He was even getting used to the smell, the overly sweetness not bothering him much anymore. “Wow... You are antique... I feel young compared to you, and I can remember Vietnam, Korea, the Middle East, and the Cold War.” Fighting for freedom and America was close to his heart. “My father fought in world war 2, and I entered Vietnam.” Coming back from service due to some injuries was how it happened; one day, camping with his comrades celebrating a return from service, they were attacked by a wolf. Alfred was the only one who survived, getting a deep cut on his chest. He put a silver bullet in the chest of the wolf, making it pay for taking his friend’s lives, but in the end, it’s curse never stopped. “You get bit or scratch. I got scratched, really hard. Most people die when they get bit or scratched, but I survived. I killed the wolf who attacked me and my friends. One silver bullet. That’s all it took...” Alfred whispered, his leg twitching when his ear was scratched. “How did you become a vampire...? It’s your turn to tell....” He asked, wanting to know every detail. “Did it hurt?” He asked, wondering if the transformation caused pain. It did for Alfred, becoming human to a werewolf the first time. The pain he wished he could forget. He turned his head up, looking up at Ivan with big eyes. Curious eyes that wanted the truth, not games. He pushed his body up, so more of his back and head was laying across Ivan’s lap, not just his thigh. Like a true puppy, he wanted to take all the attention and show his dominance. Laying on Ivan, and getting a pet was truly dog-like at this point. But the man could be more of a puppy than a wolf, he just had to be in the right mood. A great, calm, playful mood.

 There was no heat coming off Ivan’s body, the only source of warmth was Alfred. He couldn’t feel any heat over his clothes, he guessed if it put his hands on bare skin, Ivan would be chilly. He wondered if vampires feel hard or still have a softness to them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m just curious. Vampires, are you guys stone? Or is your fat soft? Do you guys blush?” He asked, attempting to seem innocent. Blinking a few times, his innocent expression turned into a cocky grin. “If I grabbed your ass, would you move in my hand and turn red? Or? Would it be like grabbing a rock?” He asked, knowing he’d get an eye roll from Ivan, but he didn’t care. He needed to know the answers to his weird questions. His brain wondered a lot of things about Ivan and vampires overall. While he assumed that Ivan wouldn’t let him touch him with a ten-foot pole, he still is curious if the occasional thought is accurate.  

"I guess you really earned your dog tags that day." Ivan offered lightly, laughing quietly at the puppy-like mannerisms of a grown man visible unwinding over his lap. Turning into a werewolf sounded just as much of a travesty as being a vampire to him. He didn't have to imagine what waking up in a new body was like, but he didn't think that he could ever really fully understand what Alfred went through either. How he earned his status as a vampire was a shorter story, but he'd spare Alfred the details. There wasn't much special about the day when he first laid eyes on the tall lanky figure barrelling toward him, but the pain was still distinct and stabbing. If he hadn't been at death's doorstep that day, he would have put up a better fight, but being at his age back then was a time for letting the earth take you. His body was preserved in the age he died and awakened. His eldest sister landed at twenty-nine and his youngest encased himself with health by being eternally twenty. They could age at will, but never make themselves younger. In that aspect, he considers himself lucky, but being a vampire wasn't his fondest thing. The moment was still fresh on his mind, how vulnerable he was, and how he let the same fate happen to his sisters. It was embarrassing to retell his inevitable cowardice. Since then, he's become more agile and stronger, but that was mostly due to his transformation. "There's a serum that comes out only from certain fangs, but you can feel it course all over your body when they stab into your neck... It hurts about as much as someone sticking two needles into you- you don't like those, do you? That's fine." He continued to tease Alfred over the blunt lie, refusing to call him out on it. It was hard for him to give that up. "I couldn't turn you into a vampire though, I'd only end up sucking your blood because I don't have the stuff to inject you with."

 The science behind being a vampire wasn't widely available, but he tried to pass on the information he learned over the years as best he could. "The original vampires are the only ones who carry the serum to turn others into vampires... I'm not sure how they came about- no one does, but them." He separated and wiggled his fingers through more sections of Alfred's hair as he explained, grinning at the way his leg jerked like a dog. It was precious to his heart. "Every millennium or so, they show their face from their tomb and bite a few more unsuspecting victims. That's what I and my sisters have gathered from different vampires at least." The facts were hazy and never written down in fear of discovery. His thoughts trailed off as he enjoyed the heat coming off Alfred when he stretched across his lap. The inquiry seemed wholesome enough at first and he didn't mind answering it until Alfred had to make it dirty. "Oh, I don't know. If I slapped you in the face, would it be soft? Would you be blushing?" He snapped sarcastically, squishing Alfred's cheeks together in turn. "We're not gargoyles! Our skin is just the same as human flesh... So, yes... I guess if you were to grab my ass, it would turn red and move, but I'm not about to give you an example." Patting his face before returning to play with his hair, Ivan furrowed his brows. He grew up in a different time, getting those sorts of comments wasn't something he was used to. "Why are you curious about that sort of thing anyway? What makes you think I'll answer any questions after that?" Frustrated, he went back to scratching behind Alfred's ear to calm himself and the warmth sprouting over him. "Make it up to me by telling me how the moon affects you.

Alfred was shocked to learn the truth about vampires. He was told that all vampires had venom that had the potential to kill. Finding out that only a few did make him relieved, vampires aren’t as dangerous as he was told before. Seeing that even other vampires were unsure how they got the venom explained why his own kind was misinformed. Not to mention, vampires never made it clear about that little fact, nor would Alfred see why they would. Most vampires would rather seem scary and dangerous, having a poison inside them looming over someone’s head. “So? If you bite someone, you don’t have any venom? You’d inject nothing? That’s crazy, everyone thinks all vampires have something in their teeth.” This didn’t mean vampires were harmless, he knew that the creatures had superhuman strength and skill just like him. If a vampire wanted a werewolf dead, it was completely possible. Alfred was biased, and always thought he had the upper hand against vampires. In his personal, werewolf opinion, they were faster and stronger than vampires. But it came to pride than anything else, Alfred would never let his kind down. Even if he thought being a werewolf was more of a curse at times, he would show honor and stand up for himself and his other pack members. They weren’t human anymore, but they were still living beings. “Werewolves, we are different I guess. In wolf form, I think our saliva and body fluids when entering someone else’s skin, can turn them. I think of it as an illness... You get exposed, you’re one of us. With bites, it’s easy to see why it gets into someone’s bloodstream. I’m less sure about scratches though, how it turns us into werewolves. I’m gonna guess there’s just something in our claws that carries the virus.” 

 Alfred was no scientist, and there wasn’t exactly anyone out there experimenting and explaining the biology of werewolves. He couldn’t hold back his laugh when Ivan pinched his cheeks and got annoyed with his question. He deserved all the cheek squishes! “I just wanted to make sure my wet dreams were scientifically actual, that’s all.” He teased, closing his eyes when Ivan scratched the back of his ear. “Mm....” He lightly groaned, his leg twitching slightly. “Ugh. I hate full moons, man. It doesn’t make us mindless or crazy; we just are forced into wolf form as long as the moon is out. So usually, we have to stay outside. It isn’t too bad in the summer and spring, but when it’s cold out it's kind of annoying to have to find shelter. Nowadays, I go over to my friend Allen’s house during full moons. He has basically a farm and tons of areas that we can just... chill and wait out the full moon. It’s why I left the city, it’s one thing to find somewhere to hide during the countryside, another thing we’re everyone’s running around.” Alfred viewed it as more of an inconvenience if anything. Having to plan his life around one night was annoying!  Making sure he had no work, no one visiting, no one expecting him, and if anyone needed to contact him, he was M.I.A for about twelve hours. Alfred got over being horrified about his werewolf status, so more just bothered. “It’s just irritating to have to plan around full moons. But it’s just one day of the month a least....” He took a deep breath, deciding to ask Ivan a question. “Vampires, do you guys like....? Do you guys have a preference when it comes to blood? Like, do certain races taste different? Or is there a difference between boys and girls?”

"I may not be able to turn you, but I can still drain every ounce of blood out of you and leave you as a husk." He didn't like being underestimated. While he found Alfred semi charming, it was made clear to him that the werewolf was still a threat. It was only right for him to assure that he was the same, someone who shouldn't be tampered with. He didn't plan on devouring the sweet neighbor, but he's considered it. The man might just be naive enough to feel safe around a vampire. He didn't even feel comfortable around a vampire he barely knew. It came down to territory between him and a member of his kind. If there were too many vampires in the area, then suspicion rises. Too many bodies are dropping and someone isn't getting enough to drink. He's never personally killed a vampire, but he fought a great few years ago. Times have changed, most vampires have mellowed out and found alternatives to slaughtering a cognitive being. While Ivan has cooked up some solutions to give him the nutrients he needs in a blood-soaked diet, he finds the rich frothy taste of real blood to be too tantalizing. It's been a few months since he's actually stalked and killed someone; he's proud of himself for it. If his tracks are uncovered at the blood bank, he may have to come back to that lifestyle. Living life as a murderer was less glamorous than living life as a hunter. Hearing Alfred say that he could only turn people when in wolf form was a relief. He thought that at least he wasn't stumbling around accidentally making people immortal. "So you can only turn people into werewolves when you're a wolf?... I've never heard about the claws part, that's new to me." It wasn't known to him whether or not he would become a werewolf too if he was bitten, but it was most definitely a concern to him now. A werepire? A vampwolf? Whatever it was, it was conjured up disturbingly in his head. He'd keep his distance from now on if that was the case. 

Rolling his eyes at the wet dreams comment, he stopped rubbing his hands through Alfred's hair. "Are all werewolves this dense and vulgar? Or is it just you?" He'd roll the big puppy off his lap if he wasn't going to end up on the floor. Angering a werewolf was something he found surprisingly easy so he kept calm and tried not to seem too upset with Alfred. He liked the company; he didn't want to lose it. "Only during full moons? So you're essentially powerless up until then." Werewolves weren't too strong if they couldn't change at will. He felt significantly less threatened by Alfred's habit of showing his teeth. It was more of a parlor trick to him now, a small way to tease him. He thought of himself as lucky to have his powers with him all the time. It meant that he could tease and frighten Alfred all he wanted until the full moon popped out. He smiled to himself, gently rubbing a thumb to the American's open neck. "We do have preferences actually. The flavor really only varies with the blood type. My least favorite type is B-negative... it's a little bitter. Ah, but my favorite blood type of all has to be O-positive... thankfully, the most common." Shutting his eyes, he leaned back onto the headrest. It was always funny to him when someone walked into the clinic asking for a blood test to be done on them when he could just tell them then and there what they were. To remain undetected, he had to take a blood sample and let the customer wait out the process. He's seen a handful of mythical beasts walk through the blood bank doors while undercover, but those were the only creatures he couldn't seem to smell around. "Usually I can sniff out someone's blood type as they stand- but I can't detect your type on you. Your... werewolf musk has been blocking me." Furrowing his brows with sorrow, he twirled a piece of Alfred's hair between his fingers. "It's made me nothing but curious to find out yours- mere curiosity, trust me. I don't bite."

 Alfred wasn’t scared of the warning of getting his blood drained, as Ivan didn’t scare him. The vampire could puff out his chest and appear more frightening than he is, but Alfred stayed unfazed. He was too prideful to let a vampire put any terror into him. He scoffed when Ivan said that he was only powerful during a full moon. “Ha! Who said that I can only turn during a full moon? I said I’m forced to turn during the full moon, I can turn anytime I want the rest of the month. I could turn right now. It rips my clothes off, so I would rather not give an example.” Ivan shouldn’t feel any more relief in it, Alfred had his power all year round. “Don’t think I could turn you, though. I think our... virus is immune to you guys. Vampires aren’t alive, so it just... dies on you. We just end up killing you with our strength and fighting powers.” He explained, never hearing of a vampire and werewolf crossbred. He didn’t think it was possible, but who knew. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying getting his hair played with. A smirk crept up his face when he was accused of being vulgar. “I’m just a vulgar guy, that’s all. I say what I think.” That was true as well, Alfred didn’t have much of a filter, especially around other immortals. He was a man who laughed and cried easily, who displayed all the emotions he had in his heart. It was just who he was, and he didn’t want to change anytime soon. He offered a cute act of nuzzling his cheek on Ivan’s thigh, wanting his attention again. Getting his hair played with was a major comfort. His body would relax, and calm down when someone’s fingers ran through his dirty blond locks. There was something about Ivan that offered him comfort, even if he was a vampire. His disgustingly sweet scent wasn’t bothering him anymore, and his soft voice was more soothing by the moment.

 He smirks again when he hears about the blood type. “Oh? Then you’d love me. I’m O-positive.” He confessed, not scared since he knew Ivan wouldn’t bite him. If Ivan was going to drain him of his blood, he would have done it by now. Ivan didn’t need to cuddle up with him on his sofa to do it. “I’m glad my werewolf musk blocks it. Protects us from being victims of hungry, thirsty vampires like you. I’m not shocked at all that you work at a blood bank. I’m just surprised that you haven't noticed that you are stealing all the blood. How do you steal it anyway? Don’t they have protocols and stuff for this?” He questioned, always wondering how Ivan did it. He was either extremely talented, or the office was just stupid and lazy with their security. Who knew a man could get away with stealing countless pints of blood, but it was better than him going into town and murdering men in cold blood. “I’ll be honest... if you need some victims, I got a list of every sex offender, pedophile, and creep in town. Some people escape justice. So if you are hungry.... just tell me. I’ll get you a meal.” He had a sneaky grin, loving the idea of Ivan doing his dirty work. Instead of hunting these sickos in wolf form, his blood-sucking bunny could find a use for them.

 It shut Ivan's small victory down when he heard about the ability. The possibility of seeing wolves walk around during the day skyrocketed and he wasn't sure where his emotions landed on the issue. Everything about having the upper hand over someone was comforting to him, but he felt as if it wasn't that overwhelming. Alfred was harmless and most of his worries about werewolves came from prejudice. The only rivalry between the two creatures was one he welcomed. He had fun flirting with and teasing Alfred, but he didn't want to risk being too attached. If something were to come up that jeopardized his facade, then he'd have to book it out of New York with his sisters not far behind. Knowing Alfred's own immortality, he was sure the situation would be the same for him. He'd end up miserable if he grew even fonder of the man only to disappear the next day. Anyone else, he didn't care to shatter their heart, but the cute playful furball was just too hopeless. "You talk like a child telling me about how strong their favorite superhero is when you describe your own species." He humored, rolling his eyes at the nonchalant bragging. There wasn't much that annoyed him about Alfred, the man was pleasant to be around, but he had his own honor to attend to. Being a blood seeker wasn't glamorous by all means, but he had to defend what was a part of him. The relief felt from immunity still didn't suffice against the show off's insistence. Every step of the conversation was an act for him to prove that he could stand up against a werewolf; the worn-out joke tired him. He wanted to feel comfortable around Alfred, but nothing felt genuine as if he was waiting for something specific to come out. It reminded him of a patient puppy. Most stereotypes held about the bouncing, yapping few. Like dogs, they roll onto their back and practically beg to be pet, loved on at the very least.

 Giving in before the manchild started whining, he scrubbed his fingers along Alfred's scalp and through his strands. His eyes lit up at the confession, a big grin attached to his face. "Oh really? It's the most common blood type... but the most special to me. The rarity of it is only measured by my own longing for it." He wormed the corners of his mouth slowly down to mask his eagerness to jump on Alfred and dine out. "It's a very sweet taste- you should let me lap up any cuts you have in the future. I'll come over in a heartbeat and suck your wounds dry." The talk of blood left him parched, he distracted himself by fluffing up Alfred's hair. He wasn't entirely sure how his blood stash was known by the mutt, but he wasn't about to question it. His trust was growing high enough that he didn't care. "Most people don't know a pint from a pint and a half... it's a little dangerous for the donors, but I do sneak out an extra snack for myself when I think someone's gullible- so, I'm technically not stealing from the blood bank because they still get their pint of blood... I just drain another pint for myself. " He assured, hoping Alfred wouldn't rat him out. It would slip his mind often that the man was a cop. The only reason staff picked up on his master plan was the high rate of lightheaded donors coming out of his section. Now and then, they sent someone to check the equipment he was using, but nothing came of it. He's slowed on the packs he takes home to cool down the heat trailing behind his tail. "I might take you up on that offer someday, but my hands haven't been this clean of blood in a while... Unless you're in dire need of my assistance then I can help mark off some names for you- at a price, of course." Leaning down, he placed a chaste kiss to Alfred's forehead and gently brushed back the hair in his way. "Come over to the blood bank and I'll give you a donut if you behave... then maybe we can go track down some pedophiles and rip them apart together."

 Alfred didn’t have too many plans for leaving the town soon. He only had lived there for a few years, and he knew he could get away with his non-aging status for a while. People usually only would start to talk about how young he looked. Alfred would just lie and credit on genetics. ’My parents look super young too. ‘Our whole family doesn’t age.’ he’d lie, and it worked. He looked young and was young to everyone else, so no one questioned his age. He guessed he could last until he was in his mid-thirties before people thought it was just downright weird that he hadn't aged. It was why he attempted to stay out of the spotlight. Keep to himself a few groups of friends. It was hard, he was an extrovert. He is a popular personality, everyone would know who he was and wanted to be around him. But that changed when his mortality did, and unless he wanted to become a scientific experiment for the government, he had to keep a low profile. But he always came out at night, hitting clubs and finding relief in intimacy. If he couldn’t be surrounded by dozens of friends, he’d surround himself with pretty girls and boys, even if it was just one night. A sucker for love, it was even more troubling knowing he couldn’t get into a relationship with anyone. That was the hardest about this life, knowing he’ll always be alone. Almost everyone in his pack was male and straight. How come there were only a few queer werewolves? He was aware that he should branch out to new immortals, but it was difficult since his pack was so tight. There was a sense of betrayal being around other werewolf packs, it was frowned down. Your pack was your family, case closed. You suffered with them.

[ Here is the link to my Ao3, thank you if you read it <3 ]

[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 1

When I bought the secondhand bookstore in South Boston, my dad thought I'd lost my mind. What was I, a native West Virginian, going to do all alone in Boston? Sell books, I'd thought. And live my life, finally, I added.

I had spent a healthy portion of my life being the perfect daughter. The one who gave and gave and made sure that I did everything in my power to make my parents proud. I gave everything to everyone, until there was little left for myself. Now, at thirty years old, I could finally have something for myself.

Besides which, have you ever seen Boston? It's gorgeous and colorful. However, when my dad helped me move into the apartment I'd leased within walking distance to my new, old store "As the Page Turns" he wasn't impressed.

"Really, Tessa?" He asked, looking around. "You're going to be homesick. This place is too noisy, it's too dirty. You're going to miss good ol' West Virginia."

Dirty and noisy? Coal mines, I thought, and the plants that made it smell or shot smoke up into the air weren't the same? Instead of arguing, I diverted him with the manual labor of the move. "You going to help me with this bed, Dad? Or should I ask a neighbor?" That got him moving.

It didn't cure his nagging. Not before he headed home, nor after he'd arrived. It made the weekly phone calls a bit of a hassle. I wanted to talk about how I was making my store a success. He wanted to bring up the things I'd left behind. I wanted to discuss the changes I made as the money started to come in earnest. He wanted to listen for a sign of homesickness. Not a call passed without at least one, "You ready to come home yet?"

Two years, I thought, walking to work in the early morning sun. I was smiling. I loved my life. I was busy. I made the store a reasonable success, adding a coffee bar and pastries to the space. And I had regulars and new customers almost daily. Success was sweet, I thought, as I unlocked the beveled glass front door and listened to the comforting jingle of the bell.

The phone rang almost as soon as I dropped my bag behind the counter. Since I wouldn't be opening for another half an hour, I had a pretty good guess of who was calling.

"Morning, Dad!" I answered, taking the cordless phone with me to start up the coffee and espresso machines. I wondered if his call would be over by the time my daily pastry delivery came. "What's up?"

"Tessa, you shouldn't answer the business phone like that." He admonished. Great start, Dad, I thought. "Why don't you have your cell phone on?"

Ugh, I thought, the chastisement with a side of criticism. Lucky me.

"My Blackberry is in my pocket. I must not have heard the call come in." I answered. "Sorry, Dad." Tessa, I thought, stop fucking apologizing, you're an adult. "How are you? Is something wrong?"

I heard him sigh. "Yes, in Boston."

"What?" I asked, wandering the store to make sure I'd put everything in order when I'd closed the evening before. The counters were clean, the leftover pastries went to the soup kitchen nearby, and the shelves were stocked and orderly.

"Don't you read or watch the news?" Irritation was so heavy on his voice that I could feel the glare across states. Why couldn't my parents have had another child so I could share this guilt and misery? "Those vigilante murderers are back in Boston. I think you should come home."

I rolled my eyes. "Dad, I do watch the news. It's just been busy. This past week's been insane." I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension build. "And why would I care about vigilantes? Didn't they kill mob people? I sell used books and coffee." Logic, I thought, would hopefully work. "Why would I be in danger?"

"Tessa, they killed a priest." He groaned. "Why wouldn't you listen to me before running away to Boston?"

Running away? I was thirty years old when I relocated, for fuck's sake. "Dad, I'm not Catholic, nor are you." I reminded him gently. "I'm certainly not a priest." I let out a sigh I hadn't noticed I was holding. "I'm fine. I'm happy." The stress moved from my shoulders to my neck belying my words. "I'll be safe. Besides, I highly doubt they've returned. And even if they had, they couldn't be stupid enough to come back to their old stomping grounds."

Another sigh and groan from his end. "You never used to be this stubborn." Yeah, because I was too busy making sure everyone else was happy. "Didn't you tell me the bar they used to frequent was close to your store?"

Damn it. Why had he remembered that tidbit in all that I'd told him about my store? Why couldn't he recall how excited I'd been at finding the rare book one of my customers had asked for? And why had I thought sharing the 'local colorful history' of my new home with my overbearing dad? In my defense, I didn't know that someone would kill a priest.

A tap came to the front door and I nearly cheered at the interruption. "Dad, I have to go, my pastries are here." Rushing through another round of I'll be safe and ending with round of "I love yous".

I let out another sigh and ran to unlock the door. The jingle of the bell calmed me a bit as Marco, the bakery's delivery guy came in with the first load of boxes. As I rolled my shoulders and tried to crack my own neck to release the tension, Marco left for the second and last load. After checking to make sure everything was accounted for, I offered him his usual tip. A double espresso.

"Ah, that hits the spot, Tess." He smiled. "You ok?"

I assured him I was fine and we chatted about this and that.

"Better hit the road. Don't want the boss to get pissed." He said, tossing the small cup in the trash. "See ya tomorrow." I waved him out.

"Could you flip my sign?" I asked, and he smiled and did it. "Later, Marc."

I moved to fill the pastry case. Using the decorative towers and plates that I'd picked up at one of the Farmer's Market stalls. The jingle of the bell made me raise up and offer my usual greeting. "Welcome to As the Page Turns, can I help you?"

He was taller than me, but then again almost everyone was. His incredibly blue eyes crinkled with a smile as he took me in behind the counter. The pastry boxes were almost all empty and the display was filled. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a loose v-neck brown t-shirt, and a pair of canvas sneakers. My auburn hair piled loosely into a bun on the top of my head and my ever present and much needed glasses perched on my nose, not thick enough to hide my green eyes.

Since he was clearly inventorying my assets as it were, I decided to do the same for him. Dark hair, looking like he'd used shears to cut it in the dark, crowned his head. His skin was sun kissed but not tan, and he wore a peacoat, black t-shirt, jeans, and boots. I could see a bit of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his coat on the left side of his neck. Another tattoo was on his right hand, along his index finger. A word, "AÈQUITAS". Huh, Latin. Justice? I felt a tingle of curiosity.

His smile turned to a smirk and I waited, raising an eyebrow under my glasses. I had my usual customer service smile on, but felt a little smirk of my own forming. Both confirming our inspection of the other, and finding it agreeable. He finally spoke.

"'Eard dis wus de place fer a master coffee on dis street." His Irish brogue is full and strong.

"Did you now?" I asked, my smile widening. "Whose singing my praises?"

"Doc." Ah, I thought. The sweet, if a bit different, owner of Mcginty's Bar, the place my dad had brought up in his call.

"What can I get you?" I asked, grinning at the thought of how many day drinkers Doc sent my way to sober up. This man, however, looked like he had recently woken up. Perhaps,he had a late night, if the slight red in the white of his eyes were telling the tale properly.

"Two av the largest black coffee yer 'av. Strong." He answered. A late night then, I smiled.

"Shot of espresso sounds in order." His eyebrows raised. "Don't look alarmed, I'll add it to the regular coffee." I turned to the machine behind me and started the two cups. "How is Doc?" I asked over the noise and my shoulder.

"'E's gran. Jammers, oi tink." Jammers, I thought, trying to make sense of the words he used. Traffic jams came to mind so I translated that Doc was busy. I had plenty of Irish immigrant customers, and I was slowly learning some of their vernacular. It was rough going, but interesting.

Capping the two large cups with black lids and sliding them into the brown sleeves that would protect my customers from burning themselves on the heat pouring from the hot coffee inside, I turned. "Well, tell him I'll try to stop over this afternoon with his favorite treat." I handed him the coffee. "Are you new in town?"

He shot me a strange look, but seeing me waiting behind the till, he gave another grin. "Aye, just visitin' for business." He chuckled at his own joke. "Ye new? Yisser accent is different."

I had heard that a great deal when I moved here. "Yep, I'm from West Virginia." My smile stayed in place. He's an odd duck, I thought, but Doc never sent me anyone dangerous or violent, so I felt safe. "Hope you enjoy your visit." I told him his total and he handed me a large bill. Opening the register to give him his change he waved me off.

"Naw, lassy, that's for yer." His smile was sweet, but the tip was twice as much as his coffees cost. I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me again. "Naw, oi ill in my brown 'ear it. Doc acts loik de sun shines from yer side av de street an' oi can tell why. Yer take care av 'imself, an' we take care av ours."

"Doc's a sweetheart. He reminds me of my late grandpa." I answered, smiling at the jist of what he said. "It's no hardship to check in on him." I put the extra cash under the drawer. If this strange man came back, his coffee was paid for. "I'm Tessa, by the way." I held out my hand.

"Murphy." He answered, simply, taking my hand. His hands were calloused and rough. Like the men I was raised around and the ones working in the factories here.

"Nice to meet you, Murphy." I said, my smile genuine.

The bells on the door jingled again. Another strong Irish voice called out before I could give my standard greeting. "So that's wha yer were- keepin' company wi' a juicy lassy instead av bringin' de coffee, yer arse."

I looked up and the usual greeting caught in my throat. Dear Lord, I thought, the dim light of the store allowing the beams of early morning sun to settle around the newcomer like a halo. Sun bleached brown hair, cut as haphazardly as Murphy's, light blue eyes, and scruff on the planes of his tanned face. Clearing my throat and my mind of how beautiful he was, I finally found my voice.

"Welcome to As the Page Turns." Jesus, why did I sound squeaky and breathless at the same time? "Guess one of these is yours?" I gestured at the two cups on my counter.

He turned his full attention to me and my mouth went dry as I watched him take the same inventory of me as Murphy had. Only this time I felt inadequate. I fought the urge to squirm.

"Damn it, Conner, stop starin' at 'er loike she's bill skinner. She looks loike a colt ready ter bolt." Murphy's voice broke the weird hold. 'Bill skinner'? I wondered. The horse bit I completely understood.

I cleared my throat again. "So, Connor, is it?" I asked, holding out the same hand that Murphy had shaken. "Visiting for business as well?"

Connor, the archangel of beauty choked on his own tongue as he took my hand and shot a look at Murphy. They were silent for a beat, my hand locked in the calloused heat of Connor's while they stared at each other. Great, pretty, but another weirdo.

"Aye, business." He answered, a smile and chuckle as he returned to face me. "An' yer are?"

I really wished I knew the joke. That had these two laughing every time I mentioned business.

"'Er name is Tessa. Whaich yer wud 'av known if ye'd gotten oyt av scratcher and cum wi' me, loike oi tried ter git yer ter." Murphy answered, smirking.

Connor released my hand and I leaned my hip against the counter. "Are you business partners?" I asked, wondering what type of business they could be in. Rough hands, sun kissed skin, peacoats, hair that looked like a blind barber and blunt shears created the cut weren't usually what I'd associate with business travel. They could be sailors, I supposed.

Connor and Murphy laughed. Each picking up a cup of coffee. Murphy with his right hand, Connor with his left. "Business partners?" Connor smiled, taking an appreciative sip. "Naw, brothers."

Murphy sipped his own. Closing his eyes and sighing in gratitude. "Twins in fact." He added, opening his eyes.

Connor took another drink from his cup. He moaned indecently and it made my stomach clench. "Dis coffee is rapid. Yer 'av a gift. An' I'm jealous yer git ter enjoy it al' de time."

It was my turn to laugh. "Oh, I don't drink coffee." The look of horrified disbelief on both their faces was priceless. "I make it. I love the scent of it, but drink it?" I shuddered. "No thanks."

Murphy's eyebrows rose. "'Oy can yer make it if yer allerge it?"

Connor chipped in, shaking his cup. "An' make it taste loike dis?"

I noticed the ink on his hand as he shook the cup. Another word tattoo. "VERITAS" I reached into my tiny bit of high school Latin. "Truth," I said out loud, startling all of us. I blushed as their eyes fell to mine. I swallowed. "The truth is- my parents love coffee. When my mom died, I learned to make a decent cup so my dad could wake up to it. Worked as a barista for a bit. Still hate the taste."

Connor's eyes burned into me, making me curious again about the two of them. "Konnor, perestan' pyalit'sya, ty yeye pugayesh'." Murphy broke the silence in a murmur. The language sounded almost guttural. Russian? Strange.

Connor's eyes never left me as he answered. "Notò la mia mano, Murphy. Pensi che chiamerà la polizia?" The language he'd chosen sounded more lyrical. Wait, 'polizia'? Police?

I cleared my throat. "Well, this has been- interesting." I smiled, hoping to defuse whatever tension was between the three of us. "Could you please let Doc know I'll be over around lunch?" I asked, needing time to process. Hoping desperately they'd take the hint.

Murphy spoke again, tugging his twin away from the counter. "Naw problem, lassy. We'll be 'appy ter let 'imself nu. Say take 'er 'andy, Connor."

"Clap yer lay-ra, lass." Connor said, allowing his brother to steer him out the door, Murphy shooting me a wave.

Well, then, I thought. Going back to the pastry display, I started clearing the empty boxes. What the hell was all that?

Russian translation from Murphy: Connor, stop staring. You scare her.

Italian translation from Connor: She noticed my hand, Murphy. Do you think she'll call the police?

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @vyxynheartssterek!

Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy :)

Read on AO3

*****

Soulmates and Coffee

Beacon Hills, it seemed, hadn’t changed at all. It took Derek twenty minutes to make it from the airport to the town limit. He watched as the buildings of the bustling city merged seamlessly into trees; their long shadows cast against the road from the occasional streetlight.

If he tried hard enough, he could smell the familiar scent of home through the dirty air filter of the rental car.

The car lurched as it hit the first pothole.

Derek smiled at the familiarity. He could still hear his mother cursing up a storm when she had hit the same one and got a flat tire. He and Laura had been stranded in the back seat with nothing but a yo-yo to keep themselves amused as she tried to figure out how to put on the spare.

No matter how many times the darn pothole was paved, it came back each year with a vengeance and had become an unfortunate landmark amongst the Beacon Hill community.

He merged onto the main street.

It was still dark this early in the early morning. The redeye flight had been the only one available on short notice. His eyes burned, but the thrill of home kept him going.

It’d been a long time since he last drove these streets. Four years at a university in New York with mainly phone calls and Skype to keep in contact with his family. Of course, they all came out to see him graduate last spring, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Laura had stayed with him for a couple weeks a few years back. He had showed her around the city, taken her to all his favorite places, and even some that weren’t his favorites but that he thought she’d enjoy. She liked the city in a distant sort of way, saying that it was pretty but not for her, and that she was needed back home.

He flexed his fingers around the unfamiliar wheel of the car.

Laura’s trip was the first time he’d heard about their new emissary, Stiles. She told him he was nice, and friendly with a mischievous streak a mile wide that kept everyone on their toes. She was supposed to spend time with him since she was to be the next alpha. She needed to trust him and his judgement, and he her.

He was looking forward to meeting this new person. Having been born and raised out here he felt like he knew everyone, at least in passing. But the name Stiles didn’t ring any bells. And no one in his family elaborated on who exactly he was.

He smiled, gently weaving between a string of potholes, proud of himself for remembering where they were. Maybe he could save a little bit of damage to the poor car.

The clock on the dash flicked to the hour. 4am.

He tapped his thumbs against the wheel.

The pack wouldn’t be awake yet. Even Peter wouldn’t be up for another hour. But, he supposed, that just meant he’d have time to unpack in peace before getting ambushed with attention. Cora was convinced he was bringing her something back from New York.

He smiled, imagining her face when she opened the bag containing a T-shirt stating that someone who loved her went to New York and only brought back “this shirt”.

He passed the high school on his right. It looked the same, yet off at the same time. He squinted for just a second longer as he placed the oddity; the building had been extended. He could see the off color brick where the new portion started.

Just past the school, a building complex came into view. This one hadn’t been there when he was here last. He frowned, trying to make out which signs were posted above the doors when the car lurched.

Derek swore, gripping the wheel and jerking it to keep the car straight.

The steady thumping of a flat tire filled the air.

He slapped the hazzards, pulling into the parking lot of the complex he’d been examining.

The cruel irony made him grimace. He sat, listening to the hum of the engine and the chirping of crickets. He’d have to put on the spare.

He tugged the key from the ignition and brushed his thumb across the soulmark on his left wrist. It was a habit he’d developed when the mark appeared, a romantic at heart, the slight touch calmed him, reminding him that someone special was out there, somewhere. It was a couple shades lighter than his skin tone, the triple spirals he knew represented him were tucked inside an explosion of lines, each one fanning outward in a different direction. He used to call it a firework.

The mark had appeared when he was sixteen, like it did almost everyone else in the world, and he would be blatantly lying if he ever said he hadn’t hoped of meeting his soulmate in New York. Beacon Hills seemed like too small of a place to meet anyone that significant, and a part of him believed by moving to a bigger city the chances of running into them were greater. But here now, nearly ten years later, he still hadn’t met them. Which was fine, he supposed, some people didn’t meet their soulmates until they were older. His mom was in her thirties when she met hers.

He opened the car door, stepping out into the cold air. Whoever his soulmate was probably wasn’t out at this hour anyway and he wanted to get home.

He walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk, levering out his rolling suitcase so he could access the compartment that held the spare. He lifted the flap, and stared into the empty space.

The jack was where it should be, tucked away in the crevice that looked designed to hold it, the tool to loosen the bolts was also there, and even some reflective cones. But there was no tire.

He sighed and tugged his phone from his pocket. He didn’t want to wake anyone up, he’d specifically told them all that he was familiar with the area and was more than capable of driving himself home. He glared at the back tire.

With only a second’s hesitation, he called Peter. He frowned as the phone continued to ring. More than likely Peter had his phone on Do Not Disturb. Even the gentle vibration of phones would wake any of them up, but Peter was usually up before sunrise anyway and would get the message soon enough. If he were desperate, he could always walk.

The phone kicked him to voicemail, Peter’s voice told him to leave a message if it was something that couldn’t be sent through text.

He smiled. “Hey, Uncle Peter. I hit one of the potholes on Main and apparently a spare tire is extra in the car rental industry.” He chuckled. “But, uh, yeah, I’m in the parking lot outside-” he squinted at the closest sign on the building. “Merry Meet Coffee and Tea, if you wouldn’t mind picking me up when you wake up, that’d be great. Thank you!”

He hung up and looked back at the sign. Merry Meet Coffee and Tea was new, and the blue and red neon sign proclaimed they were open. Sitting inside and drinking coffee sure beat sitting in the car for an hour.

He loaded his luggage back into the trunk and shut it, then began his way across the lot.

A bell tied to the inside handle jingled when he pushed the door open.

The cafe was simple with a woodsy feel. Wooden tables sat scattered throughout the room, their legs twisting and reaching out and down to the floor like tree roots. The tall back chairs were styled similarly. Plants hung from holders on the ceiling, and a few paintings of forest scenery decorated the walls.

It was a fitting theme for Beacon Hills.

A short haired young man looked up from a stack of books at a corner table. His brow twitched just slightly as he tried to orientate himself back to his surroundings, having been yanked from his thoughts at Derek’s entry.

“Hello,” he greeted from habit. Then his expression lightened and he smiled, rising from his seat. “What can I get for you?” He left his books on the table, careful to check the page number of the book he was on before closing it.

Derek watched as he made his way around the counter and over to the register. He could now see the small logo of a tree and the name of the shop embroidered on the chest of his shirt.

“Just a cup of black coffee, please.” Derek smiled, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He handed over his debit card and looked around again. “This is a nice shop, it wasn’t here last time I was in town.”

“It’s my mom’s, I help her out sometimes and come in early.” The young man swiped his card, then looked back at him. “Where are you from?”

“Here.” Derek smiled, watching the way the man’s eyes narrowed in thought as he tried to place who Derek was. “I was born and raised here, but I’ve been studying in New York for the last four years. I’m Derek Hale.”

The man’s eyes widened sightly in surprise, then a smile lit his face. “I can see that now. I knew you back in grade school.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to frown; grade school had been a long time ago.

The grin slowly widened across his face. “Back then I went by Mischief.”

“Scott’s friend!” Derek announced, sudden memories of the two boys hanging out with Cora coming back to him. They had come to a few of her birthday parties, and if he remembered correctly, had been suspended together at some point for disrupting class with a prank on April Fools Day.

“That’s me,” Mischief grinned, reaching down to grab a cup.

“How’s your mom doing?” Derek asked, stepping down the length of the counter out of habit; it wasn’t like there was anyone behind him.

“She’s great! She’ll actually be in shortly, I have a class that starts at seven.” He grabbed the carafe and filled the cup. “She’s excited to see you again. The whole pack’s excited you’re home.”

Derek nodded. “I’m excited to be home.”

Claudia had been Talia’s emissary since before he was born; the two had been childhood friends growing up and once Claudia came into her spark it seemed only natural for her to take the roll.

Mischief held the cup out to him.

Derek took it, then jolted back when their fingers brushed, a shock reverberating through his soul, causing all the hair on his arms to stand on end. There, on his outstretched wrist, his soulmark flared silver.

Mischief leapt back as well, gripping his left wrist in shock.

They stared at each other over the spilled coffee.

“Well,” Mischief said softly, eyes still wide, “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.” He uncurled his fingers, twisting his wrist to see his soulmark.

It was the same triple spiral and firework that marked Derek’s own skin.

“Same,” Derek nodded. He righted the cup that had fallen and tipped when they’d jerked back, and looked around, scanning the room for napkins.

“I got it,” Mischief said.

Derek looked back at him in time to see him raise his hands. The spilled coffee shifted, beading into hundreds of droplets, and rising into the air. He watched as they hovered across the counter to a sink and splashed inside.

“You’re magic?” Derek asked, belatedly chastizing himself; what else could that have been? A stage trick?

“A spark.” Mischief swiped the cup off the table and into the trash, reaching for a fresh one. “Like my mom. The class I’m going to later is about control, hopefully I’ll be learning more complex spells soon, but magic is tricky.” He poured Derek a cup and reached for another for himself. “It’s like magic has a mind of its own, that’s why it takes so long to learn.”

Derek nodded. “My family just took on a new emissary, he’s supposed to be Laura’s emissary when she becomes alpha. Magic is a lot of responsibility.”

Stiles stilled, his head tilting just slightly as he set the kuraff back. “Do you know who it is?”

“No.” Derek took a tentative sip of the drink, wincing when it burned his tongue. It was good, it made the airport coffee taste like swamp water. “I didn’t recognize his name, and I’m pretty sure I know everyone in Beacon Hills. He probably moved here recently.”

Mischief chuckled. “What’s his name?” He stepped out from behind the counter, motioning Derek over to his table of books.

“Stiles. Do you know him?”

Mischief’s eyes gleamed. “I’d like to think I do.”

“You’re close then?” Derek asked, ready to seize the moment and ask about what his family’s new emissary was like.

“Oh yeah.” Mischief stacked his books and placed them on the table behind them. “Scott and Cora are friends with him.”

“What’s he like?”

Mischief hummed. “I think he’s pretty smart, and clever. According to Laura sometimes sarcastic.” He sipped his coffee. “You planning on staying in town just long enough to meet him?”

Derek shook his head, running his thumb along the leaf pattern on the cup. “I’m home for good now. Living out there was a good experience, but I’d like to be home for a little while now.”

Mischief nodded, setting his cup down. “I’ve thought about traveling.”

Derek looked up quickly. He wouldn’t dare ask his soulmate to not pursue his dreams, but the thought of him leaving soon after meeting stung. He wanted a chance to get to know him. He made sure to keep his voice even when he asked, “Why don’t you?”

“I’ve got a lot of things going on here. Someday I’ll travel, but for now I’m happy learning magic here.” He smiled, flashing just a hint of teeth.

Derek relaxed, relief flooding him, quickly followed by guilt at his reaction. If Mischief wanted to travel, he could damn well travel. Maybe Derek could even go with him.

The jingle of the bell made both of them look up.

A lady walked in, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“Hi Mom,” Mischief said, then motioned at Derek. “Derek’s back.”

Claudia’s eyes lit up, a smile creasing her face. She stepped up to the table, wrapping Derek into a warm hug. “Welcome home.” She released him and turned to Mischief, hugging him as well. When she was done, she looked back at Derek. “You’re mom invited Stiles and I over for a pack dinner tonight, but if you don’t feel up to it let us know and we can do it another night.”

Derek nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be fine after a nap, I just had an incident with the rental car and that slowed me down getting home.” He smiled. “It’ll be nice to meet him.”

Claudia frowned, casting a glance at Mischief, who looked up at her with total innocence.

“Would you mind if Mischief came as well?” He turned his wrist over to expose the soulmark. “I’d like to catch up with him.”

Surprise flooded Claudia’s face, quickly replaced by a grin. “Congratulations.” She looked at Mischief, her expression dropping into a scowl. “And you should have told him.”

“Told me what?” Derek asked, glancing between them in confusion.

Mischief wilted under her look. He looked up at Derek, smiling slowly. “I go by Stiles now.”

“You’re Laura’s emissary?” Derek blurted.

Mischief- no, Stiles held his hands out. “Surprise?”

Derek opened his mouth to reply when the bell jingled again, and Peter stepped into the cafe. His button up shirt and slacks made it look like he was on his way to a meeting rather than to rescue his nephew from a flat tire.

“You said you could get from the airport to home without incident.” Peter frowned only half-jokingly as he crossed the room to their table.

“On any normal day, I can. I’ve had a long night, Uncle Peter, just take me home please.” Derek shook his head slowly.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, concern rising in his tone.

“Of course.” Derek shrugged. “I hit one of the legion of potholes on Main, reconnected with a friend of Cora’s only to find out he’s my soulmate and Laura’s emissary, and now you’re being all Peter. But I’m good.” He smiled, trying to joke back, but his muscles were aching and tired; the sun was now creeping through the windows and he didn’t even want to look at a clock in case it confirmed he’d been awake for over twenty four hours. He needed sleep.

“Go get some rest, I’ll see you at dinner.” Stiles rose, holding out a hand to him.

Derek stood, taking it in his own. “Looking forward to it… Mischief.” He winked and sauntered past Peter; he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be bored anytime soon.

[breathebangtan]

Credulous

Ch. 6: J…….

Genre: FallenGuardianAngel! Jimin, Supernatural

Members: Jimin

Pairings: Jimin x y/n

Synopsis: love is an uncontrollable feeling, even for those who were meant to protect, and only protect. Nothing more and nothing less. Yet somehow, there was always outliers.

Warnings: None really

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Hope you all enjoy! Please like and reblog if you do!

Ch.1 | Ch.5 | Ch.7

~

The bus I took was pretty barren, like a desert with cactus in randoms spots, with the occasional eagle perched on it. I took my seat, somewhere in the middle, near the back. The driver took a few minutes to finish loading the luggage. As he did I got comfortable in my seat, resting my head on the window. The smell of vanilla with lavender and roses was slightly filling my space, it wasn’t strong in the slightest. As a matter of fact, the vanilla wasn't as apparent as the flowery smells. The connection Jimin and I shared was becoming apparent as well, but barely even there. “Rest your head on my shoulder.” He whispered, as if not to startle me. I felt slight panic though, I was afraid someone would see him and wonder how he got on. “Only you can see me right now, and hear me for that matter.” He reassures me as if he read my thoughts. I give a little sigh, relaxing as I rest my head on him. I’d be lying if I said I felt the same amount of warmth I felt when we first met. Everything about him from that night was starting to disappear, or lessen at least. I wondered if maybe it was because I was getting use to his presence or if it was the stress he’d mentioned before, taking its toll on him. If it was the latter, I worried for him. Even if he was a heavenly being, the fact that he had stress at all proved to me that he could be fragile too.

I entangled my hand in his, trying to return the comfort he’d giving me all this time, hoping that maybe I could act as a remedy that could get his heart beating again. “Malum.” Jimin whispered, repositioning his chin atop my head, ever so gently, it was as if he was barely pressing down. “Hm?” I hummed slightly, letting my eyes flutter shut. “You know I love you, right?” He asked, his voice was filled with more emotion than I’d ever heard anyone put into words. The suddenness of them catching me off guard, the genuine raw emotion burning through my ears, like hot iron making its way to my heart until it left a permanent mark. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. “I…” I pushed away from him, staring up into his eyes. They were soft, not expecting anything, just hopeful. I just wasn't sure what they hoped for.

“All I want is your safety and happiness. You know that, right?” He continued. I don’t know why I’d felt so weird about it, he was my guardian, that’s what he meant when he said it. He loves me as much as any other guardian angel can love their assigned human, that’s what he meant. Nothing more to it. So why did I feel so oddly about it? “Of course.” I whispered back to him, as I noticed that the driver had finally made it in, getting ready to pull out of the station. Anyone who was remotely close to me, was wearing headphones. I could talk freely to Jimin without anyone questioning me, but I didn’t want to be louder than a whisper because the same silence would make my voice identifiable. If the driver heard me, he’d think I was crazy.

My hold on his hand tightens, as if to assure him. “I’d be lost without you.” The words escape my lips in such a breathy whisper, as I let myself rest on his shoulder again, hoping to drift into sleep even if just for a little while. His soft humming lulling me into slumber. I was supposed to be back home, at my parents house before midnight, which gave me plenty of time to rest. So I let the movement of the bus’ wheels on the concrete ground rock me, like a baby being carried by its mother on a rocking chair. Everything was so peaceful.

~

“We are currently 8 minutes away from our destination. Please be sure to gather all your belongings and be ready for our arrival. Don’t forget to wait for your luggage after you’ve gotten off.” The drivers announcement wakes me up. I’m thankful that he speaks in such a soft voice, saving me from being startled awake. As I regain consciousness, I realise that Jimin is gone now. My eyes look to the window to see the familiar city I’d been away from longer than I’d like. I waited for the bus driver to give me my luggage before walking into the bus station to await a taxi I'd called.

It didn't take long to arrive home from the station, nothing over 10 minutes. Which was great because I made it home with a little less than half an hour left before 12. I paid off the taxi with the remainder of the 100 dollar tip I'd received from the odd customer. I still could not believe that, that money was literally just enough to pay for my bus ticket and the taxi ride here. My head was starting to throb as I tried to explain how a simple customer, who had given me a weird nickname by the way, was able to predict what I’d go through? There was no way, he’d probably just been generous with what he decided was a fair amount to tip, and decided to write whatever?

Trying my best to put the thought aside, I knocked on my parents door and waited for them to open. I hoped I wasn't waking them, I had warned them I'd be here around this time. “Y/n! My beautiful daughter, oh you're home!” My mother says excitedly as she opens the door, pulling me into a tight hug. My father laughing behind her, bringing my suitcase inside with him. “Come on in sweetheart, you must be cold.” She ushers me inside the warm home, the one I've missed for quite some time now. Being an adult was tough, and being away from your parents for the first time was worse. I knew it was part of life, and I didn't mind it, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss being in this house. In their presence. “I've missed you both. So much.” I sigh as I hug my dad, he pats my back slowly.

“We're so glad to have you home.” He smiles down at me, kissing the top of my head. The lights are mostly off but the ones that are, are dim creating a cozy environment. “Why don't you go rest, and we’ll plan something for tomorrow in the morning.” Mom asks me as they lead me up stairs. Even though I’d slept on the way here, I’m still exhausted. So of course I nod my head in agreement as we come up to my room. “Goodnight sweetie.” My mother says as she opens my door before walking off with dad. It’s just as I left it before moving out into my apartment. My white desk with all sorts of stationary on it, sticky notes on the wall in front of it. The fairy lights I had hung all over my room still intact, I wondered if they still worked though. I laid my suitcase on the floor and opened it, bringing out my pajamas. My burgundy bed covers perfectly made, it looked so inviting. I changed quickly and got into bed, leaving my phone charging on my nightstand. My mind drifted off not too long after and I welcomed it, ready to rest.

Instead of drifting into peaceful sleep, however, my mind started to go into dreamland for the first time in awhile. Only it wasn't a dream, but a nightmare. A weird distorted image of Jimin replying in my head. Oddly enough, the strange customer who had given me the 100 dollar tip was behind him, wicked smile on his lips, horns on his head paired with dark crimson wings. The same color as the tears streaming down Jimin's face, which was contorted into a pained expression. His hands tied behind his back whispering apologizes as I tried to run towards him, but I wasn't moving, my body trapped in place. The man behind him brought his hand up, his fingers getting ready to snap. All I could hear was my agonizing screams, asking him to stop, but it was useless. He'd snapped his fingers, and flames consumed Jimin. My body shot up in my bed as hot tears slipped down my cheeks, burning like alcohol on fresh wounds. I couldn't believe I had witnessed that, even if it was just a nightmare. So vividly, it was like it had truly happened. My hand came to my throat as I tried to breathe, but it was hard as I started hyperventilating.

“Malum? Are you okay?” Jimin was quick to rush to my side, bringing me into his embrace. “I thought I'd lost you.” I manage through heavy breathing. It didn't seem like just a nightmare, if I was honest, and that scared me. I wrapped my arms around him, not wanting to let him go. Afraid that he'd be taken from me. I've only known him for half a month, but I felt like I'd known him my whole life. I hadn't realised the gravity of just how much I cared for him. The way he looked at me when I studied, his adoring smile always made me blush. How he'd always check on me, to make sure I was alright, helping me out with such meaningless things like finding my keys. The fact that he knew what I wanted, when I wanted it. All he wanted was for me to be okay, but I didn't know that all I wanted was for him to be so too. I wanted him to stay by my side for as long as I could have him.

I was afraid I was becoming too attached to him, of what my feelings for him really were. He was my guardian, and he could never be anything more. “Please say that you'll always stay.” Another stream of tears slipped down, as I couldn't imagine him being ripped away from me. He pushed back the strands of my hair, holding my face from either side, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. His eyes staring into my soul, their beautiful dark brown shade was mesmerizing. “What are you saying? I'll always stay here. With you.” He leans in, leaving a reassuring kiss on my forehead. God I hoped my nightmare as meaningless, I hoped with everything inside me that his words weren't anything but the truth.

“I just can't imagine not having you.” I sighed into his neck as he held me close. Just as I'd said that, a knock came from my door. “Honey? Is someone in there with you?” My mother's voice chimed in, somewhat muffled because of the door. A slight panic came over me as I tried to think of an excuse. “No… No, not at all. I'm just talking to myself.” I face palmed at my own excuse, I'd probably sounded crazy. Not like most people didn't do it, but no one would admit it, because it would make them sound like a lunatic.

“Are you sure? I swear a heard a man's voice.” She insists, Jimin leans back slightly, his head falling back as he giggles quietly, watching me struggle. “Oh, I'm just watching something on my phone. But did you need anything?” I ask trying to change the subject as I hit Jimin’s arm. Not that it helps, so instead I cover his mouth with my hand. “Okay, well breakfast is ready. Why don't you come down and eat with us.” She says, thankfully not mentioning it again.

“I'll be right down.” I wait for her footsteps to sound further away before I remove my hand from his mouth, giving him a stern look. All he can do is raise his hands in the air as if he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. “You just love seeing me panic, trying to cover for you, don't you?” He chuckles shaking his head. I get up from my bed, walking to my suitcase.

“Of course not… Besides that would be bad for me.” I could tell from his tone he wasn't being serious, even though half of his sentence was true. “Just admit it. You evil man, making me struggle.” I try my best to sound serious, but the slight laugh in my tone is apparent.

“Okay, just a little.” He giggles again. I grab my shoe and fling it at him, but once I turn to look at him he's gone and in his place is the shoe I’d thrown laying on my bed. There's a slight pull at my heart, as the images of my nightmare flashback for a second. Hoping this isn't the last time I see him, I gather a change of clothes and my toothbrush. After I'd washed up and changed, I walked down to the dining table. My favorites were set up on the table, in elaborate arrangements, pleasing to the eye. I was more than ready to dig in. “Mom… You really didn't have too.” I smile at her, taking a seat. I'd missed her cooking so much, and to wake up with all my breakfast favorites was a wish come true. At the same time I didn't want her to overwork herself for me. “It's been so long since you were home. I thought it would be perfect.” She smiles, as the smell of everything makes my mouth water.

“It is, it's perfect. Thank you, mom.” I pick up my fork, taking a bite. All of the flavors coming together in perfect harmony, nothing to overpowering, but just right. A symphony of flavors bursting in my mouth. It really had been so long since I'd had her cooking. “Your mother and I were thinking of going to the science museum. The one we use to go to when you were younger. You loved that place so much, we thought it would be perfect.” Dad smiles at me, waiting to see my reaction. I nod quickly, loving the idea. I could barely remember the place, as it had been that long.

“I heard they added some new stuff, is it true?” I wondered out loud. The website for the museum had mentioned something along those lines a couple months ago, but I wasn't sure if I'd read correctly because I was multitasking as I had done it. “A colleague of mine went with her son just a few weeks ago. She said there was new additions and some changes to already existing exhibitions.” Mom explained, which made me get so much more excited for it. Both my parents were what some might call, science nerds, so naturally growing up they'd shown me related things. I grew a liking to it, of course. But I had a feeling my parents always knew it wasn’t for me. Although, to be fair I wasn’t sure what was for me.

“Well I’m excited to go! It’s been so long since we’ve done something as a family.” I smiled happily at the both of them. We finished eating soon after, mom sending me up to my room to get ready, stating that surely I had nicer clothes to wear. I laughed at her comment and agreed, a somewhat prestigious place like that wasn’t to show up in ripped jeans and a simple tee. I replaced my current outfit for a black skirt and a beige blouse tucked into it, pairing it with black boots. The car ride to the museum wasn't too long, at least it didn't feel long, but it did take close to 40 minutes. It was pretty far away from home, but we still managed to make it relatively early in the morning.

The line to get inside was pretty big, so much so that many were standing outside waiting to go in. Surprisingly so, the line moved relatively fast. More than I'd expect it to with this many people waiting. We finally made it inside and started exploring. Taking pictures here and there. As we went along we noticed all the new additions that were made. Like the electric wall that makes your hair go crazy because of negative and positive energy mixing. Or the new area that was dedicated to climate change, and the negative effects it had on the atmosphere, and the earth in the long run. Everything was just as interesting as I’d remembered it, my parents throwing big scientific words around as they explained things to me. Not that I’d understand everything, but I got the gist of it, I enjoyed listening to them happily explain things to me. Watching them enjoy it made me happy.

After some time of walking, we headed out for lunch. “Wasn’t that just amazing?” Dad asked me as he buckled his seatbelt. The both of them with big smiles on their faces. “They adore you so much. How could they not?” Jimin’s voice says from beside me, my head turns so quickly to see him seated beside me, I think I nearly gave myself whiplash. He can only laugh at me, as I try to go back to conversing with my parents. “Yeah, just how I remember it as a child. I love the climate change section they added.” I try to keep our conversation going. Which works, my parents both busy talking to each other about it now. “Did you miss me.” He asks, innocent smile across his lips, I can only shake my head at his comment. “Do you always have to startle me when I’m around people?” I giggle slightly as I whisper to him, my parents not even aware, thankfully.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to check on you. After what seemed like a nightmare this morning, I wanted to see for myself that you were alright.” His eyes are sincere, as I hold his hand in mine. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be my guardian. “As long as you’re here, I’ll always be alright.” I couldn’t help but smile at him. I was starting to forget my parents were still in the car, because my mom was calling my name when I heard their voices again. “Hmm?” I ask her.

“I was just asking where you’d like to go for lunch.” She repeats herself. I didn't realise I completely stop listening to them, I'd only paid attention to Jimin in that short span of time. I was just so glad that he was back, because to be honest with myself, my heart had been beating irrationally this whole time. Worried he'd never comeback, I couldn't help but feel anxious. Maybe I should get use to it though, seeing as he was breaking rules letting me see him. Letting me know he exists, not that he ever mentioned it, but I was starting to realise it. “Anywhere is fine.” I smiled slowly at my mom as she nodded, my dad pulled out of the parking lot, taking us wherever. I could only look back to Jimin, trying to burn his image in my head, in case the ones upstairs decided it was time he stopped visiting me.

My parents started talking again and I commented here and there, as I did I felt Jimin’s hand leave mine. He was gone again. I fought the anxiety that was building up inside me, and tried to keep smiling for my parents. We finally made it to a restaurant we use to frequent when I was much younger. We made it in, and got seated almost immediately and just as quickly got our orders taken. “Sweetie.” My mom spoke to me, fixing her shirt.

“Yeah?” I gave her my full attention, waiting for her to say what was on her mind. “You never told us why you had the week of from both work and school.” She wondered, which she was right about, I’d only mentioned I had the week off but never explained why to her. I was still quite shocked at what was happening in school to be honest. “I still can’t believe why myself, but apparently the dean and couple professors have been money laundering with the students tuitions.” I shook my head slight as I sighed. Both my parents went wide eyed, not being able to believe it. “Money laundering?” My dad repeated as I nodded my head, insuring him that’s what I’d said. There reactions were similar to mine, when Rae had first told me.

“Yeah, Rae said that one of our professors was involved so there was a chance that by the time we went back to school, we’d have a new professors.” My mother raised an eyebrow as if saying wow. Which I agreed to. “What about work?” My dad questioned. I took a sip of my drink before answering his questions. I made a mental note to call Stephen later this week, see how he's doing. Poor guy, I could only imagine what he was going through. He'd seemed so rough the last time I'd seen him at work. “My boss gave us the week off, apparently his mother was in an accident. He just didn't want to deal with the shop, since he had to go and take care of her.” They both nodded, taking in the information.

“Poor guy, is his mother badly injured?” Mom inquiries, but frankly I didn't know. Stephen didn't give us any specifics, and I didn't blame him. He didn't have to tell us, if he wanted to keep his private life as that, private, then I was okay with that. “I'm not sure, he didn't say. He looked really stressed out though. I hope she's okay.” I sighed, I really hoped for the best for him and his family. The rest of the lunch went peacefully as we reminisced. Silly things I use to do as a child, places we'd use to go together, or short vacations we'd go on. I'd missed my parents and spending today with them was great. I felt refreshed.

That was until we'd gotten home, and I realised that I still didn't have my wallet or anything with me. Which of course I needed. I knew my parents could probably buy my ticket for me without a problem, as a matter of fact they insisted once I told them why I needed to go to the bank. But I didn't want to rely on them or their money. So, I walked to the bank that was near our house. Of course, dad argued that he could drive me, but it was in walking distance and I didn't mind. Eventually he gave up and they let me walk. The walk there was around ten minutes, which wasn't too bad, but it was chilly out so I was glad I decided to put on a sweater. I just hadn’t noticed that I���d mindlessly put on Jimin’s sweater until my mom pointed it out, before I’d left.

“Is that a man’s sweater?” She asked me, as she inspected it. I was caught by surprise, looking down at it. “Oh… I uh… I saw it at a store and really liked it. I didn’t mind that it was a man’s. Why? Does it look okay?” I asked her, trying to sound as innocent as possible. She brushed it off saying it looked nice on e regardless and walked away to the living room with my dad.

It still had his scent on it, strong vanilla with slight lavender and roses. I missed that smell. These days, his stress was making him change in all aspects. His light was dimmed, his roots turning black, his scent barely there, and our connection was weak. But his sweater reminded me of how cheerful and full of light he was when I first met him. I wished I could do something to help him get over his stress. I made it to the bank sooner than I thought, must have been because I was so caught up thinking of my guardian. “Hi, how can I help you today?” The woman behind the desk asked as she looked away from her computer screen. Her perfectly placed dark brown hair. Not a strand out of place.

“Hi, I just wanted to take out some money. I’m here on vacation, but I forgot my wallet at home. I wondering if I could do something about it?” I asked her. She smiled kindly, nodding at me, typing something into her keyboard. “Of course, do you have your ID?” She asked me, and I reached into my purse. Thankfully I had left a second ID at home with my parents before leaving to college. I got it out and handed it to the woman her took a look before typing some more. The process wasn’t as hard as I had imagined. She just asked a couple questions that seemed to be routinely. Once she’d given me my money inside a little envelope which I stuffed in my purse, I walked out. Before heading home I decided I wanted to buy some junk food from a convenience store that was close. Little did I know I’d run into David here, much less in my hometown. An odd thought that he’d been stalking me came to mind, but I remembered that he’d said he loved in a different town as well. Maybe he was here visiting as well.

“Y/n? Hey? How are you doing?” He asks, walking closer to me. I smiled at him as he leaned in for a hug. I didn’t want to be rude so I returned it. “I’m fine, I’m sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to just leave you there.” I sigh, feeling sorry that I’d done that to him, he didn’t do anything wrong. But I also just couldn’t be there, after what I’d gone through before that, I just needed to run away. “Don’t worry about it, I understand.” He smiles back. I nodded, walking with him through the store as we got what we needed.

“I’d like to take you out soon though, like we said that night.” He smiles, paying for his things, as I wait for him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out with him. Leading him on wasn’t fair, and to be quite frank I don’t even know what took over me that night that made me say and agree to things I wasn’t truly feeling.

He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, how could I say no? My mind started up again, just like that night. The vacancy inside my chest coming back just as addictive yet unpleasant as before. The sudden emptiness taking my breath away. But I was quick to regain it, a little use to it. “Yeah… you know what?” I pause, thinking of what I was about to say.

Just say yes, look at those pink lips. So kissable. I need to try them. My voice was starting to become more seductive, but it was odd, didn’t sound exactly like myself. I was confused. “Let’s do it. I've been meaning to see you again.” I was confused at my own words, but I went along with them, even if I wanted to disagree, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I couldn’t explain why either. But I did notice that everytime I spoke in such away to him, or the thoughts that I was having came to mind, the smell of lavender and roses was growing stronger.

His smile grew from ear to ear which made me do so as well. “Oh great, I’d love that. Maybe when we get back? I know the perfect place to go to. I think you’ll really like it.” He speaks as he guides me out of the store. I just nod my head, walking close to him.

“Sounds great, getting to know you better. We barely got the chance to last time,” I pout slightly, looking up at him. “and I know from the short time we spent together last time, it’ll be fun doing so.” His cheeks stained with a rosy color that I knew well enough it wasn’t from the cold breeze. “But David, you never said why you’re in town.” I wondered out loud.

“Oh, I came to pick something up from a friend who lives here. Since we have the week off school, I decided I’d stay over a little longer. Haven’t seen the guy in a couple months.” He explained with ease, and I nodded as he did, taking in the information as I walked. Relief when he explained, the thoughts of him stalking me escaping. I breathed a little more freely after that. “Are you here visiting someone too?” He questions me now.

“Uh, yeah I came to visit my parents.” I smiled, we were getting closer to the street I had to take a turn on, which meant I may have to say goodbye to David. “Oh that's right. You mentioned you lived two cities away.” His face expressing the sudden remembrance to the piece of information I'd told him that night. I giggled slightly at it, before we were interrupted.

“Malum? What are you doing?” Jimin's familiar voice calls out to me, as I hear his footsteps get closer. My mind told me to ignore him, because if I responded, David would think I was weird, talking to air. My heart dropped in a matter of seconds when David questioned me, however. “Is he talking to you?” He asked, and I realised Jimin wasn't hiding, he was making himself visible to David. I turned around to face him. I noticed the black in his hair was starting to pass being just in his roots. Was he okay?

“Ji… What are you doing here?” I stopped myself from saying his name, not wanting David to hear. Instead I questioned him on his presence, and the fact that he was openly letting David see him. “Your mother sent me out to get you, she felt you were taking too long. Was a bit worried.” He explained as he grabbed the bag from my hand. Obviously I knew he was lying, but why was he? “Let's go home, yeah?” He gestured towards my house with a slight nod of his head.

“Who is he?” David questioned, his expression was a bit bitter at Jimin, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice Jimin's sour one as well. “Uh, who are you?” Jimin retorted. My eyes going wide for a second. “This is just, uh… My neighbor, were childhood friends.” I giggled as I tried to come up with an excuse on the spot, hoping David would ignore Jimin's comment. “I really should get going now.” I smiled, I was about to hug him goodbye, but Jimin's hand slipped in mine, catching me off guard. He pulled me away towards my house, all I could do was wave at David instead, as he stood their dumbfounded. His expression growing more confused when Jimin snaked his arm around my waist and kissed near my temple. Leaving me just as confused, as I looked up at him.

I would have said something, but I was just so speechless at Jimin's actions. Once we were a couple houses away from mine, I took my bag and pushed him away. “What were you thinking?” I angrily said, as I walked away. My mom and dad were chatting in the kitchen and didn't stop to ask what they were up to, instead just announcing I was home before rushing up to my room. “What was I thinking? What about you?” Jimin's voice was a bit louder than it usually was with me, a tad bit aggressive as well. I was use to him scolding me sometimes, but even then it was sweet and calm. This? I'd never heard from him, he was so different now.

“Me? I did nothing wrong? I was talking to a friend, coming home. Until you decided to show up, and reveal yourself to him. What the hell was that about?” I fought back, my voice wanting to yell at him, but I knew I couldn't. My parents would come and ask what was going on, and that was out of the question. “Out of all people, him? After what happened a couple nights ago? I don't want you around him. Is that too much to ask? Only look at me. I've told you, you're mine,” He takes a few steps closer to me, his stare is intense, and where his usually brown eyes that had a spark of light in them use to reside, are now deep dark brown eyes that could easily be mistaken for black. An emotion I wasn't familiar with expressed in them. “I need to know you're safe.” I felt like my body was floating, my mind was not existent now, and I was losing myself inside his eyes. That was until I realised that the moment his words left his lips, the black in his hair start consuming the blonde that was left. At the same time, the little bit of light that still followed him was gone, nothing at all was left. I wasn't sure why, but I felt a piece of me leave, in that instant. A single tear fell from my eye, as I reached to touch his hair.

“What's happening to you?” I questioned, my fingers touching the dark strands. The blonde disappeared so quickly, leaving nothing behind but black hair that resembled the feathers of a raven sitting on a windowsill. My heart ached, as I wasn't sure who was standing in front of me anymore. His hand wasn't as warm as it use to be, as he wrapped it around my wrist. His soft lips leaving a kiss on my hand. “I've told you, it's just stress.” I couldn't help but think that I was the one causing him all that stress. He didn't want me around David because of what happened the last time I was with him. He was afraid I would be in danger around him. Here I was, trying to relive his stress, but I was just adding on to it.

“I'm… I'm sorry, I'll stay away from him. Just, please don't worry so much.” I needed to find a way to help him, I just wasn't sure how. “I just need to have you here with me, and everything will be okay.” He pulls me into his embrace, one that feels oddly different in a pool of familiarity.

I was his? As I let him hold me, his words came back and repeated themselves in my head. Only look at me. What did he mean?

[2pcontinued]

A Silent Symphony

Standing at the edge of a ballroom, the beautiful golden chandelier holding many bright candles that illuminated the entire room, you watched longingly at the dance floor. How you wished to be there, waltzing the night away with a handsome stranger. Of course, you could, but lord knows you would be in a load of trouble for doing so. So for now, you simply watched. At least your uniform was cute, even if it was a but uncomfortable. A pair of black mary-janes were shown on your feet, while on your actual body you wore a black frilly dress that stopped at just below your knees, with a white band going around and cinching your waist, and short puffy sleeves that connected to the more modest version of a sweetheart neckline that was also decorated with frills. A pair of plain white stockings covered your legs. Your hair was pulled into a low bun, tied with a white ribbon, and you wore white gloves over your usual rough hands, due to the labor the master of the estate required you to do. Little did you know, a pair of eyes were watching you from afar, staring intently at your simplistic figure, with a look of interest.

Some time later, while you were escorting a guest to their designated room in the estate due to them drinking a little too much of the selection of refreshments you served during the ball, you had walked up to the third floor of the mansion to drop them off. Once you had left them in their room a drunken mess, you started to begin to go back to the party to finish the rest of your job. As you were walking back down the stone staircase, a small melody filled your ears. It was very quiet, almost nonexistent, but still prevalent enough for you to be able to hear it clearly. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, unable to choose your next course of action, yet settled on a decision mere seconds later. Nodding your head, you decided to follow the sound. You knew this land like the back of your hand, so nothing you discovered would be new to you, not to mention, you were always doing the same thing all the time every day, so a change of pace would be inviting. Your shoes clacked against the stone pavement of the stairs you were walking up, currently leading you to the second to last floor, floor five. Once you had arrived at your destination, you opened the brown wooden door at the top of the flight of stairs, and walked down the corridor slowly, making every step you made as silent as possible. The music only got louder. The wallpaper decorating the hallway was a lovely blush pink, with a small off-white stripe marking every every six inches or so of the wallpaper. The floor now had baby blue carpeting, a color you had always found to be joyous and quite adorable, the color itself expressing youth and innocence without even using a picture. Passing every door, you noticed that the music was coming from the very last door at the end of the hallway. It didn’t exactly make sense, since that room had always been vacant every time you had cleaned it, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. It’s not like you got a bad feeling from the situation anyway, because if it had, you would have stopped a long time ago. You trust your instinct with every fiber of your being, as it has never steered you wrong before.

Reaching the final door, pure white with small pink roses decorating the edges, you grabbed the brass knob, and turned it in your hand gently. Pushing the door open, a beautiful scene filled your sight. The usually ugly fading avocado green wallpaper had been replaced with a pristine white wallpaper instead, as the moon lit up every dark crevice of the room. Gold trimmings decorated the connecting area of the floor and wall, and a large white and gold rug covered part of the floor, as a shiny dark brown hardwood floor peeked from underneath the item. On the left side of the room, trays upon trays of pastries and the most delicious smelling sweets sat on top of a table with a white tablecloth, and pink roses occasionally decorated the table, completely snipped from their stems and the flowers left untouched and oddly  perfect. The finest wines and drinks stood next to the sweets on the table, along with a chocolate fountain, what you may say is arguably the best addition to any dessert table. A large window removed of it’s glass with a curved top allowed the full moon to show, it’s holy light shining upon the magnificent display before you. A man stood near this window, not very tall in height, only reaching about 5’6 at most. His back was facing you, however you could see his strawberry blonde hair glisten in the moonlight.

“Excuse me sir, I don’t think you’re allowed to be here.” You spoke, a little unease in your voice, due to the stranger standing across the room from you. He turned around, and you were able to fully take in his features.

What he lacked in height, he made up for in pure and absolute beauty. Extremely fair skin, slightly littered with freckles, as well as deep and sensitive eyes that resembled the color of sapphires when the sunlight hit them, filled your view. Thin, yet plump pink lips with a slight cupid’s bow as their shape, and a button nose that looked almost too tempting to touch with the tip of your finger. His eyebrows, slightly bushy yet well groomed, and long eyelashes framed those mesmerizing eyes of his. His face was slightly rounded, with his chin coming to a small point, his body looking a bit plump and more on the well-fed side, showing his status in society, and providing an explanation for his adorable somewhat chubby cheeks. He was wearing a soft pink waistcoat with a matching pink tailcoat, and a baby blue bow tie. A white wing-collared dress shirt was tucked into neatly pressed cream-colored pants, and he was wearing white gloves, while on his feet were white dress shoes. My god, was he gorgeous. And he was staring directly at you.

A smile graced his perfect lips, yet he didn’t expose his teeth. The music continued to play in the background.

“I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but I was hoping that I could stay a bit longer in here, if you don’t mind.” His voice had an English accent, something that charmed you further about this man.

“Actually, I don’t mind at all.’ You had no idea what you were saying, of course you minded, you could get punished for this, but something about the air around you made you change your mind. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Excuse me for interrupting.”

As you were about to grab the doorknob to leave again, a sharp wind passed you and you felt your freehand being grasped in another’s.

“I would actually enjoy it, if you stayed for a little while with me. I don’t like to be alone.” His hand was freezing cold, as if you were holding a cube of ice instead of the hand of another person. His voice was genuine and softened, showing that he wasn’t lying. At least you hoped he wasn’t.

Nodding your head, he didn’t let go of your hand, but instead turned you around to face him, palm touching palm, fingers intertwined. Your face burned up like the Sahara during the day.

He smiled at you, teeth barely exposed, but enough to show off some of his pearly whites. Even his teeth were perfect.

“Shall we dance?” He asked, and due to the close proximity, you could smell the faint scent of strawberry coming off of the man. You were so close, you could nearly count every single one of his individual freckles on his face. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend a lazy early morning.

“Yes, we may.” He gave you a reassuring look, then the song began to change. Wait, there was no piano or record player, so who was playing the music? You had no time to think, as he pulled you closer to him, you started to shift and turn in synchronization, one-two, one-two, feet moving together gracefully. Your dress swished all around you, and you could feel the air blowing past your face as you two moved together swiftly. It seemed as though he had you under a trance, your movements completely mimicking his, following his lead completely, not even thinking about anything else but the dance and keeping up with him. As the song began to end, he dipped you down, and you could feel his face nearing the left side of your neck, at a steady pace, slowly but surely making it’s way to the tender meat that was your flesh. Your eyes were closed softly, your head falling back, somewhat sleepy in your state, not fully conscious in a way.

Once he had gotten close enough, he began to open his mouth, and sink his teeth into your delicate skin. Close, so close he could almost taste it, which he could. Almost. Just as his fangs were about to pierce your skin, your eyes pushed themselves open, a look of anger written on your face, and you glared at him. You snapped your neck and head back up while he maneuvered his away from yours to avoid your head impacting his, and messily pushed him away from your body. The blonde looked surprised, and a little amused, to say the least. 

You lifted your leg up and attempted to kick him, yet in a flash, he was gone again, in front of the window you had found him in when you first walked through the door. Raising your fists up to protect yourself, your gaze hardened and eyebrows furrowed, as a hard frown set itself upon your features.

“Who are you, and what did you do to me, you sick man.” Your voice held no hesitation and no fear. You were ready to kick someone’s ass if need be.

The man simply giggled, and grinned at you, revealing his full set of teeth.

“My god..” You whispered to yourself, as you saw rows of fangs lined up on the sides of his mouth, the sharpness of them terrifying you to no end.

“What’s wrong, poppet? Are you surprised?’ His voice came out like velvet, yet held a dark undertone that you despised. He continued. ‘Let me introduce myself, then, to the pretty lady.”

As he said that, he jumped backwards into the window and landed slowly, floating like a feather onto the ledge, and bowed his head down to reach his waist, then lifted his head back upright. His tailcoat swished dramatically behind him. What a show-off.

“I am Oliver Kirkland, a powerful vampire! And you were supposed to be my next meal, my dear.” This part caused your eyebrows to rise and your shoulders to tense, but you stood your ground. No way in hell you were backing down now. Even if his voice got oddly high-pitched during this moment, and it aroused worry in your body.

“However, you, my love, resisted my charms at the last minute. How fun!’ He paused for effect, and lifted his right hand to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully, before he begun again. ‘I have a feeling we will meet again, dearest (Y/n), so, until then! Toodle-loo!” And with the wave of his hand, he was completely gone, as if he vanished in mid-air.

When he left, the entire room changed once more. The walls returned to it’s previous deteriorated state, the floors dusty and rickety, creaking under your body weight, and the treats gone. The room was completely silent.

“How did he know my… Where was the music coming from…” You questioned yourself aloud, knowing that you would probably never find the answers if he didn’t give you the answer. Well, this was beginning to get a bit too personal for you. Collapsing against the aforementioned nasty green wallpaper-covered wall, you sat on the floor, your knees pressed against your chest, the moonlight seeping inside from the window barely hitting the tips of of your shoes. A chill ran down your spine. You might need a drink or two to finally begin to process what had just happened.

(This is for anon! My first ever halloween event request fulfilled, so thank you for allowing me to fulfill your request, and have a lovely day!)

[oddeyecadia]

what if it’s us?

a college/soulmate/librarian!pidge x dancer!lance au. yeah that’s a lot. also another attempt on writing a multi chapter fic. wish me luck. this will be the only chapter that i’ll tag for plance au week tho :( i hope that’s okay. i don’t think i can finish this in just a week or even month so yeah.

also posted on ao3 | ch. 2 ch. 3 ch. 4

___

The first time they met, they didn't know immediately. But Pidge, being the natural observer that she was, was the first one to notice a hint.

"Uhm, hey." Called a guy with slightly high pitched voice, tapping her shoulder lightly as she finished arranging some books on the library shelf.

She turned to him with a tired expression. Though, she didn't miss how an unfamiliar warmth suddenly bloomed in her chest when she met his gaze. They were blue, his eyes. A charming, ocean blue. For some unknown reason, her heart started beating faster than it should while all the scars and little bruises on her body tingled in a strange way.

Pidge paused for a second, trying to comprehend and understand what this strong feeling actually was. She seemed to be the only one between them who felt it. Though, it might just be her imagination, she swore she saw his eyes widened a bit when they met her hazel ones.

Shrugging internally, she came with a quick hypothesis that it was only just the heat making her body react very weirdly. "Can I help you?" Pidge finally asked the lanky guy.

"You're a student librarian right?"

"Obviously."

"Can you help me find this book? I can't remember the title but it's orange!"

Her mind was sent reeling as she wore a puzzled expression. Was this guy serious? She never thought she would encounter an elementary in a college student's body. These type of people were in a very nice rank in Pidge's most annoying people list.

She let out a sigh. "What type of book is it?"

"A anatomy one."

"Follow me." He did when the girl then started walking to the STEM isle.

Sound of their footsteps filled the library. It was a saturday evening, the place wasn't as busy as any other week. Students of Altea University didn't usually have a lot of classes on saturdays. Though, there were still a few groups of people roaming around, like the usual academic prodigies who liked to finish their homeworks and projects earlier than everyone else, the novel fans who would read harry potter religiously everyday, and some couples making out behind the tallest shelves. Oh Pidge hated those. Was it really that hard to keep their library kinks to themselves? Apparently not for she could already hear kissing sounds from when they passed the fiction aisle.

"Is that even allowed?" The guy behind her asked quietly, though it was loud enough for her to hear.

"Nope." She replied, turning to the STEM aisle and started looking for a book with a certain bright color.

"Aren't you gonna stop them?"

"Too lazy to. Besides that'd be so awkward."

"True."

As soon as their small talk ended, her eyes finally landed on the third shelf where an orange calculus book stood out. Her short arms reached for the object and showed it to the person beside her. "Is this what you're looking for?"

His eyes squinted as he took the book from her hand. "I think so." Moving it closer to his face, he examined the cover.

That was the moment Pidge saw it. Two bandaids were on this guy's right arm close to his elbow. They were placed very similarly to where she had two fresh cuts from yesterday when she crawled under her bed to reach for her lost game boy, her arm accidentally landing on a rough surface.

The concept of every person having a soulmate that would receive the same injuries and physical pain as them was very fascinating to Pidge, but she never really cared for finding her own. Her soulmate didn't actually gave her a lot of wild bruises, cuts, or injuries as a child. But things changed horribly when she went to college. On her first year, she started getting a lot of small bruises on her knees and slight pain on her limbs for no reason. She thought perhaps her soulmate joined a sports team or something. She got really curious at some point, desperate to know what the hell her soulmate was up to that they had to have a shit ton of bruises. Thankfully, the injuries started to appear less when she hit her second year of college. Though, the curiosity never left.

"Yup. This is it." The guy in front of her smiled once again. "Thanks..." His eyes quickly looked at her name tag and added "Katarina."

"Don't."

"What should I call you then?"

"Nothing. I don't even know you."

"I'm Lance. Might as well introduce ourselves, you're probably going to see me here a lot for a few weeks." There was a hint of stress in his voice, making her remember that it was almost the end of the first semester. He was probably one of those students who treated libraries like their second home when loaded with a shit ton of school projects to do.

"Wow. Productive."

"Yeah, I'm pretty studious." She could hear the sarcasm. "Anyway, see you around, Katarina."

Lance gave her another kind smile before he turned around and walked away, giving Pidge a good look on the bandaids on his arm once again.

Crossing her arms, she gave the similar cuts she had with him a gentle stroke using her fingers.

It could just a be a coincidence. It was very common for people to have cuts and bruises below their elbows. She didn't want to assume that quickly.

He couldn't be. ___

She would never take the pleasure of slouching for granted ever again. Pidge, for the umpteenth time this week, fell asleep on her study table back at her apartment earlier today. She was only supposed to take a quick nap but ended up sleeping for the whole afternoon. Now, she couldn't even look down without her neck and upper back feeling as though they had been burned with acid from the inside. She didn't miss a class though, that was a good thing.

"You okay, Pidge?" The guy across her, Hunk, asked with genuine concern when he noticed her oddly good posture and the discomfort in her expression.

Hunk was Pidge's physics partner. The two decided to work on their paired homework at the campus library, an hour before Pidge's shift started. "I'm okay. It's just– my back kinda hurts."

"What happened?"

"Took a nap on a very uncomfortable position, that's all."

"Want some pain killers? I think I have some in my bag."

She smiled with gratitude. He was as caring as ever. "No, it's fine. I already took one. But thanks, Hunk."

Just as they were about to go back to their work, the library was bombarded with a familiar obnoxious voice. "Hunk!– Oh hey, Katarina." Shushes and groans filled the room as all eyes fell on who caused the disturbance.

"Sorry." Lance whispered, suddenly being aware of where he was.

"You guys know each other?" Hunk asked quietly as Lance approached them.

"No." She said. "Yes." He said.

The one who told the truth was him. Lance wasn't kidding when he said he and Pidge would be seeing each other more often in the library starting last week. Every night he would be greeting her, wherever corner of the library she was, with that bright smile of his. Sometimes he would come with his friends for a group study, sometimes he was with his group mates for a project, but usually he would come alone to borrow some textbooks.

It had been almost two weeks since he started his daily visit. He never missed a night, and every night he would always find something new to talk about. Pidge never really liked human interaction, especially with strangers. Lance on the other hand, seemed to love initiating small talks with everyone, even with Pidge who looked small yet very intimidating and tired of everybody's shit 24/7.

It was annoying at first, but she got used to it very quickly. He just wouldn't stop until he'd get even the slightest acknowledgement. Every night she'd learn something new about him for he was very talkative.

Lance was a nursing student, had a pet cat named blue, loved rain, grew up with a lot of siblings, and apparently he had a one direction phase. Pidge learned all of these in just two weeks of daily small talks. She wouldn't admit it but she would love to learn more.

"Hunk, can I borrow your keys?"

The big guy sighs. "Lost yours again?"

Lance scratched the back of his head, letting out a few nervous laughs. "Yeah. I'll try to find it later. Please?"

Hunk then gave what seemed to be his apartment key to him with his famous disappointed face.

"You're Hunk's roommate?" She asked Lance. "That explains his lack of sleep."

"Hey." The loud mouth whined with a pout.

"So are you guys friends?" Hunk asked once again as Lance sat down beside him, carefully keeping his posture straight and perfect as if he was one slouch away from breaking his back.

"Yes." He said. "Acquaintances." She said.

Putting his hand on his chest, Lance gasped dramatically. "Katarina, c'mon. I've told you some of my deepest secrets, we're not just acquaintances."

"You having a harry styles fan account when you were 15 isn't a deep secret. Also, can you please stop calling me that?"

"You haven't told me your nickname yet."

"It's Pidge." Hunk interrupted.

"Hunk!" Pidge whisper shouted, looking very betrayed.

"What? You said you didn't want him to call you Katarina. And same, cause you don't look like a Katarina."

A sigh. "Only my friends can call me Pidge, though."

Lance let out a victorious chuckle. "Well, I'm your friend now. Deal with it, Pidge."

The blue eyed wore a proud smile after finally calling her by her nickname for the first time, as if it was some kind of achievement. Like a promotion but in Pidge's life. The room then went silent– well, it became a little more quiet with Lance's mouth shut –after a few seconds of unimpressed staring from Pidge.

The silence made their senses focus more on their surroundings. Pidge could hear pages turning, pencils on paper, and quiet chatters. The lighting of the place made it easier to read but the mood just screamed sleep. The smell of books and wood helped her mind relax. Though, the random smell of mint was so strong that it hurt her nose. Where was it coming from anyway?

"What is that smell?" Hunk asked what she was about to.

"Yeah, it's so... minty." She added.

"Oops. Uh, it's salonpas. I put some on my back and neck, hopefully to ease the pain."

Hunk spoke. "Something happened in dance practice again?"

A brow of hers lifted curiously. "Dance practice?"

"He's part of our university's dance team."

"I sure am! We're more like a pep squad though, we do a lot of awesome stunts. But no, nothing happened during practice. Or to me in general."

"So... it's your soulmate's?" Pidge found herself asking, the thought of their similar elbow cuts flashing through her mind, causing her heart rate to rise a little.

"Yup. I'd always feel back and neck aches whenever exams are near, and finals are coming up, I bet my soulmate's back with their over studying bs. They probably never sleep, or they do but not comfortably. God, I can't wait to meet them so that I could tell them how unhealthy over studying is. Don't they know prioritizing studies over health isn't always good cause–" Pidge couldn't even focus on Lance's little rant as the cogs in her brain worked to make the conclusion for her hypothesis.

Their similar cuts, the small bruises on her knees that would appear out of nowhere and the slight pain on her limbs that she would feel for no reason, Lance being part of a dance team that did a lot of stunts, him having back aches whenever there were exams, a time where her studious ass was on it's peak, always ending up sleeping on her desk.

Realization hit her like a space ship crashing on land. Suddenly it all made sense. She knew that it was possible because of the elbow cuts she saw on him when they first met. But these connections just proved her assumptions were right after all. There was no denying it.

Lance was her soulmate.

Oh god... Lance was her soulmate.

The cute guy that had been trying to befriend her– and succeeding –for weeks was the person the universe was telling her she should be with.

Wait.

Did she just thought Lance was cute?

Oh no.

There's just too much to take in. Pidge's hands started sweating as Lance finished his rant. "I've said this multiple times but I just can't wait to meet my soulmate, and take care of them because they clearly aren't taking care of themselves that well." His eyes met hers and his face soften at her shocked expression. "You okay there, Pidge?"

"Huh?" She finally zoned in. "Y-Yeah. Just fine." When she gave Hunk a glance, she immediately noticed the obvious grin that was forming on his face. Bless him, it was clear that he was trying to hide it, but he was failing so bad.

From the looks of it, Hunk also figured it out. She shook her head very slightly. Don't tell him yet.

Lance did not seem to notice Pidge giving Hunk a begging expression for he said. "Mmkay. If you say so." He stood slowly, again keeping his posture as to not hurt his back even more. "I'll be resting in our dorm for a bit before practice starts. See ya guys later!" He walked out of the library humming a mess of tunes, like some kind of a remix. Probably, a song their dance group used for a routine.

Pidge let out a sigh of relief when he was finally out of sight. Though the tension in her breathing came back as soon as she faced Hunk.

"So..." He said a little too enthusiastically. "My flirty roommate and my snarky physics partner. A perfect match."

"Ugh." Was her only response.

"You didn't tell me you've met your soulmate?"

"I just found out. Like right now. I mean I've noticed things but I just didn't want to make conclusions that quickly."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"Never. Let him find out on his own." Besides, how was she supposed to tell him anyways? Hey, we're soulmates, I was the one who gave you those back aches. or Thanks for the bruises, dude.

Would he believe her? Would he even be happy to know it was her? Pidge had seen Lance flirt with girls in the library multiple times. She knew his type and it wasn't nerdy girls with a 13 year old boy's body.

She wasn't even sure if she was okay with him being her soulmate. Still, the thought of rejection made her heart sink.

"I hate to break it to you, Pidge, but Lance might not be dumb, but he's very slow. He wouldn't know unless someone tell him."

"Fine." She knew she had to tell him sooner or later anyway. "I'll tell him when I have evidence."

"Pidge, this isn't a thesis report. And aren't his- or your back aches enough?"

"Well I can't just tell someone we're soulmates without a strong evidence right? Plus, this–" She pointed on her upper back. "is internal. There aren't any marks or anything. Therefore, it wouldn't be as convincing." Excuses. Pidge had mastered making those a long time ago. She really just wasn't ready to tell him.

It worked for Hunk though. He shrugged. "Alright. True. You win. But when you tell him, I need to know what happens. Always update me."

[lavenderhyrdrangea]

A Much Needed Consultation

Viola’s hair came out in clumps when Butch ran a wide-tooth comb through it. Her jaw dropped at the sight of each ratty strand tangled around the teeth.

 “What are we going to do?” She sputtered.

“We?” He used the pointed end of a rat tail comb to clean the hair, yanking away at the more stubborn pieces with his thumb and index finger. “This is between you and your hotshot robot here.”

Wadsworth quit his flitting about. “Excuse me? I was instructed to keep the treatment in her hair longer because her roots were strong, ‘like something grown out of a mutant’s scalp.’ Which is beyond me since I’ve never seen a mutant with hair.”

Still at work on the comb, Butch nudged his chin in Dogmeat’s direction.” You might as well go on and say something, mutt. That way you’ll be in on the fun”

There was a large chance that Dogmeat had absolutely no idea what he was talking about but he barked anyway—More likely at the attention than anything else.

“My hair emergency does not need your sarcasm right now.” She pulled at a loose hanging strand above her ear. It slid out with ease and she flailed it in front of her. “See?”

“Well quit pulling on it, Nosebleed.”

“It was going to fall out anyway.” She shot back.

“Let it then.”

"I don’t think you understand. Baldness and shedding hair is not the type of look the Lone Wanderer should be having.”

Butch snorted.  “And they call me vain.”

“Butch. You spend thirty minutes every morning in front of the bathroom mirror, making sure that thing on your head is slick with pomade and gelled to a certain angle.”

“It’s called the Tunnel Snake.”

“Whatever. Do you have a diagnosis for me or not?”

He stepped back from the living room couch she sat on. There was a narrowing of his eyes and a rubbing of his chin. Where did this serious Butch come from and how long had he existed? As far she knew this was that same moron that replaced her hand lotion with mayonnaise back when they were kids. 

Butch’s hand dropped from where it was and he ended up shoving it in his Tunnel snakes jacket pocket as his shoulders squared. Maybe in spite of herself her thoughts had written themselves all over her face and he read them straight.  

“Looks bad.” He said. After taking his place behind the couch again, he took the comb and parted her damaged hair to expose more of her scalp. He pressed gently. “No chemical burns though. The damage shouldn’t be permanent.”

“Aha! Good one Master.”  Wadsworth said at the horrible pun that would’ve slipped by had he not said anything.

She rubbed her temples. “I’m pretty sure there’s still a mess in the kitchen. Go clean it.”

Wadsworth left but not, of course, without muttering something about the perils of working under her and how little he is repaid for his service.

“How long did you leave that stuff in for?  An hour?” Butch asked.

Viola grew quiet.

“An hour? Are you kidding me?”

“I know as a stylist--”

“Barber.”

He always corrected her but this time he sounded like he was seconds close to seriously taking a pair of clippers to the rest of the hair on her head.  

Viola softened her tone. “Right, Barber. I know you probably salivate at a the challenge of a ‘thicker’ hair type but you haven’t had to comb it. “Ugh.” She shuddered “That comb.”

“Thick hair or not. Leaving the perm in for as long as you did was dumb. A professional could’ve told you that.”

“We’re broker than broke, so it’s not like I could’ve gone to Snowflake.”

“You do know we live together right?” He asked.

“I didn’t really have you on the top my list when I was looking at all my options. Maybe next time, Deloria.”

“Sure. Next time.”

His smile stiff, Butch rearranged the combs in his hair tool belt on the wobbly table across from the couch. Dogmeat swiveled his ears forward.  Inching closer, he watched Butch’s hands and then eventually fell into sniffing them. He nuzzled them. Butch dropped a comb. “Tell the pooch to get away from my tools.”  Dogmeat just looked at him with those warm, round eyes. He eased his hands back to where they were and gave him a soft pat on the head. “For now.”

She should have him told dogs appreciated scratches behind the ears not pats like the pre-war cartoons back in the vault made them think. But with things as they were that mode conversation would’ve veered off somewhere weird too.

“Dogmeat, want to listen to a song boy?” She turned the knob on her Pip-boy. Dogmeat’s ears perked up at the static of the changing radio stations. “Let’s see if we can find something good, huh boy?” She ended up on the Galaxy News Radio where Three Dog played Maybe by the Inkspots. It wasn’t Dogmeat’s favorite but it still got him on his hind legs,  pressing his front paws and his weight onto her. She grabbed both paws and whirled him around as if they were slow dancing. She sung and he howled along to the line, “Maybe you’ll think of me when you are all alone.”

Playtime was short lived. With a yawn, Dogmeat took his paws from her and leaped onto to his favorite pre-war style chair with the thread and stuffing ripped out.

The dance ended with her back turned to Butch. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get you to do my hair. That one there would have been under your feet the whole time.”

She felt him stare. “Yeah, I guess so.” He said.  Though finished the sentence seemed empty.

Heat crept up her neck. Viola went for the front door. “Stuffy in here.” She murmured. A breeze seeped in through the small crack she made by placing a worn wood plank between the door and it’s frame.  The slight chill tickled parts of her scalp. “I’m going to have to get use to that. I’ll need to wear a hat out later.”

Butch asked, “What do you plan on doing when you head out?”

She leaned against the wall near the door and folded her arms. "Same old wasteland stuff that I’m always up to. Poking my nose in random people’s business. Sniffing out extra caps.”

She paused and moved her arms so she was hugging herself.

“Maybe looking into some new info on Project Purity.” She finally offered. Butch usually gave her space to do whatever but she had to feed him the vaguest of information because anything a tier above a bar fight was action he wanted in on.

With his eyes low, he grumbled about going upstairs quickly. When he came back down he had something that made clinking sounds in his hand.  “Take this with you. You can stop by Snowflake’s this time.”

Her eyes widened. She shook her hand a little to hear the clinking again. “You had caps like this this whole time?”

“Sure did.”

“You never mentioned them.”

“What? You think I can’t make my own dough out here?  I’m a barber.  Not to mention a wanderer like you.” He snapped.

There it was.

“I didn’t say that.”

He hesitated before he gave in, “You didn’t.”

All of a sudden it appeared that he found the small hall to the mini kitchen a lot more interesting than their mess of conversation. That area was the usual safe haven for his booze and no doubt he had a taste for some at the moment.  

“You...you,” Frustrated, he plopped onto the couch, slumped down into cushions and drummed his fingers on an arm rest. “You usually disappear without telling me much so I get up to some things while your gone. Because the Butch-man ain’t about waiting around for nobody, you know? Most of them are errands. Running back and forth from Megaton to Rivet City. A lot of my top paying clients from my first gig are actually from Rivet city anyway, so it made a load of sense to just factor the errands in.”

“You do all that on your own?”

Butch stopped his drumming to glower.

“Yeah, and I know how to use the big boy potty too,” He shook his head “From how you were talking two months ago I thought you would be more goody-goody about these types of things”

 That day when Butch sprained his ankle and they talked about everything they ever wanted came rushing back.

“I meant everything I said then.”

“Considering that I’m some kind of glorified house sitter in that mind of yours, I’d say you got an odd way of showing it. Is this some nerd thing I’m not getting?”

“I need to give my actions time to catch up with my words a little. "She admitted

“You sure are taking it awful slow.”

He had a point. She couldn’t go on telling him one thing and then doing another, all while taking forever.

She sat on the other side of the couch. “Before you. Before even Dogmeat. I was out here on my own. Nothing can really prepare you for the Wasteland. I thought I would never adjust but I did what I had to. I got use to long walks on my own, the constant looking over my shoulder and not having much of anyone to really talk to but Moira. After a while, that panicky feeling I had the first time I opened the vault door pushed itself into the back of my mind. I had survived on my own well enough. Then everything came back.”

She spoke under her breath, “Oh boy did everything come back.”

“When I found my dad I felt like I was back at home. The dull colors, the beeping machinery, the antiseptic smells, the soft medical cots—I remembered all of it.  I even remembered him telling me to pinch my nose and tilt my head back to stop a nose bleed you and your buddies caused. Then he was gone. Then Amata sent her distress signal. Then I was literally back at home and you know what happened with that—that was gone too. And now here you are, a fresh vault dweller, doing your best impression of Humpty Dumpty every chance you get.“

A meek, “Oh”, was all he managed.

She hoped she didn’t sound as bitter as she felt.

“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t leave the vault just to hop into another one. “

“You’re right. I left that place behind for a reason. Besides, I can’t run a gang from inside this dump.” He said.

The beginnings of another argument was on the tip of her tongue but she did her best to bite it back.

“You also can’t run a gang if you’re laying out in a ditch somewhere with rad poisoning.”

“Can’t run a gang without any members either.” He retorted, meeting her muted annoyance.

In normal instances she would’ve treated the threat of being kicked out of the oh so tough Tunnel Snake Gang like a Radroach charging at her: a non-problem easily taken care of. It never bothered her before. Why did it now?

“But,” He slapped a hand on her shoulder “Lucky for me, one of my best recruits is a dynamo.”

His typical moronic naivete made her break into wan grin.

She rubbed her fingers up and down her neck. He hair catastrophe hadn’t been dealt with yet. “And what if your dynamo recruit decided to become another one of your customers? How would you fix this?”

Butch pulled back and took a good look at her mess. “For starters no more perms until we take care of that damage. We’ve got to cut the hair that can’t be saved and figure out what to do with the rest of it. I see a taper cut working for you. All your hair piled on the top. Shaved at the back...”

[nitebox]

“Elevator” For Cheripi

--This cute piece is for @cheripi , I had loads of fun with it! Hope you enjoy! I’m still a bit rusty ;0; 

Word Count: 5,438 ; Cute office fluff!  

The pain in your hand was slight. Not enough to make you want to stop, but just enough to wring a groan of frustration from you. This was the third pile of paperwork you suffered through and the work day was nowhere near over. Thankfully, you’d be able to go get lunch from the little cafe on the first floor in a few more minutes. The office was as boring as a corporate building could get. Each floor of the massive skyscraper was lined with grey cubicles, chrome computers, and varying shades of white and blues of people in their work uniforms. The sound of typing keyboards and mouse clicks rattled the air, each person moving at their own speed, but the sound collectively… Needless to say, it came to no one’s surprise that Sunshine Valley Industries valued uniformity.

But that never bothered you really, you’ve been here for about four years now. It was through your perky personality and overwhelming tenacity was you promoted to a head secretary just a year ago. Or something of that sort. In fact, you weren’t completely sure what your official job title was, it was all a vibrant slew of ridiculously articulate terminology.  All you really knew was that you were given a ton of paperwork to sort through and every so often you’d schedule or cancel an appointment. Most of the legwork was handled by the receptionist named Judy Furrow on the first floor. She’s been working for the company much longer than you have, and it was her who trained you when you received your promotion. She’s a tight-lipped, high brow, rather no-nonsense kind of woman (legend has it that her glare can turn people to stone), but she has never done you any wrong and has always been there for you.

A soft vibration from your wristwatch told you the time, and the cute kitten mascot on your phone held up a notification that it was finally time for your lunch break. Stretching high and then low, you practically skipped your way to the elevator and made it out to the lobby of the first floor. The change of scenery had always sort of disorientated you.

The floors were glaringly white, virtually spotless as they distorted but reflected images. The lights above didn’t help either; lines of powerful lights gave a shine to everyone and everything in the lobby. As you walked out of the elevator, you took note of the black couches and chairs by the front by the door, the carpet beneath it a stark grey. To your immediate right was a line of metal chairs, all with backs of grey, though none of them were occupied. Normally there would be businessmen from other powerful companies in those seats, waiting to be called into a meeting on the top floor where your boss resides. To your left was Judy’s desk, a full on circle desk with several state of the art monitors and phones. And of course, there was Judy herself, speaking firmly into her headpiece and maneuvering between each computer screen with a sort of grace only defined by the professionals. She looked up for a brief moment and waved her pen at you in acknowledgment. You make a gesture to around the corner of the lobby and she shakes her head, but mouths a ‘thank you’. You simply nod and smile and walk around the corner to the cafe.

The scene was much more pleasant here. The strong lights of the lobby were replaced by a softer yellow from the hanging lamps and the wide windows let in more natural sunlight. The smell of coffee and baked goods filled the air and the barista smiled warmly at you. You know all the baristas that work here, late nights made sure of that, so by the time you made it up to the counter, your order was already waiting for you. Tony, the barista of the day, gave you an extra bottle of water for Judy, because “Lord knows she needs it” as you rang up your lunch. He gave a wave goodbye and tended to the new coming lunch rush. You paused only for a moment to place the bottle of water on Judy’s desk, who at the moment of watching the newfound lunch rush, looked especially grateful, and gave you one of her rare, but not so rare to you,  half smiles. On the elevator, you were especially pleased to see the scribbles and drawings that Tony had left on the paper bag of your sack lunch. All the baristas drew pictures on the bags of orders, but the ones you got were particularly great because you could get from anything from a cute flower to amazing art to a picture retelling the grand adventures of handling customers. Today, it seemed that Tony was very fond of bunnies.  

You worked on the 39th floor of the 40-floor building, and of those floors, 38 of them were practically identical. Grey cubicles, all neatly lined up, a hard navy blue carpeting all encased within beige colored walls, most of the windows were occupied by actual offices of managers and the large window to the left of the floors had a tinted glass, warping the light of sunshine. It seemed the primary source of lighting came from the long fluorescent tube lights from above, but given how old they were, they always let off a soft beige kind of light. It was boring and textbook, but you managed to make this drab little space into a home of sorts. The transition from the cramped little box into the more airy space of your own desk was a lovely one in your case. It wasn’t quite an office, like the ones by the windows, but the long semicircle desk that bore the company’s logo on the front had plenty of room for you to decorate. From cheap fairy lights, animal shaped erasers, and colorful office supplies, your desk was as neat and cute as you and the compliments from others were never dull as people gushed over the newest item or color you put in your space.

It was on the 20th floor did the elevator stop. The door chimed open and you could feel your heart drop to your knees. Standing before you was an absolute goliath of a man. A familiar one no doubt. Marching into the elevator with you was none other than Mr. Beckett Everest himself, the CEO of Sunshine Valley Industries. Of course, the man was on every major business magazine and so on, but you personally had only ever seen him a few times in your career. He was typically away on travel or stuck upstairs in his office during meetings, so not many employees such as yourself got to see him often to be quite frank. Regardless, this was the first time you’ve seen him up close and in such small quarters. He loomed over you, he had to be at least 7 feet tall, perhaps even taller as he seemed to need to crane his neck to get into the elevator. One of his most prominent features, of course, was his large gut that hung the rim of his belt and pants low.  His dark hair had very few streaks of grey as it flowed down the sharp features of his face into a full beard and mustache. His face was set in a sort of permanent scowl, his thick brows bent low to his icy blue eyes.

Eyes of which was locked on to you. His scowl only seemed to deepen as you realized you were closer to the elevator buttons and had yet to continue the ride up. You scrambled quickly and pushed your floor and the top floor and waited in silence. You were facing the panel, but you could feel his eyes still on you, burning on the back of your neck. You could smell the heat of your lunch beginning to mingle with his cologne, which for the moment was admittedly nice, but there was tension in the silence between the both of you. Just before your floor, you impulsively blurted out,

“Well, have a great day, sir!”

You realized how high your voice was and questioned the level of enthusiasm you put in that response. The doors opened and you quickly shuffled out of it, taking only a second to peer behind your shoulder and back to the boss. You didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes only seemed to have intensified, his brows sunk low into his face and his mouth was partly open as if he meant to speak but stopped himself. The doors of the elevator closed and you sat at your desk, but you simply couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes off of you; it felt as though his stare was piercing through the ceiling and directly at you.

A week or so had passed since you last encountered the boss and the vibration and phone alarm signaled you for lunchtime. You made sure to stretch per usual and waltzed to the elevator. When it opened, you were more than surprised to see Mr. Beckett standing in the cart, looking at his phone. For some reason you froze, you aren’t sure why, but you were completely and utterly paralyzed. Beckett looked up from his phone and out to you, and the stare he bore on you was somehow, some way, more intense than the one you remembered a week back. It ran chills through you, and it only seemed to get colder as the expression on his face darkened. His full attention was on you now, and for some reason, you felt your heartbeat in your ears as he placed his phone away in his pocket and shifted his entire body to face you. The elevator doors began to close, and for some reason, relief began to overwhelm you. That relief was quickly snatched away as a large hand caught the door and forced it back open. The CEO had leaned his head out to you, the look in his eyes left you captivated, drowning in the seas of his eyes. His voice was low, a whisper really, as he spoke, but it rattled through you like a thunderstorm,

“You,” he began, and you note his eyes seemed to flutter as he looked over your face, “are wasting my time.”

His perfectly straight teeth were bared as he placed an emphasis on each of his words,

“Get. In. Now.”

You never knew you could move that quickly, but there you were, an absolute shaking mess silhouetted by a hulking and rather irritable behemoth of a man. You believed the ride would have been in silence like last time, but the boss spoke up as he adjusted his suit jacket and tie in the reflection of the elevator’s door,

“I am not a fan of having my time wasted, you know.”

“S-sorry.”

For a second, and only a second you could have sworn you saw a twitch upward in his brow, as though he were apologetic at the sound of your quivering voice. Regardless, his expression remained still. He looked down at you before the elevator stopped on the 20th floor.

“Don’t,” he reached for his phone once again, maintaining eye contact, “let it happen again.” And with that, he left.

You would later get a rather quick text from the barista of the day, Ali, who was concerned with your ‘shell-shocked look from hell’. You wave it off and spam her with an excessive amount emojis and stickers, to which she replies with even more emojis and stickers. However, for some untold reason, the thought of the snarling look on the boss’s face left a strange heat in your stomach, and you weren't quite sure why.

The next few weeks follow the same pattern, right around your lunchtime, you would be stuck in the elevator with your boss and he would get off at the 20th floor. Very rarely did he get back on the elevator to go back up when you returned from the cafe like the first time you ran into him. The first few rides were all in silence, you were terrified to speak up during the rides with him but on some occasions, you’d give him a friendly goodbye as he left. It was a peculiar way to ‘break the ice’, but you can distinctly remember the day the two of you began to speak more. On a ride down, Beckett had leaned in closer to you, and raised an eyebrow,

“What are you wearing?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you wearing a new perfume?”

You told him, yes, but it wasn’t a new one. After a couple of tense seconds, you replied that you did, however, start using this new fruity shampoo. Beckett nodded to himself,

“Well, whatever it is. Keep using it, it’s… nice.”

And with that, his stop appeared and he left without another word. That was perhaps the first time you’ve ever heard his voice that soft. It was calming, and you could feel the awkwardness slip away with each elevator ride afterward.

He didn’t show up today. The elevator doors opened and the cart was empty, which wouldn’t typically bug you except that it completely did. You knew he wasn’t away on a business trip, and he most certainly checked in, but he just wasn’t there today. No big deal, though, right? You make it down to the lobby and as you signal to Judy, you can’t help but overhear her on the phone,

“Yes, well, Mr. Everest is especially busy at the moment. Yes, he is currently in a meeting. Yes, I will be sure to let him know you called.”

So that’s what it was, poor old Fat Cat is stuck doing his job for once, Tony laughed as you picked up your lunch. He rings you up and from around the corner, loud voices fill the lobby and a large mob of businessmen swarm the scene. They each bear a pin from another company you are vaguely familiar with, but you figure these guys are from the top floor.  It was impulsive, but you quickly ask Tony for a large coffee with extra cream and sugar. He fills the order, of course, not without a raised brow and a shrug, and you find yourself rushing to the elevator door. There was a surge of adrenaline going through you, so powerful you felt as though nothing could stop you. You were going to take this coffee right to his office and give it to him. How dare he miss out on the wonderful gift that is you? A pride swells in your chest and the door to the top floor swings open. You step through, but it really wasn’t what you were expecting.

The room itself was large enough; all of the lights were currently off, there seemed to be large black blinds over the windows and the only sure source of light was coming from a projector which displayed a couple of graphs and statistics. To your right, there was a large glass room with a long oval table and a vast array of chairs. The table was littered with papers, pens, binders, folders, water bottles and other miscellaneous items. A good amount of the chairs had jackets on the backs and the projector stood in the middle of the table on a tripod, its loud hum filling the empty room. To the left, there was a couch, two chairs and a wide rectangular coffee table with scattered magazines on it. Looking further back, there was what looked to be the doors to bathrooms, a sort of water machine, what looked to be a whole corner with a sink, a coffee machine, and cabinets, and finally another table with a light fixture above it. It had a rather uncanny resemblance to a hotel room, as though it was meant to be lived out of. Ahead of you were two large wooden doors with metal plating in the shape of the company’s logo. Beckett’s office, no doubt. You walk cautiously forward, the light of the projector fading as you walk closer to the office doors. You knock all but twice before hearing the strong voice of the boss inside. The fire in you lights up once again and you confidently slide open one of the doors and stride on in.

Beckett sits before you, his arms propped up on his desk and his finger intertwined. His office is dimly lit, the blinds pulled over the massive window that surrounds the back of his office. What little sunlight pours in reflects off his face, but as he gazes upon you, he sits up more, sinking his face into the dark of the room and the glint of his tie clip fills your eyes. You place the coffee on his desk and pout at him, saying how you didn’t get a chance to see him today. Beckett scoffs,

“You know damn well I’m busy, Brat.”

You tell him no excuses and he rolls his eyes with a growl.

“I have a meeting to get back to in five minutes,” he stands up, the sun now dancing in his hair and face. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

He slowly rounds his desk and over to you, lowering his head until he is eye level with you,

“Now, this may be cute and all. But don’t you ever let me catch you interrupting one of my meetings. Especially not with that smug ass attitude of yours.”

He leans in closer now, the scent of his cologne fills your nose and his lips are pulled back into a snarl, “I’ll crush that pretty little throat of yours and grind you into dust.”

His face was only inches from yours,

“Do I make myself clear?” the growl in his voice rumbles deep within his chest and rocks you to your core.

You can see the way his teeth come to a point and the way his eyes flashed dangerously. He was certainly dangerous. But you were foolish. You quickly close the gap between you two and kiss his nose before replying,

“Crystal, Beck.”

You pause and think about what you just did and Beckett quickly rises. Before you could whimper out an apology, his shoulders heave and one of the loudest noises you’ve heard erupts from the man. But it wasn’t an angry noise, no, he was… laughing? Beckett leaned against his desk and laughed heartily, his hands on his wobbling stomach, it was an odd sound to hear, but it made you warm inside to listen to him try to regain his composure. The smile on his face sent your hearts for loops, and you couldn’t help but chuckle with him.

“You are brave, darling, I’ll give you that.” he wiped the corner of his eyes, with a long sigh.

He gazes down upon you and shakes his head, “Quite, quite brave.” He then looks up, the smile returning as he ponders over it, “Beck, huh? Yea, alright. I’ll accept that one. Brat.”

He seemed especially pleased about your nickname, you were his brat, and he was your Beck. It was hard to see in the dark of the room, but there was a fine blush that spread to the tips of his ears.

The sound of voices suddenly fills the air and Beckett looks down at his large watch and kisses his teeth. You peer out of the large door and watch as businessmen fill the glass room. Turning back at Beckett, he hands you your sack lunch before backpedaling to his desk. He grabs the coffee and pauses before looking at you with a glare,

“Don’t you have work to do? Get to it!” He hisses and ushers you out of the door. You quickly make your way to the elevator and climb in, catching only a glimpse of Beck as he entered the glass room. When you got to your desk, your stomach was full of butterflies and a blush was full on your face. But when you opened your lunch bag, you gasped loudly. Beck had stolen your pastry and left a sticky note that read “IOU” with a crudely drawn heart next to it. He was lucky he was cute!  

You always hated this season. Perhaps not weather-wise, but most certainly work wise. As if sifting through loads of papers wasn’t enough, the stacks only seemed to double and soon your phone was almost as busy as Judy’s. You practically counted down the seconds before your lunch break, and when your alarm went off, you punched the air with a hefty sigh. You reached the elevator and as it opened, you could see it was empty. Beck was just as busy as you were, if not more, and lately the two of you rarely ever saw each other. It upset you, but then again he is the boss. But as fate would have it, as you got to your floor, Beck had stepped on the elevator. You greeted him warmly, but he seemed a bit off. His ears were a bright red and he merely kissed his teeth and told you to get out of his way. You simply thought it was the stress getting to him.

When you made it back to your desk, you were especially vulgar about the hefty new piles of papers in your inbox basket. Your workload had doubled, if not tripled during the short time it took you to get your lunch. With a hefty sigh, you sat in your chair and pulled the first file from the mountain. Upon looking at it, you saw the yellow sticky note with a message that read, “Handle this for me, Brat” and a rather familiar looking crudely drawn heart. Had Beck been down here? Regardless, you remove the note, a smile now on your face, and get back to work. As you progressed, you found more notes, and as you burned through the majority of it, you had a multitude of them, all with encouraging statements hidden between variations of ‘brat’ and ‘get back to work’ and things of that sort. You had finally reached the bottom of the pile and on the last folder was a bright pink note. You carefully pick it up and read, “Great work! Text me when you are finished’ and below it was a phone number. Was he serious? Was he honestly serious about this? As much as this completely blew your mind, you pulled out your phone and shot the number a text. The reply was almost immediate. Was he anticipating this? Is this why he looked so flushed in the elevator? Interested, you ask him exactly that. The reply takes a bit longer but he confirms your suspicions. He then sends you a brick of text, long and intricate, almost as if he had spent the whole day trying to perfect this text just for this moment. It flattered you just as much as it made you laugh. For some big bad businessman, he certainly was a wonderfully dorky guy. As you clocked out, you read through the text again, loving just how ridiculously ornate his words were and it was clear to see he was most definitely trying to impress you. The elevator door opened and you absentmindedly entered, only to be greeted by a warm, soft, barricade. Looking up, you saw Beck’s blushing face, his eyes rolling away from you,

“Watch where you’re going.”

You took the time to tease him about the texts, and each time he had the chance, he’d call you a brat or a nuisance or ‘his favorite kind of headache’. The blush didn’t leave him the whole ride. He looked at his phone, then back to you, and back again. He let out a sort of groan and growl and turned directly towards you, one arm looming over your head as he leaned in close,

“You. Me. Dinner tonight.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

The elevator doors open,

“Does it matter, brat? Yes or no?” He fixed his tie as he stood up.

You playfully pout your lips and stroke your chin, as if to think about it out loud. The growl in his chest gave way to another groan of annoyance. You laugh and tell him yes, and set the time for eight o'clock that night. He looked awfully pleased as he nodded at you, the corners of his lips curled upward in victory,

“Eight it is then.” his voice was practically brimming with pride. Wonderfully dorky indeed.

He was very punctual. Right as the hand struck eight, there was a firm knock on your door. When you answered, a large bouquet of flowers was placed in your arms and an even larger Beckett with a huge teddy bear. He claimed that he figured you’d like the bear and as you began to tease him about it, he merely scoffed and told you it was on sale and it was too big for the window and he really couldn’t care less. But upon seeing the smile it put on your face, even he knew better than to try to deny his feelings about you. The two of you climb into a rather expensive sports car and head off to the restaurant. If there was one thing this joint wasn’t, it was quaint. The grandeur of the place made it seem as though only royalty could eat there, and quite frankly you were positive you saw a few people with crowns on their heads. The restaurant itself was two stories, the upper level leading to the balcony dining area and the lower equipped with a large stage with a fine jazz group playing. The walls were lined with red couches and tables, each occupied by someone who looked expensive just to look at. Large diamond chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, emitting a soft yellow light, and the smell of food wafted just right beneath the sea of pricey perfumes and colognes. Beckett looked around the room and his nose scrunched up between the thickness of his brows. He then looked up and guided the two of you towards the stairs where he took a few steps up, paused, turned to you and walked back down. He swept his arm under your knees and lifted you up the stairs effortlessly. At the top, he merely replied that he knew your shoes were uncomfortable and he didn't want to wait for a millennia for you to climb them. The two of you sat at a table towards the middle of the balcony, the moon was full and its light danced among the glitter and gold that surround you. Beckett certainly looked like the kind to fit this scene, the streaks of silver in his hair shone brilliantly in the moonlight and his eyes somehow looked brighter than before. He was talking to you, telling you all about his day but his mind was elsewhere.

How does he tell you? You looked so beautiful to him, you always did, if he was honest. Your curls fell perfectly against your face, your eyes were so full of warmth and passion and dare he say, love? Your face, your skin, your everything, absolute perfection. You somehow managed to put every diamond here to shame. He was a man of business. He was a man of money. He was a man of sin and lies but never had he thought about love. He was a man of many things, but if there was one thing he wanted to be, more than anything, to which he knew he could never buy, what he could never bargain, what he would never cheat or lie or manipulate in order to achieve; what he wanted more than anything was to be yours. He wanted to be your man. He wanted to protect you, to spoil you, to hold and caress you and keep you in his office all day just to admire you,  yes, Beckett Everest was in love. Desperately, hopelessly, wonderfully in love.

The two of you ate and drank the finest wines and food the place had to offer. Beckett playfully handed you the bill, and the price tag was just enough to sober you up a bit. Beck erupted into laughter, paying the bill in cash before offering you his arm and walking you back to the stairs. Now, you were not completely drunk off your rocker, but you had a nice buzz going for you at the moment. Beck moved down a stair or two, waiting for you to follow, and entertained the idea of you carefully maneuvering down the stairs by yourself. It amused him, sure, but he would be damned if anything happened to you. He reached up and out and scooped you into his arms and down the stairs. Even at the bottom, he continued to carry you, simply enjoying the feeling of having you so close to him. His car pulls around and he opens your door before driving you home. Once there, he tries to settle you into bed, but you quickly grab his hand. You ask if he was busy the next morning. He doesn’t respond, but asks why the sudden question? You tell him to “wait right there, don't move a muscle”, and slip into your room to change into your pajamas. When you return, Beck is in your living room, observing the decor.

“So much for ‘stay right there.’” you tease, and he chuckles softly. You pull him to the couch and switch on your television, sleep now in the both of your eyes. You find a channel with old cartoon reruns and lean against him, to which he then effortlessly lifts you onto his plush stomach and drapes his coat over the both of you. Your attention to the screen fades in and out as you drift to sleep, but you can distinctly hear the soft murmur of Beck as he whispers, “Good night, my sweet.” before you fall asleep.

When you wake up, you are lying in your bed. You are able to recall last night’s events fairly clearly and you feel a bit disappointed. You supposed he really was busy today. While it was your day off, you guessed the work of the company is never finished. You roll out of bed and into your bathroom, but you suddenly hear a barrage of noises in your kitchen. Thankfully you hear the deep rumbling voice of Beck and you quickly go investigate. The large man was certainly in your kitchen and upon seeing you he smiled warmly and his voice gave way to a familiar softness,

“Well good morning there, darling. Sleep well?”

You reply and he promptly tells you to hurry up and get dressed. You ask for the occasion and he scoffs,

“So I take a day off just for you and you want to question it, you little brat?”

He tells you that he made reservations for a cute cafe, full of cute frilly things he figured you’d like. He looked rather guilty for a moment as he mentioned very briefly that you’ll both be going grocery shopping as well. He meant to make you breakfast but… He pats his stomach a few times and scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears erupting with red blush. He clears his throat and continues, from the cafe it would be to the mall, as he explains he wants to be sure you have enough high fashion outfits; the two of you will be going out to extravagant venues quite a bit. And then to the comic book store, simply because he knows you enjoy them. He then trails off, and says from there the reigns are really quite yours, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes as he mentions that he would be the one cooking dinner tonight as a way to make up for breakfast. You laugh and tell him you’ll be ready soon to which he gives you a few more ‘hurry up!’ within the hour, but soon you are dressed and prepared for your day out.

As the two of you make it down the freeway, you look up at the large building with a logo of a sun with a large ‘V’ shape. You can’t help but laugh as you pass by it. To think it all started on the elevator.

[thatrainbowguy]

Uh Oh (A Septiplier Fanfiction)

A thin, but bright stream of light penetrated through the thinly veiled windows. It's ethereal glow would be admired for it's striking rarity in beauty, if not being a constant pain to the two gentlemen laid down in a now, not-so peaceful slumber. As time passed it's evanescence began to dwindle and the beams of sunlight continue to illuminate the room, revealing the several articles of clothing strewn across the floor. It also uncovered the identity of the two passed out YouTubers that were currently spooning on the cream colored mattress, instinctively snuggling for warmth, probably due to the chilly Autumn morning in Ireland, or maybe for an entirely different reason. Nevertheless, it filled them both with a soothing sense of belonging, albeit unconsciously. The calm atmosphere was soon to be disturbed by an irritating cellphone that makes itself known to existence and also by "that annoying fucking sunlight" *BUZZ* "Ughhh" a disgruntled groan came out of Marks mouth....or was it from a ghost? He wasn't really sure by this point *BUZZ* "Okay someone definitely moaned, but it sure as hell wasn't from me" Mark thought to himself, still half-asleep "And why is this pillow to warm and cuddly." Mark subconsciously thought to himself as he proceeds to bury his face into the supposed pillow "Damn, it smells good too." *BUZZ* Mark's "pillow" suddenly reached out to the phone to throw it across the room in an attempt to silence it, which of course failed. The interruption was enough to wake the figure next to Mark though, slowly regaining consciousness with somewhat clear senses. "Uh Mark." a familiar voice said groggily "Hmm?" "You're kinda poking me down there..." Mark slowly opened his eyes that was accompanied with a throbbing head and blurry vision. His half-lidded eyes were greeted by a familiar sight though, a very close friend that possessed that trademark green hair, who was apparently beside him. in bed. shirtless. oh wait. naked. "Nghhhh, Jack? Is that you?" It felt like more of a statement than a question "Who else would it be dummy?" The Irish man ruffled Mark's hair "What the fuck. What time is it? Where are we? What happened? And did we?!?" "Woah, one question at a time big guy, but you might wanna consider not-stabbing me first." "Oh sorry about that." Mark said as his cheeks painted itself a slight pink shade "Uh...I'll need to go to the bathroom first." "Do you need any help in there?" Jack said with a smug grin "I-I'll be fine." Mark said as he threw a blanket around himself to cover his lower body Jack sighed as he nonchalantly donned on a pair of boxers and went straight to the kitchen not having a second thought on whether to put on more clothes. This was his house anyway and Mark and him were close friends, that probably got even closer last night, so why would he even worry? Jack put on a black and white apron and moments later the smell of bacon briefly met the air as he prepared breakfast for his unexpected visitor, he might as well prepare something that'll cure his and Mark's slight hangovers. Even though a greasy breakfast wasn't really as effective as people claim it to be and was probably a load of bullshit he figured it was the thought that counted. After a couple of minutes a typical American breakfast appeared on the table, that included warm toast, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and two cups of steaming hot coffee. Jack was cleaning up the previously used kitchenware as he heard anxious footsteps hurry down the stairs. "Um...so hey..." Mark said awkwardly "Is this all for me?" "And me too of course!" Jack said with his back still turned away from Mark "I know I meant that, but....you really didn't have too." "Of course I had too! You're my really close friend and my house guest apparently so-" Jacks face lit up in all kinds of colors. Especially pink and red. "WHY IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU NAKED MARK?!?" "Oh what." Mark looked down and saw little (not so little) Mark down there "Oh Shit. Sorry, force of habit." "You literally left nothing to the imagination now, I mean I've had a really active imagination these past few months but wow, you really don't fail to impress." Jack said turning away but not without getting an eyeful of Mark's.......well-endowment "What do you mean by several months?" Mark questioned "And what about you, you hypocrite, you're barely wearing anything." "At least I'm wearing something, now go change!" "I can't find my clothes." "Alright, come with me." Jack motioned for Mark to follow The sight of Mark using his hands to cover his nether regions whilst walking would've been hilarious to Jack, if he wasn't still burning red from the sudden unexpected intrusion. Jack and Mark once again entered Jack's room as the Irish man rummaged through his clothes to find ones suitable for Mark. "Here, wear these for now."  "Oh wow, thanks." Mark said, clenching the jogging pants with a plain black tee "By the way, I managed to salvage my underwear over at corner there while you were looking for clothes." "Did you find the rest of them?" "Yeah, but they were tattered and ripped for some reason, any idea why?" Flashes of vague, blurry memories ran through Jacks head like a scratched up movie tape, as it's only use proved to be giving him a headache. "I can and can't remember, let's try and recall over a nice cup of coffee huh?" Markiplier only gave a hesitant nod The duo make their way toward the dining table, Mark looking like he doesn't know what to think about the entire predicament while instinctively rubbing his arm. They didn't speak for a good 3 minutes while they chomped on their food with half-heartedly hidden satisfaction. "So......." The American trailed off "So......." Jack imitated his uncomfortable friend "Hmmm how do I start this."  Mark continued his stalling "You might wanna start with the fact that we just had mind-numbing sex that was probably so good that neither of us remember, maybe due to the fact we might've been drunk as shit." Mark sort of chocked on his food. Well maybe not "sort of". "How are you so casual about this?" Mark sputtered, trying his hardest not to clog his throat with food "Well, it was gonna happen sooner or later anyway, and I get really annoyed when people beat around the bush like that." "What do you mean by sooner or later?" "You know......" Now Jack was the one beating around the bush "All the tension between us that just built up every time we met." "Is this the thing you meant by 'imagining me for months' or whatever?" Mark said as a slight smirk formed on his face "Hey, you don't have to be so smug about it." Jack said avoiding eye contact with clearly tinted cheeks "I mean, you're pretty attractive Mark, that was already really obvious from the beginning." "Combine that with all the longing stares, the 'accidental' touches, the r-rated subtext, and so many conversations we have together that can be so easily taken out of context." "It's like you're just saying you wanna fuck in the most subtle way possible." Jack continued with a slightly stressed tone "Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. God it's just so confusing." "Could you shed some light on this? Please?" "Hmmmm" Mark looked deep in thought "I don't really know what to say Jack, it might because of this annoying hangover or by the fact that I've never been in this situation before." "Start with what you feel I guess." Jack replied "I feel like my brain is punching itself." "I meant on how you feel about me, you doof." Jack smiled slightly "I'm not really sure either Jack." Mark's face tensed "It's all been pretty confusing for me too." "Over the past few months we've hung out together, and....I've kinda started doing things when I'm with you." "I feel like I'm flirting with you without even knowing it, then when I do catch myself doing it I think; 'what the fuck Mark, what's gotten into you' but then I can't get over it for some reason." Jack's expression turned sour. "No! Not like that!" Mark exclaimed "It's just, I usually force these thoughts to the back of my head but lately I........ugh how do I say this?" "I feel warm whenever I see you." "Aw." Jack said with an apparent smile "I do feel something else for sure though." Mark said almost humorously "It's that I'm legitimately freaking the fuck out." Jack took a moment to laugh then become nervous again. As if the laugh wasn't nervous to begin with. "It's just that....Friends usually don't do this type of thing." Mark continued "And that......." Mark took a deep breath. "This is my first time doing something like this..." Mark made a gulping sound "With a guy." "Well shit." Jack said clearly surprised "You could've had me fooled." "What's that supposed to mean?" "If I remember one thing from last night..." Jack said not even bothering to supress the growing smile "It's that you were really fucking great at doing it..." Mark blushed yet again, more intensely then the last. "To be more specific, doing me." "Okayyyyy..." Mark had to stand up to acknowledged that, that just happened "Don't be so dramatic about this Mark, these things happen!" Jack was laughing at this point "If you're still so worried, this won't affect much of anything in our friendship." "Oh so you're friendzoning me now?" Mark wasn't thinking straight when he said this "Nope." "I'm friends-with-benefits-zoning you." "Oh."