#i know hes not actually bill but im still gonna put the tags for bill shhhh

[mrsdickey]

more arron sorry ugh love him so much!!!!

his taste is impeccable!!!!!!

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[ckret2]

im so curious on how fidds will react. i feel like he'd blow a circuit lol

(Referring to this human Bill AU, which I really should make a tag for so I don't have to keep re-linking this post.)

I feel like you're right. The kids are gonna learn SO many new funny old-timey swear words.

How he'll react is partially dependent on when he finds out. If Ford rushes to him early on when Bill's been freshly captured and Ford's still in a constant state of half-panic, then Fidds is gonna panic right with him. If it's a few weeks in when they've gotten into a routine and Ford is secure and confident in their ability to keep Bill contained, and he can frame it like "don't panic, but I need your help with a new project—" then Fidds'll be alarmed, but a lot less terrified and more likely to be able to start productively plotting how to make a Get Rid Of Bill For Good device. But if it's a few weeks after that, and the Pines family has started getting—dare I say it?—comfortable around Bill, then that's gonna send Fiddleford into a full panic again. He knows from first-hand experience that somebody who's comfortable with Bill is somebody Bill is manipulating into doing his bidding.

And, of course, that's all assuming Ford gets a chance to tell him before he finds out another way. There's always a chance someone will slip up when he's within earshot. Or he might actually recognize Bill himself. Outside the Pines family, he has more experience than anyone else with identifying when Bill's around based on nothing but the look in someone's eyes. Maybe he's the one who drags Ford aside to warn him that the Mystery Shack's new employee is possessed.

I think he'd be on board with Ford's "we can't risk killing him without knowing the consequences" logic, less so with his "we can't risk turning him over to the authorities either" logic. At bare minimum, they shouldn't be letting him walk around. Lock him in an inescapable cell. Fidds can build an inescapable cell. Please let him build an inescapable cell. Please.

Most times somebody finds out about Bill, I think his first strategy would be attempting to put on an act like oh look at me I am so penitent and remorseful and harmless and unthreatening uwu—tug a few heartstrings, try to get them to underestimate him. It probably doesn't work on most people. It definitely doesn't work on Fiddleford.

[chefediaboiv]

Clappers

Im gonna keep leaking the secret. The traffic of geeks hits speeds of dumb, no I don't want or wanna give you a lollipop but she likes when I speak in tongues. Telling me to shut the fuck on my freedom of speech on who and why on the breach of my plush fund? Oh no come come. I can lead you to who's holding out for some gum drops, eyes red as the devil's dick; bloodshot. Jay won't even tell silent Bob what's in his glove box, pictures of a dogma. No honor with cheap shots from Wisconsin, thank you Ohio. Every card I drew scary, no hate on your Bible. That's a Dilbert, who's line was a diamond dick and your still hurt. Sure wish any cigarette you had came from the cancer team, that's what you get for not figureing out how to play the tambourine. All this child abuse, you knew better then to raise your hand at me. Now your festering about a little spinal tap, learned a time attack. Then get pissed off that I already know how to take my time with tacs, toe tagged the FM radio hobby as the time ticks. Now somebody is using a pencil to cassette rewind it back but I'm sick. Touch that door and you'll see how much more elaborate I convince. It could take years for a nigga to come up with some timeless shit, just tell him to take his time with. That bit of advice is profound, timeless shit. I struck out an entire team for seven innings, remember what I said bout the crazy man's flexes. I wasn't kidding, repeat is a better answer then lemurism. I've never met so many black people that can't keep a riddim. For a frosted flake, Toby McGuire is a great position and drew uncles Bill for the trouble. Oi, it's no mystery to me why they Jake Gyllenhaal'd her bubble boys, image is more important then the pro ferrets Sara Bellum, you told him some shit that you're actually scared to tell him. My mojo loco and your ex husbands a career felon, they update every time I wipe my ass. He say, she say, he's the shit and I can't smell him. There's no amounts to the fucks I give that I won't tell em. It's over boy with your mud donk, any reason my actual opponents don't show to get mud stomp. A Papai I see era in you rushing to Wilson, for a Pat on the back you better belichick the whole million. Your religion must be Christiana Aguilera trust me your coaches know the rent. I'm not gonna waste words on fools, hold your sense. Your too bitch for my blood, trust me I know the stench. Can you keep up I hear a go home baljeet attack in the distance, castration is what we do to the wimp men. You thought Sheldon was smart I make the big bangs lookalike simplins, your name doesn't get points on this SAT little chitterlins. Looking to buff your GPA, you may wanna put in the effort. King's orders for negating the other way, Sepatown Sa da tay! Go that way. Stool pigeons and what they do, on your ride to badder Babe Ruth's who don't mind the bandito's payday. Remember comic view didn't work out for your laced little JJ, is it gold Dupree. Your a little behind the times, spell check doesn't go with loose leaf. Never seen or heard my talents, play that role loosely. There is no max with no Goofy, Billy Blanks keep the wiz on hold til bacalito learns from smarter people. Great see ya Moana about vitamins, there you go cutting into your time again.

[megamindsupremacy]

okay so like in the name of full transparency, i do know like, some things that happen later on in the show. which for the sake of not making this post even more horrifically long than it already is, i'm gonna put under a readmore

obv i know bill exists. i have seen so much bill angst in the GF tag this past week. also toxic exes billford? this is canon i believe

ford exists. hes been stuck in the bill dimension for like 30 years?

bill possesses dipper at some point which led to a ship that everyone is still mad about 11 years later

most of the stuff I know is from season 2 so a lot of the season 1 stuff is catching me completely off guard. i didn't know lil gideon existed

i also peeked ahead in the episode descriptions so i guess hes relevant to the season 1 finale. also someone in my notes told me the time travel baby is relevant so probably also a season 1 thing?

stan's basement is relevant somehow. something something portal?

something something memory wiping gun

something something stan stole ford's identity? i think? somehow? they dont really act similar like at all

or maybe the other way around

wait and that's related to the memory gun also

weirdmageddon exists but it is stopped by either mabel with spray paint or an axolotl. or both

oh wait pacifica becomes less of an asshole and her and dipper start dating (?) dipper is a loser about this bc dipper

i think those two gay policemen become relevant later on somehow

hey who has journal 1 is that revealed in the second season. is ford still holding onto it somehow. wait how did the journals get to gravity falls if hes still in the bill dimension

yall i know fiddleford exists and was fords college roommate (???) i just dont get how he went from fords roommate to crazy old man harassing local small children

he tried to stop ford from going into the bill dimension? and failed? is that why he went crazy old man

im trying to forget i know most of this so I can be appropriately surprised when its all revealed

how do ford and stan's names work?? it's Stanley and Stanford right? why did they split it stan/ford instead of stan/stan or lee/ford or something. that was stupid of them. if this is actually relevant to any identity thing NOBODY is allowed to tell me

also who the fuck named fiddleford because there's a venn diagram of these three's names and its a stupid one.

if anything happens to waddles im gonna kill everyone in this room and then [remembers suicide jokes are damaging to mine and other's mental health] Bill.

SOOS GETS A FIANCE. I REMEMBER THIS. GOOD FOR HIM. soos my fave.

nobody is allowed to tell me how correct or incorrect any of this is. vague and unhelpful laughing at me (/pos) in the tags ONLY

alright I’m watching gravity falls! Gonna liveblog it so block the tag if u want to ignore me

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Five

Bad Memories Don’t Erase

Chapter Summary: Roman tags along with Logan and Virgil to hang out at their friend’s house.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, stealing, and one inappropriate joke

Word Count: 4,008

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: This chapter’s a little short, but the next one is gonna be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it

On Sunday the next day, Patton finally took Roman to buy his gym clothes. Roman was trying to hide a goofy smile while sitting in the back seat, desperate to not get his hopes up while also ecstatic his plan was working so far. He was going to have Patton stay in the car while Roman shopped for clothes! This had never worked on his dad before!

By the time Patton finally parked the car in the parking lot of the store, Roman’s chest felt weighted from his anxiety, waiting to see Patton’s final verdict. So long as he didn’t change his mind now, then Roman was in the clear. He hoped to be in the clear.

“Alright, kiddo,” Roman’s heart stopped as Patton pulled out his wallet and gave him some money. “Forty dollars should be more than enough for some pairs of gym pants and shirts. Give me back all the change when you come back, okay?”

“I will! Promise!” Roman wanted to jump for joy. It was working!

“Text me when you’re checking out so you don’t surprise me, and if you see something else you might want, just text me before you buy it so I know. Tell me if you have any issues, okay?”

“Okay!”

Patton smiled. “Go on then, kiddo.”

Roman practically leaped out the door to skip his way to the front entrance of the clothing store, two twenty dollar bills crumbled in his pocket. He got away with it! No parents staring him down while he changed outfits!

Roman walked into the store and tried to hide the skip in his step. With no parents to watch him, he could buy what he actually wanted to wear, no tight pants and scoop neck shirts. No, Roman wanted to look like his real goal. His goal of being a blob of cloth that vaguely resembled a human.

Granted, he’d mostly gotten there. His aunt replaced all of his wardrobe, so his current clothes were a lot more comfortable to wear even if they weren’t very fashionable. Mostly bright colored t-shirts and pants, maybe some shorts if they were able to reach down far enough. Maybe once he was more comfortable with himself he could actually test out more styles, but for now, oversized clothes were all he could handle.

Roman’s walk sped up slightly when his eyes landed on the men’s athletic section. He had to be quick with this, he didn’t want Patton getting impatient and coming in to check on him. Roman looked through the shorts and shirt sizes, easily finding a size up for a couple shirts while heavily struggling on the shorts. Roman groaned. It was always the shorts that caused the issue, they were always too high up. What if he was sitting down and the pant leg rode up too far? No, Roman refused to get something like that willingly.

Roman took all the athletic shorts that could fit him and held them up in front of his legs. Most of them only made it to his lower thigh, but he managed to find two shorts that made it to right below his knee. Roman smiled and bounced on his toes, grabbed his items and rushed to find a dressing room. Once he did, he rushed into the first empty area he saw and locked the door. The mirrors on the walls and gaps in the door made it hard for him to change comfortably, so instead Roman tried to press himself against the very corner of the room when he was changing.

Between the six shirts and two pants Roman found, he was pretty happy with most of his choices. Thankfully, the long shorts looked fine, so Roman hung them up on a hook with a sign over it saying I’m buying this! and considered it a success. However, when it got time to look at the shirts, only three of them were good enough for purchase. The white one he grabbed was practically see-through, and the other two had a scratchy inside material that Roman couldn’t stand, so they got put on the reject hook while the other three passed the test. 

For a rushed shopping visit, Roman was pretty pleased with his choices. Two shorts might not be enough for five days worth of classes, but maybe Roman could keep one pair in his locker until it started to stink. Which might be a little gross, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Roman exited the dressing room and put his rejected shirts on a rack outside, carrying his other items to the checkout area. Before he got in line, he looked at all the price tags and added them up in his head best he could. The shirts were about six dollars each, and the shorts were a little over five after tax. Which means, adding up the extra cents, he’d have to pay twenty nine dollars for the clothes in total. Considering Patton gave him forty dollars, this was plenty.

Roman hesitated for a second. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to feel the money in the palm of his hand while he thought about his options. If he told Patton the truth, Roman would give him eleven dollars and there would be no issues. Patton might let him do this again next time they go shopping, too. But also…Roman had no backup plan. He was stuck with Patton with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

His aunt told him that Roman could always go back to her house if a guardian was abusing him, and he had every intention to take her up on that offer the second the opportunity arose. But even if Roman walked to her house on foot, he had no money for food during that trip. She lived so far away from him now, there was no way to get to safety without a dollar to his name. But if he stole some from Patton, then Roman could have a serious issue on his hands.

Roman slowly walked up to the check out area and handed the teenage worker the clothes. As she scanned all the items with a satisfying beep, Roman felt himself getting antsy. There’s no guarantee Patton will let me do this again. I’ve already gotten away with so much, and the more time I spend around him, the more danger I’m in. But if Patton notices I stole from him, he could be furious. Is there even a right answer here?

“Twenty nine dollars and thirty two cents.” The cashier said cheerfully. Roman handed her the money and she put it in the register, then handed Roman a bunch of coins, two five dollar bills, and a one dollar. She smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Uh, no thank you.”

When the receipt printed, the cashier tore it out and threw it in the trash behind her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Roman squeaked, rushing away from the register to stare at the money. Apparently they ran out of ten dollar bills, because the money was split perfectly for taking without it being obvious. Roman considered this a sign to take his chance. He put a five dollar bill and a quarter in his left pocket and shoved the rest in his right. It wasn’t much, but he could build it up. This was only the beginning.

Roman walked out of the store and tried to act normal instead of anxious. Worst case scenario, he’d say he forgot to bring out the rest and give Patton the other bills. Giving away the quarter also would be too obvious, but he could get away with stealing that at least. When he made it to Patton's car, Roman opened the back seat and tossed his clothes next to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, “Got any extra cash to give me?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” Roman dug into his right pocket to grab half the money and handed it to him. Patton put the coins in his pocket and put the two bills in his wallet. He didn’t seem to consider how much Roman gave him, instead he started backing out of the driveway and got distracted while reversing. Roman let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He felt the five dollars still stored in his pocket. He got away with it. For now.

***

“We’re home!” Patton announced as he and Roman stepped inside. Logan and Virgil were both lying on the couch, and Logan perked up from his spot.

“Wonderful. We wanted to ask both of you a question.” Logan said.

Patton seemed intrigued. “What question?”

“Can we go to Janus’ house, Pat?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, of course, kiddos! Do you know when you might be back?”

Virgil thought about it. “Probably at six before dinner.”

“Perfect! Just text me if that changes so I don’t worry, okay?”

“We will.” Logan reassured, “And Roman, would you like to come with us?”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Me? I don’t even know who Janice is.”

Virgil sunk into the couch more. “Friend of ours. Has a snake, talks a lot about philosophy and books. Acts like a tired underaged wine aunt.”

“Right, well, still. Isn’t it a little strange for me to tag along to a stranger's house?” Roman pointed out.

“Janus wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” Logan said. “Of course, you don’t have to, we simply figured you would like the invitation so you’re not the only one left out.”

Roman’s eyes widened when Logan said that. Wait, shit, if Logan and Virgil are going to this girl’s house, then Roman will be here. Alone. With Patton. Until six in the afternoon.

Roman’s mood change was almost instant. “Well then, perhaps I should go! Make new friends and establish bonds, or whatever!”

Virgil smirked. “Sweet. It’s a short walk, just a block away. Just let us grab our shoes and we can head out.”

“I’ll tell Janus we’ll be bringing a third party.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. As Virgil and Logan grabbed whatever they needed, Roman set his new bag of clothes in his room next to his backpack. He’d have to remember to put some boxers in there before tomorrow morning, too.

Roman felt the five dollars in his pocket again. He took the money and hid it deep in his backpack in a hidden pocket he hoped wasn’t too easy to find. Satisfied with that for now, Roman stepped back outside of his room and waited for the others.

Once everyone was situated, Virgil called out to let Patton know they were leaving the house and then closed the door. Logan and Virgil did most of the talking as they walked while Roman just listened, following behind them and letting the two lead the way.

“Oh, and Roman,” Logan suddenly said during a point of silence, “Another one of our friends may also show up later at Janus’ house. He said he might be coming, so we’ll see.”

Roman shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Alright.”

No one said anything else after that on the walk. After a while, Virgil and Logan stopped in front of a house and started walking up the driveway to the front door. As Virgil knocked on the door, Roman stood awkwardly off to the side until someone answered.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, showing a teenage kid with a large birthmark under his left eye. He rested his elbow on the top of the black and yellow cane next to him and smirked. Was he the brother, perhaps?

“I’ve been expecting you.” He said menacingly.

“‘Sup, fucker.” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, Janus.”

Wait, what? Against his better judgment, Roman forced himself to stand in front of Logan to face Janus. “Wait, your name is Janice?” He asked.

Janus put his hand on his face. “Janus. It’s Janus. J-a-n-u-s, not the old lady name Janice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot. “…Oh. Well, uh…”

Janus rolled his eyes and held the door open wider. “Just come inside.”

Virgil was the first to step in, with Logan following after while Roman hesitated. He made an awful first impression, maybe he should just walk around the block for a while instead-

“Come on, my arm is tired.” Janus coaxed. Roman felt too awkward to walk away, so he instead sucked it up and stepped inside the house with everyone else.

The house was quite nice. The walls were painted dark and the carpet was red, but it looked nice in a Victorian era kind of way. On the living room coffee table were piles of fabric and a sewing machine, seemingly making something that looked like a suit. Janus took the cane he was holding and threw it onto the couch. Well, apparently it was just a part of the outfit.

Virgil motioned to all the fabric on the table. “Fuck are you making now, dude?”

“I’m making the refined villain look of my dreams.”

“Nice. When do you think you’ll finish it?”

“Possibly tomorrow. I’ll start on it again after school.”

“Do you make your own clothes?” Roman asked, hoping to distract himself from his previous embarrassment.

Janus smiled slightly. “Less clothes, more costumes. Mostly for myself, but sometimes I make them for the high school’s theater when I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Wanna see Janus’ costume closet?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “If he wants me to.”

“Oh yeah, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus rolled his eyes and motioned for everyone to follow him. He had a downstairs family room with a closet off to the side. Once everyone was downstairs, Janus opened it and let Roman look inside.

“…Woah.” Roman looked at all the costumes, astonished and full of wonder. A lot of them were very extravagant, like they were specifically designed for a dramatic person, so Roman felt a calling toward them. He took a few of them off their hangers to look at; roaring twenties inspired suits and a black dresses with fancy gold finishes. Roman ran his hand on the fabric like they were fancy relics.

“They are quite high-quality.” Logan said, “Costume design is certainly one of Janus’ greatest skills.”

“I can see that.” Roman whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t make his ego bigger than it already is.”

“Oh no, please do continue, I’m designed to be the center of attention.” Janus smirked.

Roman laughed and put the costumes back on the rack. It seemed like him and Janus were pretty similar in personality, just on opposite ends of the spectrum. Both dramatic artists, except one likes to add that with tons of sarcasm. He could see them getting along quite easily.

“Also, Janus,” Virgil said while looking at his phone, “Rat bastard says he’s coming over. He’ll be here in ten.”

“Ugh, fine. I was getting used to the silence.” Janus sighed.

“…Who’s rat bastard?” Roman asked.

“Friend of ours.” Virgil replied, “You’ll meet him in a bit. He’s a rat bastard. Smells vaguely of cheese.”

“…Attractive.”

“You get used to it.” Janus shrugged. He then smirked at Roman like he got an idea. “Would you like to see my snake?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Janus led them all upstairs to his bedroom, Roman following last in the line so he could keep Janus’ door cracked open. As he stepped inside, he noticed a very large cage on the wall to his right. It was very long with lots of wood decorations spread across the container, with a fluorescent lightbulb above it. Roman looked around in the enclosure to try and spot the snake.

Before he could find it, Janus opened the top and stuck his hand in the cage. The snake climbed up his hand onto his arm, and as Janus stuck him out for Roman to see, Roman jumped back.

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s a corn snake, he’s not known for hurting people.”

Roman still looked at it from a distance. The snake was large enough that Janus had to hold him with both hands, as well as being a mesmerizing yellow color. Roman never had a friend with a pet snake before. “…What’s his name?”

“Lawrence.”

“Nerd.” Virgil called out.

Logan smiled. “I think it is a wonderful name. Lawrence Kohlberg developed the theory on moral development, the very basis for ethical behavior.”

“Nerds.”

“You’re very mature, Virgil.”

Roman ignored them. “I think he’s cool. How old is he?”

“About five. I’ve had him for a while now.”

A buzz came from Virgil’s phone, making him check it and read the message. “Rat bastard says he’s outside your door.” He announced.

Janus didn’t seem rushed. “He can get in on his own.”

Roman laughed, and Janus set Lawrence back in his enclosure so he could bask underneath the heat lamp. Roman still watched his movements from inside the cage. “I wish I had a pet.”

“Patton would get you a dog in seconds if you asked.” Logan suggested.

Roman shook his head. “It’s fine, I won’t ask.” He didn’t really know what kind of pet he even wanted, and besides, it’s not like he’d be able to keep it once he leaves Patton’s house. There was no point.

Suddenly, a loud stomping came from the stairs outside Janus’ bedroom. Roman yelped and ran to hide behind Janus in the corner of the room, but the others didn’t react. 

Roman sputtered. “What the-”

Before Roman could finish, a large bang came as someone kicked open the door and let it smack into the wall.

“I’m back by unpopular demand!”

“Hello, Remus.”

Roman completely froze up at the sound of that name. He turned around to look at the person that just busted down Janus’ bedroom door, a kid with messy hair and peach fuzz for a mustache, ripped jeans in the summer with a cast boot on his right foot.

Roman felt himself choke on air as he processed what was in front of him.

“Slugs are goopy like jello! So jello is made of slugs, duh!”

“Remus, that’s gross! No one would make food out of slugs!”

“What’s up, fuckers!” Remus announced. “I’m back from the pits of hell! Also known as the emergency room.”

Roman didn’t say anything, only stared at him in disbelief. Remus’ voice was a lot different now. He’d hit puberty, so the pitch had dropped a lot from what Roman was used to. A tuft of his hair was white, also. Roman couldn’t tell if it was dye or a condition.

That piece of hair and Remus’ mustache were the only things that made them both look apart now.

“What actually happened?” Logan asked. “You never told us specifics.”

“I broke my foot sucking too much-”

“Remus.” Janus warned.

“Fine, fine. I tripped trying to run up some steps and my fall didn’t look badass at all. Don’t tell people that though. If anyone asks, I broke it running from the cops.”

Janus nodded and smirked. “Noted.”

“We brought a third foster brother, also.” Virgil noted. Roman stopped breathing.

“Oh, really? Shit, I fuckin missed everything!” Roman looked in the corner trying to avoid Remus noticing him, but it was never that easy. “Why hello, welcome to our humble- …Oh, fuck.”

Remus tilted his head to make eye contact with Roman, and the surprise on Remus’ face was something Roman would never forget. He seemed genuinely baffled, like nothing in the world would have prepared him for what he saw. Roman wanted to cry.

I wanted to leave behind these people.

“…Roman?” Remus finally said, “Dude, holy fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Virgil staggered, “You know each other already?”

“He’s my fucking cousin!” Remus exclaimed. “Come on, look at us, we’re only a little related but we look like twins!”

Logan turned to Roman. “Is this true?”

Roman could feel the tears ready to burst. His throat was scratchy, but he tried to talk anyway. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Princey, don’t be shy!” Remus teased. “We used to be best friends, let everyone believe we were twins until our moms called our shit out. Absolute bastard children- …wait. Wait a fucking second.”

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus turned to Virgil and Logan with a shocked and confused face. “…You said he’s your foster brother?”

Logan nodded. “That is correct.”

Remus turned to Roman, seemingly at a loss for words. “…Dude, the fuck? What happened?”

Roman looked at the floor, gripping onto his arm so hard it’d be a miracle if there weren’t marks later. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I know I haven’t seen you since your mom fucked off to Neverland, but what happened to your dad? He’s still alive and shit isn’t he? The hell happened?”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” Roman seethed, grinding his teeth together as he practically growled out that sentence.

Virgil flinched violently. “Roman-”

“Whatever!” Roman pushed Remus off to the side and kicked the door fully open, storming his way down the stairs despite the sounds of people yelling for him to come back. Roman stomped out the front door and took a sprint for it down the block, not caring if he had to be alone with Patton, so long as he wasn’t here.

“I bet you would eat a slug!”

“No I wouldn’t! Liar!”

“Boys, boys!” Roman’s mother laughed, crouching down to meet their eye level from their place sitting in the grass. “No eating slugs. Be nice to the bugs or we’ll go back inside.”

“Yeah, Remus!”

Remus huffed. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Not yet!”

Roman’s mother laughed again. “I’m going to help Uncle André with dinner. But I better not hear a fight, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman promised, watching as his mom went back inside his uncle’s house into the kitchen. Roman and Remus continued to play in the grass by looking at bugs and telling stories to each other, making Roman smile more than he has in a long time. He always loved going to Remus’ house. His dad never came with them, so he and his mom were always happier.

“How come we never go to your house?” Remus eventually asked after a few minutes of playing. Roman stuck his tongue out.

“‘Cause our house is tiny and the backyard isn’t as cool.”

“Still! When you come over, you never bring Uncle Theo!”

“Good!” Roman defended, “Dad’s boring so he doesn't getta come!”

“I like him! He’s fun and nice and always brings chocolate!”

“He’s awful!” Roman covered his mouth after he blurted that out. Remus gave him a look.

“He’s not awful!”

Roman looked over to the glass sliding door. His mom was in there, he could see her, but she couldn’t hear him. Maybe he could get away with it. He could tell Remus a secret and his mom would never find out.

Roman hesitantly took his hands away from his mouth. His tone grew to be a lot softer. “…He is, though.”

Remus tilted his head to the side like a dog. “What makes him awful?”

“…Promise not to tell anyone?”

Remus leaned in closer. “Uh huh!”

“No one at all, ever?”

“Triple quadruple promise!”

Roman looked back at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention to him, seemingly talking to his uncle and pouring juice into cups. Roman hesitated for a moment. “…My dad-”

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Roman’s mom called out, making Roman jump almost a foot in the air. Both of them got off of the grass to walk inside, but before they did, Remus turned to Roman again.

“Your dad what?”

“…Nevermind.” He missed his chance. Remus would never find out, and Roman never told anyone for another five years.

Roman ran faster down the street at the memory, fighting back the tears in his eyes. It was fine. Roman was fine.

He never wanted to talk to Remus again.

[littleboy-logan]

Secrets Secrets are No Fun (1)

me: im gonna post this tomorrow

me three days later: oops

anyway, have this fanfic ive held onto for fifty years :3 its agere obviously so if you spotted this in the main tags and it makes you uncomfy then block the agere tag and the agere sides/agere sanders sides tags!

Summary: Logan lives an exceptionally ordinary life. He goes to work every morning, he pays his bills, he's a productive member of society. Just like anyone else, however, he has his secrets. He has his hobbies. If anyone found out what happens behind closed doors, they wouldn't look at him the same way again.

Characters: Logan, Remus, Roman (mentioned), Virgil (mentioned)

Pairing(s): future intrulogical & future platonic anxceit (this will be the only warning just cos, but once these ships actually come into play ill put them in the intro again)

Warnings: implied alcohol use (brief), implied toxic parents (brief), and i think thats it but lemme know if i missed anything!

Word count: 1,136

~

Logan had been lost in the woods for several days and he was growing tired. He had run away from his parents after they started drinking their secret juice that he wasn't allowed to have. Now he was starving and cold and afraid, but at least his parents couldn't yell at him.

His stomach growled especially loudly and he collapsed to the forest floor. He was sure he would die out here. He had run so far. He had no idea how deep these woods got.

Everything around him became blurry, but just before he fell unconscious, he saw someone in a black uniform approach him and call out to someone else.

***

"Sanders, do you have that paperwork done yet?" Logan's boss asked as he approached his cubicle.

"Have it right here, sir," Logan replied as he finished up the last bit of it. He handed it to his boss.

"Good work. Remember, I need that quarterly report by Monday morning."

"Of course, sir. I'm just about done with it."

"Knew I could count on you," his boss said with a grin as he headed back to his office.

Logan silently sighed as he opened up his report on his computer and began typing. His job was tedious, yes, but he could handle tedious. It's not like he had much of a choice anyway if he wanted to make a living.

The day ended soon enough, and Logan packed up his belongings and headed to the bus stop. When it arrived, he climbed aboard and had a seat near the front.

He could feel his brain going fuzzy but forced the feeling away.

The bus reached his side of town and he got off and walked toward his house. Finally, he was home, and he walked through the front door and hung his coat on the rack.

He went up to his room and set his briefcase on his desk. He had a seat in his desk chair and opened up his laptop where his draft for his report stared him in the face.

He was almost done. He could do this.

He began typing, finding that the more he wrote, the more fuzzy his brain got. He fought it off, not having time to indulge himself just yet. He had to keep working.

It wasn't long before he struggled to even read what he was writing.

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the screen once again. The words were all jumbled and impossible to read. He couldn't possibly work like this.

He glanced in the direction of the box beneath his bed.

No, maybe he could still work. He just needed to snap out of it. He stared at his keyboard and found each individual letter and sounded them out as he typed. After a few minutes he looked at what he'd typed. It was incoherent garbage.

He threw his head back and groaned loudly. He really had no choice. He did know it was rather unhealthy to put it off for too long anyway.

He looked towards the box beneath his bed again.

He closed his laptop and went to his bed. He knelt beside it and pulled his box out from under it. Inside there was a sippy cup, colouring book, crayons, and a onesie. Not a lot, but enough for now.

He heard his roommate come home and his heart leapt into his throat. He shoved the box back under the bed and got to his feet. He wouldn't be caught dead with his age regressor gear, especially by Remus.

It sounded like he wasn't coming in, thankfully. He had a tendency to barge in without warning, which Logan had scolded him for in the past. He was lucky Remus hadn't found out about his age regression.

Logan's stomach growled, which not only brought back unfortunate memories, but made him that much closer to a fully regressed headspace. If he was being completely honest, he would rather fight back the memories than his regression.

He went to the kitchen, making sure he was still grown up. Remus was eating some ramen with cheese, a common dish for him. Logan wanted something simpler, something that would help him regress. Though, of course, he would have to remain vigilant around Remus.

"Heya, Lo!" Remus greeted, slurping up some noodles. "How's the wife?"

"I'm not married," Logan pointed out confusedly. "And I'm also gay."

"You're married to your job."

"Well... who's to say my job isn't nonbinary?"

Remus nodded. "Touché."

Logan went to find something to eat, but there wasn't much. He settled on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Crusts cut off, of course.

He got the peanut butter down from the cabinet, his Crofters out of the fridge, and the bread from the bread box. The more he made his sandwich, the smaller he felt. He didn't know if it was the smell of the food or the fact that he was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but he knew he had to be careful.

He finished cutting off the crusts, struggling to do so, and sat at the table across from Remus. He tried not to kick his feet, but the temptation to move was strong.

"Did you cut off the crusts?" Remus asked, a slightly incredulous tone to his voice.

Logan froze. "Yeah," he murmured, trying to sound older than he felt.

"The crusts are the best part, though."

Logan frowned and shook his head. "No, the jelly is."

"Says the Crofters junkie," Remus teased.

Logan continued eating, hoping he wasn't too obvious. Perhaps he was taking too big of a risk being around Remus this close to being regressed. Thankfully, he was almost done with his sandwich and then he could leave.

"Oh, hey, Roman invited us and Virgil over to his house this weekend. Which- y'know, tomorrow. You gonna be able to go?"

Logan forced back a smile at the thought of being around Remus's brother. Whenever he was regressed he craved the company of the more fanciful twin, with his flowery language and Disney references and singing.

"Uh, yeah, I can do that. What'll we be doing?"

"Probably dinner and a Disney marathon. Typical Roman."

Logan swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and excused himself, glad he could finally go to his room. He locked the door and got his box back out from under his bed.

He went to the neighbouring bathroom and filled his sippy cup with water and then got changed into his unicorn onesie. He then began colouring in one of his colouring books. He laid in the floor on his stomach with his feet kicking in the air.

Life was more carefree like this. If only anyone could understand.

[cheolkanojo]

inhales. exhales. okay, i have SO MUCH TO TALK ABT SO LET’S GO (had to put the read more just bcs)

okay before i start this is actually kinda stupid but you did say to go all out on screaming abt this fic so I DID. INITIALLY. ON THE TAGS. AND THEN TUMBLR DECIDED TO GIVE ME THE “YOU REACHED 30 TAGS!” POPUP. WHICH WAS ANNOYING BCS I STILL HAD SO MANY THINGS I WANTED TO TALK ABT. so here we are.

secondly, pls do forgive me for not having replied to your reply(?) on my comment the other day (i’ve read it but haven’t got the time to reply back </3 but ur so sweet i hope you always get nice comments ily) BUT I AM BACK TO SCREAM ABT THIS MASTERPIECE

okay that’s enough rambling from me, LET ME START.

I ALRD SCREAMED FROM THE BEGINNING LIKE WHAT WAS “AND SEUNGCHEOL LIKES RED”??? HUH???? FUCK OFFFFF GURL YOU ARE WHIPPED (and so am i) IM LOVINGN THIS DEVELOPMENT

and god fuckign dammit THEY ARE HOLDING HAAAAANDDDKSHRKSHFSJDJ NO WAY THIS IS WAYyyYyYY TOO CUTE!!!1!1! and the whole dinner part with team svt (and dae and yejun <3) is so, so sweet. i love team svt. i love their friendship sm. I LOVE HOW CHEOL JUST SITS BACK AND ENJOYS THE ATMOSPHERE. IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS IS SO CANON HE LOVES THEM SM

THIS PART THOUGH “you wonder if he’ll ever look at you like that in the future” MY GOD. AAAAAAKADHSKFHEKFJSKD I CANNOT. I CANT. AAAAAHNANDSJDJS 🥹🥹🥹🥹

also this is a must mention: SUGAR DADDY CHEOL. HE IS SO DAMN HOT??????? GOD DAMMIT. i think i literally just MELTED AT THIS PART. FUCKKKKK daddy pls pay for my food and bills too i am broke

now to the part where you just GAVE ME A FULL EXPERIENCE OF AN EMOTIONAL ROLLER COASTER RIDE. AAARHENDHSSKFHD THIS HURTS SO MUCH… BUT ALSO I CAN FEEL SO MUCH LOVE FROM SEUNGCHEOL… he’s so sweet… i cant do this anymore… /pos

(also i rly rly want to point this out, but the way you narrate how they hold hands in the car… it’s rly sweet. got me crying. i love these two sm)

ah yes. THE PART WHERE CHERRY (it’s almost awkward writing my own name but it also got me squealing every time cheol calls her “cherry” bcs it’s technically MY INTERNET PSEUDONYM) THINKS ABT ALL THOSE ✨DOMESTIC THINGS✨ WITH CHEOL. IT’S SO GODDAMN CUUUUUTEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭 (I HOPE WE GET TO THE PART WHERE THEY ACTUALLY DO DOMESTIC THINGS TOGETHER INSTEAD OF JUST DREAMING ABT IT ASAP) (or not. i love slowburn) she’s so adorable with cheol. I LOVE HER I LOVE THIS DEVELOPMENT (99)

(also can i just say… “my pretty girl” ahaha… “my” ahahah… “MY pretty girl”… “my PRETTY girl”… FUCK OFFFF /POS)

her relationship development with seoah is also super, super sweet (im sry rip vocabulary i only know the words sweet hot cute and “i love them sm”) and i love how seungcheol has some sort of an impact there… 🥹🥹 i rly cant wait to see more of her and seoah!! (and dae!! i miss her)

ALSO WHEN SHE GOT THE UPPER HAND ON CHEOLLLLLLLLL OH YESSSSS WE LOVE THE DEVELOPMENT HERE (937493)

ALSO(2) ASSERTIVE!CHEOL MAKES AN APPEARANCE HELLO????? AND CHERRY’S JUST SO OBEDIENT EXCUSE YOUUUUU THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR MY HEART AND SOUL (every time cheol has his hands somewhere on cherry’s body and every time they hold eye contact esp when cheol holds her chin just got me 🫠🫠🫠 melting into a puddle 🫠🫠🫠🫠 this is it im beyond saving)

also!!! (3) i just wanna say i really, REALLY love the reader’s character here. have i said that? idk, but i will say it again and again. I ADORE HER SO MUCH 😭😭💞💞💞 (and cheol. your writing of cheol is without question, RLY RLY GOOD. i love u)

in conclusion: this chapter was AMAZING. a huge emotional roller coaster ride, but i loved every second of it 🥺✨ soft!cheol made LOTS of appearances here, and he rly made me melt and cry and screaming into the pillow. i love him. i love the way you write him. i love their relationship. (and i just wanna say i adore the way you write in general?? your narration is SOOOO GOOD. definitely gonna read all of your other fics when i have time!! ♥️)

anyways. yeah. uh. this is a lot. i hope you don’t mind all of my screamings and random side comments here and there 😭💦

thank you so so much for writing this fic, for putting your effort into each and every word. i hope you have a great day (or night) and once again, cheol loves you 🫶🏻💞✨

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 3

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + mention of death, mention of divorce, sugar daddy seungcheol (we love to see it)

🍒 WC: 12.6k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 💖

🍒 Author’s Note: Already halfway through the series! Thank you for all the support I've gotten so far! (no I won't stop saying thanks bc I'm grateful for you all!). I'm really relieved people like it since I enjoyed writing it a lot ♥️

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ pretty please masterpost // next chapter

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs bouncing with anticipation.

He will be here any minute, and like before, you’re suddenly self-conscious of your outfit. You didn’t change it as many times as you did last time, but you still thought hard about it. You end up donning a black faux fur tube top, high-waisted black pants, and black heels. 

Your red pumps are an option, but you think they’re too much—a little too dressed up for a simple dinner… But then again you are wearing a top that resembles a fuzzy rug, so the outfit is already borderline “too much.”

And Seungcheol likes red.

Your eyes dart to the discarded shoes in the corner. Does it matter that he likes red—on you, to be more specific? If you wear those, will he think you wore them for him? Do you want to wear them for him?

As the questions tumble into your mind, you barely register your door opening.

“Honey?” your father asks gently.

Your head pops up to see him entering your room. “Yeah?”

“How late are you going to stay out?” he wonders.

You give him a quizzical look. He rarely questions you on your outings, let alone the duration.

“I’m not sure. I can bring home some food for you and Seoah,” you offer, thinking he needs you to bring back dinner since you will be gone.

“No need. I’m going to take her out once you go,” he replies.

You’re never good at hiding your reactions. Your eyes widen slightly before narrowing. This is odd coming from your dad.

“What’s the special occasion?” you wonder. You can’t recall the last time he took you both for food or just out in general.

“There’s none,” he says. You stare at him in silence as you take in his appearance. His usual eye bags are still present, but he looks more freshened up than you’ve seen in a while. It also looks like he put some effort into his outfit.

“Are you dying?” you ask, thinking he is trying to leave a positive impression before he leaves this earth.

Your dad’s eyes enlarge. “No, no, I’m healthy. I just,” he sighs. “Seeing your mother again made me realize I haven’t been very attentive to you and your sister.”

“This isn’t the first time she’s come back though,” you reply, confused as to why this time is different.

“I know. I can’t really explain it right now,” he says. “Are you going out with Dae?”

“Yeah—” a buzz from your phone “—she’s here.”

You stand up from your bed. “We can talk later, if you have time.”

“I’ll find some time,” he says. You aren’t sure if that is really going to happen, but you don’t want to ponder on that now. “Come back safe.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Talking to a caring dad has your mind-boggling. You want to feel like your father is actually going to be in your life, but he’s been out of it for years, so it’s hard to imagine that changing.

Your father nods and makes his way out of your room. 

A knock at your door startles you from your daze. Before you can overthink the decision, you hastily kick off your heels and replace them with the red pumps. You apply a layer of matching lipstick, then toss the stick in your purse while you jog to the front door. Though what you see isn’t ideal.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ln,” Seungcheol greets respectfully.

“You as well, Seungcheol,” replies your father. You can’t see his face from where you are, but he sounds friendly. Not that he shouldn’t be. He has no reason to be hostile. You just aren’t sure if he’ll try to play the tough dad or not.

Plus, a part of you worries Seungcheol will be able to see past the “perfect family” facade and see all your imperfections.

You gently push your way in front of your dad, turning to face him with your back to Seungcheol.

“I’ll see you later,” you tell him and nudge him inside so you can close the door better.

“Now, just wait a minute, Yn,” he says and looks over your shoulder to Seungcheol. Your body tenses. He is not about to give the whole get-her-home-by—

“—by eleven o’clock. I trust you’ll keep her safe.”

Seungcheol doesn’t appear to be bothered by your father’s little protective speech. Instead, he gives him a reassuring smile. One that a gentleman would wear and one you aren’t used to seeing from him. Normally you get teasing grins.

“Her safety is my top priority,” Seungcheol says earnestly.

Oh God, now you’re stuck between a rom-com conversation.

“Great. Now that you’re both done going through your lines, can we go?”

“Lines?” your dad questions. You aren’t about to waste any more time explaining your lame reference to common daughter-father-date discussions. Not that Seungcheol is your date.

“Is that Seungcheol?!” Seoah’s voice rings behind your dad. Not her, too.

“Yup, it’s slang, bye Dad!” you quickly say, and instead of shoving him back inside as you planned, you turn and shove Seungcheol down the stairs.

“Hey, wait!” Seoah calls out and zips past you to Seungcheol. Seungcheol stands at the bottom of the steps, eyeing you with confusion at your strange behavior. He looks at Seoah when she stands at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Seoah,” he waves at her. 

What did she do to deserve one of his dimple-inducing smiles?

“It’s good to see you back,” she beams, a grin on her face.

“You too,” he chuckles.

“Back?” your father asks.

Your attention zooms in on Seoah, and you hope the silent glare you give her is recognized by her. Her mouth drops open at the realization.

“I mean, it’s good to see your back! It’s nice,” she corrects quickly, gesturing around his body. “It’s, erm, wide and cool.”

“His back is wide and cool?” echoes your father slowly in puzzlement.

That’s enough.

Seungcheol laughs, his obnoxious little deep “ha’s” ringing in your ears. You quickly grab his arm and start to drag him away. 

“Have fun at dinner,” you say to your family while you briskly walk away.

Despite Seungcheol being strong enough to pull himself out of your grasp, he lets you lead him to his car.

“Do you think my back is wide and cool too?” he teases.

You whip around to look at him, pausing in your trek. You’re standing a little too close than you intended. “No, I think it’s mediocre and dull.”

He laughs again at your response. You flicker your eyes to the sky as you take a deep breath.

“Not another word,” you warn before guiding him to his car.

Your hand is on the passenger’s side handle, ready to pull it open, but Seungcheol stops you. He gently pushes your hand off before placing his own on the handle.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening your car door myself,” you grumble, arms crossing over your chest.

The corner of one of his lips raises. His eyes drop to your lips briefly.

“I know, Cherry,” he says, then averts his gaze back to your eyes, “but I’m chivalrous, remember?”

He pulls the door open and nods to get in. You narrow your gaze at that, wanting to challenge him on if he truly is.

“Can you guys stop flirting and get inside? I’m hungry,” Dae’s voice pulls you from your staring contest. You forgot she will be in the car already.

“You heard the lady,” Seungcheol murmurs to you.

“You’re going to get this heel stuck so far up your ass, Choi Seungcheol.”

He chuckles and leans in closer, voice dropping so only you can hear, “Sounds kinky, baby.”

You push down the fluttering of your heart at the pet name because you refuse to let him get away with that cocky reply.

“If you both don’t get in now, I’m leaving you guys and taking the car,” Dae threatens.

You glare at Seungcheol for a second longer before lowering yourself in the seat.

“Finally,” Dae mumbles when Seungcheol climbs in.

“Sorry, there was an… incident that delayed us,” you say and set your purse in your lap. Dae leans forward, placing a hand on your arm to turn you toward her.

“You don’t look sick,” she observes to herself. You scoff and brush her hand off you.

“Because I’m not,” you say.

Seungcheol starts driving as you speak with Dae.

“Are you sure?” she wonders.

“Why would you think I’m sick?”

“Because you apologized.”

You peer back at her, unamused. Dae just smiles.

“She also says please now,” Seungcheol chimes in. You groan at his addition and press your back into the seat. Your feet almost kick like a kid throwing a tantrum, but you hold back that urge.

“Well, now, she’s always done that…sort of. Have you been saying please more? I’m shocked. What about your ‘thank yous’? You haven’t forgotten those right?” Dae asks as if speaking to a child.

You sigh loudly, making it as audible as you can so they know how annoyed you are. Apparently, all Seungcheol’s outings result in your misery one way or another. “I’m not agreeing to any more of your invitations, Seungcheol.”

“I doubt that. You like my company too much to refuse,” he replies. He doesn’t appear to be bothered one bit by your statement.

“Does she now?” Dae wonders aloud. You don’t like where her mind is wandering to.

“Hush it, you two. The only tolerable one here is Yejun,” you huff, having seen him for a second when you glanced at Dae. He was on his phone then, but now he’s sitting back enjoying the bantering between you all.

“I’m honored to hear that, Yn,” he teases.

Even though the car ride consists of Seungcheol and Dae teasing you and Yejun, you’re grateful to get your mind off the troubles you’ve been having lately.

When you arrive, you quickly open the door and step out before Seungcheol can open it for you.

“I beat you this time,” you gloat as Seungcheol comes to stand by you, locking his car once the others are out.

There’s a small bounce to your step when you exit that causes Seungcheol to give you a warm smile, eyes staring at you with tenderness. 

“That you did, Cherry.”

Your elevated shoulders deflate while a pout takes over your features. His reply is too casual. You had expected something more witty.

“While you two do a round two of flirting, Yejun and I are going to go inside,” Dae says before wrapping her arm in Yejun’s and leaving you both by the car.

She walks away too fast for you to reply, so you turn to Seungcheol. He wears a red turtleneck, black pants, and a black leather jacket slung over his arm. The shirt hugs his body nicely; it outlines his muscular chest ever so slightly and makes you yearn to see more. His hair is styled a little to still look natural but gives it a different appearance. He’s really handsome tonight. Red seems to be his color as well.

“You’re not going to wear that?” you wonder while pointing to his jacket.

He shakes his head. “It’s too hot right now.”

“Then why did you bring it?” you ask, eyebrows coming together.

Shrugging, he takes your hand in his. Your first instinct is to pull away—startled at his sudden touch. You’ve never held his hand before. The act seems a little too intimate… Makes you feel a little too warm.

Nevertheless, you keep your hand in his. The feeling is rather nice if you’re being honest with yourself. His grip is firm to make the grasp feel secure but not too tight to be suffocating. It’s as if he’s just naturally used to having a strong grip on things.

“We don’t want to keep them waiting,” he says before making his way to the restaurant. You stay silent as you walk next to him.

“I’m glad you listened to me,” he comments when you are near the entrance.

“Huh?” you ask, glancing up at him.

He gives you another smile and reaches past you to hold the door open.

“Red still looks good on you. Even if there’s only a little of it.”

So he did notice.

You tear your gaze from him at his compliment, heart beating quicker. You can’t keep it steady even if you try. You feel a little proud you decided to go with the shoes after all. 

You mumble a ‘thanks’ before walking inside. He follows behind you, greeting the host. The host gestures to where your friends are all seated before wishing you a good dinner. It almost looks like they are a group of people celebrating something, but you know they aren’t. There are just a lot of you. And of course, the two empty seats happen to be next to each other at the end.

“Hi, Yn! Hey Cheol,” Joshua greets. When everyone notices you, there is a chorus of hellos. The large welcome has you smiling, not used to the friendly attention. 

All the people who are helping you with your project are here, plus a few others. They make you promise not to talk about the show before sitting down, claiming you need a break from it. You want to protest as you can talk about whatever you want, but they have a point. You probably do need a mental breather. Thus, you agree to their conditions.

You sit between Seungcheol and Wonwoo, who you just met. He’s a film production student and like Vernon, keeps mostly to himself. Despite that, he isn't shy to engage wholeheartedly in the conversation if he is passionate about the topic. You also meet Jun and Seungkwan for the first time—Seungkwan being the more outgoing of the two.

Seungcheol’s friends are a lively bunch, and although his business friends can get rowdy as well, their energy just doesn't match this group. It’s more relaxing, carefree, and so easy to slip into. However, a part of that can be because you don’t feel like you’re on defense the entire time.

For the first time in years, you are surrounded by people you thoroughly enjoy—without the stress of being the best, viewed as being the enemy, and the pressure of keeping your family together with tattered strings. It’s all so… alleviating. Comforting.

Seungcheol keeps his arm hung over the back of your chair as you attentively listen to his friends. Sometimes you would feel his hand on your back and would turn to see if he needed something. He always shook his head and nodded back to who was speaking—sometimes it was multiple, and you just picked the closest conversation you could hear.

You’re so used to hearing Seungcheol’s voice that you don’t realize how quiet he can get. At first, you’re concerned, but you realize he’s enjoying sitting back and watching his friends have fun. You don’t know how long he’s known these people, but from the fond look in his eyes, you know the duration doesn’t matter. They mean a lot to him.

You wonder if he’ll ever look at you like that in the future. Like you are someone he cherishes and adores. Suddenly, you want to try everything in your power to achieve that.

Once the food arrives, you figure the noise will quiet down. That isn’t the case. The table is still chatty even though it should be filled with munching. You suppose this is the pros of being with a large group.

Seungcheol had moved this arm so he could eat, but he put it back when he was done. When his fingers graze your back for the nth time, you finally peer behind you to see his hand. You giggle as you realize he’s been playing with the fuzz of your top the entire time.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly apologizes and retracts his arm from your chair. You grab his wrist, guiding it back to where it was.

“It’s fine. It’s nice,” you murmur.

“And cool?” he taunts, referring to Seoah’s attempt to hide the fact that Seungcheol had been to your house before.

You scowl at him half-heartedly before turning away. In spite of the loud environment, your ears still catch his low chuckle behind you.

Not once this night did Seungcheol put on his jacket. He never came close to needing it. Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate to drape the material over your shoulders when he saw you shiver for the third time. There’s a tiny part of you that wonders if he brought it just for you. Though that’s a reach as he wouldn’t have known what you were wearing. You could have brought your own.

Despite feeling warmer, you miss his hand touching your back. Sometimes it would tickle your bare skin whenever you moved a certain way; it had shivers running down your spine. It could’ve been because of his cold hands, but you knew it was more because of his skin touching yours. You’re tempted to remove his jacket just so you can feel his touch again.

“Hey Yn,” comes a voice behind you suddenly. You glance up to see Jeonghan. He leans on the back of Seungcheol’s chair to look at you.

“Hi,” you greet. He’s sitting on the other side of the table, so you wonder what brings him over.

Jeonghan glances down at Seungcheol, one hand on his shoulder. “Seungcheol.”

“Jeonghan,” answers Seungcheol suspiciously.

“So, I heard you’re paying for some people’s dinner,” Jeonghan trails off.

Seungcheol leans forward to move away from the man.

“Emphasis on some,” he replies.

“One more won’t hurt, right?” Jeonghan asks with an innocent smile on his face; however, you know that grin is more devious than it appears. It means trouble.

“Hm, you’re right,” Seungcheol answers, then glances past you. “I’m sure Wonwoo would love a free meal.”

Jeonghan whines at his reply. “Not him! Me! Pay for mine, buddy?”

“No,” Seungcheol says with a small laugh.

“Seungcheol’s paying?” Soonyoung’s voice rings out from across the table. Their conversation, albeit not loud, catches his attention. Or perhaps Soonyoung just has a keen ear for the words “pay,” “Seungcheol,” and “free”.

“No!” Seungcheol says, louder than before.

“Seungcheol’s paying?” More voices resound this time, all heads turning toward Seungcheol.

“No, I’m not,” the man in the center of attention declines. He sends a glare to Jeonghan.

“Isn’t he so generous?” Jeonghan says, disregarding Seungcheol’s answer, and goes to wrap his arms around Seungcheol. The latter man has no choice but to accept the hug as he is trapped due to the table.

Whoops, hollers, and thanks reverberate from the group.

Your eyes scan the table. It’s covered in plates. Sure, a few meals aren’t too bad, but paying for a table of sixteen is absurd. Perhaps they’re all joking with him. Though, when they all begin to file out of the building without opening their wallets, you know they’re serious.

Seungcheol stays seated as they leave, informing you both they’ll wait outside. 

You stare at Seungcheol in shock. You figure he’d be infuriated, but he looks relaxed still. Almost as if this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

You grab your wallet from your purse, plucking out your card and holding it out to him.

“I can help pay,” you say. Seungcheol glances at your offering. He smiles at you and pushes your hand back.

“I appreciate that, but don’t worry about it, Cherry.” He sounds amused as if you just offered him a popsicle rather than money.

“But this is way too much for you to pay alone,” you argue.

Seungcheol doesn’t let you see the bill and pays for the meal swiftly. However, you don’t need to see the total to know it’s a lot of money.

“Seungcheol,” you scold when he doesn’t listen to you.

He chuckles and slides his card back into his wallet. “Put that away, and let’s go, baby.”

He gestures to your card still in your hand before standing up and adjusting his clothes. It takes you a few seconds to move, still dumbfounded by him actually paying for it all and affording it, and him calling you baby. Despite him only calling you that three times, it still has the same effect it always has.

Not that you are counting.

He takes your hand in his again as he walks out, thanking the host once more.

“There’s the man!” Seokmin greets him with open arms when he sees Seungcheol.

Seungcheol shakes his head in disapproval, but he has a smile on his face. “You all owe me now.”

“You say that every time,” Seungkwan calls out.

“Exactly. You all have a tab open,” he says.

“We were thinking of getting some ice cream, you guys want to come?” Chan asks.

Seungcheol glances at you before saying, “I’ve got to get her home, sorry.”

“What?” you ask. “No, you don’t.”

“It’s almost eleven,” he answers. You sigh and shift your weight.

“You don’t actually have to get me home by then,” you say, remembering your father’s words.

“Yes I do,” he argues. He looks at Dae and Yejun before you can reply. “Do you both want a ride back?”

“Nah,” Dae says. “We’re going to get another one.”

“Alright. See you all later,” Seungcheol raises a hand in farewell.

“Thanks for paying!” Mingyu exclaims, a bright smile directed toward Seungcheol.

“It was nice to meet you, Yn,” Wonwoo says.

“Get back safely,” Jun adds.

“Thanks,” you answer and then peer at Seungcheol. He’s giving his last byes. Dae catches your gaze, giving you a big grin and a few eyebrow wiggles. You roll your eyes at that and send her a small wave as Seungcheol starts to lead you to his car.

When your friends start driving past, waving and shouting goodbyes while they leave the parking lot, you slow to a stop.

“Why don’t we go with them?” you ask.

Seungcheol raises a brow. “You want to go?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug. Truthfully, you don’t want the night to end.

“You like hanging out with them that much?” he teases.

“They’re not that bad,” you mutter, “and ice cream sounds nice.”

He lets out a breath as if in realization. He slides his hand from yours, which you are about to protest, and then drapes it around your shoulders.

“I’ll get you ice cream on the way back, okay?” he replies and continues to his car.

Seungcheol keeps his promise, stopping by a place to get you both a double-scoop cone for the drive. Compared to the last time you were in his car, this ride is a lot more relaxing. It’s quieter since Dae and Yejun are absent, but the music on the stereo fills the small space.

At a stop light, Seungcheol fishes his phone from his pocket.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, lifting the phone up at an angle.

You peep up while licking your ice cream. “Hm?”

“Smile,” he instructs and puts his cone in the frame.

Your gaze drifts to his phone, a puzzled look on your face just in time for him to capture a photo. You’re a second too late to understand what he’s doing.

Seungcheol laughs at your unreadiness.

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you whine and nudge him.

“That’s not my fault. I told you to smile,” he says. He sets the device in the cup holder when the light changes.

“But you didn’t give me enough time to do that,” you grumble.

Not wanting him to have the upper hand, you retrieve your own phone. You lift the device, both your faces on the screen but only you are looking at the camera. Seungcheol is focused on the road, so you quickly take a photo.

“Did you—? Okay, that’s not fair. At least I told you to smile,” he laughs when he hears a click, taking a quick peek at you.

“We’re even now,” you smile as you click on the picture in your gallery. Seungcheol’s side profile can be seen in the background. His tongue is poking out to take a lick of his ice cream. That part was unintentionally taken, but you find the candid photo endearing.

“For now,” he replies, lips in a wide grin.

Your hands are sticky after you’re done with your treat, so you dig out the hand sanitizer in your purse. Seungcheol gives you his palm upon seeing the item. You laugh softly and place some in his hand as well.

Everything feels so normal. It doesn’t help that he places a hand on your thigh so naturally that you can’t find an excuse to move it. At some point in the drive, you start playing with his hand, running your fingertips across his skin and toying with the ring he wears. You don’t even realize you are doing it until he slowly pulls away to put the car in park.

“Did you have fun?” he asks quietly.

For once, you don’t shy from the truth with a sarcastic answer. “I did. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Again, it wasn’t just me. They wanted you there,” he reassures with a kind smile.

That’s weird for you to hear, and you aren’t sure how to respond. You still can’t wrap your mind around the fact multiple people wanted to be in your presence. You mean, it wasn’t just yours, but normally people give you side-eyes when you’re near. Or perhaps you just feel like they do.

“I’m glad you came,” he says before turning off his car. “Now, wait while I open your door.”

You watch as he walks around the car and comes to your side. You want to disobey him, just to rile him up, but you decide to let him have this win. In all his chivalrous glory, he holds out his hand when he opens the door.

“Thank you,” you giggle as you take it and climb out of his car. He keeps his hand in yours leading you to your house.

“You don’t always have to walk me to the door,” you say.

“I can’t see the door from where I park,” he replies.

“You don’t need to?” you answer, but it comes out more as a question due to your puzzlement.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. “Of course I do. I won’t know if you made it inside safely.”

“That’s kind of you, but—”

He turns around to face you, stopping you in your tracks

“I meant what I said earlier. Your safety is important to me,” he says, eyes locking onto yours so you can see his seriousness. Heat rises to your cheeks. You try to bite back the smile though it’s no use.

Seungcheol stares at you with gentle eyes.

“I like seeing you hap—” he starts.

A loud noise startles both of you, forcing you to move away from one another. You expect to see Seoah or your dad watching from the windows, but you don’t see any faces hiding behind the blinds.

What was that?

Another loud crash.

You don’t like the doom that creeps into your mind. Worried about your family, you rush to the door—only to find it slightly ajar. That doesn’t seem good.

“Seoah? Dad?!” you call out as you push open the door.

“Yn, stop!” Seungcheol urges and runs after you. He grabs you before you can get farther in. He moves you quickly so you are behind him.

“Get out of my way, Seung—”

“Who’s that?!”

You peer around Seungcheol to see your mother, a random knickknack you have around the house in her hand. Your eyes shoot down to the floor to see shattered glass.

“Are you out of your mind?” your father shouts and snatches the item from her hand before she can presumably throw it.

You shove Seungcheol out of the way. Well, you try to shove him. He stands firm in his stance. You try again, and although he still doesn’t move away, he leans slightly over so you can see better.

“What are you doing back?” you question your mother. She turns to you, eyes puffy and lips curled in a snarl. She looks like she hasn’t slept for a few days.

“Yn, dear. Hi sweetie,” she greets, voice softer than before.

Seungcheol watches her with hawk eyes, but when you push him for the third time, he relents. Though he still keeps close.

“Dad?” you ask, hoping to get an explanation.

“She came wanting her stuff back. I told her we had to sell some of it to afford things, and she wasn’t happy about it.”

“Am I supposed to be glad?” your mother growls as she turns back to your father. “You had no right to do that without my permission!”

“You weren’t here,” you say. Her gaze on you is one of surprise as if you’re supposed to be on her side.

“I was coming back,” she says, shoulders sagging.

“And then leave after a few days. This isn’t your home anymore.”

“You’re my home, baby girl,” she replies and starts to come closer. Seungcheol takes a step forward.

You put a hand on his arm to stop him, telling him quietly, “This isn’t your problem.”

This doesn’t make him move, and you sigh. This is exactly what you wanted to hide from Seungcheol. To hide from the world.

“Who is this? You’re letting our daughter see this disrespectful man?” your mother questions your father. 

“He’s a nice young man,” your dad defends. There’s an annoyed spark in you that wants to ask how he could know that. He met him for five minutes or less, and suddenly he knows Seungcheol? However, you don’t want to ignite another argument.

“Yn, take Seoah with you and go book a hotel room. You can take my wallet,” your father instructs.

At Seoah’s name, you realize she’s been home while all this has been happening. You’re used to her being somewhere else when fights like these occur. 

Without another word, you nod and start toward her room. You don’t get far before you remember Seungcheol. You stop to peer at him. 

You’ve never seen him so mad yet worried.

“Thanks for the meal. I’ll talk to you later,” you dismiss, hoping he will turn around and leave so you can focus on Seoah. You should’ve known he wouldn’t do that.

“Yn,” he says.

“Boy, get out of this house right now,” your mother declares.

“You’re the one that needs to leave,” your father exclaims.

Sighing, you grab Seungcheol’s hand and pull him down the hall. You knock on Seoah’s door. Your parents fighting can still be heard.

“It’s me,” you say. The door creaks open.

“What do y—Oh, Seungcheol!” Her eyes widen when she sees him.

You move in front of him more so she’s focused on you. “Eyes on me. Pack a bag. We’re going to a hotel.”

“Again?” she sighs. “I don’t want to. I can just put my headphones in.”

“It doesn’t matter. Pack. We’re leaving in fifteen.”

“I said I don’t want to!” she huffs.

“I don’t ca—” you hiss, only stopping when Seungcheol places a hand on your hip.

“You can stay at mine.”

Seoah’s eyes light up at this.

“Really?!”

“Absolutely not.”

You and your sister say in unison.

“Why not?” Seoah whines.

“We don’t need his help.”

Seoah stares at Seungcheol for a moment and then at you. Finally, she nods solemnly. “Alright, I'll be ready soon.”

“Good,” you reply, then walk to your room. Seungcheol follows you.

“You shouldn’t have said that in front of her,” you scold as you grab a bag, not bothering to look at him. He quietly closes your door to block out the noise outside, though you don’t hear it shut fully.

“Maybe not, but I meant what I said,” he replies.

“And I meant what I said,” you pause while putting a shirt in the bag, eyes glancing at him. He leans against the wall near your door; his arms are crossed. “We don’t need your help.”

You go back to tossing clothes in the bag in a rush. You kick off your heels and trade them for socks and tennis shoes. You don’t hear Seungcheol move until a hand is gently placed on yours.

“Just stop for a minute, Yn,” he says.

“I don’t have time.” You brush his hand off and go back to your closet. Seungcheol grabs your reaching hands and turns you to face him. He leans in so you can see his face easier.

“Stop,” he instructs, using that firm tone of his. It has you relenting. “It’ll be faster to just stay over. You won’t need to deal with a hotel. They may not even have an empty room.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with us,” you reply, chest jumbling with overwhelming emotions. You were happy with him just minutes ago. Now, you feel embarrassed and frustrated.

He shakes his head. “I want you to come. You won’t be bothering me.”

“Do you have a roommate? What would they say?” you question, thinking back to how some of his friends are rooming with each other.

“I live alone. I have a spare room Seoah can sleep in. It’ll be more comfortable there.”

“What about me?”

“You can have my room.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own room, Cheol.”

He smiles, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nice to know you care about me.”

“I don’t,” you huff. “I just don’t want you to give me a hospital bill from the back pains you’d get from sleeping on the couch or floor or wherever.”

Seungcheol chuckles softly and watches as you take a deep breath. The playful moment disappears as quickly as it came.

You bow your head; wrists still clutched in his hold as you ponder his offer.

Staying at his place rather than a hotel does sound nicer, and he has a point there may not be any openings. Not to mention, it’s the cheaper option. But will this be crossing into territory that you aren’t ready for? You’ve hung out with him enough times to consider him your friend, but even then, that’s new to you. Friendship doesn’t come easy to you. Despite you clashing heads with his business peers, you feel Seungcheol has slid into your life too readily. Like it’s too good to be true, and he isn’t going to stick around permanently. Something in you doesn’t like that thought, but that’s an issue for another day.

Seungcheol places your hands on his chest before moving his own to cup your face. He gently lifts your head up to see you. Your eyes are glossy, not yet crying but can easily if one more thing goes wrong.

For the first time, your veil of confidence lifts.

“Stay with me,” he whispers.

He’s talking about going over to his place to get away from your parents. You know this. That’s what this whole discussion is about. But why does your heart tell you he means something else?

There’s a knock at your door, and you move away reluctantly. Seoah shuffles inside with a backpack on her back.

“He’s still here,” she says, surprised at Seungcheol’s appearance.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, we’re,” you pause as you do one final debate in your head, “we’re going to his place for the night.”

From your peripheral, you see Seungcheol’s lips lift in a faint smile.

Seoah’s sad face brightens at the news. You aren’t too sure why she’s so excited to go to his place, but you figure it’s similar to your reason—it isn’t a stuffy hotel room.

“You convinced her! You’re so clever!” she exclaims to Seungcheol.

“I am, huh?” he agrees to which you nudge him.

“Seoah, will you go grab my toiletries, please?” you ask.

“Hm, fine, but only because I forgot mine,” she replies and hurries to your shared bathroom.

“I’m clever, did you hear?” Seungcheol gloats while you finish packing.

“I’m pretending I didn’t,” you mumble. 

You zip the bag and toss it over your shoulder. As you expect, it doesn’t stay there for long. Seungcheol carefully slides it off your body before putting it on his a few minutes later. You had opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head to tell you not to argue. Sighing, you nodded because frankly, you’re done having and hearing arguments for now.

You meet Seoah in the bathroom, and you all walk to the door. 

The yelling has stopped. 

Your mom is sitting with her head in her hands, and you can hear her sobs filling the room. Your dad is cleaning the mess she made from tossing things around. They are talking, but you don’t stay long enough to hear the topic. The few words you do hear make it sound like they’re talking about their marriage, which is a conversation long overdue.

Seungcheol ends up carrying all the bags to the car. While he sets them in the trunk, you and Seoah sit inside.

“Woah! This is fancy,” Seoah admires, eyes scanning the small space.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol laughs lightly as he drives away.

Seoah talks for a while before eventually falling asleep. You aren’t surprised as it’s late, and she probably doesn’t realize how much the drama took a toll on her.

“You can sleep too,” Seungcheol offers quietly. He keeps his hand to himself this time, and you wonder if it’s because of Seoah or because he wants to distance himself from you. You can’t blame him if he did. Who wants to deal with other people’s problems? He only offered for you to come over out of courtesy.

“I’m okay,” you reply, gaze cast out the window.

As if sensing your thoughts, his hand comes to rest on your thigh again. His thumb brushes against the material of your pants, offering some comfort and reassurance. You place a hand on top of his gently. He flips his over so he can curl his fingers around your hand. You both gaze at each other with a small smile before turning away, hands still clasping in each other.

Seungcheol carries Seoah and her bag once you arrive. He offers to carry your bag too, but you’re stern in your refusal. He’s helping enough. He directs you quietly to his apartment number. After retrieving the keys, you open the door.

His apartment is spacious.

The interior is polished and decorated nicely. Similar to his car, it’s enough to tell you it’s luxurious but not obnoxious to shove it in your face. And man, is he wealthy. From his car, his clothes, the dinner bill, and now his apartment? His pockets are definitely not empty. You’re sure he could rent or buy a house, so why he decided to live in an apartment is unknown. 

Seungcheol leaves to put Seoah in the guest bedroom while you lock the door. You place the keys in a bowl near the entrance. Some of his shoes are left by the door, so you take off yours before walking any farther.

“Cherry?” he calls out. A small smile forms on his lips when you respond to the name. He nods for you to come over, and you follow carefully as if you could break his flooring. You don’t think you can afford the repairs if you do.

“You act like you’re walking on glass,” he chuckles. He watches you with amusement.

“I don’t want to break anything,” you explain.

Seungcheol glances around where you are. The path you take is pretty much empty, but you still act as if you are going through a maze of porcelain vases.

“You’ll be fine. Now walk a little faster, please,” he says.

You don’t listen to him and keep your pace. Seungcheol eyes you as he leans his back against a wall. His head is tilted and his arms are crossed while he waits.

“You’re cute,” he comments when you come closer.

“Be quiet,” you hiss and take a few more steps before stopping in front of him.

“No,” he says defiantly, then guides you to another room. Although you don’t see the room he put Seoah in, you’re positive you have just stepped into his room.

You were so caught up with your family drama that you didn’t think twice about Seungcheol being in your bedroom. Now that you are in his, it dawns on you how much of your life he has seen in a short period of time.

It isn’t a big deal. At least, it shouldn’t be; however, bedrooms are personal. They often described the resident, and you and Seungcheol have seen each other's spaces in the span of an hour.

“The bathroom is over there,” he points out. “You can set your bag anywhere. I’ll be out there on the couch.”

“I should take the couch,” you say.

“Cherry, don’t argue. Not tonight. You’re sleeping here.” His words make it seem like he is tired of your complaints, but he talks so softly that it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fine,” you comply.

Seungcheol rewards you with a smile. “Goodnight then. I’ll see you in the morning,” he says and starts for the door.

“Cheol,” you murmur, reaching out when he comes by.

He stops as soon as he feels your hand grazing his arm. “Hm?”

Your eyes rise to meet his, and the look on his face has you needing to catch your breath. He is worried. Worried about your well-being. Worried about what would happen tomorrow. You don’t want him to stress over you.

“Thank you,” you speak softly, “for a lot of things.”

He chuckles and raises a hand to the nape of your neck, thumb caressing your cheek. “Care to be specific?”

“For dinner. For this. For not… leaving me.” Yet.

“I don’t think I would if I could,” he murmurs.

“You can, though?” you say, skepticism evident in your head tilt.

Seungcheol’s mouth curves into a small smile, eyes searching yours for something you don’t know. “You’ll know one day.”

That doesn’t help your puzzled state, but that doesn’t seem to affect him. Slowly, he leans in. His lips press against your forehead tenderly, lingering there long enough for you to close your eyes for a second. It’s gentle and sweet. You wish it was on your lips instead.

“Sweet dreams, Cherry.”

He leaves without another word, and you’re in such a stupor that you don’t have time to say anything before he shuts the door behind him.

Using Seungcheol’s bathroom and changing in his room is strange. Yet what’s more strange is that it doesn’t feel all that… weird? Not like you thought it would be. 

Is it another illusion you cast upon yourself? 

Seungcheol would stroll through the door, dressed in sweats and a loose shirt… or maybe not one at all. He would kiss your mouth in greeting. His broad body would press against yours, and he’d smile that smile that had you wanting to do anything to keep it there. He’d slide next to you in bed, whispering teases in your ear that would annoy you, yet you wouldn’t want him to stop.

Oh, hell. What is wrong with you?

Irritated at the mini story you conjured in your head, you kick at the jacket on the floor. However, you recall you didn’t bring a jacket tonight. Seungcheol had let you borrow his. You just kicked his jacket.

Oh no.

But it’s just a jacket. Why are you getting upset over it? You can kick it again. It isn’t going to come alive and bite you. Seungcheol will never know you fought with it, but something in you feels guilty about the action. Perhaps because it belongs to him, and you feel responsible for it since it’s under your care.

Shaking your head, you grab the item and hang it over his dresser. You’re losing it. Your marbles? All gone. Rolled off to another dimension, never to be seen again.

You move to his bed, carefully pulling back the covers to climb in. Your body sinks into the mattress, and a sigh leaves your lips at how good it feels under you. It’s comfortable, soft, and way too big for just you. You feel like royalty.

Leaning over, you switch off the night light, snuggling deeper in the covers and taking a deep breath.

Sleeping in his bed is surely a bad idea. His expensive cologne is lingering on his sheets and is a strong reminder of where you are. Nevertheless, you pull the covers closer to you as you close your eyes. You need a break from your tiring thoughts.

The morning comes sooner than you’d like.

You open your eyes expecting to see your pegboard of sewing supplies and instead see a black dresser. It has you jolting up and frantically glancing around. When you spot the black jacket on the dresser, you remember you aren’t home. You’re at Seungcheol’s.

You reach over and flip your phone to view the screen. It’s nearly ten.

You linger in bed, mindlessly scrolling through social media until Dae texts for a favor. You’ll fill her in on what happened later, for now, you’re forced to go to your gallery to send a reference of something she needs. The act has you stumbling upon the picture you took last night.

The stretch of your lips happens involuntarily as you stare at Seungcheol through your screen. Even though the night ended poorly, at least you have something to remember about the good times.

Having caught yourself staring at the photo for too long, you quickly exit the app and send Dae what she needs. That’s enough phone usage for now.

Reluctantly, you haul yourself from Seungcheol’s (beyond) comfortable mattress, fix the bed, and then go to the bathroom. After a quick change, you carefully open the door and pad out to the living room. You anticipate seeing Seungcheol sipping on something warm on the couch, but what you see instead has your heart tightening.

Seungcheol lays on his back, one arm resting across his eyes and the other across his chest. Some of his hair is trapped against his forehead due to his arm, and the rest dangles off the side. His lips are slightly ajar due to the position of his head. The blanket that was once over his body is now situated half on the floor.

You recognize his clothes from last night, and a pang of guilt hits your heart. He could’ve knocked on your—his—door and asked to get a spare of clothes, yet he left you alone. It was a selfless act, and you stare at him with newfound affection.

You shuffle in your spot, unsure of what to do. A part of you wants to be a creep and stare at Seungcheol longer—he looks too cute not to—and another wants to go back to his room until you hear some movement. Neither of these happens when you hear Seoah’s voice.

“Are you plotting his murder?” she whispers, though it’s louder than one.

You snap your eyes to her, feet moving farther from the sleeping man. You scoff, muttering, “No!”

“Then why were you staring at him like that?”

“I was not staring,” you argue. Seoah’s eyes narrow, unbelieving you.

“Were to! You weren’t even blinking.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re lying.”

You both eye each other down from across the room, sending invisible daggers each way.

“Go get dressed,” you finally say.

“Why?” she questions. “We’re going now?”

“Soon, yes.”

“But it’s so nice here. Don’t you think we should, I don’t know, cook him breakfast for letting us stay here?”

“We can give him a granola bar when we get home,” you sigh. Just once, can she listen to you?

“A granola bar? I didn’t think you hated him that much,” she gasps, overexaggerating her expression.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’ll give you the granola bar instead,” you threaten.

She giggles, and a frown sets on your lips at the sound. “You can’t. They’re all gone. I gave them to Dad.”

There’s a small puff of air somewhere in the room that doesn’t come from you or Seoah. The only other person in the room is… Your eyes go to Seungcheol. Sometime during your bickering, Seungcheol had woken up. He doesn’t have his eyes open or has even moved his body, but his lips were definitely not in a smile a few minutes ago.

“Did you hear that, Seungcheol?” Seoah asks. “Yn’s trying to kill you with granola bars.”

“Hm, I heard,” he chuckles softly, still a little sleepy. He peels his eyes open and leans his head to the side to look at you. The arm that was once over his eyes has shifted to rest on his forehead. 

“That’s not very nice of you.”

You should be irked at being ganged up on. They’re teasing you, yet your mind gets foggy from hearing Seungcheol’s deep timbre. He already has a deep voice, and you’ve heard it go deeper when he’s teased you, but this is different. 

And goodness, do you find it attractive.

“I think we won,” Seungcheol continues playfully and looks at Seoah with a smile.

“I think so too! She doesn’t have anything to say,” she giggles.

You blink a few times and then look at Seoah. “Why aren’t you getting changed?”

“This is why you don’t get invited to parties. You ruin the fun,” she huffs, smile dipping into a frown at your words.

“Parties aren’t fun in general,” you counter.

“Speak for your own parties!” she says.

“What do you even know about them?” you question. Seoah opens her mouth to answer but stops when Seungcheol speaks.

“Seoah, go get dressed, and we can get some breakfast. One that doesn’t include granola bars,” he chuckled.

“Oh?! Okay! Sounds good,” Seoah replies excitedly and turns to go back to her room.

“You listen to him and not me?” you scoff.

She stops in her tracks. “He’s nicer.”

“I’m your sister,” you answer as if that holds more weight.

“Right,” she drags out. “I revoke that privilege!”

She hurries inside the room and shuts the door.

“Privilege,” you repeat with a scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“You should’ve been a lawyer,” Seungcheol says as he stands from the couch. You focus your attention on him, almost forgetting he’s there with how quiet he is being. His hair is sticking in different directions, and you have to force down a giggle.

“What? Why?” you question.

“Because you like to argue.”

“Hmph!” you sound and give him your back. A childish move, but Seoah isn’t here to mock you for it later.

Seungcheol laughs and comes up behind you. He places his hands on your hips, leaning his head to your ear. Your heart begins to race at how close he is. His breath tickles your ear, and you squirm at the sensation. Seungcheol holds you tighter.

“I think you would’ve been a good one,” he murmurs, voice still deep from his sleep. You want to listen to him more.

“Really?” you hum.

Seunghceol’s hair brushes against your cheek when he shakes his head.

“No,” he teases before slowly slipping his hands from you. You whip around to look at him.

“Where are you going?” you ask. Why do you sound so desperate? You don’t need to be near him. It doesn’t matter he’s leaving.

He smiles as he walks back toward his room.

“To get ready. Don’t miss me too much,” he replies, sending a playful wink and shutting his door.

Seungcheol comes back dressed in a simple black short-sleeved shirt and jeans. It’s not a combination you haven’t seen before. In fact, it’s really common, yet your eyes can’t tear away from him.

“Is it stained or something?” Seungcheol questions, glancing down at his outfit as he walks to you.

“N-no,” you reply and avert your eyes from him.

“You know you can tell me when I look nice, right? My ego will only inflate a little,” he says.

He plops down next to you on the couch, swinging an arm behind you and spreading his legs a bit. Your gaze drifts down to his thighs. They’re thick, and you wonder if they will be soft or firm under your touch. Your body instinctively inches closer to him like the temptation is too strong to ignore.

You hear Seungcheol try to stifle his laugh, causing your eyes to move away.

“A little?” you echo when you recall the active conversation. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

He smiles and shrugs. “Well, what can I say? A pretty girl giving me compliments makes my ego grow bigger than usual.”

“Cheol,” you whine, glancing away, wishing he wouldn’t say things that make your heart do somersaults. You had put those thoughts under lock and key because you are definitely not developing an infatuation with Choi Seungcheol.

Seungcheol tucks a finger under your chin and turns you to face him, so he can see your flustered expression clearly.

“My pretty girl,” he murmurs so low you have to strain to hear it.

Silence looms over you both. You swear he can hear your thudding heart. His hand glides from your chin to your upper thigh.

“You gonna’ give me that compliment now, baby?” he prompts lowly while his hand gently massages you.

“You look good,” you reply quietly, fighting to stay calm.

“Only good?” he hums.

“Really good.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “I guess that’ll do for now.”

Your lips tug down when he pulls away from you, making Seungcheol pause and smile.

“Don’t be sad, Cherry. You can compliment me more later,” he says. You have a feeling he knows the true reason for your pout but decides not to mention it.

You’ll have to work on hiding your expressions better. For now, you focus on making sure you and Seoah don’t leave anything before heading out the door. You don’t fight with Seungcheol when he takes your bags again. It’s just easier not to.

As promised, Seungcheol drives you all to a local breakfast diner. It’s lively—filled with all different walks of life. You see couples, friends, families, and some loners who don’t actually look alone. They seem content.

Seungcheol must come here often as most of the workers recognize him. They’re happy to see him with new people this time. You think you catch sight of one of them giving him a thumbs up, but it could’ve been directed to another patron.

“This tastes amazing!” Seoah exclaims, another fork full of pancakes entering her mouth.

“Don’t eat so fast,” you scold when you see her cheeks full.

She brushes you off with a wave of a hand but waits until she swallows what’s in her mouth before taking another bite.

“Is yours okay?” Seungcheol asks from across the table.

You had wanted to sit next to him, but Seoah had pushed you inside the booth and slid in after before you could have a say. Though Seungcheol doesn’t let the distance stop him from giving you affectionate touches. He has been brushing his leg against yours slowly under the table for the past ten minutes.

You glance at him and nod. “It’s great,” you say.

“I’m glad,” he responds before taking another bite as well.

The rest of the meal isn’t anything exciting. You all eat well, and when it comes time for payment, Seungcheol beats you to it. You try to pay, even going as far as trying to distract him, but he remains adamant. You reason he just paid for a hearty meal last time, and the least you can do is pay as a thank you for spending the night. He only shakes his head.

Seoah is much more awake on this car ride. Her mouth almost never stops running. She gives Seungcheol so many compliments on his apartment you figure his ego is bursting at the seams. He’ll be full of them for days. Then Seoah talks about you—well, tries to. You shush her every time she attempts to tell an embarrassing story.

“But he should know how you can’t eat more than three egg rolls before throwing up—” Seoah says from the backseat.

“Seoah!” you huff for the umpteenth time.

“Seriously, Seungcheol, she ate so much one time that her body can’t eat a lot anymore,” she continues. You rest your head against the headrest with a groan. You don’t want to go to jail. Deep breaths.

Seungcheol laughs, taking a quick glance at you. “Fully noted,” he replies.

“Good! You should know this stuff since you’re her boyfriend,” she says. “Well, not yet, anyway. You’re going to ask her out, though, right?”

The question has you holding your breath. You don’t expect him to answer as it isn’t any of her business, but there is still some hope that he’ll respond.

Seungcheol makes a small choking noise while he tightens his hold on the steering wheel, obviously startled by the sudden question. His face becomes flushed, and his ears turn a light shade of red. It isn’t often you see this side of Seungcheol, and you almost let Seoah continue. Almost.

“I—” Seungcheol starts.

“You’re five seconds away from being kicked out of this car,” you threaten Seoah as you turn in your seat to glare at her.

“Seungcheol wouldn’t do that to me,” she protests defiantly.

“There’s always a first for everything,” you smirk at her. “Plus, it’ll build your character.”

She gives you a shove on the arm and pouts.

“Don’t worry, Seoah. You’re safe with me,” Seungcheol says after he collects himself.

Seoah straightens at that, sticking her tongue out at you. “Told you so!”

You mutter a “yeah” at her as you shake your head and glance at Seungcheol. He gives you a lopsided smile before looking back at the road.

That night your mom and dad discussed their relationship.

It’s been delayed long enough, and all that pent-up anger finally bubbled over, resulting in your mom becoming the Hulk for five minutes. You had never seen her so mad, but you’re grateful she was throwing the objects on the floor rather than at your dad or Seoah.

They agreed to break up officially. It’s always been a cloudy subject with them. You didn’t really know where they stood, but it’s clear to you now. Whatever hopes of getting your family back won’t come true. Your parents have some money and plan to file for divorce papers soon. You aren’t sure how custody will work, but you figure Seoah will stay with your dad. Your mother is too busy traveling to take care of your sister. Despite your dad also being busy, at least he’ll be home more. Though, you get the feeling you’ll still have to look after her. 

As promised, your father put aside some time to talk to you. It wasn’t a lengthy conversation, but it was… nice, regardless. He apologized again for not being there for you and Seoah and said he’ll try to be better. He’s honest in that he tells you it will take some time, but you’re grateful he wasn’t feeding you fairytales. 

Two weeks pass by with the same schedule—wake up, homework, class, homework, dinner, sleep. You meet with Dae a few times to work on your project, but that’s all. You have a quarter of your outfits completed for the show, which feels good, but you still have more to finish. You’re on track with your own deadlines, but barely.

You haven’t seen Seungcheol much during the weeks. If you do, it’s only through passing. Texts with him have also been minimal due to your schedules. You should be fine with that. You’ve seen and talked with him plenty that weekend to last weeks, yet you can’t get him out of your mind. 

You’re not sure when you’d grown so attached to the man, and that makes you worry. You’ve only known him for nearly three months. It’s too soon to feel this strongly. To feel like you need him. You need to focus more on something else. Anything but him. You have repeated this in your mind, trying to make it stick. 

Though it isn’t too successful, considering you are sitting on your bedroom floor with Seoah stringing beads as a thank-you gift for Seungcheol. You want to blame this on Seoah, but you had come up with the idea. Seoah is here because you know she has been wanting to do something. However, if you are being honest, the main reason is you need an excuse for why you are making a bracelet for him. The idea is silly, but you found a bunch of beads in your room and needed to do something with them. Maybe this is too childish for someone like Seungcheol. You were going to back out of the plan, though Seoah was over the moon at the suggestion. Needless to say, you couldn’t change your idea even if you wanted to.

“These beads are too small,” you grumble as you try to pick up a bead for the third time.

“You just want to complain,” Seoah replies, having no issue with plucking beads from the container. You glance at her work. She used pink and blue beads only, alternating between the two. There’s also an “S” dangling in the middle.

“‘S’ for Seungcheol?” you wonder. Seoah glances at the letter and then at you.

“No. ‘S’ for Seoah. I want him to know it’s from me,” she explains. You laugh a little. A two-for-one use.

She tilts her head at yours. “Why the cherries?”

Your body warms at the question. It’s simple. Innocent. Nothing inappropriate or difficult to comprehend. Though the answer is more complicated, or at least, it’s too personal to share.

“They matched my colors,” you shrug, acting as if it has no significant meaning, but you know otherwise. 

You want him to be reminded of you any time he sees it. You want to be on his mind as much as he is on yours. It’s only fair. Plus, in a weirdly possessive way, you want to feel like he’s yours. Even if that isn’t true.

“There are strawberries, too,” she points out.

“I just grabbed the first charm I saw.”

“Ah,” she examines the unfinished bracelet. The beads are alternated in a different pattern than Seoah’s. It consists of mainly white beads, a few red and green ones scattered between. “It’s nice.”

As you tie the string, you consider the chance of him not wearing it at all. Is yours too much? Too cheesy? Should you just have given him money and left it at that? Why did you spend an hour planning a design and ensuring the beads you picked weren’t scratched or chipped? Seoah had finished hers minutes ago but stayed watching you.

It’s been a while since you hung out with Seoah alone. You hung out more when your mother was here, but even then, it wasn’t too often. You aren’t as close as you feel you should be. You glance at her once you are done. She’s been growing fast, slowly discovering her personality and interests. You know you will never win the Best Sister Award, but you can try to be an honorable mention.

“Seoah?” you call, fingers toying with the finished bracelet.

She’s staring at your hands, but you can tell she isn’t really registering what is happening around her. Somewhere lost in her thoughts.

Still, she answers and looks up. “Yeah?”

“Do you,” a pause, “want to sleep over in my room tonight?”

It isn’t a big deal. You don’t plan to have a pillow fight and do each other's nails, but you would have company.

She looks happy for a split second and then narrows her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s none,” you shake your head.

“Then why did you ask?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Not quite ready to fight through the awkwardness of a sappy conversation.

“I thought it’d be nice to have some company, but you don’t have to,” you answer and grab her bracelet. You slide them inside a sheer bag you found, pulling the strings to close the opening. You stand up and place it in your purse. You’ll give it to him tomorrow.

“I want to!” Seoah says quickly when she feels like you’re changing your mind. “Let me go get changed.”

“It won’t be like the sleepovers you have,” you warn when she gets to your door. You don’t want her to get false ideas. She smiles at you.

“I know, but I don’t care.”

After you both are ready for bed, you lay staring at your ceiling. She talks about her classes, friends, and even a few crushes she has. She’s a social butterfly; unlike you, people enjoy talking to her. She is quirky enough to put some fun in conversations, but not excessive to come off rude or overbearing. You’re not sure how she grew to be such a good person because she sure as hell didn’t learn that from you or your dad. Whoever it was, though, you’re grateful. You’ve stopped feeling close to your family, so you quit putting effort into getting to know them more. 

Maybe you should change that.

This feels like walking in a tiger’s cage.

You are surrounded by people dressed up in suits and others in plain jeans and a shirt. The majority have neutral colors on, and it’s different from what you’re used to. At least in your building, there are more colors.

There’s no way you’re going to be able to camouflage yourself in your all-pink plaid outfit, so why try? 

You keep your chin high as you try to find the study room, ignoring the many stares you receive on the way. You texted Seungcheol earlier and asked for his location. When he asked you why, you simply said it was a surprise.

Room 526.

There’s a window in the door, and you peer in to see if he’s there. He is. Though he isn’t alone. Hajun, Hana, and Doyun are there as well. They’re silent, heads bowed, as they all work on something in front of them. Seungcheol seems deep in thought.

That is until Hajun makes a comment while glancing at Seungcheol. He smiles, chuckling at whatever she said before they both go back to their work. 

It’s odd to see him in this environment. He acts so casually with the very same people who only spit insults at you. You know Seungcheol has never stopped talking to them. You didn’t tell him to, and they were his friends before you. Yet, there is still a twinge of disappointment that he remained friends with them. 

Dae’s words ring in your ear from weeks ago—he could have left you. Then there is the devil on your shoulder telling you he should have. However, you tried that already. You made that decision for him, but he came back. And you let him.

“Yn?” says a male voice behind you. You jump, turning on your heel quickly and moving from the door.

Vernon stands with his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“Vernon,” you say, startled. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles shyly. “I’m late for a study group.”

“I thought you were changing majors?” you question.

“I am, but I figured I’d stick it out for the classes I have. Don’t want to waste any more money than I already have by withdrawing,” he chuckles sadly.

“It’ll be worth it once you find something you like,” you reassure.

“Thanks,” he replies and gives you a toothy smile. He looks so young with that grin. “I should go in before they text me again.”

You step aside as Vernon moves.

“Hey, can you tell Seungcheol to come out?” you ask quickly before he opens the door.

“Sure,” he replies.

“You took your time,” Hana teases when the door opens.

“It’s not my fault my phone died overnight. I didn’t hear my alarm,” he pouts. There are a few chuckles that echo in the room.

“Oh, Cheol?” Vernon says. There’s silence for a second. “You’re needed outside.”

“Why?” Seungcheol asks; he sounds distracted.

“Yn’s here.”

“Yn?” Hajun questions, surprised. “What is she doing here?”

“I’ll be right back,” Seungcheol says as you hear the sound of a chair scraping the floor.

“She’s probably just here to recruit you for her stupid project. You don’t need to help her. Let’s just get back to work,” Hajun reasons. “Vernon’s here so we can get done faster.”

“I’m sure you can wait five more minutes,” he says. You listen carefully as his footsteps become louder. The door squeaks when it’s pushed open more.

You look up at the noise and meet Seungcheol’s eyes. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. 

His hair is pushed off his face, a few pieces hanging down deviantly. He wears black slacks and a tucked-in white button-down. The tie around his neck is loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. 

His once-stressed face soon brightens as he lets the door shut. He moves closer.

“Hey, Cherry,” he smiles.

“Hey,” you reply, a little breathless from having held your breath.

“It’s good to see you,” he murmurs, leaning a forearm against the wall. You notice he’s keeping his distance, and you’re unsure if it’s purposeful. Perhaps you’re just overthinking again.

“You too,” you reply. Your eyes take one more quick sweep of his attire. How he makes a simple fit look so remarkable is beyond you.

“I can tell you want to give me another compliment,” he haughtily says.

You huff, trying to disguise your panicked expression with faux annoyance. “Not when you tell me that.”

“I can wait,” he says and disregards your comment. He lays his head against the arm that’s on the wall as if he’s taking a rest. You want to wipe that smug smile off his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” you whine.

“No, baby, I’m patient.” He speaks slowly as if to emphasize his statement.

You glare up at him but soon relent with a huff. “You look good.”

“Oh, come on, you used that last time. Don’t you have another adjective? Maybe one that rhymes with pot?” he smirks, an eyebrow rising in challenge.

He wants you to call him hot.

You aren’t going to at first, but then you decide you’re done with him having the upper hand. You recall his shocked and reddened face at Seoah’s question in the car. It would be nice to see that again.

You close the space between you, hand grabbing the end of his tie. Slowly, you wrap the material around your palm. His smug smile slowly disappears with each inch you tug him closer. He pushes his forearm off the wall and sprawls his hand on it instead. His other hand grabs your hip so he can’t tumble forward.

“I’ll say something even better,” you purr lowly. Your faces are so close to each other that you can faintly feel his breath. “You look very sexy, Seungcheol.”

The hand on your hip squeezes you, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob from his harsh swallow. It feels good to put him on the other side for a change. You smile triumphantly at his reaction before letting his tie unravel from your hand.

Taking a step back, his hand slips from your body, and you dig into your purse for the jewelry bag.

“Here, I came to give you this,” you explain and hold the bag up. His eyes drop from yours to the item. He still looks a little dazed.

“It’s a thank you for letting me and Seoah stay the night.”

Seungcheol takes the bag, flipping it over in his hand. He brings it closer and examines it through the sheer material. His lips slowly tug up. Before he can say anything, you hastily continue.

“It was Seoah’s idea. You don’t have to actually wear them, we—she just wanted to give you something.”

Seungcheol starts opening the bag, and you swiftly put a hand out as if to stop him. “You don’t have to open it now, you can do that la—”

He takes out the two bracelets, twisting them until both charms are facing him. You drop your hand and start playing with the strap of your purse, resisting the urge to tap your foot as you stand in silence watching him.

“T-the ‘S’ is for Seoah, not Seungcheol,” you explain. You’re not sure why you do it in the first place. It doesn’t really matter what the ‘S’ really stands for.

“And the cherries? What do they represent?” he questions, eyes flickering to you with a faint smile.

Your heart hammers in your chest. He doesn’t need to ask that. He knows what they represent.

“They’re just cherries. Don’t think too muc—”

“That’s not true and you know it,” he scolds gently. Your eyes focus on his hands as he carefully slips both bracelets on his wrist. They fit around him perfectly. They aren’t too tight to dig into his skin, but they are loose enough to allow a finger or two to slip through.

His gaze moves back to yours. When he notices your averted gaze, he leans in to catch your attention.

“What do they represent?” he repeats, a hint of sternness to his voice.

You meet his eyes reluctantly. “Me. They r-represent me.”

“Yes, they do,” he says, finally letting his smile show more. Seungcheol slips the bag into his pocket. “They’re nice. Tell Seoah thank you.”

“I will,” you answer, clearing your throat. “I’ll let you get back to studying.”

“Don’t you want your thank you?” Seungcheol chuckles and takes a small step forward.

Your body freezes in place. “I don’t need one.”

“Hm,” he says. He takes a quick glance at the study room’s door before cupping the back of your neck gently. Warmth spreads from that area to the rest of your body. You stare at him with wide eyes.

“Thank you, Cherry. Really,” he murmurs and then kisses your forehead for the third time since you met him.

You truly aren’t keeping track. Definitely not.

“I’ll text you later?” he says, though it sounds like a suggestion.

“Okay,” you agree with a small nod.

“You going home?” he asks and slowly walks back to the door, hand grazing your skin as he leaves.

“No, I have a class. Do you have a test or something?” you wonder, recalling how serious he looked earlier.

“A presentation,” he says. That explains his attire.

“Ah. Good luck,” you wish.

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you quickly added, “Oh, and Seungcheol?”

His hand is pressed down on the door handle when you call. He turns his head to you, waiting for your reply before he goes inside.

“You do look sexy.”

Seungcheol laughs, less flabbergasted about your compliment this time.

“Thanks, Cherry. You look beautiful.”

He says it as if it’s as easy as breathing. There’s no hesitation or delay in his comment. You wonder how long he’s been thinking that.

Seungcheol pulls the door open before you can reply and slips inside. As the door is closing, you hear Hajun ask, “Goodness, was she trying to get in your pants? You took forever!”

“Enough, let’s just...”

The door clicks close as Seungcheol speaks. You’re tempted to press your ear against it to hear the rest of the sentence, but you remember you’re in public. You inhale slowly, pausing for a few seconds before exhaling gradually. 

Why does every conversation with Seungcheol leave your heart racing?

previous chapter \\ pretty please masterpost // next chapter

A/N: brb swooning 😪 also if i knew how to draw well enough, i would def conjure up the pic mc took of cheol bc in my head it's just SAUR CUTE D:<

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

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[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Badass || Bill Denbrough x Reader

Day 2 of Fictober

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x [gn] Reader

Requested: how about you do a bill x reader where the reader is a badass but still in the losers club???? just came up with it!!! btw love ya work and love ya!!!!

A//n: Aw thank you so much! That’s so sweet of you. Love you too darling, hope you like it 💛💛💛 and thanks for being so patient like the rest y'all 😘 [also i am in no way a badass so I’m sorry, I tried lol] edit: OKAY IM ACTUALLY SO PROUD OF THIS, HOLY CRAP?? And again, i finished and pressed saved draft 30 SECONDS before midnight, so fight me this counts lol i just had to set up the title and tags and stuff on my computer before posting. anyways, thanks for waiting for this request, i hope you enjoy this, like i said, im actually surprised at how proud of this one i am!

Fictober Prompt: “that’s the easy part”

Warnings: Blood

“ROCK WAR~!”

The next thing you knew, rocks were soaring across the stream straight for your head. Luckily for your skull, your reflexes were faster than you remembered and you managed to duck before a giant stone could knock you out.

And yet you still heard a thump?

You peek out from behind your arms, looking behind you to see Richie laying flat on his ass, his glasses askew. You winced before you caught sight of a giant rock near his foot and quickly made a grab for it.

Your glare stretches across the stream, settling on the leader of the bigoted pack. You kissed the rock as you met his eye, a devilish smirk stretching across your face as you wound up. Bowers was scrambling for ammo but you had already released. The rock found its target with a satisfying ‘thunk’ leaving Bowers on his ass clutching his bleeding nose. He pulls his hand away, gaping at the overwhelming amount of blood that had already painted his hand before locking eyes with you.

“KISS MY ASS, HENRY!” You hollered with a triumphant smile. “YOU TWISTED FUCK!”

“What the fuck?” Belch and Victor began scrambling back, looking around desperately for rocks of their own.

The Losers spared wide eyed glances your direction as they unleashed a storm of rocks on the now deeply unsettled Bowers gang. Bill was the only one who hesitated, his wide blue eyes frozen on you when you turned to give him a smirk. You had been looking for ammo and it seemed he had the perfect one. You cocked a brow, your devilish smirk still dominating your face as you gestured to the stone in his hand.

“You gonna use that, Billy Boy?”

You threw a few quick glances across the barrens making sure your weren’t gonna get hit. Luckily morale seemed to be growing scarce over there.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t completely gone.

“Ow,” Bill hissed, right hand clutching his left shoulder. “F-f-uck.”

Your head whipped around on your shoulders again to see Victor Criss’s upper lip twitching into a satisfied smile as he looked at Bill. You returned your attention to your boyfriend and the rock he held out for you.

“Let me,” you seethed.

You snatched the rock up, stomping forward with a wild glare in your eyes that was enough to intimidate the bleach blonde. Victor was already on his heels and running, but you weren’t letting him get away that easy. You threw with all your might and watched with pride as it soared through the air and hit him directly on the spine that was poking through his back. He cried out in pain as he fell to the ground, his chin meeting the very rock bed that fueled the fight.

“EAT SHIT,” You spit. “YOU LACKEY ASS FUCK!”

~~~~

“Turn it off!” Beverly cried. “TURN IT OFF!”

The projector in Bill’s garage had quickly turned into It’s stage as It put on a horrific display for you and the rest of your friends. What was just once pictures of Derry, suddenly turned into pictures of Bill’s family - you missed Georgie terribly, having grown so close with him the year before he died when you and Bill first got together. And now you were all staring death in the eyes as It manipulated the very air in the room around you. Every click of the projector put you on edge, the stroking effect and of course the child eating clown tormenting you all.

It was hard to process your own thoughts as they were quickly drowning in everyone’s screams and your own fears. You clutched Bill tightly to your side, your arms linked and your fingers stitched together. Everything was moving so incredibly fast it was near impossible to process until you realized you weren’t holding Bill’s hand anymore.

“Y-Y/n!” He cried, tugging at the back of your shirt before it slips from his grip. “Y/N!”

Mike had already unplugged the projector, that much you knew. But you were fucking desperate. You lunged for the projector, gripping it tightly as you held it high above your head. With a guttural scream, you threw it as hard as you possibly could into the cement floor. It broke instantly into several unidentifiable pieces, the room now completely dark and eerily silent.

Heaving, you finally look up to meet your friends faces. Each of them were gaping at you, an expression they seemed to always be wearing around you.

“Well,” you say finally. “I think it’s safe to say we found It.”

~~~~

“How hard is it,” you seethed, your voice growing in volume. “to NOT wander off? In a FUCKING HAUNTED HOUSE?!”

You took all your anger and fear out on the door Richie was being held in. Your elbows were practically glued to the surface while your fists and forearms repeatedly pounded on the door. First Eddie, now Richie. You swear, these idiots had to me smarter than this.

“Richie!” Bill joined your side, pounding on the door that had closed all on its own.

“RICHARD!” You pounded on the door again, your anger turning to pure fear that was now stinging your throat and eyes as tears began to well. “This is not fucking funny, open the goddamn door asshole!”

Your hand wraps around the doorknob again, and you shake the handle, jostling it around in hopes something will cave. When the door flew open, you didn’t know whether to chalk it up to luck, skill, or it was all still part of It’s torment but you didn’t care. Richie was alive, and tumbled into your and Bill’s grip.

“Richie!” You hugged the boy tightly, then pulled away with your signature glare. “WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!?”

“N-n-no t-time,” Bill says, looking between you and Richie with determination in his eyes. “L-let’s get outta here.”

A muted thump answered before you could. You, Richie and Bill all looked to the source of the noise to see the moth-eaten mattress from earlier was now shifting by itself. It looked as if it was filled with jumping beans. A melon sized lump grew in the center before the fabric split to reveal the disheveled and muddied up head of your friend.

He smiles at your twisted expressions. “Wanna play loogie?”

Your reflexes are faster than your thought process and you run forward. Just as a strange black goo starts to spill from fake Eddie’s mouth, your leg was swinging through the air. Your left foot connected with the left side of his jaw, narrowly missing the sizzling black ink and Eddie’s head popped off his body as you put it across the room.

It sails through the air, his greasy hair catching several cobwebs as it spins. Specks of the goo go flying landing on the walls and ceiling before the small head collides with a disturbing ‘thunk’.

“What the fuck?!”

“Holy shit,”

Eddie’s head lands in the far corner of the room where it rolls back and forth on his right ear before settling. He was groaning as if all the spinning had made him dizzy. The ooze of black goo came out even faster as if he were ralphing, and it was now pooling across the floor and inching towards their feed.

“Oh, that’s fucking GROSS!” Richie looks quickly to you. “And now you made him angry!”

“At least I did something!”

“Guys,” Bill pleads. “C-come on,”

The pool of black tar is spreading fast and you and Richie don’t have to think twice to listen to Bill. You all turn on your heel, only to find three doors instead of one.

Very Scary, Scary, and Not Scary At All.

Not Scary At All was the winner, Bill and Richie quickly decide. And despite your protest that it was all clearly a trick and the doors were misnomers, they opened the Not Scary At All.

“Where’s My Shoe?”

The light was turned on to reveal the severed body of Betty Ripsom and you had promptly decided you had had more than enough.

“WHERE THE FUCK WERE HER LEGS?!” Richie cried.

“I’ve got a guess but I’m not sticking around to find out.” You growled.

You cast a glance behind you to see the tar had eaten up most of the floor, giving you little room to do what you wanted. Luckily, you didn’t need much. You took a few steps back and looked at the door in the center, your eyes settling deep into the crimson letters spelling “scary.” You were certainly glad you realized when you did that unlike the door that held Richie hostage, this one could easily be broken down from where you stood.

You sighed. “I have to do everything.”

~~~~

“WELCOME TO THE LOSERS CLUB, ASSHOLE!”

Richie’s bat swung through the air and knocked the clown back. Pennywise quickly recovered and lunged for the nearest target with a disgusting growl. You quickly scrambled for a weapon as Mike stepped up to bat. He threw the fence iron rod at the monster but it was stopped midair when It’s jaw unhinged and out came several charred arms holding it in place. More and more reached out from inside It’s throat and made a grab at Mike who was fighting back the force of all the arms.

You never happier to have been too slow to save your friend when you saw Stanley pick up one of several spare iron rods off the ground. With a brave determination, he launched forward with a fierce battle cry as his torch came down on the branch of arms that now recoiled, saving Mike. It stumbled back, the charred arms slinking back into its mouth and disappearing and Pennywise stumbles again when Richie kicks It forward and away from him. Unfortunately that brought It right to Stanley.

“Stan, watch out!” Bill cries from your side.

But it’s too late, It’s head had already changed to the same horribly contorted lady that had you had already found attacking your friend. Only this time it was still wearing It’s clown suit, and it was racing straight for Stan.

“Stan!” You cried, already running forward after him only to stop second later.

Yet again Stanley roared, striking the clown across the face with the most furious look you had ever seen on him. Despite the horrifying circumstances, you were quite proud. You quickly fell back into line, ready to fight with the others and you smiled yet again when Mike followed up Stan’s strike with a devastating blow of his own.

The small moment of victory was soon cut short - a pattern you were currently getting used to - when a pair of red tentacles-turned-crab-claws pulled Mike to the ground.

“Mike!” Eddie shrieked.

Mike was able to barrel roll to safety as as It advanced on him. The end of each gigantic claw striking the earth and narrowly missing him and you and your friends quickly followed not knowing what to do. You couldn’t watch it anymore, and you hated yourself for what you were about to do but you knew you would simply never forgive yourself if you lost Mike, or any of your friends.

For what Bill wished was the first time of the summer, he felt you leave his side as you charged headlong into danger. Another guttural scream left you as you hurled yourself onto It’s back, your iron spike in front of It’s neck, both hands on either side of the rod and you pulled as hard as you could.

Pennywise’s disturbing, maniacal laughter grew even scarier, something you didn’t think was possible as he began to suffocate. You let yourself drop back down to the ground, your grip still tight on your weapon as you used your position to pull It down to the ground. It was still laughing through chocked breathes but it had done what you hoped, and stopped, Mike had gotten to safety with the Losers.

And for one glorious moment you felt indestructible. Until you saw it shift before you’re very eyes and your eyes widened, as did the eyes of your friends and Bill. It’s complete figure changed, starting with It’s head. You and the Losers no longer saw a painted lady, a mummy, a horrible memory, an abusive father, or even a late little brother. But they saw you, their friend Y/n, cowering and crying under the iron rod that pinned you to the ground by the neck.

“Please,” It whimpered, bottom lip quivering horribly. “Please don’t. I don’t wanna die.”

The real you was staring at the sight of yourself, the real fake you that you always tried so hard to push down. You knew it was Pennywise, but it was enough to make you choke completely. You were always so confident, and you were good at sticking up for yourself and the rest of the Losers. At least that’s all they ever saw, that’s all you ever let them see. Deep down you were terrified, and much more than that you were terrified that your own fear would get in the way of protecting your loved ones.

Like now.

“Y/n?” Bill’s soft voice called out to you, breaking you from your spell.

You look down at your blubbering face, tears streaking down your cheeks as you begged yourself for mercy. Several pleas leaving your lips when finally you pulled the rod back. Your eyelids flicker open, gazing back up at you and watch your every move cowering.

“Y/n?” Ben asks.

You don’t answer, you just straighten, your demon double cowering beneath you and it only angers you more to know none of this is It’s own fear. It was yours. It was mocking you.

Which was pretty stupid, considering you still had the spike.

You bare your teeth as you summon your strength, throwing the end of the spike into the ground, going right through your throat.

~~~~

You watched with head on Bill’s shoulder as another drop of blood from your palm fell onto the grass. You were trying to think about anything but the pain, and with everything you had faced this summer, you certainly had the pick of the litter.

“It feels different now,” you say, voice quiet. “And not just cause It’s gone, ya know?”

You even hate to let yourself believe that, but for the sake of your sanity and the chance of every getting another night’s sleep you’d have to believe it. And knowing Bill as long as you did, you know he felt it too.

You pick your head up off his shoulder and look to his gaze break away from the hills in the distance to meet your eyes. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and you know for sure he’s thinking it too. Beverly was leaving for Portland, Stan said he heard whispers from his parents that they might be moving and that was all on top of the heavy weight of your guys’ trauma that had already begun to drain everyone.

“A-a-at least we-we’ve got each o-other,”

You smiled, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“Big sap,” you chuckled.

He smiled a little, enjoying the small moment between the two of you. But it disappears when his mind returns to image that had been replaying in his mind nonstop since Neibolt. The image of your cowering form that bothered you so much. He had never seen you - the real you, that was being confronted, that is - so distraught. He gulps, gathering his strength.

“W-what made you s-see that?” He asks.

You don’t answer for a long moment, and Bill fears he’s upset you. Or confused you, but he doubts that is the case. Finally, you look up at him, and lick your lips nervously.

“I’m scared Bill,” you croaked, heart pounding wildly at the admission. “I’m always worrying about you, I’m always worrying about Richie, Mike, Eddie, Stanley, Bev, and Ben. I’m always worried something is going to happen. I’m always scared something’s gonna happen to the ones I love, and I get scared that I’m not gonna be enough to protect them.”

You take a deep breath, swallowing all the air you lost in your unintentional rant. Somewhere during your confession, your gaze broke away from Bill’s gaze and now here you were afraid to even look him in the eye.

There’s another silence that Bill finally ends after a small thoughtful moment.

“It’s okay to be scared, Y/n,” he says, pulling your eyes to him. “I-I-It’s part of being h-human.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying your best to banish the image of your cowardly form from your mind. Suddenly the sting of your cut didn’t hurt so bad.

You looked back into Bill’s soft eyes, and shrugged.

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel too great either.”

He nudged you again with a charming smile.

“Well, y-you’re still a badass. Y-You’re always s-standing up for us,”

You chuckled weakly, sending him a smirk.

“That’s the easy part,” you say. “It’s looking out for myself that’s harder.”

“T-t-tell ya what?” You raise a brow at his sudden demeanor. “I’ll be t-the b-b-badass lookin out for you,”

You laughed, leaning in and giving him a lingering kiss that turned his cheeks absolutely scarlet.

You smiled when you saw this. “Thanks Billy Boy. Appreciate it. But I’d still like to work on myself a bit, ya know?”

He smiles again, this time triumphantly. “Deal.”

[thewritingstar]

Blue with Envy

Pairing: Bubbles x Boomer (Boomubbles) 

Fandom: PPG

So this is my first fic for the blues, which is really weird to think about. I haven’t written a solo fic for them, at least I don't think I have so I hope y'all like it. im terrible at fluff but here we are :) 

Tag list: @shellielyzabeth @unvalley @over-under-through1 @lisathefan @creativecilla (lmk if you wanna be on the tag list) 

--

“Alright, look I don't want any problems, just put the money in the bag.” Boomer demanded and he smirked when he saw the cash drawer open and the gas station attendant held the money with shaky hands. 

He never thought that he would still be doing crime at seventeen but yet here he was, listening to Bricks demands and going out in the cold early in the morning just for chump change. 

Boomer heard the sliding doors open behind him and whipped his head towards the door as he kept his glowing fist at the man. He saw nothing but the door starting to close and he furrowed his brows. 

“When will you learn?” He let out a yell as he saw Bubbles sitting in front of him on the counter. She looked positively board and he watched as the man with the money dropped the cash bag and ran to the employees only door. 

“Fucking hell, what do you want?” He sneered. 

She rolled her eyes and placed her foot on his chest before kicking him with a strong force and causing him to fall into the postcard rack behind him. Of course the blow wasn’t even bad but he was annoyed she got that out of him. He jumped to his feet quickly, ready to start a fight and have this place go up in a blue light. 

He tried to come closer but she held her hand up signaling for him to stop. 

“You know you’re better than that.” Bubbles mumbled. “You’ve always been better.” Her voice just above a whisper.

His voice got caught in his throat as she put the money back into the register, causally ignoring him. He should have flown and kept the cash so that his brothers wouldn’t rip him a new one but he was frozen in place.

She looked tired. But in a way that she was hanging on by a single thread. There was this undeniable sadness that had washed away any part of joy and laughter. The girl he saw hours ago was not the same now, at least he thought. Her baby blue eyes were laced with heavy bags underneath them and even her face lost that angelic glow she constantly had. 

“Yeah right.” He spat. He didn’t have to listen to her lies, even if she did sound genuine. 

Bubbles looked around the store and noticed that they were the only ones around before picking up the fallen postcard rack. “You know Boomer, I’ve always been slightly envious of you.” She said.

His eyes widened as she kept placing the cards back.

“Envious of what?” He asked and his palm tightened to a fist.

She let out a small laugh. “How carefree you get to be. Super villains, well I don’t think you are one at least, they get to live peacefully. The only torment they receive is constantly being overshadowed and beaten by sunshine’s and rainbows.”

He scoffed and scraped is foot on the group before snatching a lollipop and shoving it into his mouth. He glared at her when she finally stood up and leaned against the counter. “Not always beaten by little girls.” 

“Of course not.” She giggled and this time he could see the soft glow in her eyes. “Then again, we aren’t little anymore.” She shrugged. 

“Now what?” Boomer questioned. “You got me, gonna take my ass to jail?” 

Bubbles thought for a moment and shook her head. It was a little odd to see her blonde curls not up in the infamous ponytails but instead hanging loose on her shoulders. 

“I don’t think so. I don’t see a reason to.” 

He raised a brow. “But I broke in and-”

“I can send you ass to jail.”

“No! Thats not-I’m just wondering on your reasoning.”

Bubbles walked back to the counter and plopped onto it before taking a lollipop for herself. “Do you ever get tired?” 

“Tired?” 

“Tired of being like this?” 

“Like what?” Boomer asked and when he looked at her, she was staring at her hands. “Oh, like that.” he frowned. 

Maybe it would be easier. Actually, it would be easier to not have these powers at times. He wouldn’t have to deal with the power struggle of good and evil or how he lived in his brothers shadows. he wouldn’t have to deal with mixed emotions about his purpose. But then again, he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the chemical X. 

“Sometimes I guess. Why do you?” Boomer questioned. 

She fell silent for a second. “Sometimes.” Of course they felt the same, they were counterparts through and through, maybe she struggled with the same fears as he did? But he didn’t think he should ask. 

He looked at the time on his phone and saw that four am was coming up. He should get going. “Well its been really...something.” He spoke and pushed off the counter. “I guess I’ll see ya or not.” 

He began walking away, the cash register looked like it was untouched and the store was perfectly in place. He threw his lollipop stick in the trash and the double sliding doors opened to the cool air. 

“Boomer?” He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. She was still on the counter, eyes towards the lights. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was envious of you.” 

“Miss perfect is envious of a street rat?” He sounded disgusted with himself but when she met his eyes, she had an expression of pain as if his comment hurt her as well. 

Bubbles now joined him at the front. He never noticed how he was only an inch or two taller than her. Their eyes slightly unleveled but he could hear their heart beats go in sync. 

“But you get to be imperfect and do as you please. I think you have a lot more to you than you realize.” She sighed and reached into her pocket before handing him twenty dollars. “It’s all I have on me but I think it’s better than taking something from a family that means well. If anything, go for corrupt places or even the Morbucks.” She passed him and walked under the moonlight. 

Boomer looked at the crumpled up bill in his hand. He didn’t understand why she did that, she didn’t have to. He was a super villain..well, bad guy so to speak. And yet, someone who he has hated, maybe not hated, cared about his well being and could have easily left him in the dust. 

“Bubbles?” He called after her, not realizing she was already in the air. He jumped and floated up to her, meeting her eyes and she looked at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks. 

“Yeah?” 

He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly became very nervous. “Do you think maybe, we could, uhh, be friends?” 

She blinked those baby blue eyes at him. He thought she was going to reject him. Spit on him or even punch him to the other side of town, the way rivals do. But instead she took his hand and gave him a smile that suddenly warmed his heart. 

“I would like that a lot.” She said. “I’ll see you later Boomer.” 

He offered a small smile but then let out a gasp as her lips touched his cheek quickly and when he opened his eyes, the bright blue streak was across the sky. His heart rate picked up and he found himself reaching up and touching the place her lips were just at. 

He didn’t truly know how to feel but in that moment there was a smile on his face and he felt calm and as if the world started to make a little more sense. 

--

Hope I did the blues justice

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

the giggle - thoughts and reactions (part 2/2)

obsessed with how much attention donna pays to the recap... ("is all of this true?" well there's some nuances donna but yeah pretty much lol)

"by a bird(????????)" favorite delivery of all time

yoo i saw gifsets of this scene and was sad they skipped 13 era but they DONT skip 13's era dfsklj (And listen im thasmin-truther thru and thru but flux IS more of a proper, affecting trauma than like, the doctor being a fuckboi for the 60th time skdlfjkdl) once again fandom was making a fuss about nothing ugh

the doctor's subtle shift+close-up when it comes to bill's bit in ze recap........... too soon

they contractually needed an scene where nph could show his card-playing magician chops hehe

"i made every opinion supreme. they shout and they type and they cancel. that's the game of the 21st century" ur brain on liberalism/idealist philosophy

"and u know full well we're both elderitch horrors" was such a sexy comeback lol

("doctor, the doctor, fun")

"we can be celestial" ok we didnt need to remember *that* about the toymaker, rtd :/

handmeidens .… interesting insult choice....

"every single one of you is fantastic" iidk mel i have my reservations about twin dilemma!six...

bi-generation is supposed to be a myth ... myht myth myth... EYES EMOJI. BLURRED EYES EMOJI.,!!!!! SALT. THIS ONLY HAPPENED BECAUSE OF THE SALT. (screams into the night)

"i think you're beautiful" "*still* beautiful" obsessed w/ it. yes 14 you’re still a beautiful woman probably.

"i’ll have medows of doctors dying over and over again" he’s just a whump fic writer. Let him be. Toymaker just #tag your shit and everything is OK.

HE SHRANK THE GUARDIANS INTO VODOO DOLLS sdlkfjd rip the funky birds!!!!

you loved rose and river AND YAZ!!!!. damn they SHOULD have put yaz there. it would have Worked so damn well with the themes of this special ghgh and would have actually delivered the point that 14 “says things like that now”. And would have connected all the arcs so well aghghghg.

Lol 15 trying bludgeon 14…. me when [the self-hate] (also // to donna’s "this is so therapeutic!")

but this is what i get... my reward... and is not fair

mmm… dr who is a tv show fuel → the toymaker gets “banished” from this reality… and he gets flattened .... like it is rn if u watch the episode. u are looking at a flat image of NPH...

“you do it day by day”... i cry (“that would drive me mad” let's hope fourteen's life doesn't go the way of The Hours (2002) directed by Stephen Daldry lol)

“my reward.... to come home” t.t aaaaaa mi fine IM FINE

a tardis that regenerates in the second act WILL bi-regenerate in third act

people were so mad that they didnt make it about change.... well yeah it wasnt about change. it was about rehab

if we see a tardis w/o the jukebox, that's not me (we don't see it...)

"you werent gonna leave without saying goodbye, were you?" "as if i would ever do that" (translation: damn, u saw what i was gonna do)

"good luck" (translation: bitch go collect NEW TRAUMA away from me)

the evil step mother dslkfjk

ching out for fandom 2 mine all the Gen Fic possible out of this situation for years to come. Peace.

CONCLUSIONS!

oh boy. dskflj let's separate it by points, I'm Eager To Soapbox tonite...

ON DOCTORDONNA:

this was a success for me in ways the star beast wasn't. there’s so much Food in this one. "to come home" "maybe i will save you", etc etc etc etc. It feels like it draws a close to 10 and Donna’s story... but not really bc “the story never ends”....aka: Fandom the ball is now in ur court, the ground is Fertile for us to produce decades upon decades of Gen Fic (and they even get a TARDIS a la deleted tentoo scene! so we aren't even confined to domestic stuff only!!!) it is our time to Feast. Merry Christmas and God Bless Us All <3

ON MESSAGING: This episode is, at the very least, made up of 2 hats: the first hat is " toymaker outfoxing The Dr." (no complaints in this), and the hat inside that hat is: “humanity going mad and being The Problem” ... this was good enough to be its own hat. but it is kinda forgotten? If this were a normal season I feel that would have been a full episode where we would feel the implications of it . maybe then I would respect it more as a Political Message / Social Criticism bc rn it feels very eye roll lib core / basic af... to Elaborate:

this is what prejudice works like only if u have no understanding of material conditions. "why are people so prejudiced? BC they're afraid and mad! their fear of the new makes them lash out!!!!" sure. but the reason *that's* dangerous is not bc suddenly everyone will start rowing on the streets, is bc 1% of ppl get *benefits* from this line of thinking. prejudices are not actually "born" out of "fear" and "madness" but are *carefully, intentionally constructucted and/or encouraged* by the dominant class)

(Meiners wasn't an "irrational" person, he was being /quite/ rational in furthering scientific racism …… germany's wealth came from exploiting nigeria, togo, rwanda.… meiners own wealth came from that. Slavery *is* logical if you’re an slaverer. Pretending it isn’t leads u to pointless things like trying to “argue” against socdems in power to further refugee rights… they don’t care. They are doing it because it benefits them. It isn’t a “flaw” in the system, it’s the system working as intended).

(so like, yeah this is a ~validating and ~poignant commentary to watch if u are a ~liberal (tr: center-right person) who wants to believe they're superior to conservatives (extreme right person), but it's... not actually an astute or meaningful reading of the political zeitgeist)

so yeah. that plot fumbled imo and my hope now is with the upcoming Kate and PM story we can go harder on "Dealing With The Zeitgeist" and maybe redeem this in the process. we shall see...

On The Big Controversy:

Bigeneration rlly rlly works for me ... tbh On a couple levels… first, the mechanical: the doctor after TTC has been thoroughly portrayed as a Weird Thing more than any other time recently. Ppl used to joke about “elderitch horror” doctor before but now it feels like… way more real. The Doctor is really fucking weird !! so having them split like a cell? To survive? Yeah to me that feels like a very “yeah, this might as well happen”. After The Regeneration Limit has been throughout Debunked in-universe, it follows that we would question... just how much life is there in this fucking guy??? well, too much to be contained in one body, babes!

SO, that’s the mechanical level… but on the emotional level? I love it even more. The thing to understand is that... in this story, regeneration is *not* a device for telling a story about “accepting change” (that’s been done, lbr, more than enough times before). Here, it is actually doing a new thing for The Show: it is telling a story about “the journey of Healing” (hopefully, the first step in a very long Journey focused on that). 15 holding 14, embracing him… that’s just, well, it's moving man. 14 is a mess and 15 from what I’ve seen is Fucked Up In Brand New Ways… but here, in this moment, at least they’re starting to show a little bit of self-compassion. That’s one of the hardest things there is man, and for a character that has gone thru sm Grief and sm Trauma and shown so much downright self-destruction, self-sabotage, season after season after season… (literally saying ‘no’ to Yaz the day before for (reasons)!!!)…. And like, going against every other “the doctor can’t stand themeselves” character beat since The Power Of Tree (which I love don’t get me wrong but!! it's always had Implications!!)!!! ... well... It’s truly hopeful. It’s relatable. It’s beautiful. I'm sorry some dw fans are so tired of DT that they truly are missing out on something Monumental for the show / the character in general. That leads us to... ON THE TRANSITION FROM 13'S ERA

I also feel ngl fandom seriously worries about such… unimportant things all the time. “oh but having a DT with a tardis out there MIGHT make people think Ncuti isn’t legitimate!!!!” bro every other white doctor was already out there having adventures in the TARDIS every other week. Ppl who don't consider 13 or 14 as legitimate were already doing that by refusing to watch the show and sticking to the watching the 40+ seasons of white males as leads that are literally a click away. Like I’m sorry to bring up old fanwank but sdklfjsd god, honestly that was such a bizarre, intangible worry to have. When u actually watch the special w/o all these marketting worries... They very much …… don’t forget 13 in these specials . in fact it’s quite the opposite sdklf to get a true Understanding of all the layers going on in 14’s arc, 13’s story are p much requisite viewing. and I'm a flux Enjoyer thru and thru but c'mon, we all talked about how the resolution was fumbled sdlkfjsd it's Good that they are doing the fallout of 13 committing a triple genocide now!!! these specials actually elevated flux, not the opposite.

That said... god, they really should have mentioned Yaz there at the end in that "we loved her" bit re: Rose/River... I don’t know, it feels so glaring? if you didn't want to alienate the normies, why mention flux and (all the 32408 mentions of lore) in this? mentioning yaz seems so less dangerou in that case. idk. perhaps it was On Purpose and The Shoe Will Drop at some point with 15 (RTD is after all the man who gave us canon Nyssa/Tegan when he really didn’t Have To At All lol this guy would make all the companions gay if he could), but rn it’s like :/ thumbs down on that. CONCLUSIONS TO THE CONCLUSIONS

just great "big event" dr who tbh! flawed and with some things that annoyed me but also with enough stuff to send me out to do/read fanworks for the next 15 years lol . nph annoys me sometimes but toymaker was perfectly done. lots and lots of character and lore implications to make me break the tumblr post character limit. execution wise... the effects were great and the set pieces really worked. messaging as i said was weak, tho like with the lack of enough Shirley+Kate+Mel+Rose development, knowing what we know from BTS news ... this is gonna be re-treaded ground again in a few weeks, so.. we'll see if this improves (or gets worse lol). watch this space~

the giggle - thoughts and reactions (part 1/2)

fourteen breaking up from the dance- w/ the toymaker-> "do you see why i broke with him?"

kate going to hug fourteen feels very appropriate sdlkfj kate is like 14 aka barerly holding it together lol distincly not Having Had A Good time for a while. Esp avoiding any serpents...she’s just 1 scandal away from a malcolm tucker "this job has fucked me in every hole of my fucking body" meltdown")

"no change then, there" rtd making all his rtd1 era political subtext into text lol

oh…. so kate is just 1 mind-funker away from becoming an immigrant-hating, disabled-hater, bravermanish AnCapp ........................ interesting to know (put a pin on that tbh. I feel we may finally get the antagonist!kate of our dreams (my dreams) in this era)

shirley being so "is it offensive? Well, borderline..." and "absolutely no need" and "don't make me the problem" feels kinda like... "oh we can have a have a badass disabled character but she can't actually impose herself or be an inconvinience in any way" ://

like damn in that exchange with kate, just have a "we'll talk about it later" line. From a non-political / strictly narrative-pov, that would give us a bit of a flavor for their relationship as well.

"can't you give everyone a mask?" "imagine trying that" the thing is. russel.......... they did very much give everyone a mask, DSFKLJ like *some* made a big noise and sure it's alarming for "what that means" but like... most ppl did in fact mask up sldfkj that was a very significant thing that happened, in fact.........)

the old archengel network~~

CANON WEST END MELANIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

rtd taking "but no one watches television anymore!" people and giving them the middle finger <3 iconic

nah we were already mad dr. you're not that important

"that's righteusness! that's human!" but let us seeeee the effect. same problem as the first special. we're too much in the doctor's pov. let me see the *outside world* pov. rtd1 used to be so good with this :/

"you have my permission" autocracy? in MY dr. who? is more likely than u think

(what separates 14 from 10 is that like.... 11-12-13... they could all be quite ruthless, but those post-10 doctors didnt waste time with bs. they just Get On with the autocracy w/ no pretenses lol) (it's growth (tm) but at the same time........... oh, yeah, we're on a waters of marsy / ghost light-y path lol)

"hello" "hi" T.T so cute!!! i love them

"good old sabolom glitz" what an oxymoron lol

"I've got nothing. My family are all gone" oof. timeless child parallelsssss

also melanie if u want a family u just need to adopt a bunch of orphaned, supernaturally-enhanced teenagers. it worked for SJ!!!

kate WILL hire all your ex-girlfriends doctor and there's nothing u can do to stop her

"all this time and you didn't mentioned her" i mean tbf. i love melanie but .not mentioning sj *is* more alarming than not mentioning melanie sdlkfjsdklfjsd

"you're wearing yourself out" YEAH THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING

companions marathoning doctor who thru the doctor's head is always so clara coded

we can't have 10.000 …….. but we can have this “the first man picked up a rock” monologue.

(tbh actually......... i always thought it was very fitting for The Story of dr. who that the very first serial and is a historical about "the day friendship was invented" , so them invoking that rn feels very fitting. The toymaker, as a the Doctor’s Fun House Mirror Of The Day reframes that day (that story) as the day *murder* was invented. )

thie flashbacks make the toymaker serial look so much better than it is lol the land of stories serial >>> toymaker serial

"you never tell me to do that" he does actually jjkjkkklk all the time.......

"that's what unravels me, all the laws I cling to, gone" for The Theme…. → overcoming trauma is about accepting the irationality and injustice of it happening. It’s necessitates accepting that life can be fundamentally Unbalanced and not Karmic.

this ep is fun but is like.... idk some of 14's speeches here. Him being so clear-headed… it feels bit gratuitous? Unearned? this "im always so certain" as well... which *shouldnt feel like that* since we've had 13 seasons (40+ seasons*) of development before this. but idk it still feels like... too much too sudden?

"take away the toys... what am i? what am i now?" the kids aren't all right.mp3

maybe i'll save u!!! aaaaa TOT

(for all the talk about "i say things like that now" the doctor doesn't actually says she loves donna *to* her face here...)

“games don’t have a memory, every game starts from scratch” tbh that’s what watching the show is like sometimes lol even for us ~reconcile everything~folks… at some point u do gotta take each week as its own thing.

the giggle in my head………… // the drumming…?

lol the "i thought i was clever" puppetry imaginery and the twisting of the ten-era"help me" motif.. c'mon toymaker is just ur avarage fan fiction writer. u are valid my dude!! join AO3!!!

[satoruvt]

the color of you - green (3)

i feel like in terms of the patterns im tryna leave this chapter wasnt that good but its ok i like it anyways and i hope u do too

pairing → keigo takami x bakery owner!reader

word count → 2072

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him… right?

song inspo → xo by eden

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The grass is so bright.

You don’t know why it looks particularly vibrant today - maybe it’s the sun. It dots the grass under the trees in unusual polygons, the rays lighting up the green in their early-summer light. Your eyes trace the landscape, starting at the ground before moving up. Brown bark of a tree, then the token green of summer again, and finally blue sky. It’s a good day for a walk. 

Keigo squeezes your hand gently and you’re moved back to real-time, no longer focused on the colors of the world.

You’re still surprised this is so easy - of all of the things you thought this relationship would be, easy wasn’t one of the words that came to mind. But it is, Keigo makes it easy, somehow. The first few days, you went home every night from hanging out, going on “dates” just to scream into your pillow that it was you with pro-hero Hawks - albeit fake, it was you.

And his publicist was right about you gaining business - the bakery was flourishing more than ever before, supportive fans coming to try their beloved hero’s girlfriend’s pastries. The money you were getting as a positive consequence was enough for you to actually have money leftover after groceries and bills, not to mention the few employees you had were getting paid what they deserved.

“Hey, stop spacing out,” Keigo says, stopping in the pathway. When you turn to him with a raised eyebrow, he’s pouting playfully. “You’re supposed to be focused on me.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you keen, placing a hand over your heart. “I’m so sorry, my love! Forgive my incompetence…”

He grins. “All is forgiven if you agree to sit with me under the mighty oak tree over yonder.”

His medieval speak makes you cringe (though you’re sure yours isn’t any better) but you let him lead you to the tree he had in mind. He sits down at its base, under the shade of its leaves, and you follow. You lay so your head is on his lap, resting on your back.

It’s not a designated date today - Keigo had a day off (a “day off”) and called to see if you had one as well. You didn’t have to be to the bakery until later into the afternoon, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to spend some time with him (after all, he is your boyfriend now).

He’s talking about Endeavor, how the two of them are best friends, but the Number One hero just doesn’t know it yet. You’re not really focusing on his words, because it’s hitting you hard that he’s fucking pretty. It’s not like you hadn’t noticed it before - you were (are?) a fan, you noticed that he was attractive, but Lord, if it doesn’t show in the sunlight right now. With his perfectly-unruly hair, light and intelligent eyes -

“Oh!” Keigo says, looking down at you. “I just remembered. We should take some pictures.”

It takes you a moment to recover. “Uh - for what?”

“Social media.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you sit up from his lap. You’re sure the two of you look pathetic, taking selfies in the middle of a park, but then again, what’s the harm?

Keigo taps on the photo app, turns his phone sideways, and you brush down your hair that’s sticking in a million different directions once you see yourself in the frame. It doesn’t take long - Keigo sends you an impatient look anyways and you tell him to shut up - and you scoot behind him, resting your head on his shoulder cutely.

That’s the first photo, gentle smiles and green grass. The second one involves you kissing his cheek, and the third one something stupid with both of you sticking your tongues out at the camera. Once he sends them to you, you save them to your phone before putting it back into your pocket.

They’re cute pictures, and for a moment it almost seems like the whole thing is real.

-

The grass is soothing against your skin, but eventually it’s time for you to get back to the bakery.

The walk back to the main entrance of the park is softer from when the two of you came in, conversation more serious than playful (not to say that Keigo doesn’t tease you when the opportunity arises, because he does).

“Are there any big events coming up?” You ask him, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you. “Like, that we have to go to?”

“Yeah, there’s a hero awards ceremony,” Keigo says, then grimaces slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at an awards ceremony before. Or any hero meetings, aside from maybe two.”

“That’s because they suck and take too much energy.”

“Then why are we going to this one? Isn’t it weird for you to suddenly go now?”

“That’s a good question,” Keigo says, and you noticed you’ve reached the front gate. “I’ve got no fucking clue.”

The chuckle that escapes your lips is genuine, and your hand leaves his with a gentle, “I’ll see you later, Kei,” but he pulls you back suddenly. You’re closer than before, and you furrow your brows at him.

“What -”

“There’s some paparazzi behind you,” Keigo says.

Oh.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

Oh.

You nod, still reeling from when he pulled you to him, and he leans forward. But wait, why is your heart beating so fast -

Keigo’s lips meet yours in a soft kiss, something only meant to convey feeling to the outside world. It’s innocent, an “I-love-you” kiss, and it takes you half a second to reciprocate. But you do, smiling onto his lips - let’s give ‘em a show, you think to yourself - and he places a hand on your cheek. You cover it with your own, and when he pulls away you lean into his palm on instinct.

“Not gonna lie, hero,” you breathe, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Keigo grins, obviously smug, but you snort.

“Whore.”

“Hey!”

With a laugh, you walk out of the main gate, to the subway station. You can’t help but reminisce about the feeling of Keigo’s lips as you do.

-

The bakery’s having a slow day by the time you walk in, the inside seats only occupied by a few people. The chatter is quiet, barely there, and it reminds you of mid-spring days, sitting outside with friends to catch up. You head back to the kitchen with a greeting to each of your employees, but you barely get started on some cookie dough when you’re called out to the front of the restaurant.

“Y/N, there’s a delivery person here for you,” one of your employees says, and you sigh, thinking about what to do, given that your hands are covered in flour.

“Can you handle it? It’s probably just this week’s dairy,” you respond, working the dough through your fingers. Your employee shakes his head, and he’s got a small smile on his face.

“It’s not that,” he says. “The guy’s got flowers.”

What?

You furrow your brows - “tell him to wait for a minute” - before washing your hands off, wiping the excess water on your apron. When you walk out to the cash register, sure enough, there’s a man waiting with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Are you Y/N?” He asks when you get close enough, and you nod. “From Hawks.”

You take the bouquet in your hands and you hear a camera snap as you do. When you turn your head to the noise, none of the customers in the bakery show any signs of it being them, but you’re sure it’s one of Keigo’s fans who heard his name. The delivery guy walks out of the bakery and you roll your eyes, laughing to yourself. There’s a tag tied around the stems and you pull on it to read it.

Couldn’t help but notice how you looked at the flowers earlier, so I got you some of your own. If I don’t see them on the counter the next time I’m at the bakery, we’re gonna have some problems.

The note is signed with a loopy scribble of Keigo’s name, and then a heart. It makes you smile and you take out your phone to send a picture of the tag to him, along with a message that reads “received loud and clear.” He responds quickly; “good, they better be in the best vase you can find.”

-

“Why are my flowers in a pot?”

You look up from wiping down the counter, brain thoughtlessly telling you to tell whoever it is at the door that the bakery’s closed, but you’re met with a familiar pair of red wings and golden eyes.

You tuck the damp rag into a pocket in your apron, shrugging as Keigo walks closer to the counter. “It’s a bakery, that’s the best vase I can find,” you say, then pout, “besides, it’s rustic, leave it alone.”

He laughs, and you motion for him to follow you back to the kitchen. “So, what brings you here?”

“My flowers.”

You feign offense, draping the back of your hand over your forehead. “Really? Only the flowers? Not to see little old me, your very own girlfriend?”

Keigo hums, dipping his finger into a mostly-empty tub of icing to taste it. “Mm, I take it back. Not the flowers. It was for this kick-ass icing.”

“You like it?” You ask, and he nods, going in for another finger-ful. “You should try the donuts I just made.”

“Holy shit, can I?”

You giggle at his eagerness, then pull out two donuts from the cooling rack nearby. You hand one to Keigo - a classic glazed - before taking your personal favorite off the rack and taking a bite yourself. When Keigo sees you do it, he does too, and you’re immediately overwhelmed in compliments.

“Jesus, Y/N, I think I’m calling it,” he says, mouth full of pastry. “I’m completely in love with you. How the hell did you get this good?”

You feel the flush in your cheeks before it shows, and you shrug, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I’ve just always had a thing for baking, I guess,” you murmur, placing your half-eaten donut on the counter as you lean against it. “That’s how I got this whole place started.”

Keigo looks at you funny and you realize you haven’t told him too much about your career, so you keep talking. “I started the bakery, like, right out of high school. I already knew that I wanted to bake my whole life, so I never thought about using my quirk to become a hero or going to college or any of that stuff.”

He nods, finishing off his donut in another few bites. The silence is weird, not being filled, and it feels good to talk to him about this, so you keep going, playing with the hem of your apron out of habit. “I know my parents are super proud of me for starting my own business so young, but… I did it so fast, and I worry that they think I’m gonna do everything at that same speed. It just puts a lot of pressure on me, you know?”

When you look at Keigo again, he’s got a certain look in his eyes, and you don’t know what it is. You realize that he probably didn’t want to hear about all of your fears with having your own business and panic flushes through your veins at the sudden thought.

“Oh, sorry, you probably didn’t wanna hear about all that,” you rush out, and Keigo’s quick to respond.

“No, it’s just…” he pauses, tapping his fingers on the counter once, twice. “You just summed up my entire career.”

It’s your turn to look at him funny, and it’s his turn to tell you his sob story. “I was chosen to be a hero when I was, like, ten or eleven or something, and I started my own agency when I was eighteen. I like being known as the hero with speed, as someone who can get shit done, but… it’s a lot, sometimes.”

He meets your eyes, and you’re very aware of the new understanding the two of you share. There’s something different in the way he looks at you, now.

And it’s good.

[musicnoots]

Another Cinderella Story

Babe Heffron/Reader

Prompt “Oh my God, I'm in love with an adult man-child” requested by anon

A/N: 🌼BABE CUTENESS🌼

Synopsis: The quest for a missing shoe at one in the morning.

Tags: @gottapenny @dustyjjumpwings @wexhappyxfew @medievalfangirl @bandofmarvels @those-dusty-jump-wings @curraheev @junojelli @majwinters​ @david-weepster @evelyn-shelby @those-dusty-jump-wings @floydtab @rayleighshughes @alienoresimagines @yeahcurrahee @not-john-watsons-blog @inglourious-imagines @meteora-fc​ 

“Psst, Y/N,” he whisper-yells. He’s trying his very best not to rudely wake you up, rather, politely wake you up in the middle of the night. “Y/N?”

Babe can’t find the pair of his shoes. His favorite pair of shoes. The ones his Ma gave him for his eighteenth birthday—the brown oxfords that he’d been laying his eyes on at the store weeks before all those years ago.

He’s all but turned the entire house upside down looking for them. 

The shoe rack is in disarray, your shared closet that was once neat and tidy is now messy and won’t close shut thanks to your boyfriend and his midnight antics. Babe had also gone rummaging through the kitchen cabinet, as if the missing shoe would magically appear in between the bread and jam. 

“Hello?” he shakes your shoulder this time, and that’s enough to wake you up from your deep sleep, dazed and confused as to who’s talking to you right now. “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

“Babe?”

You yawn, your hand drifts to touch his cheek—truth be told, you hadn’t noticed that he’d slipped out of bed. 

You swear your person was in bed snuggling with you ten seconds ago! His head tucked under your armpit, his lips attached to the underside of your breast, and his hand resting on the curve of your waist all while hogging all the blankets from you (he doesn’t mean it, though), you hadn’t noticed until he wakes you up while on a scavenger hunt for God knows what at this hour.

“Baby, have you seen the other pair of my shoes?” He holds the shoe up. “My favorite ones. I’ve been lookin’ all ova’ the goddamn place for ‘em!”

You almost let it slide past you. Luckily, you’d recovered from your muddled state to snag a peak at the clock on the nightstand. It’s well past midnight. “W—“

“Looked in the closet, looked in the living room, I even looked in the damn cabinet! S’like it just grew legs of its own and walked straight out the door! What do I gotta do to find the missing pair?”

“Why are you looking for your shoe in the middle of the night?”

He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m goin’ to Bill’s place! Now, Y/N, can you please help me find my goddamn shoe?”

You blink. Bill’s place? You know the two are the bestest of friends, but you’re not too sure if that includes Babe randomly waking up at half past one to hang out. “Why are you going to Bill’s? It’s one in the morning?”

“I want ‘im to make a grilled cheese for me,” he says, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

Really? Grilled cheese? At one in the morning?

“You want to go to Bill’s house...because you want him to make you...a grilled cheese…”

Part of you knows not to question why your favorite gentle ginger woke up in the middle of the night suddenly wanting a grilled cheese sandwich—a few months ago, he woke you up at 4 in the morning asking for you to bake him a few cupcakes that he ended up helping decorate with vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

But Babe thinks, as if you didn’t already love him, that he shouldn’t bother you again at this ungodly hour.

“Yes! But my shoe, Y/N!” he whines. “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for it! Looked in the closet, looked in the pantry, looked in the fridge—I swear if I lost it for good, I’m gonna be so fuckin’ sad. My Ma gave it to me for my birthday a couple years ago!” He sighs and buries his face into his hands. “Goddamnit, I just wanted a grilled cheese and now I’m pissed off because I can’t find the other pair of my favorite shoes!”

“Babe—”you sit up in bed and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, “if you wanted a grilled cheese this bad, then you could have made one yourself, we have the things to make it.”

“No…”

“No?”

He pouts. “It’s not as good as yours.”

Him saying that automatically warms up your heart. 

You love him, damnit. You didn’t say no then, so there’s no way you wouldn’t get up and make your wonderful boyfriend the greatest grilled cheese to have ever graced this Earth. “Alright,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, “let’s go make you that grilled cheese. C’mon, baby.”

His eyes light up in joy. “Really?” he says as you tug on his hand to follow. “But can we still look for my shoe? After I eat the grilled cheese, I mean. I’m gonna be so sad if I never find ‘em! My Ma would never forgive me!”

“Babe, you’re alright, and besides, I think Mango probably hid it somewhere to sit in it without having to deal with you trying to cuddle with her.”

He nods. Mango is a pretty smart cat, and judging from the countless times she’s stolen both of your shoes to sit in, it’s more than likely that she’s abducted Babe’s favorite shoe. “I can’t help it! Mango’s just so squishy, and she’s an awesome cuddle buddy whenever you’re not home to give me the lovin’ I deserve.”

“I’m starting to think you love Mango more than me.”

“No!” Babe wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as the both of you waddle out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, ready to make that wretched grilled cheese he made all the ruckus about this morning. “I love you,” he peppers your neck with kisses, “from my butt to the top of my head. I love Mango, too, but she probably took my shoe so I’m kind of eh about her now. And I know you’re gonna love the way I decorated the kitchen...”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, coming to see how much of a mess he actually made. It’s nice to see that he tried to clean up for your sake, but the open cookie jar sitting on the counter is enough to make you realize how Babe has cemented his presence into your everyday life. “I’m in love with an adult man-child.”

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. “Yeah, but I’m your adult man-child.”

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written.)

I have requests and ideas for all of the prompts, so no more requests from this card will be accepted. I’m planning on writing and posting all of these within the month of December and probably a bit into January. If you don’t want to see these stories, block the tag #false bthb, if you would like to be tagged in future stories shoot me an ask!

This prompt got away from me a bit so it’s split into two parts. The prompt comes into play in the second part. Requested by @atlasistryingherbest​ I hope you enjoy it, the second part will be up tomorrow!

General tagging: @im-an-anxious-wreck (you're gonna be tagged in mostly bthb this month as that's the project I'm working on, so if you'd like this changed to only the multichapter fics or general one shots please let me know. Thank you again for the interest!)

My Sunshine Part 1

Summary: Patton thinks he’s finally caught the break he needs when he finds and falls in love with Roman. Ignoring the warning signs until it’s too late Patton ends up losing more than he had dared to gain.

Warnings: more for part two but story contains human trafficking, implied non consensual sex and starvation

Prompt: Denied food as Punishment

Ships: Royality, Patton x Roman

WC: 4, 166

Patton skirted around another group of students, clutching his rather heavy school bag and trying not to bump into anyone in his rush to his bus. The college campus wasn’t exactly large but the crowds remained a nuisance no matter how small the classes were. Seeing the bus start to pull up to the sidewalk for its hourly trip into the downtown area he quickened his pace, desperate not to miss it again. Thankfully getting to the back of the waiting line with time to spare he took a breath and finally managed to zip his bag closed, hoisting it over his shoulders and looking around to see if he could recognize anyone from his classes.

Having just moved into town for school a month ago Patton didn’t really have any friends yet, just people who would occasionally ask him for a pencil only to not give it back- but that was fine! Whenever he ran out of pencils to give he could just ask them for one and he would know they’d have one since he had given so many of his away. If nothing else he figures a missing pencil was as good an ice breaker as any to start a conversation with somebody.

Lost as he was in his thoughts he immediately snapped out of it when he caught sight of one of the cutest men he had ever seen. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t even begin to cover it when he saw the stranger laugh at whatever the person next to him was talking about and reach up to push longish, curly hair out of his eyes. The stranger seemed to suddenly become aware that he was being stared at, turning his head and somehow immediately locking eyes with an extremely flustered Patton. Offering a king smile and a small wave Patton was sure he turned at least ten different shades of red before he managed to tear his eyes away and trip up the stairs to the bus to plop tiredly in the first empty seat he could find.

Burying his face in his hands he groaned at his own stupidity, lamenting the fact that he had been caught ogling someone he didn’t even know or recognize from any of his classes. He had seemed so nice though, not even seeming fazed at being stared at- though with such a confident air that he seemed to have Patton thought maybe he was used to it by now. All he could hope was that he’d never see the stranger again and if he did he wouldn’t remember Patton as that creepy guy in the bus line who probably looked half dead for as much coffee he consumed to keep up with his life.

Deciding not to dwell on it too much he grimaced as he hoisted his pack up yet again as his stop came into view, dreading another afternoon spent on his feet trying to hear people’s orders and write them down correctly while the general noise of the restaurant made it a challenge to get his own forcibly friendly “Hello, what can I get for you?” to be heard. Shuffling off the bus with everyone else he quickly jogged down the block and around the back of the restaurant he worked at, swiping his apron on in the same motion of throwing his bag down and scooting it under a table and out of the way. Smoothing his hair bag and rubbing what he hoped was most of the tiredness from his eyes he put on his best smile and waltzed his way out onto the main floor, tagging out his shift swift for which he was barely acknowledged before they gestured to a family just getting comfortable for him to service.

Squaring his shoulders and taking one more deep breath he began walking over to them. It was just a five hour shift, he could handle a five hour shift.

-----

He could barely handle a five hour shift.

Frowning down at his bag that contained his barely started on homework his fingers fumbled with the knot of his apron as he desperately tried to work it off. Huffing in frustration he bent his neck painfully to get the top part off and shimmied hip hips while yanking the bottom part until he was finally able to kick it into a wall. Dragging a hand over his face he snatched it up and hung it up rather aggressively before getting his bag and hurrying out the back door to catch the bus back to his run down apartment. The ride was as uneventful as ever but he almost missed it when he finally reached his apartment only to see a corner of an envelope sticking out from under the door that would undoubtedly contain the rent bill he would have to scrape together enough change to meet again.

Although he was grateful to be away from his family and that he had been able to get into college in the first place it was an expensive path in life that he had to work hard at two jobs to maintain, still barely managing to scrape by each month. Since switching campuses to be closer to work opportunities it had only seemed to get worse. If he had a roommate it might be different, at least taking some of the financial burden off his shoulders but he didn’t know anyone in this town enough to ask and he definitely didn’t want to invite people he didn’t know into his life with an ad in the newspaper calling for a roommate- who knew if they’d even pay rent or pick up after themselves or leave his things alone. No, Patton was a little too paranoid for that. Flopping face down onto his couch he wormed his way half under the back cushions and seat cushions until it was just a little too tight and sighed contently, letting his eyes finally drift shut as he gave his legs a rest. His stomach growled not ten minutes later however, making him groan and debate whether making something would actually be worthwhile. Realizing he still had work to do anyway he carefully got up and rolled up his sleeves, wondering if that frozen pizza in the freezer was still good.

A little while later with pizza in one hand and a pencil in the other he worked his way through his math and science homework, stacking them to the side as he made way for the english paper he had yet to start. He was still trying to work through basic classes before he got to...whatever it wsa he would decide he wanted to major in, though sometimes he was intimidated but the already nearly overwhelming workload he had to tell himself it would all be worth it. He just had to smile through it and push through until he came out the other side with a bright a nd shiny degree and an even brighter future. Of course, that optimism could only take him so far as he stared at the book report he was supposed to be at least outlining, a quick glance at the clock telling him that if he wanted to shower, now would be the time if he didn’t want to be late for his stocking job. Working at a warehouse form one to seven in the morning definitely wasn’t ideal but it paid well and it was just enough to keep him floating while he worked his way through school. Wincing as he stood up on wobbly, half asleep legs he dumped his plate in the sink and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before he had to be at the warehouse for his shift.

Stumbling out of his apartment complex still struggling to get his jacket on he happened to look up and see an unfamiliar car parked across the street. I wonder if someone else is moving in, he thought, squinting in the darkness of the early morning to try and make out details. He thought he saw movement in the drivers side but the beeping of his watch let him know he had a very limited amount of time now to get to where he was going, so turning on his heel he booked it to the warehouse a few blocks down, any other thoughts drowned out by the apprehensionsion of the promised monotony to come.

-----

Patton was dead on his feet by the time his shift ended and he made it back to his apartment. Making side eyes at the couch wit his notes still scattered on the coffee table he shook his head and went down the short hallway to his bedroom instead, peeling off his shirt and pants as he went and flopped onto the box spring, flopping his arm around for his treasured dog plushie before curling onto his side and beginning to snore within minutes. When he woke up to his insistent alarm five hours later he groaned and threw the plushie at the offending machine to no avail. Stretching out his stiff muscles he reached over and pressed the button to get the thing to shut up while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Another day, another...well just another day really. He had half an hour to make himself somewhat presentable and make coffee, maybe try to scratch out part of that english outline before heading off to class and repeating the daily routine of rushing around and catching quick ten minute naps when he could. Thankful today was Wednesday, meaning he had two more regular days and then Saturday he only had to get through his warehouse shift before he was free for the weekend. He made a face at the dust clinging to nearly every surface in his room.. Maybe he’d use that weekend to clean a bit.

Coffee brewing, face washed and toast wolfed down he did actually manage to get a quarter of his outline done before he had to gather everything up and leave. Taking a thermos of caffeine for the road he made it out in record time to catch the bus, idly noting the car from last night was still parked across the street, though it was clearly empty now. A dark blue Sudan with tinted windows from what he could. Shrugging he went to wait in line with everyone else; what he wouldn't give for his own car.

----

It wasn’t until the following week that he saw the car in a different place, this time parked in front of his restaurant. The only reason he really noticed it was because he had honestly been wondering when the thing would be toed considering it never seemed to leave the same spot from across the street. Shrugging the fleeting interest off he quickened his pace and got his apron on, shimmying the bottom part over his head since he hadn't got the knot undone and bending his neck forward to properly don the front loop. Smoothing himself out while shoving his bag under the table and fishing for his notepad and pen he stretched his face into yet another believable smile and pushed his way out of the kitchen and to his shift switch, only to freeze in place when they gestured to a table with a lone figure sat at it.

This cannot be happening, he thought with dismay. At the table sat the very stranger who had smiled at him after catching him staring last week. He was just as cute as ever and had a relaxed, easy smile on his face that Patton instantly felt himself melt for. Now is not thee time Patton, he scolded himself as he straightened his apron and walked over, palms sweating an embarrassing amount with knees he hoped to God weren’t visibly shaking.

“Hello, what can I get for you?”

The man looked up and his smile only grew wider as he cupped his chin. “Have we met?”

Sputtering, Patton clutched his notepad to his chest as he struggled to string a coherent thought together. He knew! He knew and now he’d get to tell him what a creep he was and-

“I’m certain I would have remembered the name of a person as cute as you if we had.” The man leaned forward practically purring. “Patton is it? That suits you.”

Patton barely heard the other half of what was being said to him, the word “cute” bouncing around in his skull too many times for him to properly concentrate on the actual conversation. He turned his incredibly red face away from the others gaze, not quite sure what to say back, thankfully the man saved him from having to respond by finally leaning back and taking the menu up again. “I’m very sorry, where are my manners? I’m keeping you from your job aren’t I?”

He was but heck if Patton was going to agree with that statement. The kinder he was the more this person might tip, and besides, he actually was very cute especially up close. He didn’t mind a bit of casual flirting especially since the other didn’t seem to have anything against him.

“You’re fine sir! I um- I don’t mind.” That being the closest Patton could get to actually accepting a compliment he quickly moved on. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes actually! I’d like a chicken sandwich with tomato and a chef’s salad on the side.”

Nodding, Patton looked back up from his scribbling. “And to drink?”

“Water would be lovely.”

Taking the menu, he nodded again. “It’ll be right out sir.”

“Thank you, Patton.”

The use of his name set him on edge for a second but he quickly brushed it aside. He was just being nice, sure maybe overly nice- but this was the first full blown kind of conversation he’d held with someone who wasn't his landlord or boss in weeks. If the stranger wanted to use his name that was fine. He’d just have to learn his!

Busy as the restaurant was in the afternoon he was slightly disappointed he hadn’t seen the man leave but made his way over to the table to start cleaning up while he had a free minute. Lifting the check book his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the tip that was left. A solid fifty dollar bill lay next to the receipt, and on the latter a phone number was written along with a name.

“Roman.” Patton breathed out. He realized he was holding a third month's rent in his hands, he could get groceries this week...proper groceries! Like...Patton pursed his lips in thought, maybe fruit and vegetables? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bitten into an apple that hadn’t gone completely soft from sitting in the cafeteria for far too long. With stars in his eyes and a name in his heart he pocketed the tip and went about the rest of his shift in a daze, not even noticing the dark blue Sudan still parkly in the parking lot as he made his way back home.

----

Roman was absolutely charming- in every sense of the word. After their first phone call where Patton had thanked him endlessly for the very generous tip they had been texting and calling nearly nonstop. The flowery, flirty way he spoke, the way he looked at Patton like he was hung on the moon, even the way he said his name like he was cradling something precious, it was almost too much. Patton’s workplace had become a regular place for Roman to eat, always sitting at the same place and getting there seemingly right as Patton’s shift started. Tired still though he was, he found the monotony broken at last by a welcome smile to greet him every day of the week, and he was absolutely living for it.

Patton was ecstatic when Roman asked him on a date the following week, securing Saturday as the day they’d meet up at a different restaurant and hang out. He felt like he was floating, like finally something was sliding into place and everyday that it got close to the weekend just made him even more motivated to finish his shifts and homework so he could talk to the one who had so quickly captured his attention. The days flew by, and when Saturday finally came he rushed through his shift at the warehouse to go home and sleep, wanting to be well rested for his first date in years.

-----

Despite his excitement, Patton ended up oversleeping and rushing in vain around his apartment, throwing together a haphazard outfit consisting of a soft blue, non-work polo and light jeans. Sliding his feet into his usual tennis shoes and running quick fingers through his hair he could only hope that was enough as he ran out of his apartment and down the stairs to the street below. The restaurant wasn’t far thankfully and he was able to jog there in no time at all, hoping he didn’t look like too much of a sweaty mess to the other man who always looked impeccably out together. Spotting him at a table on the far side of the joint next to the windows Patton made his way over and sat down nervously.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I overslept and I tried to hurry but-”

“Please, don’t worry about it.” Roman lain a hand on top of Patton's leaving him to fight to contain his blush. “I wasn’t waiting that long and besides, this place has a lovely view.”

Turning to look out the window, Patton had to agree. The restaurant had a wonderful view of the local park, families playing with their children or pets as the Saturday afternoon wore on. He watched the families almost wistfully, almost but not quite missing his own as he watched one play hide-and-seek while another helped their child across the monkey bars. He was so enraptured by the sight before him he didn’t notice Roman’s gaze turn calculating before his easy smile slid back into place, placing his chin in his hands as he joined Patton in people watching.

“Someday, when I leave this town, I’d like to be settled with a family like that.” Roman’s voice brought Patton out of his own thoughts, making him turn to his date with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like to have someone to take care of and love, and have them love me back. It sounds perfect doesn’t it?”

Patton flicked his eyes away for a second before smiling again. “It does. To be stable and settled down with kiddos, that’s the life I want.”

Seeming to sense his hesitation Roman cocked his head to the side. “Got a bad experience with families?”

“I-” Patton again was slightly put off by the stranger's forwardness and apparent skills of perception but he brushed it aside, finding it nice to be listened to. “My family and I didn’t get along very well I guess. We don’t talk at all now.”

Roman’s eyes flashed as he nodded. “I understand that. My family doesn’t talk to me much anymore either. It happens.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Patton looked away again as the waitress walked over with water and menus. Quietly thanking her Patton skimmed the list of items searching for something cheap. Settling on a club sandwich with a side of coleslaw he closed the menu just in time for the waitress to come back. Taking their orders she quickly left them alone once again, Patton trying desperately to hide a yawn behind his fist.

“Am I boring you already?” Roman said teasingly, and Patton’s face burned in embarrassment.

“It isn’t that I swear I-”

“It’s okay! Tired from work, I take it?”

Patton nodded gratefully and scratched his neck. “I work two jobs with school and I just- I’m a mess.”

Roman chuckled and shook his head. Hardly! That’s quite admirable of you actually, you work so hard for what you have.”

Patton smiled a bit at the table, blush dying down a bit as he breathed. “I guess so yeah.”

“Well I know so!” Patton flinched slightly as he raised his voice but Roman didn’t seem to notice as their food was placed in front of them and they dug in.

“We should really come here more often, this was exquisite!” Patton’s eyes shot up as he heard that. We? More often? Did that mean-

“You think entirely too loud for my liking my sunshine. Please forgive my forwardness, but would you like to do this again sometime?”

Patton beamed at the other man, twisting his fingers nervously under the table. “I’d love to, Roman.”

-----

The next couple months went by in a blur, having dates when they could manage them and extended phone calls when they couldn’t. Then a weekend finally came when they could go out again, deciding meeting at the same restaurant was fine since it was so good last time. Thankfully Patton wasn’t late again, sliding in a chair across from Roman and taking the menu in his hands.

“Hey Roman!’

“Hello my love, it’s good to see that smile again.” Face heating quickly Patton hid his face behind his menu and ignored Roman’s soft chuckles, deciding to order the same thing for simplicity's sake. Giving their orders and receiving their drinks left the two alone and Roman took the opportunity to lean forward with a serious expression, making Patton squirm nervously in his chair.

“Patton, I have something I want to ask you, and you can absolutely say no if you wish to.”

Pressing his lips together Patton nodded for him to continue.

“I know how hard you work, what with two jobs and school on top of that; you’ve told me you sometimes struggle to meet the rent. We’ve been dating for a couple months now and I was wondering, would you like to move in with me?”

Taken aback by the question Patton could do nothing but gape at the other man, silence stretching between them as he tried to comprehend what he was hearing.

“I understand the hesitancy but I feel like it makes more sense. I could pay most of the rent while you contribute the rest, we could trade off making dinner, it’s a bigger apartment I’m sure so you could get out of that run down building. Plus it's closer to your campus so you wouldn’t have to take the bus, and I could always drive you to work.”

“Roman- that’s incredibly generous of you but I can’t ask you to do that.” Declining drove a stake through his heart but Patton was determined to stay firm. He wasn't a charity case, and even if the answers to nearly all of his problems were sitting right in front of him he knew he had to refuse.

“Patton, you aren’t asking, I am.” Roman looked imploringly into his eyes. “You do so much, let me take care of you.”

Biting his lip, Patton looked back at Roman nervously. This was an incredible thing that had just landed right in his lap- he wanted to say yes so badly but what if they didn't work out? If they broke up Patton would be on the street, he didn’t know anyone besides Roman and his bosses and the latter he knew wouldn’t think twice about some poor college student living on the sidewalk. Plus he felt like the relationship was moving so fast, though he didn’t really have much to compare it to other than little high school flings so maybe he was just paranoid. But it was so difficult to keep up with the rent, and if he had the security of Roman- not quite the roommate he had imagined but definitely better, maybe everything was finally looking up.

Squeezing Roman’s hand he took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Only if you're sure and I’ll of course help out around the apartment in any way I can!”

“I don’t doubt it my love.” Their food was placed in front of them, as Roman nodded. “We can move you in today if you like. It wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Smiling giddily Patton nodded. Yes, everything was certainly turning around for the better.

-----

As they left the restaurant with Roman leading him to his car so they could start packing up his apartment, Patton nearly froze on the spot but managed to keep walking like nothing had happened. He climbed somewhat nervously into the car he had been seeing outside of his apartment, outside of his restaurant and even sometimes outside of the rather remote warehouse where he worked. He shut the door to the dark blue Sudan carefully and buckled his seatbelt, pushing the buzzing in his ears aside as he settled in his seat and listened to Roman’s idle chatter.

Everything was looking up. It would be fine.

This work is also available on AO3!

Part 2 here

[gays-in-space]

this is from months ago i am so sorry but thanks for the tag haha

tbh, i didn’t even know there was a difference between blorbos and comfort characters so. i’m only like 72% sure i’m doing this correctly hah

1. the doctor from doctor who - all of them, but specifically 13. tbh i do prefer the modern one over the classic ones, but that’s only because i haven’t watched that much of the classic series.

2. yaz from doctor who - i mean i’m a thassie through and through, thasmin is my otp honestly. also- it’s kinda like how 13 is My Doctor. yaz is kinda My Companion, in fact the whole of the fam are. and i love her character arc and just. everything about her honestly fjsjfjsjdjs

3. carmen from the bear - if you’ve seen the show i won’t need to explain. he just like. needs a hug. also he’s super cool and can do loads of cool chef things and as someone who really likes cooking i just find it pretty neat. (i also love sydney from the bear so im gonna put them both here. i love her for literally the same reasons as i love carmen.)

4. crowley from good omens - ok he’s played by david tennant, he’s got cool ass outfits, and he’s heavily queer coded. like. he’s just so cool. (fun fact once i walked past a place where they were filming good omens and i saw Actual David Tennant from about 20 meters away but it was still awesome)

5. bill from doctor who - she’s iconic full stop, but i remember i watched a couple episodes of series 10 back in 2017 (i think it was episodes 1, 4 and 9 or something) but somehow didn’t pick up on the fact she was a lesbian. then i watch it fully in 2020, just when i was having my Gay Crisis, so seeing this openly queer character was so important for me

Rules: List Five Comfort Characters And Tag Five People. This is in no particular order.

Thanks for the tag @theboarsbride!!

1. LXG Jekyll. 🥺❤️

2. General Hux. For those who have followed me since the beginning of this blog, he is still a massive comfort to me. I haven’t forgotten him. ❤️

3. The Hatbox Ghost from the Haunted Mansion.

4. Belle from Once Upon A Time. (Getting into this series: Fuck, I love it. Thanks to the millions who’ve recommended it to me over the years) SHE IS MY QUEEN.

5. Jonathan Crane from the Batman Franchise (BTAS version).

Tagging! @dekayingtree @hydepotions @nemeyuko @porthos4ever @wibblywobblytimieywimey and anyone else that wants to do this!! :3

[gevejsbvdj]

Pt. 2

the continuation of what inspired my leave beneath the cut

I have a friend, who I got along with really well because we are both Afro Latinas (only she can speak Spanish. I don’t, not really) and we are black kids who had an interest in unconventional topics. I messaged her before disappearing about the ending of the server. I was keeping her updated all throughout, but after telling her the ending, I left her on read

I won’t disclose what I got up to during my absence. But again, don’t think that I had a breakdown because of the server ONLY. It was the final straw. I had so much going on in my life and I couldn’t take it anymore. 

Anyways, she took it upon herself to send hateful messages to Ley’s account and thought it was something to be proud of and told me. I...wasn’t impressed. But I still didn’t respond to our chats. Then she (her name is Rex. I’m gonna call her that) dmed Ley and was actually pretty aggressive towards her in an attempt to get answers. Again, not impressed but it was enough for me to actually come online. I feel like that’s why she acted out, to get me online. I don’t think she cared about me and used my pain to hurt others.

I had extremely brief, passing conversations with people who weren’t involved with the situation at all right before I messaged Rex. 

Ley was special to me before her message. I was always very defensive and protective of her like I was everyone else, but her especially because I thought she was nice. And I remembered when people were being mean to me, she reached out. And I still appreciate her for doing that. 

Which was why it was so confusing when Rex told me that they were all mad at me because I ACCUSED JOANE OF GROOMING PEOPLE. They wanted a reason to make me the villain so badly that they made shit up.

Notice how here, she says that I called Joane a FUCKING PEDO. Not even just a groomer but an outright PEDOPHILE. 

I’ve been raped. I’ve been sexually assaulted, groomed, all of that. I don’t say shit. I never say anything. I’ve even been accused- yes, ACTUALLY ACCUSED unlike Joane- to being a paedophile. I’m 19. Not even just that but I’m freshly 19. I got accused when I was 17. But I would never just- ughhhh moving on I don’t wanna get into it. 

When Rex asked for proof, this is way Ley sent her:

In this screenshot, I’m literally discussing how Joane’s childish behaviour could get her killed. I was concerned. Again, where’s the bullying?

Rex told me that Ley said she was wrong for not having proof, and I understand. Ley wasn’t present when it all went down

But really Ley? 

I heard a quote from someone that said something like “if someone believed a lie about you without checking up on you first to see if there was proof, then they were already looking for something to destroy you with to begin with” or SOMETHING like that. So I thought back to that quote and felt awful. I always suspected that they didn’t really like me, but always marked it up to my depression talking nonsense. But after all of this...maybe it was true. Why did I come out the most damage? Why were they making up lies about me? Me, out of all of them. Why was I consistently being seen as the bad guy overall? No really tell me. 

Anyways, this was Ley’s justification to believe that I would say such an awful thing:

Okay. Let’s just say that- Joane WAS a groomer. That she actually is a paedophile and I commented on it. She’s obviously not but I’m pulling a Ben Shapiro here. Everything else is the same only Joane is a paedophile. 

That motherfucking “it’s weird that he only spoke up when they were arguing” argument, and other arguments like that are so fucking toxic. As well as “well it wasn’t a problem that never came up before” so??? That’s what the fucking #metoo movement was all about. Timing means NOTHING when it comes to that. It doesn’t matter if it’s Joane or fucking Bill Cosby. The fact that thought came to Ley’s head is so fucking upsetting and DISGUSTING.THAT mentality is why people never want to believe victims of assault. Same goes for “they could have said that privately” guys she’s talking about that user who said they were uncomfortable with Joane coming onto him. Privately? It was private to him. In that server, we’ve made it known that it’s a very homey and comfortable environment. And who the fuck are you to tell someone where and when they can speak up about something like that???

Also, she accused me of calling her a pedo again. Good for me right? I’m a bully and I’m someone who just blindly calls people paedophiles. Good for me, damn. 

No, you shouldn’t believe someone right away when they call someone a groomer. God don’t I know that. But you definitely don’t say THAT what the fucking fuck. 

Jesus. Okay, moving on. 

Rex aggressively messaged Mel who had something similar to say:

uggh, you WERE the toxic environment i wanted to flee from,.

It hurts. It hurts a lot to see another friend you looked up to call you a bully. And that they just say that you called someone a groomer when you didn’t. 

Mel couldn’t provide proof either. 

Mel also tagged her post with someone kinda ignorant. 

Imagine if (thinking of someone I and others don’t always agree with) someone like James Charles made a post broadcasting all the homophobia he dealt with during his career, and I or some other asshole said something “while I don’t always agree with James…” like now isn’t the time. Now isn’t the time to let people you know you disagree with me ESPECIALLY on a post where you agree with me 100%??? What is the point then? You agreed with me, so agree with me. There. No one is saying that you have to agree with everything I say lord fucking knows I don’t always agree with you guys. fucking DUH. It makes me think you just wanted to put that in to lesson me and my words, even only slightly. Why? That hurts a lot, Mel. It really fucking does bruh.

When Rex called her out on it, she deleted the reblog. Not just the meagre little tag but the whole post. If she couldn’t be slick with me, then she wasn’t going to support me at all. It isn’t worth it if she can’t be shady. That’s the message I got from that. Tells me a lot. 

I am not friends with Rex anymore. She’s always been really aggressive and drama craving and I can’t take it. It’s impacting me negatively as well. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat happy with the screenshots she gave me. Told me a lot about these people I was still willing to talk to. 

Now? I won’t even waste their time.

After all of that. I made the post. The big announcement post. It was too much. I can’t escape the racism in my hometown or in the country in general, but I can leave and distance myself from the fandom. 

I was talking to someone today, and she, as a white woman, admitted that white people act so shitty when it’s implied that they’re racist. Which is so true. 

As I said, people make mistakes. No white person EVER is 0% racist or biased. I’m sorry but it’s not true unless you’re a baby or something. Same goes for other races, but mainly white people who have always had the upper hand, the privilege, the money, the chances, the power, all of that. 

Listen to me. 

When a person of color tells you that you are being microaggressive, biased, ignorant, or prejudice, or straight up RACIST, YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO THEM. Why do you guys get so AGGRESSIVE AND MAD?? That is so fucking WEIRD. 

And yes. I’m talking to you Vulture. 

I really had no ill feelings towards you prior to your comments.

Or your posts. 

peep that clumsily used aave. never fucking talked like that to anyone but me. either way, you sound dumb.

Why?

Why so...mad?

You felt guilty? Why did you feel guilty? 

...I’m gonna let you answer that. 

Moving on. I know that not everything has to be about race. I hate making things about my race. I do, even when I should! But you can be racist unintentionally. Does that mean you’re racist? No! I have yet to receive a genuine apology from any of you, meanwhile, I’ve been over here grovelling and hoping that you like me again. God. Why is it so hard for you to apologize and move on??

No, in that same fucking server, someone sent a racist meme after joking about slavery all day:

And yes, the people in the chat at the time laughed at it... 

I told them that WASNT funny and they freaked out all “WHY CANT I TALK TO PEOPLE IM SO FUCKING STUPID I SUCK” like oh...my god. You guys make it so awkward being black oh my GOD. I- like it makes me never want to say ANYTHING but I know I have to but god what the hell guys???

I wouldn’t really think that the members of the server chat were racially biased if they just accepted the fact that they were micro aggressive and didn’t flip out about it. Not really, at least. That reaction is so- well it’s sus as fuck. People who aren’t prejudiced will apologize, correct themselves and move on. Not dismiss me constantly and DEFINITELY not freak the fuck out. 

I also wouldn’t assume they were racially biased if this SAME EXACT SITUATION DIDNT HAPPEN TO ME BEFORE. 

Yep! On the Beatles Amino, I was called a bully and was reported by the LEADERS. Why? Because I told a curator she was inconsistent with her rules… that’s it. And that was back when I was sugary sweet all the time and was deemed to be a cinnamon roll. Nah. They knew I was black and I got told that people were scared of me and that I was bullying people. Yeah okay. Messaging ONE curator about her rules is the same thing as bullying people. Chile I can’t. And it only happens in the Beatles fandom. But no when someone calls John Lennon a racist it’s all “Zach! Zach! Tell them they’re wrong.” Ugh...

So that’s that on that. I have nothing else to say. Don’t message me about this post if you didn’t read all of this. I’m an idiot and I’m honestly still willing you hear you all out but don’t expect me to ever want to have anything to do with you. Out of the what- 50 people from that server, only two stood up for me? And two separate people APOLOGIZED TO ME. AND THEY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING. That’s a shame. Thank you Johnny, Lenny, Laurie, and Remy. All of your names rhyme and you didn’t make me feel like I was CRAZY, unlike those I mentioned. There’s so much shit going on in the world rn, especially to do with racism. I know that you guys know. But some posts really....really tried me. oh well. I’m black. I like The Beatles. And I’m a victim of microaggressions, false accusations, gas lighting. I’m also out. bye.

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