#he really said 'i'm getting out of here [my twenties] with a bang'

[katierosefun]

Do you ever think how incredibly Young Juwon is when the series starts? He was 27?? I just turned 26 and I do Not think I'm capable of handling whatever mess he was in by the time I'm 27 like, he's just a big stupid teenager

happy belated birthday, mineh!! i hope your 26th year is a good one!

but also, yes, to address the rest of your ask . . . maybe since i'm only 23, 27 years old still feels so distant to me/feels a little more grown up to me, but at the same time. i do think that 27 is still a remarkably young age to have the kind of career that joo won has had at that point. like, working in foreign affairs + already an inspector at 27, whereas when you look at the manyang substation, hwang gwang young is the only inspector . . . and i would guess that he's anywhere between his late thirties to early forties, but he's also rather ambitious in his own right. and then you look at cho gil gu, who's def. older than hwang gwang young (or at least, he seems at least a few years older) but isn't at inspector status yet. ji hoon is the youngest in the group, although i think according to the script book, he's only a year younger than joo won . . . and he's only a patrol officer. (then again, ji hoon also started his police career later, i think.)

and then if you look at all the people working in the violent crimes unit, too, i think that puts everything else in perspective. like, ji hwa had been working in violent crimes for eleven years, i think, and she's probably forty years old. that means she would have started violent crimes when she was twenty nine, which is still rather young, but she at least had a few years on joo won before she started to get into the really nitty gritty parts of work. kang do su is relatively young too (i would say that he's probably in his early or mid thirties??), but still: older than joo won.

so that said: yeah. han joo won is def . . . i think incredibly young given the work that he has to handle. that said, i feel like that just. speaks so much to who he is as a character, because i don't think he ever really had a chance at being young? like, an actual child? (which is probably why he simultaneously seems grown up and. like. childish. something something people who grow up way too fast are constantly swinging between "eerily familiar with disturbing concepts that most people only have to reckon with when they're fully grown" and "astoundingly immature").

[2tcs]

DCxDP Prompt

Ah. It's good to hear the voice of god above me instead of below. Dick thinks as he begins to wake up more and realizes that it's Jason’s voice yelling above him. 

Wait. Why is his voice above me? Where am I? Suddenly Dick shoots up from where he is lying, only for pain to flare in his hip and up his side.

“Hay Mr. Nightwing? Are you awake?” A little boy asks as two kids open the door to the room he was in.

How did I get here?

“See Dan? I told you I heard him moving around.” The little girl said as she stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“Mama said that you should never ashoom anything and should always verify.” The little boy, Dan said with an adorable glare.

“Your Mama is right. It's not good to make assumptions. By the way, where is your Mama?” Dick asked trying to derail the argument he could see coming and hoping to get some answers.

“Mama is in the kitchen making supper. You slept the whooole day. But Mama wouldn't let us wake you up. She said that you needed your sleep because you were hurt. Are you still hurt Mr. Nightwing?” The little girl said while bouncing on her toes.

“Mama will want to know you're awake.” Dan said before grabbing his sister's hand and dragging her out of the room.

Watching them go Dick decided to take another look around the room. Other than the bed and a dresser the room was pretty barren of personality. Not even a window to break up the monotony of the room's walls. Must be a guest bed then. Dick thought as he managed to get up and hobbled his way to the main area of the apartment.

“Good morning Mr. Nightwing. Or good evening? Never mind. If you want you can go sit down while I finish making supper.” A man who looks around his mid-twenties said from the kitchen. “How are you feeling? You were pretty banged up when you came in last night but I managed to pop your hip back in place and stitched up your side. You really should sit down so you don't aggravate your hip. I am sorry if the kids woke you up.” He said, only for the sound of something hitting a wall and more yelling before what sounded like a door slamming and everything going quiet filtered down to them from the upstairs apartment. “Or my neighbor. He's normally really quiet.”

“It's okay. And thanks for patching me up Mr…?”

“Oh. Sorry. I'm Danny. My daughter over there is Ellie and my son is Dan.”

“Well thank you Danny. But can I ask how I got here?” Dick asked as he sat down.

“You climbed in through the window!” Ellie said excitedly.

“I think you thought it was an old safe house because you unlocked the window and came in before passing out. Ellie…” Danny said with a stern look at his daughter “had apparently decided she needed a midnight snack saw you come in.”

“Ya, probably. I don't remember much of what happened last night.” Dick admitted as he watched Danny plate up food and started handing it out to Dick and the kids before sitting on the couch with his own plate as his kids ate next to him.

“Hmm. You might have a bit of a concussion. You should probably call someone to pick you up if you can’t remember anything.”

After eating Dick opened his com and notified everyone where he was and that he needed help getting home. He'll have to figure out a way to thank Danny for his help. After dealing with the batlecture and his sibling's teasing.

[hanniebaeee]

Unexpectedly Yours

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and your friends are on a holiday at a ski resort and you meet a certain Kpop idol, who sweeps you off your feet.

a/n: I just need to be delulu for some time. Forgive me for the errors, I wasn't at my best 😭

You loved winter. The snow, the ice crunching under your feet, the chilly blasts of wind - it was all good. But you were evaluating all your life choices as you sat shivering, even though you were bundled up.

The snow-capped peaks of the mountain resort gleamed under the winter sun, a picturesque setting for a perfect holiday. You  were here with your best friends Lisa and Jennie, seeking a much-needed break from your busy lives. Nestled in the heart of the mountains, the resort's cozy log cabins,  sparkling ice rink, and it's rustic charm had stolen your heart.

But even as you sat in it's quaint cafe, surrounded by the warm aroma of hot cocoa and freshly baked pastries, you felt yourself shiver. Lisa placed a cup in front of you and said, 'Darling, what did you really expect from a ski resort? It's supposed to be cold here.'

'I'm fine, ok? Just a little cold, I'll get over it.' You mutter, taking the cup in your hands.

'Do you realize that you haven't moved from that chair in almost an hour?' Jennie teased.

Shooting them both a glare, you look away. And just to prove that you weren't as weak as they thought, you step out again. The icy wind had you pulling your scarf and woolen hat closer to your face.

You scan the area, seeing crowds of tourists getting ready to ski. That's when your eyes land on a group of men, all dressed in top notch gear and looking like the leads of a movie. They were talking and laughing, and it was a nice sight to behold. One guy in particular caught your attention - he was so breathtakingly handsome, with a beanie pulled low over his ears and a beautiful smile. He looked so familiar, but you just couldn’t quite place him.

Jennie and Lisa returned with the skiing gear. You didn't know how to ski, so you were skeptical about the whole. But they had already decided to drag you out and teach you, so here you were. You felt like a clown as your legs wobbled and you begged them to let you go. And after some twenty long minutes, you were moving.

But as fate would have it, your trip and tumble into the snow. All you could see were some feet, and you just wanted to die. You found a hand appear in front of you and you then a face.

It was that guy from before. He was crouching in front of you, holding out a helping hand. Blushing, you take his hand and let him pull you up.

'Are you okay?' he asked, giving you a soft smile. His voice.

You nod awkwardly, brushing snow off your jacket.

'I’m fine. Thanks.' You mumble, and look at him with a small smile.

'No problem. I’m Chris,' he said with a grin, offering his hand.

You try to place his accent. It was absolutely sexy and Australian?

'I’m Y/N,' you reply, shaking his hand. His touch sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you take a step back.

'Nice to meet you, Y/N.' He said, his tone playful and his smile widening.

Your friends were at your side suddenly, apolozing. And Chris watched in amusement as they fussed over you like you were five.

'Stop it! I'm ok.' You said, blushing deeper now. 'I'm sorry. These are my friend, Lisa and Jennie. This is Chris.'

They all say hi and he calls his friends over, and after introductions, you go your separate ways.

Over the weekend, you and Chris kept running into each other. Though the first couple of times it was just plain awkward, you started joking about how you keep meeting each other all the time.

'Lets go grab a coffee, if you're free that is. I think the universe wants us to.' Chris laughs and you nod a quick yes, following him to the cafe. You sit opposite to him and you're smiling like idiots, not really sure what was happening. And then you get talking - you spent hours at the cafe, just having a good time.

It was dark when you both walk back to your cabins. The stars were shining brightly above, and you both gaze at them, wonderstruck.

'This was great, Y/N. I don't think I've had this much fun just talking to someone. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.' He said, his cute smile going right into your heart.

'I feel the same way, Chris.' You blush. 'I've had the best time.'

Chris smiled again, and then took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. You could see that he wanted to say something more, but he was holding back.

'Everything ok?' You ask, a tinge of worry sneaking in.

Chris nods and says, 'Yeah. Yeah, all good. We have a couple more days before we leave. Let's make the most of it, yeah? We can do something together? Make some plans with all our friends or something?'

Your eyes sparkle as you nod.

'I would love that.' You said, feeling a warmth spreading inside you.

'See you in the morning, then.' Chris said, squeezing your hand again. 'Good night, Y/N.'

'Good night, Chris.' You say and wait for him to let go of your hand.

Jennie and Lisa are on top of you as you walk into the cabin, bombarding you with a hundred questions.

'Oh my God, Y/N. He's so fucking HOT.' Lisa squealed. 'How did you -'

'We just had coffee and talked, ok? Just a friendly coffee. Nothing else.' You said, swatting Lisa away. 'He is hot though.'

'Damn right, he is.' Jennie added, smirking.

Chris held your hand, skating backwards slowly, as you tried to move forward. He was laughing playfully at how scared you were and you tug at his hand to make him stop. But you both end up losing your balance and fall on the ice, a giggly mess.

Building snowmen and having snowball fights - you had the best time doing the silliest things with Chris and his friends. Even Lisa and Jennie seemed to be enjoying it a lot.

The day ended with dinner at the resort’s restaurant. You all sat around a big table, indulging in steaming bowls of ramen and yummy honey cakes for dessert. Your heart gripped painfully even as you sat among this noisy group. Chris would be leaving the day after. Just one more day with him, before he would be returning to Seoul.

Jennie noticed your glum expression first from across the table. She caught your before giving you a worried look. You just smile and shake your head, but your best friend knew you better. Late that night, you both sat talking.

'Y/N, I know you think this is silly, but sometimes this is how things happen. You don't have to tell Chris anything now. Take his number or something. Keep in touch. See where it goes.'

'I don't know, Jen. I mean I know him for what, two days? I'm sure he is just being friendly.'

'So what? Is being friends so bad?' Jennie asked.

'I don't know.' You mumble with a pout.

You try to smile and have a good time the next day. You knew you were being silly weeping over a man you hardly knew, but that's just how you felt. Chris lingered close most of the time, before finally sighing and saying, 'Meet me at the hot tub tonight?'

'Hm?' You give him a wide eyed look.

'I want to talk. Just us.' He said. 'Please?'

'Ok.' You reply, nodding.

'9:30 sound good?' He asked.

'Yeah.'

At 9:30 pm, you find Chris already in the hot tub, and you shiver through the steam rising around you. He smiled and held his hand out to you, beckoning you over. You wondered why the hot tub was so mysteriously empty, when the resort was so busy.

You quickly get in and settle down beside him, shoulders brushing.

'You wanted to talk?' You ask, looking at Chris. He turns to face you and you see uncertainty in his eyes. Like he was debating whether this was a good idea or not. You were a bit disheartened by it, but you held on, just because you really like this guy.

'Y/N, before anything, there’s something I should tell you.' Chris said, softly. 'I'm terrified, but, I really really like you and I-'

Your heart skipped a beat.

'Chris, it's ok. Talk to me.' You said, encouraging him to speak.

'I'm part of a K-pop band, and we’re pretty well-known in Seoul. And in other parts of the world. You know...um...' Chris blushed and looked away quickly as if embarrassed. 'I don't know if you really don't know me or if you're just pretending... 'Coz Jennie sure as fuck knows-'

You stare at him, and now that you see him so close and clear, you're sure you've seen that face before.

'Jennie knows?!' You ask, and you look so scandalized, Chris chuckled.

'She does.' He said, nodding. 'She threatened me actually, that if I ever played with your feelings, she would leak our pictures online and you know, oh my God, she's so scary I nearly cried.'

You're staring him with an open mouth.

'I don't know if I should be sorry or proud.' You said with a nervous laugh. 'I'm so sorry, Chris. I'm not into Kpop... shit, I didn't mean to insult you, I mean living with Jen, it's a part of my life, bit I haven't really seen anything-'

'Y/N, it's ok. This is perfect.' Chris said, laughing. 'Its just perfect.'

'Oh my God.' You were starting to panic a bit. 'So you're famous. You're a celebrity? Great.'

'Hey hey, I'm just Chris.' He shrugged.

'Wow - rich, famous and modest.' You joke, making him laugh more. 'So, do you go by Chris or, do you have a Korean name or something?'

'Mhm...Bang Chan. Most of the time.' He replied, nodding, and you draw in a breath.

'Have definitely heard that name before. Yes, Stray Kids.' You cover your face with your hands. 'I'm so embarrassed, Chris. I'm so sorry.'

He just put his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

'You're so cute, Y/N. You're killing me.' Chris mumbled, hugging you tight.

It's so strange that you feel completely at ease in his arms.

'I'll miss you when you go back to Seoul.' You mumble against his chest, putting your arms around him.

Chris sighed, holding you tighter.

'I’ll miss you too, darling. But we’ll keep in touch, right? Calls, texts, anything.' He said, and you feel him place a soft kiss on top of your head.

You couldn't stop the tears from falling as you watched him loading the cab with his things. You sniff and clear your throat, trying to look as normal as you could.

'Yahh, don't be sad, you can always keep in touch.' His friend Minho said with a smile.

'And you can visit us anytime.' Felix added, ruffling your hair fondly. 'Don't cry, sweetheart.'

Chris pulls you into a hug and then as if he was losing his resolve, sighs before taking your hand and pulling you into the building. Pressing you against the wall, he leans close and says, 'Promise me you’ll visit me in Seoul. Tell me, this is not the end.'

You look up at him, tears threatening to spill.

'I promise.'

The next thing you knew, kissing you. His lips are soft, yet demanding and you just pull him as close to you as you could. When he lets go, your breaths mingle, coming out in white puffs in the cold

'I’ll be waiting.' He whispered and you smiled, kissing his cheek.

Your heart hurts as you watch him go, but your friends hug you and you're all laughing as they wiggle their eyebrows at you. You leave for home the next day and fall into your own routines.

You spoke over video calls and texted all the time, so you were quite content. Though you hadn't made anything official, the way he treated you and flirted with you made you feel nothing less. A few months into this, Chris had started asking you to plan a visit to Seoul. You were conflicted because you weren't sure if you could afford such a trip. And everything that came with it. You had been saving up ever since you got back, but you were still unsure.

'Please, Y/N. Come see me, I miss you so much!' Chris whined. 'I want to show you my world.'

'I will, Chris. I just need some time,' you would reply, your heart aching to be with him.

You saw that they were having a comeback soon and they were having so many concerts lined up. This felt like a good time to finally plan something. You brought this up with Jennie and Lisa, asking if they wanted to go with you. Jennie was screaming a big yes, but Lisa apologized and said that she couldn't.

So you and Jennie start planning. Tickets were booked - both flight and concert ones. Then you speak with Minho and Felix to plan a surprise for Chris. You were so excited, but nervous at the same time. This was so new to you, it was overwhelming.

The concert hall was packed with screaming fans and the energy, electrifying. You were sweating and in awe as you watched Chris perform. He was mesmerizing on stage, not to mention, hot. Jennie was screaming beside you, way too excited to be here, and her energy was infectious - you had the best time.

After the concert, you made your way backstage, heart pounding. You meet Minho, who hugs you and takes your hand, leading you in. You could hear Chris's voice, as he told the boys how well they did. Felix saw you and flashed you a grin before looking back at Chris. The rest of the members too glance at you, smiling and waving. Chris turned around with a frown on his face and he froze as he saw you.

He was sweating so much, he was literally drowning in it. Yet, he looked just so beautiful, you wanted to cry. You stare at each other, a lot of emotions crashing in. Chris's expression went from disbelief to pure joy in just seconds.

'No way!!' He rushed to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 'You came! You came!'

'I promised, didn't I?' You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulled back to cup your face in his hands and then he kissed you. Right in front of everyone. His friends laughed, screaming at you two to take it elsewhere. Laughing, he took your hand and pulled you into his dressing room. The moment the door closed, his lips were on yours again, urgent but tender.

'You have no idea how much I've dreamed of this, baby. You've made my day. Oh my God, I can't believe you're here.'

'Fuck, if I don't get you home right now, I'll just fuck you here.' He growled, standing up quickly and making his way out to call out to Minho. They speak in hushed voices before he takes your hand again. He takes you to his dorm, and he asks you a hundred times if he could fuck you before you just kiss him silent and then he makes love to you.

You end up on the couch, on his lap as he kissed you more. He was so warm after all the dancing, but still seemed to have enough energy for you. His lips left wet kisses on your neck and chest.

He was so shy and giggly, you wouldn't have thought Chris would be like that. Hell, he was even more shy than you were. You lay in each other's arms, kissing very late into the night, just elated that you were finally together again.

Over the next few days, Chris shows you around Seoul whenever he was free. You knew this was a very busy time for him, but he wanted to do everything he could. Most of the time, you just went out to eat and then came back home to make love because he was already crying over the fact that you had to go back home.

Your favorite spot was a cute little cafe near his dorm, where you would go late at night for some snacks. His friends loved you and Jennie so much that sometimes he had to wrestle you out of their company for some alone time.

The day before you had to leave, Chris took to a beautiful view point from where you could see the entire city.

'Baby, I don’t want us to be apart anymore. I mean, it was doable before you came, but I don't think I can anymore. I want you here with me. I know it's a lot to ask, and you take all the time you want to think. But I really really want you to move here, with me.'

You are dumbstruck for a moment. Moving to your current city from home had been hard. And to move your entire life to Seoul? You see the hope and love in Chris's eyes and sigh. You didn't want to spend a minute away from him. But you were so scared.

'I'll think about it.' You hear yourself say.

'I love you, Y/N. And I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my partner.' Chris said, kissing your cheek.

Your heart soar as you say, 'I love you too, Chris, and I want you. I want to be girlfriend.'

You're so happy, you pull him into a tight hug. You kissed under the stars, feeling happy and anxious all at the same time. You were crazy about him, and for now, all you could think of was making this work.

Chris couldn't stop hugging you as you stood in front of the departures gate at the airport. Jennie watched with a little smile on her face as the idol kissed her best friend way too many times.

'Call me as soon as you land. I'll miss you, baby.' Chris mumblee against your hair, and you hum in response, holding on to him.

'I'll come, yeah? Don't worry. I love you, bub.' Chris kissed you one more time before Jennie grabbed you and led you way.

Chris smiled as he watched you go. He knew this was good. He had never been this sure about anything else in his life.

[goldustwomun]

slipping through my fingers (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter!reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, more of a miserable sirius this time, reader is self-deprecating and talks about not feeling 'enough' (you are babes x), loads of miscommunication or rather inability to say what you mean (it's me I'M READER), i love drama at a dinner a party sooo

wc: 3.3k+

note: somewhat proud of this so help a girl out by reblogging x

pt i. / pt ii.

Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute The feeling in it

The rest of the week flew by much the same. You opened up the shop, shoving the collection of Dickens to stop the door from slamming into you, Sirius crashed in late everyday, so much so that you told him to not even bother apologising (that being said, he hadn’t apologised in the first place). When the two of you spoke, you tried your best to not catch his eye too often. 

Instead, you busied yourself with picking up a novel for you to read inbetween the morning and late-afternoon rush. There were always a few stragglers that ventured through the door in between peak hours, and it was only after the third or fourth go-around of a gaggle of teenagers that had stumbled in, giggling and hiding their grins behind their palms, that you realised they were more of a ‘Sirius Black’ fan club as opposed to actual customers.

You let them have at him considering the few moments of peace it gave you. 

And maybe if you put down your book or halted your busy hands whilst counting the cash or checking the inventory for the fourth time that day, you might just notice how much it bothered you. 

Growing up and finding Sirius in your midst more often than you'd have liked meant countless friendships made and lost over someone or the other wanting just a glimpse of his attention. Anytime you pass the ice cream parlour down the road from your house, you’re reminded of Macy Adams – a pretty thing with pin-straight, jet black hair and pouty lips to complete the look – using you to get to him. 

He never let anything go further than an odd flirty comment here and there with your friends (which you’ll admit was kind of him to do considering he was a hormonal teenager at the time), but you were frankly sick of it.

Because you’d never understand why.

Why him? And why you?

You’d never shared that same rose-coloured view of Sirius, never felt the same burst of butterflies from your first teenage crush being him.

Or maybe you had and it was just easier to hate him than it was to like, let alone love, him. 

So, yes. It was really starting to get on your nerves, if you were being honest. More than you’d ever care to admit.

What’s worse is that his words from days ago wouldn’t stop playing over in your head, like that one Pink Floyd tape you'd gotten stuck in the receiver and no matter or banging or prodding would get it loose.

And you had that he was right about it all -- that, in many ways, you were miserable about life and love (or lack thereof). Maybe forcing those around you to share those same feelings alleviated some of the pains and aches. 

'Cause yes, you were cranky and grouchy and frankly, a bit of a brat more often than not. You blamed it on being the baby of the family, call it youngest child syndrome, but damn it– you had been twelve and mourning your childhood, and now at twenty-something, those aches had yet to subside.

Yet you couldn’t stop it. The hate and the anger and the frustration at a world that had left you behind. Your stomach lurched at the sudden bites of sadness when a day had gone by and you’d not accomplished anything.

So when Sirius flaunts into your kitchen with a hangover and a few hickies down his neck, and your parents pat him on the back, congratulating him for his very existence (at least, you assume that's it) -- it stings. You've hated him for it, always have, but maybe you also loved hi–

No. You couldn’t.

One day, Sirius was scolding James for tugging at your pigtails, and the next, he was pulling them himself.

It didn’t matter anyway. Sirius Black would never be a pivotal part of your life. You’d keep him waiting on the sidelines, only to occasionally bump into him on holidays and during family gatherings. Sure, you you both tossed petty insults at each other every now and again, but other than that, you needn’t see him. 

Outside of your nine-to-five at the bookstore, of course. 

You returned to the words of the book you’d chosen, pleading with your mind to focus once more. You’d changed the sleeve, not wanting Sirius to see what you were reading so intently. 

Was it really so bad? A young girl – nay, a youthful girl, with interests, needs and desires that were essentially unmet for the time being. It was normal to want to read about whirlwind fictional romances, fantasise about having someone close, kissing you, touching you, being yours and no one else’s.

You weren’t about to add to Sirius’ list of things to tease you for by clueing him in on the fact that you were sitting right next to him, reading filthy, irredeemable smut with not a single suitor lined up to help you out. 

He was sat behind the counter with you, the store empty, with a journal and fountain pen in hand as he scribbled away about something or the other. You were convinced he was writing angsty poetry about the blonde who’d left him to travel around Amsterdam (yes, the same one he’d met only a week earlier), but something about the furrow between his brows had you questioning such a dismissive assumption.

Sirius peered over at you. You only knew because you’d grown accustomed to the sensation of his eyes watching your every week for the past week. Other than polite exchanges and a question every now and again about the dewey decimal system, you’d not spoken a word to each other.

You weren’t sure if the ceaseless, stabbing pain in your chest was relief or something worse.

Regret?

You were on the verge of telling him off for staring when the door jingled announcing someone’s arrival. Looking up from the blurring words on the page, you were met with the scheming grin of your brother, James.

“Hullo there lovely, lovely, people!” he hollered with only a smidge too much of enthusiasm. You worried his face might get stuck with how wide (and forced?) his smile seemed to be. 

“Why are you so happy?” you questioned abruptly, brow raised with suspicion.

“My sweet, innocent, little sister. Is your life so miserable that a singular smile makes you uncomfortable?” he teased in that boyish way of his.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, reminded of the very similar accusations Sirius had thrown at you last time you two had dared to face each other head on.

You could see– no, feel him straighten next to you at James’ words, arm brushing against yours enough that you tried to discreetly move away. 

He looked almost upset when you did finally turn to look at him, but he quickly snapped his attention back to James instead. “Don’t be a dick to your sister, James,” he scolded, and James must not have thought much of the uncharacteristic chide because he continued unperturbed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. I’ve entered your humble store to invite the two of you to a dinner party tonight at ours’. Mum and Dad have offered to take Harry for the night, so a soiree of our first night back on the ‘scene’ since becoming parents seemed in order,” he explained, all flourishing hands and expectant smiles.

“So, can I take it that I'll be seeing the two of you later?”

Sirius nodded immediately but you struggled for an excuse reasonable enough to get out of it.

“I don't know, James. I have so much to do here and– you know– Dad wants the inventory done and all that. It’s really just– yeah. I don’t think so...” You cringed at how you'd managed to stumble over just about every word, hoping, praying, neither James nor Sirius would call you out on your barely concealed attempts to avoid Sirius for at least a few more days.

It was Sirius’ turn to tease you, despite having restrained himself from doing so all week.

“Well shit, mini Potter. You’ve managed to say so much and yet so little at the same,” he pointed out, nudging your side.

You scoffed at him in return, crossing your arms out of protest. “And I saw you do inventory already. In fact, I saw you do it, then do it again, then again and– ah, yes. Again.”

You aimed a glare right at him, and his only response was a hesistant smile.

James stepped in once more with an– “Alright-y then, I will be seeing you both tonight. 7:30pm. Bring a bottle because we don’t have any and Lily is dying for a glass now that she’s not breastfeeding.” He walked the short distance towards the door, called out– “don’t be late” –then disappeared into the bustle on the street. 

It took all of two seconds of James being gone before you spun to face Sirius, clouds swarming behind your eyes. “What’d you do that for, Sirius?” you questioned indignantly.

“Well, you see, you were lying and I corrected you. Now you’re going to your brother’s ‘soiree’. Really, I don’t think it’s that complicated, love,” he answered matter-of-factly. “It's not like theere's a genuine reason to not want to go, other than, let's say... avoiding me?" he asked, cautious as if worried you'd bite.

“Well– yes– but– I mean, no that's not it--”

“So I’m right. Right?” he cut in, standing up from the stool with a loud scrape against the floor. He squeezed your shoulder once as he moved out from behind the counter and headed for the aisles of books. “Great, so I’ll see you tonight.”

Well, fuck. 

You were reluctant when you stuffed your feet into your shoes and reluctant when you apparated to the (other) Potter’s doorstep, and reluctant, once more, when you knocked on the front door. Only seconds later was Remus swinging the door open. You offered him a shy smile– finding him to be both the most chivalrous and kind of your brother’s friends – before stepping inside and hanging your coat on the peg.

It was only 7:45 but there must have been at least twenty or so people hanging around the living room, glasses in hand with the crackling stereo speakers switching between the Beatles and Slade and the odd Blondie track you were sure Lily had threatened James to include. 

“Quite a crowd already,” you noted, hanging back, stiff and awkward, and feeling utterly out of place with your brother’s friends. They were all parents and spouses and had jobs that afforded them a house of their own. They were only a few years older yet miles ahead of where you were, and it was only seeing all of their faces in one room that you realised your own predicament.

“Yeah, I think we all realised it’s been a hot minute since anyone’s thrown any kind of party, so in our eagerness we all showed up about thirty minutes early,” he mused. “Lily was livid. Her hair was still in those curling contraptions.”

“You mean... curlers?” you pointed out, charmed. 

“Ah, yes. Curlers,” he teased back.

It was only then that you realised you hadn’t quite had a proper conversation with Remus since, well, ever. And it was nice, normal, and not nearly as infuriating as just about every conversation you’d had with Sirius.

You could feel him staring at you from the corner of your eye, so when he offered to get you a drink – “A raspberry cider, please. Lily keeps them in the cabinet in the kitchen for me,” – you accepted, taking a moment to internally scold yourself for instinctively thinking of him every time something happened to you.

While you waited for Remus to return, you ventured into the hall in search of James. You figured you better make yourself known so he doesn’t accuse you of skiving your own brother’s party. 

You only managed a step or two past the threshold when a hand reached for your own, tugging you into the closet.

It was pitch black and you’d been on the verge of letting out a blood-curdling scream before a dim, orange glow bathed the cramped room.

Your vision focused, first, on the hanging tether of the light, and then Sirius’ face behind it. He looked to be somewhere between panicked and restless, and really, it was appropriate considering the beating you were pondering laying out on him.

And you hated to even think it but he looked good. All scruff and unruly hair like he couldn't stop combing his fingers through the strands, and he smelled of pine and wood and books and--

“Sirius?!"

"I can explain--" he began but you held up your hand to silence him. He must have noticed the murderous rage brewing behind your irises because, for once, he did, in fact, stop talking.

"I'm not just-- you can't just-- what the fuck are you doing pulling oblivious girls into closets, you fucking weirdo!” you scolded, your voice coming out as more of a whisper than a shout so as not to alert anyone of your current situation. 

“No, Potter, you see, I just wanted to--” and it was amusing, really, to see him struggle for once. Tripping over vowels and consonants like he'd had you (you'd never tell him that though) and every other girl to enter within a metre's radius of him doing so.

“You just what?” you bit out, growing impatient as the seconds passed by.

You wondered if Remus was looking for you now, or if he’d grown bored and moved onto the brunette you knew he had pined after for years.

“Look– if you want to lecture me again about how I’m a miserable, terrible, fucking horrible, even, person– save it. I get it. I know. I’ve heard it from you and James and I’m pretty sure Mum said it to Aunt Ca–”

“No, love, no,” he cut you off, again.

You tried to ignore how that was twice, now, that he’d referred to you so endearingly, so out of character. It bugged you but not for reasons you were willing to admit.

“I mean– yes, I want to talk about that but not to lecture you. Not now. I wanted to apologise,” he continued, forgetting to breathe between words and phrases but it seemed he had set himself in-motion and couldn’t be stopped. “I’ve been a dick, I realise that. And maybe it was a fun little bit between us when we were younger and more stupid–” you frowned at that but let him continue anyway.

“-- But I think we’ve gotten carried away ‘cause, I mean, I sure think Ihave. I said some horrible, untrue things to you that I don’t, not one bit, mean or believe in anyway. And I should have apologised earlier but things were so, so, painfully awkward and you’ve been buried in that book of yours so I just–” he breathed, finally, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, love.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond or if you were meant to, even, but he was staring all doe-eyed and expectant and freaking cologne of his was all you could smell and really, you blame the prospect of the cider and the scandalous books you’d been reading because you didn’t mean to tug the light off or lean forward and collide with him. 

It just happened.

It was dark and quiet and you could feel him go stiff and your own heartbeat droning on in your ears, but it was only when you began to pull away that he surged forward, too.

Pushing, scrambling, gasping into your mouth before shoving the pair of you into the opposite wall, his large palm covering the back of your head so that even whilst he was devouring you in every sense of the word, your heart raced at his tenderness. 

Your arms clung to his shoulders, pulling him in in in, until there was not an atom’s worth of space between you. The hand not currently cushioning your head moved to hook your leg around his waist, and you opened willingly, pleadingly, melting the moment he slid, firm, against you.

You sighed into his mouth with every caress of his tongue against your own, and questioned your sanity for following through with the very thoughts you’d fantasised about for weeks, months, maybe even years. 

Just as you were reluctant to attend the party in the first place, you were reluctant to pull back even just to breathe but he must have felt the air leaving your lungs as well because he moved to place open-mouthed, wet and searching kisses against your neck and collarbones– biting, sucking, nipping in all the ways he knew how. 

Fuck everyone who got him before you’d ever had the chance, but thank God for the skill he had acquired in the meantime.

“Potter,” he groaned against the dampness of your neck, sounding every bit in pain as you were. The coarse hair of his moustache scratched at your skin with every movement of his mouth, and you couldn't help but tangle your fingers into his long strands, holding him in place. “Fuck– I’ve thought about this–” and he never managed to finish before he grew impatient of even himself and returned his mouth to you. 

“I– Me too– Oh fuck!” He bit, hard, into your sensitive skin before soothing the sting over with his tongue, planting a final kiss to the spot before moving to cradle your face in his palms. He kissed you, once, twice, a third time for luck you assumed, before you managed to resist for long enough to get your words out. 

It took a second for the electricity thrumming inside of you to subside enough for your thoughts to order themselves once more.

You stared at him, pupils dilated, mouth wide in shock, and looking every bit of the mess you felt. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” and they came out before you’d given yourself time to even really process what had just happened, or what you wanted your reaction to be.

You’d seen Sirius defeated, though only ever over the mundane and menial. A stubbed toe on the step he always forgot about that lead into your parents' kitchen, his favourite team losing a Quidditch match, or when the wrong order arriving from the chippy.

But the way his face fell-- sure it was dark but you could just tell.

He froze momentarily, before he stepped away, abrupt and robotic and so not-Sirius in every way you had come to know.

“Sirius I didn't–” you began, but he’d already tugged the light back on and with it, reality came crashing in, occupying the space he had only seconds ago. 

“No, no. You’re right, Potter,” he said, sounding every bit as lifeless as he looked now that you could actually see him.

He wouldn’t raise his gaze to meet your own, to see you pleading, silent, but pleading, that no, I lied, it wasn’t a mistake, in fact I want to do just that, more and more. And unlike every other moment in your life, for once, you couldn’t get the words out past your lips.

At least, not the right ones.

“I’m sorry,” you tried, gentle. You mourned the return of that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as your chest threatened to cave in on itself.

How was it that you felt worse than when you’d first gotten here?

Only this time it was no one’s fault but your own.

“No need to apologise, love.” He paused for a beat, glancing at the door before following through on the thoughts telling him to leave it at that before things got worse, and slipped out of the door. 

The light was still on and you noticed the shoes lined up neatly on one of the racks. Coats and jackets and umbrellas hung on the rod in front of you. Above it, there was a shelf with helmets, badminton rackets and a netball. 

There were things all around you, but you’d never felt so lonely.

You could feel the cold seeping into the space around you, one that was filled with his body heat only moments earlier.

It took everything in you to not break down right then and there.

Instead, you stepped out into the hall and plastered a smile on your face, hoping you’d make it to your room before the dam broke.

I have a rough plan of the final two chapters but eee i hope y'all enjoyed this :))

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Crumb Together

Prompt Day 27: Coffee Shop AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Platonic Stobin, Coffee Shop/Bakery AU, Fluff, Steve POV

Steve is carefully filling the bakery case. He's been here since three a.m., and it's still a half-hour until opening, but at least he's on time and not behind schedule for once. 

"Hey dingus, do we need more muffins?" Robin hollers, banging through the double-doors from the back to the front. 

"No, I have enough, thanks so much," he snaps. He's snippy this morning, pretty mad she ever talked him into this whole coffee shop scheme. Sure, they're retail pros, but small business owners? He should have said no fucking way. But she was excited, and he wanted her to be happy. That’s always his downfall.

He's definitely re-thinking that now that they’ve completely lost their social lives by keeping these insane working and sleeping schedules. They only see each other, which isn't the worst thing in the world, other than the fact that he doesn't know the last time he's touched boobies. Or dick. He's not picky. 

He needs to get laid, and he can’t do that stuck inside this coffee shop slash bakery hell with his best friend.

He's about to turn and sass her, when someone taps on the front door and he jumps, throwing a chocolate muffin up into the air, fumbling it around, before finally regaining control. 

He didn't drop it, but it looks a little worse for wear. He can't sell it like this. 

Well, fuck.

If he was a hired hand, he'd ignore the annoying tapper until the official opening time. Which is twenty-nine minutes from now. But as the owner, he puts down his tray and walks towards the door. They could use the paying customer, even if they’ve shown up way too early, like a rude asshole.

He looks, but he can't see anyone out there in the dark. Maybe he should ignore it.

He doesn't, instead he unlocks the door, and there's a guy standing there. 

"Hey, nice catch," the guy says, smiling. 

Steve forces a smile in return, "How can I help you?" 

"I know you're not open yet, but I saw you in there juggling the muffins, and I'm on my way out of town and really need a cup of coffee. My coffee maker decided this was the morning to croak," he says, slashing his whole hand across his neck, making a throat-slitting motion. 

He's rambling, like Robin.

Steve finds it a little cuter on him, than he does when Robin does it at this ungodly hour. 

Steve sighs, and opens the door wider to let him inside, "You just want black coffee?" 

"Please," the guy says. 

"I'll have to brew it. It'll just take a minute." 

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, and Steve can see that he's looking at Steve's chest, looking for a name tag. But Steve's not wearing one. Because as the owner, he finally doesn't have to. 

Robin is booting up the point-of-sale system, "Black coffee?" she repeats. 

The guy nods. 

"For?" 

"Eddie," the guy answers. 

"Good thing you asked him, I'd never know who to hand it to," Steve snarks at Robin, starting the coffee machine.

Eddie laughs.

Robin doesn't.

When it's done, Steve places the cup on the counter, and Robin immediately picks it up and writes Eddie's name on it. 

Which, that's stupid. They all know it's Eddie's coffee. Then, Robin sacks up the slightly banged up muffin and hands it to Eddie.

"You scared him and caused him to squish it. So, it's yours. On the house!" she says, far too chipper for this time of morning. 

"Thanks, I'll try to drop by and scare him more often," Eddie says, reading his name on his cup, grinning. Then Eddie slides a ten dollar bill across the counter, waving off his change. 

As soon as the bell on the door jangles, signaling Eddie's departure, Robin turns and slaps Steve on the arm. 

"What the hell? That cute boy wanted to flirt, and you totally dropped the ball, dingus!" 

Steve scrunches up his forehead, "Huh?"

Robin just shakes her head, annoyed, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Is Steve so rusty that he missed flirting? Goddamnit. 

Steve has just turned the front door lock, and flipped the sign to closed, when he hears his cell phone ringing somewhere in the distance. He follows the sound, and when he picks it up, it's a number he doesn't recognize. Great. More telemarketer bullshit. 

He goes to swipe the decline button, when Robin shouts, "You better get that!"

He looks back at his phone and cautiously accepts the call, not knowing what the hell she's done now.

"Hello?"

"Is this Steve? From the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, this is Steve," Steve says, suspicious. He has no idea who he's talking to.

"Good, good. This is Eddie. From this morning. The coffee jerk that made you open early."

"Oh, uh, okay. Um…"

"How did I get this number?" Eddie asks, laughing.

"Yeah, that was what I was thinking," Steve admits.

"Well, somehow it ended up written on my coffee cup this morning, with your name and a time to call."

Steve shakes his head, Robin is such an asshole, but Steve smiles.

"Well, I'm not sure how that happened," Steve says, teasing back. Flirting. 

"Big mystery," Eddie teases, "but since I've got you on the phone, would you like to grab dinner or drinks. Coffee?"

"No coffee," Steve laughs, "but yes. To the other two, for sure. But be forewarned, I eat really early. Like an old person. Early bird specials are my jam. And I go to bed by nine. Eight-thirty if I can get away with it. I gotta be here by three to get ready to open this place."

He's learned to get that info out of the way, early. 

"Well, that sounds perfect. I get up at four to get to my jobsite. I'm in construction," Eddie says.

Steve smiles, it's been a while since anyone has understood his schedule.

"So, dinner? Four-thirty or five?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[tracingpatternswrites]

Leather and Cinnamon | Wolfstar Bingo

It's that time of the year again! The @wolfstarbingo2024 is here.

I'm supposed to be working hard on my Big Bang fic so naturally I instead spent the whole day writing 13k words of... well, this.

I've had this idea for a long time and I think I started it over a year ago, but now I finally found the inspiration to finish it (while also crossing off one of my prompts). So here it is.

Title: Leather and Cinnamon Pairing: Wolfstar Rating: E WC: 13.2k Prompt: One night stand Summary: Remus hasn't got laid in a while, but that's okay. That's fine. He's been busy raising a son, thank you very much.

Now, however, Teddy is off to university and when Remus goes to Brighton to drop him off, they stumble over a coffee shop in the south lanes. It's a cosy little place with a barista who has silver eyes and pale skin and an arse to die for.

Remus hasn't got laid in a while, but that's okay. That's fine.

Read on AO3.

Snippet below the cut:

“I’ll order,” Teddy said as they entered the coffee shop, nodding towards a table by the window. “You can take a seat.”

“Oh really?” Remus asked, a little amused. “You’re paying too, then?”

“Obviously not,” Teddy remarked casually. “I’m a poor student, remember?”

“Sometimes I think you just spend time with me for my wallet.” Remus sighed wistfully but Teddy merely grinned at him, snapping his fingers.

“Money, please.”

“Maybe I want to order,” Remus said, but Teddy was already snatching the note from his fingers.

“Please,” Teddy scoffed. “Like I’d trust you with my order.”

Remus looked fondly as his son sauntered off towards the bar, unable not to smile to himself. He honestly couldn’t get his head around the fact that he had an 18-year-old son who was now heading off to university all on his own.

It had felt bittersweet, packing up Teddy’s boyhood room. He knew the day would come eventually, and even though he was excited for his son, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad as well. They had driven down to Brighton together, their old little car stuffed full of (almost) everything that Teddy would need for the coming few months.

They had spent the day getting his room in order before Remus decided it was time for him to head back home. Teddy had agreed to a coffee before he left though, and Remus was set on making the most of the time he had left with his son while he still had the chance.

The café they had picked was in the south Lanes and had a bright red door with rainbow flags decorating the windows. It was the name that had drawn Remus in though, Baskerville’s Hound written in bold letters over the painting of a big, black dog.

The place itself was cosy enough, with paintings decorating the walls together with black and white photographs of Brighton and random people. The walls were painted in a dark blue colour and the furniture was all mismatched and clearly second hand, but still in good shape.

Teddy returned without drinks, pulling out the chair opposite Remus and slumping down on it, shrugging as Remus raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“They’ll bring it out,” he said, slouching back on his chair.

“Any chance you got a change on that twenty?”

“Sorry.” Teddy grinned at him, pushing a hand through his longish hair, currently a bright orange. Remus had long since accepted that Teddy opted to change his hair colour as often as other people changed clothes, and he enjoyed seeing him explore. “Consider it a contribution towards your only child’s education.”

“Ah, yes, never mind the 9K tuition fee,” Remus deadpanned. “It’s the change on the coffee that’s going to make the real difference.”

“I’ll need pocket money.”

The corner of Remus’ mouth twitched. “You need money for beer, you mean.”

Teddy threw his arms out. “It’s uni life, Da.”

Remus snorted just as the barista approached the table, clearing his throat.

“A latte with a dash of cinnamon and…whatever this monstrosity is,” the barista said, and Remus tore his gaze away from his son to the man standing next to their table.

Remus found himself doing a double-take at the sight of him. He didn’t know why he’d expected a student, but this man looked to be roughly his age. He was tall, muscular, with tattooed arms and wearing a simple white tee-shirt underneath a light apron with a large black dog printed on the front of it.

There was the hint of a stubble over his very chiselled jaw, high cheekbones and long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. It was his eyes, however, that caught Remus’ attention. They were a light sort of grey that reminded Remus of silver, seemingly drawing in the light around them. They were dancing with something that looked like amusement as Teddy sat up excitedly.

“That’s mine,” Teddy said eagerly, reaching for the tall glass topped with a hefty dollop of whipped cream. “Cheers, mate.”

“I take it you’re the sensible one then,” the man said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he turned his gaze on Remus, placing the mug in front of him with a little wink. “Enjoy.”

Remus couldn’t help staring as the man walked away, gaze taking in the dark jeans and heavy boots.

“Earth to Da!”

Teddy’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he flinched, accidentally burning his hand as his coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug.

“Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing a napkin to wipe up his spill and when he looked back up, Teddy was watching him with a mischievous sort of twinkle in his eyes.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied quickly, clearing his throat as his voice came out weirdly rough. “Fine.”

“I said, are you coming down with Ma next week?”

“Oh,” Remus said, taking a sip from his coffee to distract himself momentarily. “Dunno, mate. D’you want me to?”

“You don’t have to,” Teddy shrugged. “It’s just cause she couldn’t be here this weekend.”

“Right,” Remus nodded. “I’ll be there if you want me to.”

Teddy waved it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket as it made a chirping noise.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, eyes on the display as he quickly tapped out a message. “Aoife says there’s a group heading to the pub tonight.”

“That sounds like fun,” replied Remus as his gaze darted over to the bar, just briefly, catching on the man who was wiping down glasses and humming to himself, the muscles in his arms flexing. “You should go with them, make some friends.”

He only tore his gaze away from the man as he heard Teddy’s snort, and his son was watching him with an unimpressed sort of expression.

“What?”

“Make some friends?” he echoed, pulling a face. “It’s not pre-school, Da. It’s uni.”

“What?” asked Remus, a little affronted. “You don’t make friends at university?”

“No,” Teddy said assuredly. “You just…get to know people. Hang out.”

“Right,” Remus said, giving a solemn nod. “My bad. You should go with them and hang out then.”

Teddy rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath before he turned his attention back to his phone, and Remus pressed his lips together so that he wouldn’t smile. His eyes darted briefly back towards the bar, where the man was now stacking mugs.

It would be in Brighton where a random barista looked like he’d stepped right out of one of Remus’ wet dreams. He looked exactly like the type Remus would have been madly in love with when he was younger, and, it turned out, his taste hadn’t changed that much since then.

Remus hadn’t dated much in the past few years as Teddy was growing up. It wasn’t that it had been impossible, Dora had managed to move on just fine after their amicable split, and her dating life had never affected Teddy badly, he just hadn’t prioritised it. Ever since Teddy had moved in with him full-time when he was fifteen, Remus put his own dating life on a shelf.

Dora had told him he was being ridiculous, that Teddy was more than capable of handling his dad dating, and Teddy had even told him so himself. He’d even encouraged Remus to get out there, claiming that it would do him good to get laid. It wasn’t a lie, Remus knew that, but he had simply prioritised raising his son over hookups.

He knew it would be different now though, with Teddy off to university and Remus alone in their house. They had been joking about it, and Remus was happy that Teddy was starting his own life as a young adult, but he couldn’t deny that it would be strange.

He and Dora had been so young when they became parents. She had still been at university, and he had only just completed his Bachelor's Degree. He’d been a parent for all of his 20s and almost all of his 30s, it felt wild thinking that he was approaching his 40s with more independence than he’d had in a long while.

“Right, I gotta go,” Teddy said suddenly, his voice yanking Remus out of his thoughts. “Sorry, Da.”

Remus shook his head, smiling a little as he stood. “Don’t worry about it. Time for me to head back home anyway.”

Teddy nodded, watching him for a moment, his blue eyes searching over Remus’ face and he looked so serious suddenly.

“Are you sure that you’ll be okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile a little at the troubled look on his son’s face, the half-grimace as he gave a brief shrug.

“I’ll be fine, Da.”

“So will I,” Remus replied, smiling a little as he pulled his son close for a hug. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it,” Teddy muttered against the crook of his neck before Remus released him. “I worry about you all alone in that house.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Remus said as he clasped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I used to have a life before you, y’know.”

“Barely,” Teddy replied with a snort, the corner of the boy’s mouth quirking upwards as Remus swatted lightly at him.

“Oi, don’t get cheeky.”

Teddy laughed, seemingly unfazed as he leaned a little closer, stage-whispering, “You could always stay and chat up the barista, eh? I can see you ogling him.”

Remus had a horrible feeling as he was blushing as Teddy threw a meaningful look towards the man behind the counter and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Continue on AO3.

[hwanchaesong]

Die For You

Na Jaemin X Reader

genre: fluff, suggestive at the end, sprinkle of angst, f2l au! (reader is having a hard time because of school)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: now this one is for you~ i hope you'll like it 💚 to anyone who wants to make a request, please check the rules. thank you much~

Jaemin doesn't believe in love at first sight, but he does believe in seeing someone for the first time and knowing that one day, you'll fall in love with that person.

It so happens that it's you, that one girl that always sits at the same table in his favorite coffee shop, at the same time with the same order.

You look.. peculiar? Can he even say that? He doesn't think so, he might get wacked on the head by you. But still, he really did think that you're adorable, and it became a habit for him to watch you as you minded your own business.

The idea of talking to you did not even enter his mind, not until you took the initiative because you had enough. You felt like being watched every time, and when you inspected the place, that handsome man was the culprit.

So you approached him, slamming your book and coffee on his table and sitting on the empty seat in front of him.

"Spill it." you said, and boy was he shocked because he did not expect you to be this bold.

"My coffee?" he asked, not entirely sure of what you mean but you can't blame him. The poor man has been relying on caffeine for days just to stay awake.

"No, I mean," you cleared your throat, caught off guard at his dumb reply, "why do you keep on staring at me?"

Then a light bulb switched inside his brain, beaming at you and stretching his arm towards you for a handshake, "Hi! I'm Jaemin and I think you're adorable."

That was the time when a beautiful thing called friendship bloomed. (and it turns out that between the two of you, he was the peculiar one. not you.)

Jaemin looked at his phone again, checking if you had replied to his messages. He does this every twenty minutes and his friends are getting sick of it.

"Just call her." Haechan said, scowling when he saw Jaemin check his phone once again.

"I can't do that. What if she's busy?" Jaemin countered back.

He doesn't want to intrude too much in your life, knowing his boundaries even if the two of you are very close with each other.

He was just worried. He hasn't seen you since last week and you never messaged him back.

"If you don't want to bother her, then wait patiently." Renjun, his other friend advises. A good one, but Jaemin wasn't exactly the most patient man alive.

"But I missed her!" he protested once more, earning him a collective groan among the men in the room.

"Listen," this time it was Jeno who spoke, "all these fiasco of yours are getting boring to watch."

"What?" now, Jaemin was confused, even more so when his other friends nodded in agreement. What on earth is he talking about?

"At first it was fun to watch, now it's just painful and if I'm going to be completely honest," Jeno leaned forward, like he was about to tell the dirtiest secret in the universe, "every time I see you like this, I wanna bang my head to the nearest wall."

"Then do it." Haechan laughed when Jeno threw a glare in his direction. "Jokes aside, I agree with Jeno."

Jaemin raised an eyebrow at them, "Are you guys drunk or something? What are you talking about?"

Ever the clueless Jaemin, everything needs to be spilled out for him that it made Renjun groan and push him out of the door.

"Just go to her man, you can't come back here until you've settled this!"

What good friends he has. First, they tell him things without elaborating and now they are kicking him out of their shared apartment? Well damn. Looks like he got no choice but to go to you.

After a few minutes of walking, he was already at the doorstep of your house, knocking incessantly and calling for your name.

He felt relieved when he heard your voice for the first time in weeks, "Coming!"

Upon opening the door, he was surprised at your appearance. You look so unwell, with the dark bags under your eyes, your tired demeanor and oh? Did you lose weight? What really caught Jaemin's attention was the dried tear stains on your cheeks.

His hands unconsciously made their way to your face and cupped it, "You were crying?"

Your eyes widened, slapping his hands away and shielding your face from his prying eyes, "I'm sorry Jaemin, I'm not really in the mood for this."

You were about to close the door but man was he agile, gripping your hand and hastily entering your home without your permission. (granted that it wasn't really required because you did tell him to come to your apartment whenever he wants to. you even gave him a spare key for free access.)

"Jaemin! What are you-"

He plopped you down on your sofa, "Stay there young lady, don't move a muscle and I'll cook some ramen for us."

He made his way to the kitchen, the clanking of the pans as an indication that he started cooking. You sighed and rested your head on the soft pillows of your sofa, soon, you were drifting to dreamland.

It was a relatively short nap, the smell of something heavenly woke you up. Lo and behold, a complete meal was set in your living room table.

"I thought we were having ramen?"

"At first," Jaemin answered, moving around and setting up the television so the both of you could watch your favorite movie, "but then I saw you sleeping so I decided to make more food. I'm sorry that I woke you up though." he explained, sitting beside you and giving you a sheepish smile.

"I don't mind getting woken up by a feast, honestly." you joked, eyes setting on the television as you two started to eat.

This was fun, you thought, not until you felt that same unnerving stare from years ago.

"What is this time?" you whined, now distracted and setting your food down.

"Why do you always complain? Let me admire you in peace."

You stilled, heart beating a little too fast for your liking. "You still didn't give up on that agenda of yours."

"How could I when you're literally the prettiest person I've known."

No. No. No. No. No.

You can't take this, not this time, you are having such a hard time and you don't think you'll be able to handle this.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a warm hug engulfing you, Jaemin's scent filling your nose, "I missed you so much, Y/N."

You couldn't help but return the affection, melting in his embrace, "I missed you too, Jaemin. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

Jaemin hummed, momentarily moving away to fix some astray strands of hair, "It's okay, it's you. I will always understand you." he assured you, and for what felt like forever, tears of happiness began to form.

Was it really happiness? You think that some mixed emotions are also in there yet Jaemin was patient, wiping your tears away as you continued bawling. Your snot probably got in his shirt but he couldn't care. You were his priority, and he hates it when you cry like this.

He listened to you well, how you were so stressed about your academics and the never ending school works worsen your panic attacks.

He listened and listened, soft eyes watching you with empathy and sadness.

"You should've told me all of this instead of keeping it in." he mumbled against the crown of your hair, letting you calm down.

"Don't worry, you're not alone now. I'm here." his hands went up and down your back, effectively soothing your nerves.

"Thank you, really Jaemin. Thank you for sticking with me all this time even if I'm such a mess." you sniffled, giggling afterwards when he suddenly tickled you.

"Oh my god!" you squealed, falling onto your back and when you opened your eyes, you see Jaemin on top of you, gazing down at you with orbs full of nothing but adoration.

"I think you're perfect, even if you're a mess." he admitted, "Every day in my life, I see you and I think of how lucky I am because I have you."

"Jaemin." you mumbled his name, voice barely above a whisper as to not ruin the moment.

The noises from the television became static and all of a sudden, all you can focus on was your 'best friend'

"I don't really know how to explain it. I love you?" Jaemin questioned, like he was talking to his self, "That may be it but believe me when I say that I will take a bullet for you."

Jaemin slowly leaned down, his face mere inches away from your own, "You're that precious for me."

"Jaemin." you gripped his shirt tightly, "I love you too." you confessed, and that was all it took for him to seal your lips together in a silent pact that he belongs to you, and you belong to him.

Never in your wildest dreams did you expect that you'll be kissing your friend in your living room, more so when it's a passionate one.

"I'll show you," Jaemin mumbled on your neck, his mouth pressing wet kisses all over your neck.

"I'll show you how much you mean to me."

You never doubt his words, if it's Na Jaemin, then you're sure as hell that he'll do everything that he says.

After all, he's the man who's willing to die for you.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

Although this is extremely late, what would you say happens during and after Nyx’s and the other’s escape?

HI (I am assuming) PARA!! I'm so sorry that I never wrote something for the aftermath of Nyx's round, I had a draft but I just moved into my flat at uni and my flatmates moved in last Sunday and it's been kind of super chaotic since. I haven't had much time to write. But the finished product will be in this ask-response, for simplicity's sake. If that's okay with you

LOG (SUBJECT: Round 18 - ONYX LOSS)

SPECIMEN: 001247 (ONYX)

When the lights go out, fear is the furthest thing from Nyx's mind.

Why would he be afraid? Lang won, she won, he's so happy he could cry. She deserves it, she deserves the world, he wants to hug her and kiss her forehead and tell her that he loves her before he goes. He clutches onto her, their dance stuttering to a stop in the muddy black. He can hear the alarms going off, the panicked screams of the crowd, the footsteps clattering through the arena and the gunshots ringing out, but it all feels far away. Lang starts to push him away, her hands shaking, but he holds fast.

"It's just me, please," he rasps, voice breaking on the last syllable. She goes still in his arms, wariness clear in the steely potential energy of her limbs. He finds her forehead with his hand and brushes away her bangs from it, bending down to press a kiss to the revealed skin. "Thank you, Lang, for being my friend. I love you." She hesitates, hands twitching where they rest on his chest, before hugging him. She squeezes him tightly and lets go all too soon, distancing herself from him. She takes one step and then another, getting farther and farther each time.

Letting out a shaky breath, Nyx lets her go. Lang doesn't turn, she doesn't run away, she watches him unflinchingly in the murky darkness. If there really is an afterlife, he thinks, I will miss her when I get there. Maybe I'll get to see Kyo, or Cas. Tov might even name a constellation after me. He doesn't follow her, simply standing there and waiting for death to come. He doesn't care how it's done, whether it be a bullet through the chest or someone slams him to the ground and bashes his head in, it doesn't matter. If his last memory is one of pain, then so be it. He deserves it, after all this time of living past his expiration date.

See, it was as soon as he realized that Kyo would never love him back, it was when he first set his eyes on Asahi, it was when he stood on stage at graduation- those were the moments that told Nyx that he wouldn't make it past twenty. Here he is, though, twenty and something months, however many days over his allowance. He doesn't regret it, the moments he had in that stolen time. He was able to tell Tov he loved her, he got to tell Vera goodbye, he saw Aurien one last time and Solei, well, Solei is still alive. He just hopes that they're happy.

Nyx can't help but laugh- Tov will be absolutely furious with him for dying. For losing. At least, he hopes she hates him for it, that it makes it easier to accept that he's gone. Part of him still wishes he had done something other than laugh. He wishes that the last thing he said to her was something gentle, sweet, but he supposes it wouldn't have been true to form. He's not a sweet, gentle person. He's brittle and sharp around the edges and cruel when it counts, bitter when it hurts. Still, he wishes that he had done something better than laugh when she told him to win. He laughed because he had nothing to say, because he was surprised, because he was astounded that Tov thought he even stood a chance. After all, she knows the truth, that Cas threw the round, that he'd done it as some kind of sacrifice, some sick act of love.

(Really, Nyx should have known from the beginning, that something was off, that Cas wasn't trying as hard as he should have been, that he wasn't pouring his heart out into it like he would've been had the circumstances been different. He should've known that the calm, the acceptance in Cas' eyes was a harbinger of doom, an omen for what was to come. He didn't. He was too foolish, too naïve, too stupid to see the truth.)

When a hand clamps down over his mouth from behind him, he doesn't scream. He doesn't fight. He waits for the end, no resistance, no questions, no fear. Maybe that's why it takes him a moment to make out Aurien's voice, pleading with him.

"Nyx? Nyx, can you hear me?" He blinks, turning to see his little sister, standing stark in the darkness. Inky strands of hair is dripping into her wild eyes, she pulls down a mask covering her mouth, breathing heavily as she watches him.

"Aurien," he murmurs, breathing her name in a hushed whisper, reverent as a prayer. He takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, cupping her face with a hand, stroking his thumb down the delicate curve of her cheekbone, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes. She leans into his touch, smiling slightly and releasing a sigh of relief. "You're not supposed to be here." What happens next doesn't make sense, her eyes flashing open, fury flashing in their obsidian depths.

"Nyx," she intones, warning obvious in her tone. She places her hand on top of his, her jaw twitching with barely constrained rage.

"I've already stayed too long," he tells her, running his fingers through her hair, just as he used to when they were children and he was comforting her while she cried. "Please, save Lang instead. She doesn't deserve to die." She jerks backwards, ripping his hand away and stumbling, looking shaken to her core.

"What are you talking about?" She demands, throwing her hands up in the air. "You don't deserve to die, either." Nyx barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Of course, you would say that," he sighs, looking down at the ground. "But Cas died. He died so that I could live. Kyo is gone, Vera too, that's not even mentioning Tallis. You and Solei are happy, now. I'll just drag you down, with my cynicism, my baggage. You're better off forgetting about me."

"You-"

"I don't deserve to be saved."

"Well, good thing that I don't fucking care whether or not you deserve it," Aurien snaps, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're coming. We're saving you. No buts."

Of course, right after she says that, a whistle pierces the air and punctures her in the side. Right where she was shot the first time. Right where Cas was shot. Nyx catches her when she falls, grasping at her arms with shaking, sweaty hands. She coughs out blood onto his shoulder, trying to push herself back up and failing. Nyx should be helping her, he knows he should be helping her. After all, she's real.

But his vision is flickering in and out, Aurien's hair turning curly, the color of dried blood, hemoglobin on silk. She looks up at him, says something, but he can only see Castor's face, smiling at him with bloodied lips. Nyx can only hear the laugh that bubbled out of Castor in his last moments. Nyx's heart is beating the drums of war in his ears, chest heaving and tears budding in his eyes. He presses his hand to the wound in her side to stem the bleeding (like he did with Cas) and she hisses in pain just like Cas did.

Nyx chokes on his own breath, stuttering backwards, unable to do this any longer. Aurien makes a noise in surprise, crumpling to the floor, just like Cas did. Just like Cas did.

"It's not, real, he's gone," Nyx hiccups out, shaking his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "He's gone, he's gone. Please, please," He repeats it, a broken record catching again on the needle, attempting to self-soothe in the face of a fracturing psyche.

"Onyx," a voice cuts through his delusions. He barely hears it and when a hand suddenly grabs his forearm, he flinches away on instinct, eyes wide, panic taking over every other faculty of his mind. The owner of the hand is he doesn't recognize, with white curly hair and a face mask just like the one Aurien was wearing, and they're looking at him sternly. "We need to get out of here."

"Wh- I- alright," Nyx acquiesces, too tired to fight anymore. "Where're we going?" His voice is hollowed out and rough, broken by his crying.

"Surveillance room," the white-haired person grunts out while picking up Aurien gingerly and holding her over their shoulder. "You know a way there?" Nyx nods, scanning his mind for the shortest route from the stage. He beckons them to follow him and darts off, lowering himself down off of the stage and going to the undercroft beneath the stage through a hidden panel. The person ducks in behind him, seeming surprised at where they end up, the racks of costumes, the tools and other supplies, microphones and cords strewn about. Nyx weaves through the mess quickly, leaving his companions to catch up as he rewires the lift to bypass the security lockdown.

"I wouldn't risk the lift if we didn't have someone injured," Nyx says quietly, fingers tangles and disentangling the cords he pulled from the outlet. Finally, the lift dings, the light turning on as the doors open with a hiss. The person holding Aurien nods to him and enters the lift. Nyx presses the button inside and opens up the admin panel to program a no-stop straight shot to the surveillance room. "See, the thing is, the undercroft and the surveillance room are directly connected because they're both backstage work areas." Nyx doesn't know why he's talking, not really, but the words are spilling out of him and it feels good to fill the silence up with something other than the hum of the electricity and the whispers in his head insisting that this isn't real either, he's already dead and this is some grandiose delusion of heaven.

They actually reach the surveillance room before the person holding Aurien even responds to his rambling which feels a bit like a blessing in disguise. There are two people already in the surveillance room, one of which whips around to face them while the other stays hunched over the admin panel, presumably doing damage control. Funnily enough, they look like Ryu and Ji-Woo but that's ridiculous. Those two went missing.

"Nyx?" The person that looks and sounds like Ryu exclaims, amber eyes widening. "Shit, what happened to Aurien, Bunny?!" The person carrying Aurien, Bunny apparently, lets out a sigh and walks out of the lift, dragging Nyx with them.

"She got shot, Ryu, obviously," Bunny answers. "Now, where's our muster point? We can't just hole up in here."

"I'm working on it," Ji-Woo barks out. Nyx has decided that they must be the real Ryu and Ji-Woo, no matter how ridiculous that is, because they both sound like them and look like them and Ryu got called Ryu by Bunny and Aurien is the real Aurien and- fuck, he should really just shut up. Ryu glances at Nyx out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey, are you okay?" Nyx blinks, frowning at Ryu in confusion. "You seem shaken up." Nyx stares at him for a moment longer before trying to smile.

"Never been better," he lies through his teeth. He's definitely been worse but suffice to say, this not one of his better days.

"I've got a muster point from Solei, c'mon, we need to go," Ji-Woo says as soon as he sends out a command for a system wide 24hr shut down. "We meet at docking bay 4D in the Φ wing. You know where that is?" Ji-Woo glances to Nyx who blinks in surprise before nodding. He finds his way to the front of their pack before darting ahead, scanning the hallways for any guards as he slowly orients himself and takes them through the weird back alleys of the arena.

"How do you even know these are here?" Ryu asks at some point while they're in an abandoned fuel cellar in Φ wing.

"Uh, trial and error mostly," Nyx replies as he tries to remember whether they go right or left from here. "Oryon took me to the last two seasons of ALNST but it didn't really supervise me well so I wandered around."

"And you never got caught?" Bunny inquires, skeptical and for good reason.

"Oh, it's left," Nyx realizes, beckoning them to follow him through the gap between two walls where there used to be insulation, before the wing was decommissioned and set for demolition. "I mean, I haven't gotten caught doing this yet." Finally, they emerge in the bay after going through the vault in the ceiling, where all the old electrical is still hanging from the rafters.

"You would have been useful to have when we did this before, Ji-Woo and I kept getting lost," Ryu remarks. Ji-Woo blushes and elbows his partner before breaking off to find Solei. He waves them over to a bulky object covered by a dusty tarp after a moment. He and Ryu drag the tarp off and Solei pops up from the bed of the truck, eyes huge and wary in the dim. Bunny settles into the bed of the truck as well, putting Aurien down gently in the pile of bedding there so that she won't get jostled too much. Solei chirps, panic obvious in their tone and Nyx feels guilt pool in his stomach. He gets into the passenger seat after Ji-Woo settles behind the wheel, unable to face his sister who he was unable to help when she needed and the friend who loves his sister as much as he does.

Nyx thinks the best thing that happened tonight was Lang surviving.

Perhaps, Nyx is not good at accepting good things.

I will tag @starry-skiez because Ryu & Ji-Woo belong to him, @bluemoonscape because Castor & Kyo belong to him, @apriciticreveries because she's Aurien's mama, @solei-eclipse is Solei's creator, @rosedeleca for Bunny & Rose. um. @zerostyrant because he asked to be tagged <3 oh and @ivanttakethis because i mention Tov <3

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Little Lady Masterlist

Just the Two of Us

This might be my favorite chapter yet... almost entirely because my babies get to finally be a couple <3

age twenty

Bang bang bang!

Bang bang BANG!

"Oh my God," Is all I can manage to groan, pulling the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands and curling in on myself as I move out of the warmth of my bed, just to hear the knocking once more.

"J! Please get the door, I need to grab some headache medication," I grumble, pulling up my hood as I make my way into the hall, Jack's voice meeting my ears.

"Mag's can you come here?"

"But medsss," I groan, still waddling my way to the door. And I wish I hadn't when I see who's there.

Trevor Zegras, standing with a grocery bag and flowers, smiling awkwardly as every minute of last nights conversation comes back to me.

Sure, Trevor and I have flirted for years, but last night I threw any self respect out the window and told him everything.

"I'm going to go grab breakfast with Nico and Dougie," Jack speaks up, grabbing his jacket and hat from the hanger. "When I get back, I want to be completely filled in and to remain not an uncle," He adds, his body out the door before I can even give him hell for his comments.

And then it's just Trevor and I, him still placed sturdy in the entry.

"Um, you can come in Trev," I invite, stepping back to make room for him to enter.

"I- you sounded pretty drunk last night, so when I got off the plane I grabbed some excedrin, gaterade, and some pancake mix," He rambles off, slipping off his snowy boots and gently setting the grocery bag on the counter to his left. "I uh, also got you these."

He's holding out the flowers like I might hit him with them or that he's apologizing, neither of which is necessary.

"I wanted to get you peonies since I know they're your favorite, but it's apparently not the season for it, so I got carnations instead."

"Trevor, you really didn't have to do all of this," Is my whispered response, just now looking up to meet his gorgeous eyes as I take the flowers, hugging them to my chest. "I'm sorry for bothering you last night."

"I flew from California to Jersey to see you and you think you bothered me with a call?" He gawks, having the audacity to laugh.

"I just know I was a lot," Is my reasoning, walking away to put the flowers in a vase in the kitchen. "And I brought up you asking my brothers about me even though that was years ago. I'm just trying to say I'm sorry."

His movements are faster than I'm expecting, his body suddenly not feet from me but instead with his arms on either side of my body.

We've been close before. But never with this look in his eyes.

A look that makes me feel that even though I'm in a hoodie, that I'm not realizing is Trevors from my last visit, and leggings, I'm the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Stop apologizing."

"Z-"

"Margaret Hughes, you are never a lot. You are never a bother," He adds. "You were right last night. I did ask your brothers permission to ask you out. Years ago. You were never meant to over hear what your brothers and I were talking about that night, cause God I could never imagine actually telling you how I felt. I mean, why ruin things?"

"How you felt?" That one word. Felt. Past tense.

His hand comes to the side of my head, cupping my cheek as his thumb rubs over my cheek.

"Feel," He mumbles. "How I feel."

I may need to take my pulse. I'm not sure. I may be dead.

"How do you feel, Trevor?"

Oh my God. Why did I ask that. Do I even want the answer?

"Mags," His voice is soft. Soft like the day he sat with me in the hockey rink for the last time. "I have been in love with you since we were 18. I never said anything because I didn't want to ruin things. I never wanted to risk not having you in my life. Next to your brother and Alex, you're my best friend. I couldn't ruin -"

"You could never ruin us, Trevor," I can't help but interrupt.

"Even by telling you that I'm in love with you?"

He looks so fragile, so anxious. Gone is the ever confident Ducks hotshot and here is a boy who is genuinely worried about what I say next.

"Trevor," I whisper. "I've been in love with you almost since we met. Not once has it not been you."

And then the world around me is blank except for the feeling of his lips on mine and my mine on his, his hands moving from the counter and to the back of my neck, mine linking over his shoulders and pulling him closer.

It starts slow, like we're exploring a new town like we had when he moved to Anaheim or I moved to Jersey. He's so close to me that every minute breath that leaves his nose brushing over my face.

But then it's faster, years full of love being expressed with every time our lips touch, him nipping my lips with his teeth as he pulls away.

And our foreheads touch, just like in every romance novel I've ever read, but none of those could imitate the kind of joy, the kind of love I feel right now.

"Why didn't you tell me you were into me?" Is the first thing he asks, his most charming smile on full display.

"Me?!" I can't help but yell, him jumping back as I lightly shove his chest. "You literally had my brothers approval and said nothing!! For years!"

"Okay, so I should have said something..." He agrees, "But I said something now? That counts right?"

I can't help but nod, pulling him head back down to my lips with a smile. "You have some time to make up for, but yes, that absolutely counts."

"If I saw I love you again do I get extra points?"

We both laugh at this, because we've said those simple words so many times, joking little goodbyes or on nights of drinking to bother my brother.

But now they hold so much more weight.

"You may get a few extra points," I offer with a chuckle.

His lips meet mine once more.

"Maggie Hughes, I love you."

"Trevor Zegras, I love you right back."

[wheels-of-despair]

Under Pressure | Eric x You vs. The Apocalypse | Series Masterlist

Chapter Five: Hang In There, Baby Summary: You get a phone call that changes everything. Words: 1.7k

(This is The One With Eric's Attempt To Off Himself.)

"Hey."

"Hi, love," your husband says over the phone. God, you've missed the sound of his voice. "Do you have a moment?"

"For you?" you smile, blinking yourself out of the trance you've fallen into at work. "Always."

"I'm really sorry, but I need to ask a favor of you."

"Name it," you say without hesitation.

"Do you remember Carrie, the nurse with the pixie cut who was at our Christmas party?"

"Kind of?" you lie.

"Didn't think so. Anyway, I just got off the phone with her… she said Eric was brought into the ER this morning. He fell down some subway stairs and got himself all banged up."

"Oh, no," you breathe. You haven't seen Eric since his birthday, and that was... months ago? God, has it really been that long?

"That's… that's not all. Someone told the EMT's that he tried to jump in front of a train. It's unclear at the moment if the hospital is going to take the claim seriously and hold him, or just let him go. Carrie said if it's busy today and someone responsible is there to take him home, they may just cut him loose now. But seeing as how I'm on the other side of the country… would you go?"

"Of course," you answer, already packing your bag. He relays the necessary information about where to go and who to talk to, and you scribble it on a notepad.

"I really am sorry to do this to you," Evan says. "I didn't mean to leave you alone with all my problems."

"Hush," you cut him off. "Eric's not a problem. Don't worry about him. I'll bring him home and take care of him."

"I know," he says gently. "That's what you're best at; taking care of my father's greatest disappointments."

"Stop," you whisper.

"It's true." You can hear the smile in his voice. You've missed that so much, it brings tears to your eyes.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you, too."

You hang up and stare at the notepad, brain swirling with a million chaotic thoughts. Eric. All you need to worry about right now is Eric.

You heave a sigh and rise from your desk, alerting your boss that you have to pick up a relative from the hospital and that you'll get stuff set up for a temp tomorrow.

One short subway ride later, you enter the hospital that your husband used to work in. It feels odd, not being here for Evan. Everything feels odd today. You find your way to Carrie from the Christmas Party.

She recaps the story that Evan told you; Eric was initially admitted for the injuries he'd sustained in the fall, but someone told the paramedics he'd tried to jump. The doctor who evaluated him has since decided that he'll be held for twenty-four hours… or until the hospital determines that he's not a danger to himself or anyone else.

You beg to see him, reminding her that you're the only person within several thousand miles that Eric has. She shakes her head… then glances at her watch. She whispers that it's against protocol, but she can get you in to see him for five minutes as a favor to your husband. You accept, following her through a maze of hospital hallways with a gnawing sense of dread.

"Five minutes," she whispers when you reach the door. "That's all." You nod, and she lets you in.

Eric looks so small. So pale. A stark contrast from the last time you'd seen him, red-faced and kicking your ass at a dancing game in the arcade on his birthday. His face crumples when he sees you, and you rush to his bedside and scoop him into a hug.

He sobs into your shoulder, and you rock him gently on the hospital bed. You wish you knew what to say to him, but you've got nothing.

Eric takes a shuddering breath after a while and pulls back, landing against his upright bed with a slight bounce. You notice a few scrapes and some bandages.

"Does my father know?" he croaks.

"I don't think so," you say softly, smoothing his messy hair. "One of the nurses called Evan, and he called me. It's probably just us." Eric's eyes fill with tears and he looks toward the window.

"He'll probably take pleasure in reminding me that I fail at absolutely everything," he says miserably.

"Hey," you reach for his chin, catching it between your thumb and forefinger and making him look at you. "I am very glad that you failed at this."

Tears trail down his cheeks.

"What happened, baby?" you whisper, wiping them away and moving to cup the side of his face. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. The tears keep falling.

"It's so stupid," he cries. "I can't…"

"Hey," Carrie whispers harshly from the door. "Doctor's coming, you gotta go."

"I gotta go," you whisper quickly, turning back to Eric. "But I'll come back to get you as soon as you're released. You're coming home with me, and I'm gonna take care of you. It's gonna be okay. Okay?"

Eric nods, and you kiss his forehead as the nurse hisses for you to hurry up.

"Hang in there, baby," you whisper with a squeeze to his shoulder as you get up and return to the door. She looks both ways, then sends you back down the hallway you came in.

You return to work with a heavy heart and a foggy brain, almost getting run over by a speeding Humvee when you step into a crosswalk a second too soon. You call Evan and tell him that you saw Eric, and that you're going back to get him tomorrow. You promise to keep him updated, and he promises to come home as soon as he can. You update your boss and scramble to get everything in order for a temp to take over for at least a week. Once you get Eric home, you're not letting him out of your sight again until you're sure he's okay.

You're double-checking your instructions for the temp when a boom rocks the building.

"Oh my God!" someone screeches. There are screams. More booms from outside. Shattering glass. You hit the floor and slide under your desk, hoping the thick top might shield you from the debris. You close your eyes, making yourself small and hoping the sounds stop.

They don't.

Explosions. Crashes. Sirens. Screams. It doesn't stop. Is it ever going to stop? You reach for your bag, dragging it to you across the floor. You pull out your phone. If you only get a chance to tell one person one thing, you know who and what it's going to be.

Your shaking fingers somehow manage to type out "I love you" in a text to your husband. Send.

No signal. Send when network is available? Yes.

You drop the phone back into your bag and wait.

Wait for what?

As the war rages on outside, you wonder what Evan's doing. Is this on the news yet? Is he trying to reach you? Is he worried? And what about… oh, God, what about Eric? The poor boy's already a wreck, and now this? Is he safe? His room had a window in it. Did it blow, like it did here? Is someone taking care of him?

An explosion goes off so close, it makes you rise off the floor. You hit your head on the underside of your desk. Your ears are ringing. You squeeze your eyes shut and curl into a ball, holding your hands to your head in hopes of relieving the pain with pressure. Eventually, you either fall asleep or pass out.

When you open your eyes again, it's dark. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, and why you're here. You're in the office. Cowering under your desk. Because there's been an attack. You slowly sit up, head still pounding. You've got some painkillers in your bag. You reach for it, but freeze when the roar of a helicopter flies overhead.

"Shelter in place. Remain silent. Attackers are deadly. Make no sound. Wait for further instructions."

A thundering sound makes the floor shake. It's getting closer. Almost like something is chasing the plane. Did someone break open the cages at the zoo to free the animals? Is it a stampede?

What the hell is going on out there?

You drag yourself out from under your desk and turn to what used to be the windows. They're completely gone. A blinding flash of orange from outside makes you shield your eyes.

You spot movement ahead of you when the blaze fades, and freeze. It's a person. A person going to what used to be a window and looking out.

They turn to you, and although you can't see their eyes, you know you've been spotted.

The silhouette, short and round, makes its way to you.

"Doris," she breathes, barely a whisper. "Cleaning lady." You nod, afraid to speak. "Quiet. They attack noise."

"They?"

"Demons," she whispers. "Sent by the Devil himself."

A clatter comes from outside, making you whip your head in its direction. Doris holds up a hand, making sure you stay silent.

"Military took out the bridges. Said to stay quiet and hidden. They're leaving us here to die. But not me. Not here. I'm going home at first light. My husband needs me. And in the morning, at least I'll be able to see the bastards coming."

You've forgotten how to breathe.

Someone screams outside. Your hair stands on end.

"God be with you, dearie." Doris backs away from you, disappearing into the dark.

You stare out the gaping hole in the wall for a moment more, then retreat back to the space under your desk. Quiet, you remember, powering off your phone. First light. All you have to do is stay quiet and alive until first light.

Then you can go get Eric.

[invisibleraven]

is there anything i can do to help?

sweet tarts

Carrie was not having a good day.

She had slept in, leaving her less time to get ready, so she didn't feel as put together as she would like, but she also had a test first thing that morning and couldn't afford to be late. Then her car gave her trouble, meaning she had to park near the back of the lot, and run to class.

From then on it was just little things, like having to eat the school lunch because she had forgotten hers at home, banging her elbow on one of the sets in drama class, and of course it was a freshly painted one. By the end of the day all she wanted to do was bury herself in her blankets and escape from the world.

But of course, when she got to her car, it wouldn't start.

No matter how many times she turned the key or stepped on the pedals-nothing. She screamed, thrashing about as she vented her frustration.

Then-a knock on her window, and she turned to see the very concerned face of Reggie Peters. She knew him by association of course, his band and hers often performed at the same venues, and he had always been very sweet, but they never spent a lot of time together.

"Hi," she said, rolling down her window. "Sorry you had to see that."

"Hey, we've all been there," Reggie replied. "Car giving you trouble?"

"Yeah, it's been acting up lately, and I guess it decided to give up the ghost," Carrie sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Reggie asked.

"No, I can call Triple A, and my dad can come get me," Carrie replied, getting out of the car. Only of course, her phone was dead. "This fucking day, I swear."

"Here," Reggie said, offering his own phone. "You call, I'm going to look under the hood to see if I can figure it out."

"You really don't have to-" Carrie started to say, but then her mouth dried up as Reggie stripped off his ever present flannel, tying it around his waist. Who knew he had arms like that? Carrie certainly didn't and had to shake herself from staring to even lift the phone.

"They'll be here in lik twenty minutes," Carrie said after ending he call.

"Your oil pan is drier than Arizona in the summer," Reggie replied. "No wonder she wouldn't start."

"I...I don't really know much about cars," Carrie admitted. "My dad has a guy for that."

"Well your dad's guy neglected yours," Reggie stated. "It's not hard to fix, but still-he should have been checking your oil regularly."

"I'll make sure to tell him so," Carrie replied.

"Plus your alternator is close to shot-you're essentially driving a death trap," Reggie said.

"Maybe you should be my car guy," Carrie said.

"Oh no," he demurred. "I know my way around thanks to shop class and working on tractors on my grandparents farm, but I'm no mechanic."

"You seem like one to me-far better than the boob my dad hired."

Reggie grinned, highlight a smudge of grease on his face, and Carrie had the strongest urge to wipe it off-or maybe leave it there, because it looked damn good on him.

Soon enough the tow truck was there, and the driver asked if she needed a lift to the garage.

"Nah, I'll get her home," Reggie said, and Carrie smiled at the offer-she really wasn't looking forward to getting in the dirty tow truck, and given her phone was dead she couldn't exactly call an Uber.

Reggie led her to his truck-a beat up looking red beast, but it was clean, and more importantly, worked so Carrie didn't really care. Plus he had a charge cord so her phone could slowly come back to life as he headed towards Malibu.

"Where do you live anyway?" Carrie asked. "Hopefully I'm not too far out of the way."

"Used to live in Silver Lake," Reggie hummed. "But it was a bad situation, so now I'm shacking up with the Molinas in Los Feliz."

"Oh." That...complicated matters. Carrie and Julie had been friends once upon a time, but had a falling out a few years back and hadn't spoken since. She always regretted it, but couldn't find it in herself to be the bigger person and apologize.

"Yeah, Julie's a good friend. Plus her dad lets us use his garage for band practice."

Oh yeah, the lead singer of Reggie's band was Julie's boyfriend-that made sense. Carrie just hummed, letting the LA scenery pass her by.

Reggie pulled up in front of her gate, whistling at her house. "Damn, you live here?"

Carrie shrugged. Yes, it was an impressive house, but it was also empty, lonely, and not really a home. Not like the one it sounded like Reggie had with the Molinas. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime," Reggie said with a smile. "And when you get your death trap back, if you want me to look at it, just gimme a call."

"Cuz your my car guy now?"

"I'm your guy for whatever you need," he said sincerely.

Carrie couldn't help but blush at that, biting back a smile as she waved goodbye, squealing a little as she shut the door behind her.

"Hey Carrie," her dad greeted her-a rarity for sure, but there he was, sipping a tea at the kitchen counter. "Good day?"

Carrie beamed, going over to make herself a cup as well. "The best."

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

I was bored

I was lying in bed trying to read, I didn't particularly enjoy reading in English but Annabeth and Percy had been helping me and I didn't want that to go to waste. Then Annabeth walked in through the half open door, holding a pair of scissors.

"Finally someone to put me out of my misery." I mutter putting the book down,

"Nope, but I will be bringing that up to your therapist. I think it's time for a haircut Nico." She said smiling like a maniac,

"Oh fuck no." I say running past her and out the front door. My hair was in a braid down my back; I ran as fast as I could but I knew Annabeth was faster than me. I saw her chasing me, I could probably shadow travel away but when her minds set to something it's very hard to get her to give up. I honestly didn't care too much but why not add a bit of excitement into this. "Why the fuck are you doing this?"

"I'm bored."

"Go find someone else to annoy."

"Don't think I will Neeks." I flipped her off and continued running, she grabbed my wrist. I shadow traveled to the edge of the forest and ran towards the center, I was hoping to throw her off but she spotted me pretty quickly and ran after me. I should have been able to stay away with the lead I had but the shadow travel tired me out and Annie's fast. I was about to shadow travel away again, "You do realise if you pass out you can do whatever I want right?"

"Fuck you."

"Save that for Will." I blushed hard before shadow traveling back to my cabin, I knew I wouldn't be able to run properly after that, but I got away for a bit. "You aren't getting away that easy, Angel boy." She said walking through the door, I was honestly too tired to do anything.

"Fine, you win. But please don't fuck up too badly."

"You have such little faith in me, I'm offended."

"We both know that that is very reasonable."

"Shut up di Angelo." She quite literally pulled me into a chair and started brushing out my hair. "When's the last time you even cut it?"

"Like a month ago I think? Will cuts the ends, it terrifys him so it's always entertaining as fuck."

"You're a terrible person Nico." Annabeth laughed

"I am fully aware; what are you doing to my hair anyways?"

"I think it's time for a change."

"Oh no.... PLEASE don't dye my hair, I am never doing that shit again."

"Don't worry... but you are getting an undercut." I paused for a couple of seconds,

"Now you see the concept, I have no problem with but the thought of you doing that...."

"Oh shut up I can actually be accurate."

"Fine, I trust you." Annabeth sectioned my hair into two parts plaiting them separately, one around the bottom and edges, one on top.

"You ready?"

"I really don't care, honestly I just wanted to make this hard for you."

"Of course you did." The daughter of Athena said while cutting off the bottom braid before buzzing the now short hair, she threw the braid in front of me. "Well that was a lot of hair."

"No shit." I laughed before hitting Annabeth lightly in the shoulder, she started taking out the rest of my hair that was in a braid and brushing it out again.

"What do you think Will's gonna say?"

"He's not going to give a fuck let's be honest with ourselves."

"You seem so certain on that."

"He didn't care when I got twenty tattoo in one day, I mean he was concerned and gave me a bunch of pain killers and kept me in the infirmary for a day but that's unrelated. I doubt he's going to give two fucks about a haircut."

"I am not going to ask why you got twenty tattoos in one day." Annabeth started cutting the rest of my wavy, thick, black hair to just around my shoulders, layering it before adding some bangs, that were long enough for me to put behind my ears. "So thoughts?"

"I'd love to give them but there isn't a mirror here."

"That's irrelevant, I want to see Will's reaction."

"That's the whole reason you did this wasn't it?"

"Naaa, I was just really fucking bored." I laughed as I ran my fingers through my hair, it was so much shorter than I had, had it in years but was kind of nice. Honestly I also really wanted to see what Will would say, I didn't think he'd be judgemental or anything. But the thoughts always had to cross my mind, all the 'what ifs?' I push them out of my mind and tell Annabeth to wait for a minute so I can wash and properly do my hair. It took about a quarter of the time it used to but still that moment of time made me think of every possible reaction for Will to have, I decided to leave my hair out as we walk to the Apollo cabin. I knocked of the door and unsurprisingly Will answered it, he saw me and kind of froze, a bit shocked.

"So what do you think?" I muttered, Will pulled me closer to him and sunk into a kiss, he tasted like strawberries. He ran his fingers through my hair; he was warm always, smelling like rubbing alcohol mixed with roses and a sweet scent I could never really place. I wrapped my arms around his neck standing on my tiptoes to reach him, grabbing the ends of Will's short, curly, blonde hair. As we broke the kiss he leaned down and whispered,

"You look amazing my Angel." I blushed and that is when we realised Annabeth was recording the whole thing and was running off to cabin one to show Jason.

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

Not a helpless chapter (sorry about that, the next chapters long and I haven't had time to write)

Pls give advice cuz I don't think the plot makes sense.

I don't know if I really like this ficlet, I started it in the middle of writing the Ariel chapter because I hated writing it so much I needed something to write that wasn't helpless.

I don't really like it but I feel like might as well post it.

I have a Angel Dust ficlet that I wrote a few weeks ago so comment if u want to see it

You will be getting Harry Potter, specifically marauders shit soon because I have far too many wolfstar ideas that I want to write that I haven't.

If you read my Wattpad stuff I promise I'll try to update Not All Hero's Have Happy Endings and if anyone wants (don't know who's reading it at this point cuz I've barely started) Mischief Managed, I was actually very excited when I started it but I think the style might change a lot cuz I started that like two years ago.

If you have any fandoms u want fics for I will try to write some, just comment.

The mystery in my mind is taking over, maybe the time is up. I will always be there with you, I promise I'll always be there.

Love,

-Siri

[according2thelore]

Oh I'm SO curious about all the wips you've mentioned but I'm especially interested in 🐺

I've been so curious about it ever since you brought it up and I'm DESPERATE for any of the alpha/omega verse, especially the collar idea UGH

I'd also really be interested in hearing about 🌀 cause I loooove unhinged sam in mystery spot(also I'm a gore fan sooo)

And of course I'm a whore for the es/ls verse so👴

Your brain is just so large I want to know EVERYTHING

hello!!!

EEE i'm so glad you liked the idea!!! <3 because it's you, i've just made these straight-up excerpts, lol! i hope that's okay!

here they are! i'm putting a cut for cannibalism mention (no actual cannibalism but you cannot be too careful!) for the 🌀 one!

🐺: Dean used to have a collar. Sam knows he did. Sam realizes, then, that Dean probably can’t use it anymore because it was a juvenile collar. It’s probably too small, now, and that makes Sam sick to his stomach.

It was green. Sam knows because he picked it out for him. He was eight, and he, Dad, and Dean had gone into an actual mall to find a clothing store that sold them. They were driving back and forth across Texas taking out cases here and there, and the motel receptionist outside of San Antonio had taken one look at Dean and gave Dad a warning glare.

He can’t be here like that. People might get the wrong idea.

🌀: (context, sam shoves his thumb into dean's bullet hole after dean accidentally shoots himself in the head, insane context i know)

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean says, like Sam hadn’t just been knuckle-deep in his frontal lobe (the lobe in charge of planning, foresight, sequential thought, expressive language, Sam remembers). Sam wants to go back and press harder into Dean’s frontal lobe, see if he can completely erase the memory that Dean even has a brother.

Sam hadn’t been tracking Dean’s facial expression and realizes that he’s completely sobered, eyebrows pressed together in thinly veiled concern.

“Hey, you’re okay.” Dean says, something that he used to say after Sam had nightmares, three months ago. Sam can only imagine what he looks like. Shattered, probably.

“I want to eat your hypothalamus” Sam says. Dean blinks at him. His brow furrows farther.

“My what?” Dean asks, not sounding as disturbed as he probably should be.

“It’s the part of your brain that loves me.” Sam says, "I want it gone." He rolls over in bed, and goes back to sleep. 

Sam wakes up.

👴: A thought picks at his brain. Wait. Before Cold Oak. 2006. Sam turns to look at Dean, who’s still sitting at the table. His eyes are watching Sam intensely, and Sam wonders what he must look like to this Dean. Does he look like some funhouse mirror, twisting something well-worn and comfortable into something hulking, monstrous? Sam knows that he’s not the same shape he was when he was twenty-three. He almost wants to reach up and push his hair back. He had his bangs in 2006, right? He remembers Dean ragging on him a bunch for it. It’s almost to his shoulders now, but Dean hasn’t said anything. Sam wonders what that means. Dean—his Dean—loves to tuck it behind his ears, loves to brush it aside so he can kiss Sam’s neck, loves to have a hand in it when they kiss. And he still loves to make fun of him for it. The thought is jarring enough to get Sam’s brain back with the program. He clears his throat.

thank you for this ask! <3 i hope you enjoyed!!

-lizzy

(from this ask game here!)

[peedpanties]

Hi! can you write a fic with Levi and a male reader that loves to make Levi sit in his lap cock warm him and make him hold :)

w/ lots of praise and kisses ofc

Hes just to cute how could you not torture him a bit? making him keep his legs open as you rub your hands over his soft tummy pressing on his bladder and playing with his pretty cock that so nicely came out of his vent

live laugh Leviathan 🥰🥰🥰

Live laugh Leviathan!!

I hope this is good, I'm not as practiced with writing as i am with making art. I'm used to writing really fluffy stuff so idk how tortured he is lol, it's really soft imo.

Levi had only been sitting in your lap for maybe twenty minutes, your cock buried in his ass the entire time while he faced you. He was getting squirmy. You had watched while he sat on your cock, gulping down the 2 bottles of water you pressed to his lips.

"Settle down." You command, placing a firm hand on his bladder that definitely does not help and has him clenching around you.

"I-i…" he gives you a pathetic look. You exchange it with one that reassures him he's allowed to speak. Never in your time with Leviathan have you ever discouraged him from speaking up, but he was just so shy still. Even though this wasn't your first time together, Leviathan still hadn't gotten used to it. It worked out, you loved reassuring him all that he needed. "My tummy is so full, I can't." He finished whining.

"Yes you can, pretty baby. All you have to do is ask for help!" You said, readjusting his bangs. The personal attention only made him squirm more.

He glances away, as if there will be something there that can help him.

"I'm right here, Leviathan, don't you want my help? I know you're so full, I can feel it right here." You emphasize your statement with a light press to his bladder that has him yelping. "But look," you continue when he looks back at you, "these poor cocks of yours are here all neglected. They need my attention, don't they?"

Levi makes a strangled noise as you run your finger from base to tip along one of his cocks. The lips to his vent quiver and release more slick. He ruts a little into the touch. You press your hands down on his hips.

"Try and stay still for me, okay baby?"

You scoop up a little bit of that warm slick onto your hands and work it down one of his shafts. The noises he makes are delicious. You use your other hand to tug on his chin and bring him in for a kiss, a reward for being so vocal.

Giving Leviathan a few pumps, he mostly manages to stay still until you swipe your thumb across the slit. You hold it there a moment until his shiver stops, a reminder that he's not allowed to let go yet.

"MC, i ha-have to go, please, pretty please??" You've barely started fucking him and he's already begging.

You give him another kiss and squeeze him lightly at the base of his cocks.

"Alright," you grin, "you can start moving at your own pace, sweetie."

Leviathan sighs in relief and places his hands on your shoulders to ground himself as he lifts himself off of your cock. Very slowly, and wobbly. His legs must be feeling weak from being so aroused and so full of piss. He swears he can feel the liquid in him slosh when he lets himself fall back down onto your length.

You're still playing with his cocks, paying special attention to the heads, lightly squeezing and pumping the tips of his cocks.

A couple more thrusts and then you feel a spurt against your fingers.

"Leviathan, you're leaking."

He moans in response; he stops fucking himself on you.

"'m sorry, didn't mean to, so full, i can- can feel you all the way- in my belly."

It's incredibly hot, the way he gasps in between phrases; so worked up. He's not even trying to stay still at this point. He's grinding down against you, hard against your hips, as if he is trying to be even closer to you.

The next time he lifts himself off of you, you pull out a little more, and buck up into his ass before he's fully ready, more of your cock sliding against his walls. More spurts dribble from his tips, and you begin fucking the piss out of him.

He doesn't make it through very many thrusts until you feel two warm streams pressed against your own stomach, coming in bursts each time your hips connect with the flesh of Leviathan's ass. He's moaning and whining nonstop.

"Look at this puddle, baby," you say, calling his attention to the floor. "You really did have so much inside you. My poor, poor baby." You coo at him. "You did so good for me, you held it for me even longer than last time! I'm so proud of you!"

He melts at the praise, unable to help the way he's clenching around you. He's still squirming, but no longer because he needs to pee.

"Thank you." he says, sounding exhausted. You hook your arms under his hips and he instinctively links his hands around your neck, ready to be carried.

You waddle over to the bed with your cock still inside, willing yourself not to come yet. You gently lay Levi down on the bed, letting his hands fall beside his head. You cage him in with your arms, making him feel so protected and loved.

"Can I move, sweetheart?"

He nods, giving you a look that says he might cry if you don't start moving soon. He's laying back and letting you do the work, but he's earned it. Besides, you both love it when he just lets himself be taken and used.

Leviathan is already such a fucked out mess, the slide is easy. The wet squelching sounds of your lube-and-piss-soaked dick fill the room, driving each of you crazy.

You give him no warning when you come inside, balling the sheets in your fists. He comes soon after, satisfied to watch from below you as you pump him full.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 16

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1436

Masterlist

You told me you were insecure, but I didn't really believe you.

Girls - women - say they're insecure because they think being confident is the same as bragging. They see a woman walk confidently down the street, and they consider it being slutty.

Don't believe me, (Y/n)? Just think. When an insecure woman gets raped, she is a victim. Her life is ruined. But when a confident woman gets raped, she asked for it. She ruined the man's life. Women really think like this. It's all #girlpower and #badbitches until somebody gets hurt.

But you? You don't think like that.

And you really were insecure. I can tell because you're finally gaining some confidence, and it makes a world of difference. You give your opinion to your coworkers. You go outside without spending an hour staring at yourself in the mirror (you rarely wore make-up anyway, but you used to worry about your hair).

And you're writing. A lot.

You say you're not ready for me to read your stories, but you use Google Docs, which means everything is right there on your phone. You can't blame me for sneaking a peak when you go take a shower. Really, you want me to.

I don't know what you were talking about when you said you couldn't write. Your stories are amazing. You are wasting your talents, working in marketing.

The story you're writing right now is about a glass labyrinth. A girl has been walking through it for as long as she can remember. She can't find the exit. Then one day, she meets a boy on the other side of the wall. They try to walk the same route, hoping to eventually find a way to be together, but they never do. At least not where you're at, yet.

But I know they'll find each other eventually, (Y/n), because the story is really about us. All of your stories are about us. About being distant, and then coming together.

You're writing about us being from different countries, and then finding each other. You have to be. It's all one big metaphor.

I love your stories.

You're not fighting with your mom anymore, which is good because it means you are in an infinitely better mood lately. Even when you're grumpy, you don't shut me out anymore - you want me as close as possible, all the time. When I'm working and you're not, you even hang out at the bookstore.

You also want to see my apartment. You think it's weird that you haven't before. So one night, I clean up and I invite you over. I cook for you. It turns out bad, but you praise me because it's been forever since you ate anything homecooked.

You love my apartment. You love my old typewriters (you learn all their names in less than an hour) and you love that even though it's one room, it still feels like the living room, bedroom and kitchen are seperate rooms. You love that all my stuff is secondhand and old. You even love Paco, who comes over halfway through the dinner which I failed to cook.

His mom and Ron are fighting again, and you tell Paco that Ron sounds “like a dick”. But when Ron comes banging at my door, you smile sweetly and say you think Paco's just the nicest kid and get me out of a lecture because Ron thinks it's just fine for Paco to be here if there's a girl like you around, apparently.

I meet your grandparents. Not in person, of course. One day your grandma facetimes you while I'm over at yours, and you turn my phone and tell me to wave, and then your grandfather asks me a thousand questions. You don't have a dad, but your grandfather is like one. And I think he approves of me.

Basically, everything about our relationship is falling into place. But then:

“I'm going home for Christmas.”

My world shatters.

“Home?” I ask. Maybe, just maybe, you mean something other than what I think you mean.

“To The Netherlands,” you say. You pause. “My grandmother really wants me there.”

This is the worst. This is insane. You can't just go that far away from me. Anything could happen to you!

I say: “isn't Christmas three months away? Why are you telling me already?”

Like I don't care. Like I hadn't even thought about Christmas.

“Well, I don't want you to make plans for us, or anything.”

I already made plans. We were going to have dinner with Mr. Mooney. It would have been incredibly depressing, but you have to meet him at some point because he's the closest thing I have to family. Then, I was going to take you on a carriage ride, and we were going to watch Shakespeare in the park because you've read Macbeth, but you didn't get it and really, (Y/n), I love books but Shakespeare was a playwright and his words weren't meant to be read, they were meant to be experienced.

It's how you claim you don't like romantic comedies, but really you just don't like romance novels. I know if you watched Hannah and her sisters with me, you'd love it. You'd recognize that romantic comedies are art. But you are stubborn.

“When are you going?” I ask.

“December ninth.”

“How long are you going?”

“Until January third.”

I have to live without you for almost an entire month?!

“And you can just take that much time off?”

“I’m using all my days at once,” you say. “Plus some unpaid time. And I promised not to take any vacation during the summer next year. So.” You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you have to go be with your family,” I say. “I get it.”

And I do get it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not also the worst thing you could have done to me. Because you are not inviting me.

And I swear, sometimes it’s like you read my mind:

“Next time I go to The Netherlands, I’m inviting you, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just that if I invite you now, my grandparents are going to think it’s way too soon. They’ll think I’m just like my mother, and I’m supposed to be different, you know?”

You talk about your grandparents like they are your parents, and your mother like she is a sister who set the wrong tone within your family. Someone you have to outdo. I don’t understand the dynamic within your family and I don’t pretend to understand it. I just stare at you until you continue:

“She’s, like, a serial dater. She’s only with a guy until he loves her, and then she fucks him, and then she leaves him. When I was a kid there was a new man around basically every week. It’s more like every month now, but still.”

You are not like your mother, (Y/n). I know because I love you, and here you are. And also, we’re not having sex. It’s not because you say no, anymore. Now, I’m the one putting it off. I have a plan for us.

“That sounds like it was hard.”

“My grandparents tried to get custody of me,” you say. “It was a whole thing.” You take a deep breath. “But yeah. So I really thought about inviting you, but I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. They’ve seen you now. I want them to hear about you more. To think of you as a guy who’s sticking around. Before they meet you in person, I mean.”

And you know what? I love that. I understand why you’re not inviting me.

I still hate it, but it does make sense.

“Okay,” I say. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed that we’re not spending Christmas together, but I get it.”

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Not really,” I say. Mr. Mooney doesn’t believe in Thanksgiving and you’re not American, so it’s not like I have anybody to celebrate with. And anyway, it’s a holiday meant to deify white people invading a country and killing most of the population through semi-accidental biological warfare. What’s there to celebrate.

“Let’s make Thanksgiving our Christmas this year,” you say.

“Okay.”

It won't be the same. There is no Shakespeare in the park on Thanksgiving, because everybody will be watching football. But I'll just have to come up with something else.

“I can't believe we're making plans for Thanksgiving two months in advance.”

“I'm Dutch,” you say. “Be glad we're not having the Christmas conversation in March.”

[dichromaticdyke]

@plvtosun drew devon because she's a sweetheart and so here's a payback fic 😘

hope i did a good job with blanquita i love her so much i'm halfway through Selenicerus

The girl with blue hair had been sitting at the bar for a while, anxiously scribbling away at her notepad. Devon had been keeping an eye on her, wondering if she’d ever actually order anything. The bar wasn’t busy, it was still early enough in the evening before all that, so they could manage feasibly manage one loiterer up here.

Still— “Look, I don’t mind if you draw up here, but can I at least see some ID first?” they asked, putting their hand on the table, as close to the girl’s sketchpad as they could get without actually touching it.

Her eyes peeked up through her bangs, and she blinked up at them a couple times. “’m twenty-three,” she mumbled, eyes turning down a bit.

“I’m sure you are. I’d like to see that on ID, though.”

She blushed, a ghost of a pout on her face, before sitting up a bit. Devon could get a partial glance of her sketch now, but they tried not to pry. She pulled out her wallet, throwing her ID onto the bar. “There.” She was really turning away from Devon now, as they picked it up to double check the birth date and validity of the card. She tapped her pen against her sketchbook until Devon handed the card back.

“Okay, Blanca,” they said, “can I getcha anything while you’re here at least?”

She pressed her lips together, squirming a bit. “I dunno. Just something fruity.”

They took one look at her stark blue hair and smirked. “I think I got just the thing for ya.”

“Alright. Thanks.” She returned to her sketching, again keeping her head down.

Devon didn’t mind quiet patrons, and sometimes it was easier that way. But she’d recognized Blanca’s name—how could she not when that name had been listed as the artist of Dethklok’s last few album covers? They desperately wanted to pick her brain, to see if she was working on something else for the band, but instead they casually slid her a Blue Hawaiian.

It took her a few moments to realize her drink had been delivered to her. But when she did, she let out a bit of a scoff. “On the nose,” she muttered.

“I can make ya something else—“

“No! No, it’s fine.” She pulled it closer to her sipping from it idly as she drew.

“Well, good.” They watched as her posture straightened a bit, the drawing becoming a bit more visible. It looked like something with horns and sunken eyes, doodles at the corners that seemed to resemble cartoony ghosts. “So it’s comin’ along?”

“Huh?”

“Your piece.” He gestured to the drawing. “Lookin’ alright to my eye.”

She scrambled to pull the sketchpad back towards her. “It’s not ready, don’t be looking at it!”

“Sorry—”

“I’m already not supposed to let too many people outside of Mordhaus see it before it’s ready, okay?” She let out a frustrated huff. “I just…wanted a change of scenery to inspire me, but I think this was a mistake. How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, Blanca—”

“You’re right, I’ll just put it on Toki’s tab.” She slid off the barstool, but not before Devon barked out a laugh.

“Oh. Toki’s tab? Why not all of Dethklok?”

At that comment, Blanca’s face turned redder than her lipstick, and she looked up at Devon while sputtering. “I—! I meant all of Dethklok. Just because I said that baboso’s name doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh really?” They chuckled again. “You have a pet name for him, and it doesn’t mean anything?”

“What? No! It’s not a pet name. Just stop it, okay? I gotta go, just lemme pay—”

“Yo entiendo, no te preocupes. Es gratís.”

Blanca paused, squinting her eyes at Devon, placing her hand back on the barstool. “¿Habla español?”

“Un poco. Mi primera novia fue puertorriqueña. Pero creo que baboso se dice algo más, ¿no?” They smirked. “I won’t bother ya if you wanna stay, promise. Though I do also have quite a few stories of Toki actin’ a fool while he’s sloppy drunk.”

“I don’t care about that!” Blanca proclaimed as she took her seat back at the bar. “But…thanks.”

“No problem. Just make yourself comfortable—“ As they were making this standard offer, they picked up Blanca’s Blue Hawaiian. They made to hand it to her, not noticing as she picked up her sketchbook to adjust its position. In this shifting of movement, the glass knocked into Blanca’s hand, and Devon lost their grip just momentarily.

Momentarily enough for the blue cocktail to spill all over the sketchbook and Blanca’s lap. “¡Chingao!”

“Fuck— Blanca, I’m so sorry!” they cried as they grabbed their towel, pulling the liquid back towards the bar. They considered grabbing her sketchbook and trying to see if they could get that dried off too, but Blanca was frozen in fury. “Shit. I’ll get you a new sketchbook— I’ll fuckin’, I dunno, I’ll—“

“Wow,” she said, her voice quiet and shaking, but still maintaining a dry level to it. “Well. This is fuckin’ great.” She took in a deep inhale. “What was your name?

She winced. “Devon.”

Blanca slammed her wet, now-ocean-blue sketchbook on the counter. “Devon, I spent a week on that sketch. A week for Dethklok, and that was hell enough, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I’m sure you never see them when they’re drunk or angry or crazy.” She pressed her shaking hand to her forehead. “But. Fuck, y’know what? I probably would have scrapped that fuckin’ drawing when I was done. Would have thrown away a whole month’s worth of work.”

“Oh. You’re welcome?”

“Oh yeah, because getting the choice taken away from me of whether or not I’d finish it is way better.” She was still angry, still spitting sarcasm at Devon, as she stood up, grabbing cocktail napkins from over the bar to wipe across her wet lap. “I’m gonna need another drink. Or four.”

Devon let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Just a shot of tequila.”

“Just a shot of tequila?” They chucked. “Sure you can handle it?”

“I’ve had tequila shots before.” She let out a small huff. “And I don’t think you wanna piss me off even more right now.”

“Alright, alright. You got a preference, then?”

“Silver Patrón. Straight.”

“Boring, but alright.” They grabbed the bottle, pouring two shots of tequila and sliding one to Blanca. “Enjoy,” he said, pulling his own shot glass back and grabbing a lime wedge and salt shaker.

Blanca stared at Devon curiously. “Should you be drinking on the job?”

“I always share the first tequila shot of the night.” They sprinkled a bit of salt on their hand. “Besides, I happen to know for a fact your baboso and his band are coming in later tonight, they called ahead asking to reserve the dining room. I gotta be ready.”

At that comment, Blanca’s frown turned to an expression that more closely resembled resigned acceptance. “Please don’t say anything about me in front of him,” she mumbled.

“There’s nothin’ to say, hon. Don’t worry.” She tapped her shot glass against Blanca’s before tipping it back. Blanca slammed her own empty shot glass down before Devon finished their shot, and she looked at them with a small smirk. With a laugh, he refilled her glass. “At least ya got good taste in music,” he said, gesturing to her Children of Bodom hoodie.

“I know it.” She hid her own half smile behind her second shot.