#i know it was probably cold/late/both outside and that they were on a schedule but yknow what they say

[leatherbookmark]

somewhat pleased to announce that in case someone wanted to know, and i really don't see why they wouldn't, the cameras that atz use in the cawaii men photoshoots are

fujifilm simple ace p&s camera (for taking photos), and

most probably? pentax spotmatic (the one hj, sh and jh pose with)

[agust28]

Doubts

pairing leehan x reader WC 1918 Tags angst and fluff. everybody lived happily ever after no worries. such a drama queen (just like me 😭🙏) Notes can you tell i gave up at the end? i haven't slept in over 24 hours :D i feel like a zombie also i still haven't figured out the request button ugh MISTAKES EVERYWHERE SORRY

It was a cold and windy night as you sat on the bottom of the slide. The reason for you being out in such temperature with only a light sweatshirt and sweat was due to a huge fight with your boyfriend, Leehan. You two had been planning a small, simple date to catch up since there hadn’t been much communication between the two of you due to hectic schedules. You reminded him multiple times throughout the week, and each time he would reply, saying, 'I know, don't worry.' It wasn't easy to take time off from your job, especially during the weekend, so it was valid for you to be worried about making sure you both were on the same page.

Then comes the day of the date. You had woken up early, anticipating a message from Leehan, but no luck. You brushed it off, thinking he was just sleeping in. Two hours passed, and still nothing from him. It was nearing the time of your date, and you were already at the cafe you both decided to meet up at. You were starting to feel anxious, worrying if something had happened to him, and he wasn't just ditching you because he forgot. You sent numerous text messages asking where he was, hoping he'd reply. You gave up and decided to call him instead.

Your worry seemed to grow each time you got sent to voicemail and resorted to calling one of his members, hoping they had an answer about his whereabouts. You stumbled upon Sungho's contact first and waited for him to answer.

“Hello?” he's confused as to why you're calling since it's a rare occurrence.

“Sungho! I keep trying to reach Leehan, but he's not answering! Are you with him?”

“Uh, yeah, he's down in the cafeteria.” He's confused as to why you sound so worried and why Leehan hasn't responded to you. Your heart immediately plummets. He actually forgot your date.

“Y/n? You there?” Sungho's question brings you back to reality.

“Do you want me to get Leehan-” you cut him off. “No, it's alright!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, um, can you not mention any of this to Leehan? Please.” He ponders about whether or not he should obey your request or inform his friend.

“Please, Sungho? It's nothing to worry about; I was just a bit anxious.” Sungho sighs. “…Okay, I won't, but promise to fix whatever's going on between you two?” You let out a sigh of relief. “I will, don't worry.” You exchange goodbyes before hanging up. You stand outside the cafe just a little longer, thinking maybe this was all just some silly prank and your boyfriend is actually on his way. But you knew it wasn't, so you head home.

It's a few hours after the date gone wrong when Leehan shows up at your place. He enters your apartment thanks to the spare key you gave him a while back. He searches the living room looking for you to be lounging on the sofa or reading a book, but you're nowhere to be found. Leehan calls out for you, thinking you're probably in bed since it was late. And he was right because he enters your room and sees you cozied up under the sheets with your phone in hand.

“There you are! I called out for you.” You simply glance and go back to scrolling on TikTok, scoffing under your breath. You can't believe he had the audacity to come over after ditching you and ignoring all your attempts to contact him.

“Hello? Are you ignoring me?” he teases as he waves his hands trying to get your attention.

“What?” you ask aggravated, watching him laugh. As if there was anything to laugh about right now! His smile is immediately replaced with a frown. “Did I do something wrong?” his brows furrowed, trying to think what he could have done.

“Do you seriously not remember?” Your emotions are hitting all at once, and before you know it, there are tears running down your face. “I can't believe it,” you mutter and push past him. “What? Why are you crying? What's wrong?” he's panicking, trying to figure out what he's done to make you cry.

Before you can make it to the front door, he catches your wrist, and his heart clenches at the sight of your tears. You attempt to look down and rid your tears, but it's no use. “Our date? The one we've been planning for a whole week? The one I kept reminding you about!” you burst out in anger and sadness. His eyes immediately widen in realization.

“I can't believe you forgot! I tried calling you and texting you! You never answered! I was so worried something had happened, so I called Sungho just so he could tell me you were with him the entire time!” Sungho talked to you? And didn't even tell him?

“Do you know how embarrassing it was for people to come up and ask for a chair, and for me to say, ‘No sorry, it's for my boyfriend,’ just for my boyfriend not to show up!” he's trying to process everything and get some words out, but you immediately snatch your wrist back and try to make a run, but he throws himself between you and the door.

“Wait! Please let me explain!”

“No! Move!” you try shoving him, but no success. “I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, please just wait!” You let out a frustrated cry, attempting one more time to shove him before giving up and turning your back to him. While you have your back turned, Leehan pulls out his phone with shaking hands, wondering why he wasn't aware of your calls. The blood drains from his face when he realizes his phone had been on DND. He turns it off, and instantly, all your notifications appear on his screen. He understands now why he didn't receive a good morning text like normal. He brushed it off, thinking you had a busy schedule and eventually forgot all about you. Instead, he immersed himself in his work, not bothering to check his phone at all. Until now.

By now, you've moved to the couch, head hung low, and shoulders shaking. Clear indication you're still crying over all this. He rushes to your side and tries to call out for you, hoping you'd give him a chance to explain, but you just shake your head no. You two sit there in silence, your sobs now subsided. He desperately wants to fix this but thinks you should speak first. That is if you even want to speak to him. He thinks maybe he should say something when you announce that you need space.

“Okay, I'll leave-” you cut him off. “No, I'm leaving. I- I need air.”

“Now? It's way too late for you! I'll leave; you stay,” he starts walking towards the door when you rush past him and make your way outside. “No, Leehan, I'm leaving!” you don't even give him a chance to explain before quickly disappearing.

You end up in a park late at night, slight regret seeping in due to the cold weather and eerie silence. But honestly, you're too consumed with your thoughts to really care. After gathering your thoughts, you realize now you may have overdone it with the dramatics and giving him no chance to explain. But it'd been so long since the two had an actual date and talked to each other other than the daily good mornings and 'have you eaten' messages. You were starting to get worried that the two of you were drifting apart, and sooner or later, Leehan would come to the conclusion that you guys were better off as friends than lovers.

Still in your thoughts, you fail to notice the footsteps coming your way. After you stormed off, Leehan mentally smacked himself for letting you leave in the cold late night and sprung into action. He got himself a blanket and beanies before bolting out the door. It took at least 10 minutes before he considered calling the police to start a search party for you when he spotted a familiar figure sitting all alone. He lets out a sigh of relief and rushes towards you.

“Hey,” a deep voice startles you, and you instantly get up, ready to make another run for it when you register that it was actually your boyfriend. You sit back down and turn your body away from him.

“You found me,” he hums and asks if he could sit. You shrug, which he takes as a yes, and drapes the blanket over you. You let him because honestly, you were two seconds away from becoming a statue. You're internally scolding yourself for leaving in such flimsy clothing when he speaks.

“I'm so sorry for forgetting our date. I promise I didn't ignore you on purpose. My phone was on DND, and I didn't notice, I swear. I wondered why I didn't get a good morning text from you, but I brushed it off thinking work was holding you up. I didn't want to bother you, so I let it go and eventually forgot all about it once I was called to the studio. I haven't checked my phone all day, I swear!” He glances over to you, wanting your reaction, but you're still turned around.

“I- I'm sorry; I know none of that excuses me missing our date, but I just want you to know I didn't ignore you on purpose. I love you; I would never do that,” his voice turns into a whisper towards the end due to the built-up emotions he didn't know he had. “Y/n, say something, please,” he begs with tears starting to form.

You try to stand your ground and toughen up, but your body betrays you, and before you know it, you're sobbing again. Leehan rushes to wrap his arms around you, and you let him because it feels like it's been eternity since you've held each other. You end up on his lap with the blanket wrapped around you both and his hands running through your hair to calm your sobs.

“You wanna talk about it?” he breaks the silence, and you want to shake your head no, but you know you can't avoid this forever. This time you break the silence and get out everything that's been bottling up inside of you. He stares at you dumbfounded, wondering how long you had been holding that in. Guilt fills his mind just imagining you having doubts about your relationship. He internally scolds himself for not noticing any of this sooner. Tears start to form again as you take in his dumbfounded face for something else.

“Oh no! You really are gonna break up with me, aren't you!” that brings him back to you and rushes to deny such a horrible claim.

“No, we are not breaking up! Stop thinking that.” he continues to soothe you before a gust of wind reminds him that they are still outside in the freezing cold.

“Let's go inside and talk about this,” he gently whispers and gets up carrying you back home. Once you're settled inside and warmed up, you discuss all the doubts and worries about your relationship while Leehan reassures you that nothing will break you apart. Although it'll take a while to get your relationship back to how it was before, it's all worth it if you have each other.

[cheolsblackgf]

bags

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 750 (it was last time i checked, but then i added some stuff so just disregard this)

⇒ warnings: none

⇒ content: certified fluff zone; established relationship with dare I say tsundere!jihoon

⇒ note: enjoy ♡

“i’m bored.” you say, throwing another crumbled paper ball in the recycling bin. your boyfriend’s eyes dart to you quickly, before going back to his computer screen. “you’re always bored when you come here,” he remarks, followed by some audible clicking, “I don’t know why you keep coming.” he adds in a barely audible voice. you pretend you don’t hear him, and he pretends he didn’t say anything. he knows why you come here every tuesday after work and he loves when you come, though he won’t say it in as many words. ever since you first got into a relationship with him, he’s made it seem like he doesn’t like having you around. though it’s probably because his confession could’ve been described as embarrassing, you don’t see it that way. (your name spelled (incorrectly) in butter on a piece of toast, followed by “I like you”.)

at that point in your life, you didn’t have an adequate amount of time to make breakfast since you were always running late, so it was always toast. he picked up on that and managed to catch you one day outside of your office building. the piece of toast was cold, and the butter was barely visible, but he had a whole little speech planned out and even through the obvious sleep deprivation, he was adorable and you’ve liked him ever since.

now, in order to somehow make up for the dignity he supposedly lost during that encounter (and the relentless teasing from you), he pretends you’re a nuisance any chance he gets. at first, you just thought he was being silly, but over time, and the more he called you silly names very obviously filled with love like “dummy” (your favourite) among others, you realised he was totally committed to this bit. it didn’t annoy you like it may annoy someone else because he’s jihoon, and you know what he’s capable of.

about six months from the beginning of your relationship, jihoon invited you to his workplace. it’s a cozy little studio on the middle floor of a big building in the city. it’s about a fifteen minute walk from your office, but you don’t mind it.

at the start, he wasn’t really meaning for it to become a routine or expecting you to come each time, but the more he invited you, the more you built it into your schedule. tuesday was always the golden day. work ends early for you on that day, and you don’t have as many errands.

he always orders takeout for you when he knows you’re coming by, too, which might be the sweetest thing. you don’t always get to eat lunch on tuesdays because you wouldn’t be able to leave early if you took the optional lunch break they offered at your office. jihoon knows this, and he always makes sure to ask you what you’re feeling that day so he can order accordingly.

today, he ordered fish and chips from the “anything” restaurant down the street. he never gets anything when he orders you food, but he “tastes” your food each time. so much so that you portion off every meal with him. this should bug you, but how could it? you almost never finish all your food by yourself anyways.

“oh shit,” you exclaim as a notification comes through your phone. it’s the grocery carrier announcing your groceries being dropped off. “I have to go, my groceries are sitting outside my doorstep and I don’t want them to go bad. damn, I thought he would’ve come later.” you curse. when they say speedy delivery, they mean it.

jihoon’s pout is barely visible, but when he turns to look at you, you see he’s not thrilled to hear you’re leaving. he goes to grab your bag from the hook on the wall for you, but moves like there’s double sided tape on the bottom of his shoes.

you get up and tidy your area before going to stand in front of your boyfriend to bid him goodbye. he grabs both your arms and pulls you in, causing you to completely forget your script. “see you later.” he says placing a fairly quick peck to your lips. he lets you go soon after, but when you don’t move, he’s confused.

“do that again.” you request. jihoon doesn’t usually kiss you. he’s usually on the receiving end because his version of affection involves less intimate contact, which is fine with you. it won’t stop you from kissing him, though.

“you’re pathetic.” he replies, and kisses you again. “okay, again.”

“your groceries–” he reminds you, though you haven’t forgotten. to hell with the goddamn groceries.

“it’s just yogurt. kiss me again.”

“okay, okay!”

[viceconnor21]

Well I finally done with Tango’s reference sheet in my AU. I have been sitting on this design since probably May. One day, maybe I’ll update the design. I’m just glad it’s finished.

Pyrotech Frost-Ember

Personality Traits (short version):

Kirin

emotional

Prodigy of elemental magic (fire and ice)

When calm, relaxed, and well rested Pyrotech will be in a neutral form (no flames)

When relaxed, well rested, and focused Pyrotech can change form at will

Magic is sensitive to his emotions

Strong emotions will affect his form (this is outside his control)

High energy emotions = Flaming form

Low energy emotions = Frost form

Genius in the use of red hermit stone and elemental magic together

Loves designing games for his friends

Hates when creatures say his whole name (rather than just Pyro or Pyrotech)

Would like to get to know the accident prone pegasus with the golden wings

Bad eye-sight

Turns either feral or stone cold when angry.(depends on the type of anger)

Best buds with Fizz and Voltage

Stays up way too late to effectively manage his emotions

Takes a lot of naps during the day due to his body’s constant magic consummation and poor sleep schedule. (high magic Metabolism)

Will sleep anywhere

Background:

Pyro’s eyes fluttered, only for him to startel fully awake a second later. He shot up, hitting his head on the hermit stone lamp positioned above his crafting bench. As he nursed his head, he watched the lamp swing back and forth, casting a soft light on the frost that coated every inch of his work space. Yawning Pyro slowly regained his bearings. He cleared the frost from the window, only to see the faintest ray of sunlight cresting the horizon. He had fallen asleep at his workbench again after burning the midnight oil. No wonder he was covered in an icy coating. He had all but collapsed a couple hours previous completely consuming his energy the night before. He was on a role, designing and testing some components for his zeplin. Pyro yawned again, making his way to the kitchen. His eyes were droopy and his steps slow. Pyrotech knew he should go back to bed. Voltage would have smacked him if he knew how much sleep he had gotten. Not that Voltage had much room to talk. Void would smacked both of them if he knew how often they both neglected their sleep, in exchange to more time working on project. That thought made Pyro feel a bit guilty. He knew how much the tantabus cared about the residences of Hermit Valley. He knew how much he worried about them too. But still, the guilt wasn’t enough to change his mind. Pyrotech prepare his coffee and sat idly while waiting for it to brew. He went through his to-do list in his mind. He had to go into the mines today for more materials, stop by the post office, and pick up some brewing bottle in the shopping district. Maybe he would even stop by Voltage and Fizz’s house to cause some mischief. Pyrotech grinned at the possibility of friendly chaos he could cause. The sound of his coffee stirred him from his musings. He grabbed the warm mug and breathed in it’s rich scent. He relished the feeling of the energizing liquid warming his entire being. As he sat there drinking his coffee, he could almost feel the caffeine work its way into his bones. Nearly finished with his beverage, he watched the dark blue of his coat gradually revert to his usual bright red. Pyro put the cup in the sink and he shook off the last threads of sleep clinging to muscles. He grabbed his bag, opened the door and took in the glory of the early morning sun. He was really to get the day started, and if he timed things right, he could “run into” the sheriff on his way to lunch. That thought caused little licks of flames at the ends of his mane. With a smile, Pyrotech trotted towards the community mines.

Pyrotech Frost-Ember is a prodigy in the field of fire and ice elemental magic. (Two disciplines that don’t usually go together) In most other creatures, the opposing fire and ice magic would quite literally rip the wielder apart, as both are very reactive. However, due to a Kirin’s innate nature to change form with their emotions, and Pyro’s inborn talent and years of study, both magics exist in harmony within him. With that being said, being a Kirin, Pyrotech’s magic is highly reactive and linked with his emotions and emotional state. For example, when Pyrotech is calm, relaxed, and well rested, he will appear in his neutral form. He will have a red coat and blond mane with no flames. While in this state, with focus, Pyro can change his form at will, channeling the desired magic. However, his magic is sensitive to his emotions and strong emotions, positive and navigate, will affect his form. He has little control in these cases. For example, if Pyrotech experiences high energy emotions like hot anger, excitement, frustration, joy will trigger his flaming form. This form is similar to his neutral form, but his mane will burst into flames. The higher his energy, the stronger and wilder the flames. Low energy emotions like fear, exhaustion , annoyance, sadness, or cold anger, will trigger his frost form without his control. Anger is a wild card when it comes to emotions. “Hot” anger will cause a feral response, being intense, immediate, and often explosive. while “cold” anger will cause him to become stone hearted, with more subdued expression of that anger. Basically, don’t piss off the kirin.

Pyrotech loves making games for his friends. He is known for his talent to integrate magic, games, and red hermit stone. While his friends are known for their pioneering in everyday red hermit stone usage and integration, Pyrotech has made a name for himself, in his ability to create large, complex, and complicated systems using the enchanted stone. Each system doing fantastical, mechanical job. His redstone projects will often keep them up till the early hours or the morning. However, due to the way his body uses up magic, he gets exhausted quickly. He will fall asleep anywhere, and usually in the middle of a project. He has a high magical Metabolism and poor sleep schedule. He also has poor eyesight, along with color blindness. His eyes are also light sensitive, due to his tribe's history of living underground and in mountains, in large lava carved caverns. He wears special google-like glasses because of this. He is best friends with Fizzy Pop and Voltage.

** if you read this far, good for you and thank you! I’m not a writer and barely an artist, so if you enjoy my silly Pony AU, Thank you!

[alcoholfreenayeon]

I’m not sleepy!

Reader x Nayeon

Fluff

Ask: Can i request nayeon coming home after a long day and falling sleep on readers lap? (Both are dating)

You were on the couch in the living room, scrolling through your phone when you heard the front door open. Your immediate thought was that Nayeon is back so your focus is back on your phone when you notice the time. It’s almost midnight, Nayeon always stays back at her dorm if her schedule is keeps her busy til night.

Nervously you manage to gather the courage to make your way towards the front door. You’re pretty sure you did hear the door open. You reach the entrance and see that the door is still closed and locked. You look out through the peep hole and confirm that there is no one outside. Weird. It’s probably just your mind playing tricks on you, it’s really late, your alone, yup, makes sense.

Convincing yourself that it really was nothing, you make your back to the living room only to find Nayeon sitting on the couch, mischievously smiling ear to ear.

‘I got you!’, she declared cheekily

‘You did not!’, you immediately protest, realizing what happened. ‘I knew it was you, I was just making sure you locked the door’, you continue in your defense.

‘Haha! Thats not true! You looked like you saw a ghost!’, Nayeon continued sassily, getting up to your face and staring at you smugly.

You sigh in defeat and sit down knowing that she’s not going to let it go until you admit you were scared. Obviously you were and obviously you were never going to admit it. You try changing the topic, ‘so….how did you end up coming here, I thought you would have stayed at the dorm.’

‘I thought changing my routine for once wouldn’t hurt and also to scare you’, she replied with a grin.

‘You’re really not going to let this go…’, you reply in defeat.

‘Nope. Now I’m going to get changed, til then why don’t you’, she pauses and yawns, ‘put on our show and maybe take out something to snack on?’, she said exiting the room while stretching.

You nod and look through what you have to eat, there’s some chicken popcorn you have left and you also have some chips somewhere. You put on the show you and Nayeon have been watching recently, waiting for her to come back.

A few moments later Nayeon comes back dressed in her pajamas which was fluffy white pants and a pink hoodie. You smile at her and she coyly looks away, sitting next to you.

You both start snacking as the show’s intro starts. That’s when you notice her slightly baggy eyes and how every few moments Nayeon blinks slowly, like she’s trying not to sleep. ‘Nayeon are you sleepy?’

‘Hmm? No I’m not, I’m just’ ,she yawns again, ‘I’m just….enjoying the food.’

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘That’s because you…you don’t like chicken popcorn as much i as do.’

‘What does chicken popcorn have to do with your sleepiness?! And I definitely like it more than you do!’

‘Mmmm…no..’, she replies nudging her head against your shoulder.

You wrap one hand around her shoulder, rubbing it gently, ‘you can go to sleep, we’ll watch the rest of the episode tomorrow.’

‘I’m not! Going to sleep! I’m not tired…’, she protests sitting up straight.

You smile and raise your hand in defense as an idea strikes your mind, ‘fine fine, you’re not sleepy.’

A couple minutes later you abruptly get up warranting a pout from Nayeon who was leaning against you. ‘Where are you going!’ She questions indignantly.

‘I’ll be back in a minute’, you promise her. You return a minute later with a blanket and find that Nayeon has her hood up and has curled up on the couch, looking at you. She looks so adorable here, you think to yourself. You smile and put the blanket on her, almost wrapping it around her completely. She happily complies at first but then jolt up and looks at you with a sleepy glare, ‘you are trying to make me sleep’.

‘I’m not! I thought you might be cold and besides isn’t it more comfortable to be on the sofa with a blanket?’

‘Fine’ she concedes and is beginning to relax when you suddenly pull her close to you so that her head rests on your chest and you lean towards her. ‘Oh! What are you….’ ,She says suddenly feeling a little shy.

‘I want to cuddle for a bit’ ,you explain smiling to which she nods and nestles her head on your chest. You gently pat her sides feeling her relax. This continues for a few minutes and then Nayeon lowers herself slowly til she is laying on your lap. Smiling you begin to stroke her head gently and see that she falls asleep in a few moments.

From the outside you might be looking really calm but from the inside you were ready to explode as in the last few minutes you couldn’t believe how cute Nayeon looked and acted. Taking a deep breath calm yourself and rest your head against couch, feeling your eyes flutter, you didn’t realize how drowsy you were feeling. The atmosphere seemed perfect, the faint noise of the tv, the cute breathing sounds of your girlfriend, really what more could one want. Slowly you began to drift off too….

[void-occupation]

hello its me- haunting your dashboard and askbox once more haha-

i saw this somewhere else but I don't remember where; what would hell's version of winter be like? I remembered your headcanon about alastor getting cold easily and I would just like to share my vision.

so hell has an extreme climate- we know that- so winter is basically Antarctica. not alastor-friendly AT ALL, it only ever happens once in a blue moon in hell so he's never really had to deal with this before. the whump possibilities are endless lmao. all-around suffering for the deer man.

do with this what you will! no pressure ofc, this is more like a concept you could make your own story or au with so i'm not sure if it counts as an ask- but do whatever you wanna, and if you did ever do a fic, (if that be a series or a one-shot) I would love to make a comic or cover as a Collab! :D

PLEASE never apologize for haunting my dash/asks, this blog is very ghost-friendly!!!!! All ghosts are allowed to haunt as they please!!

As for your beautiful vision: I love it. I will help it grow and will nourish it until it becomes a beautiful whump monster right here on my little laptop. Not sure WHEN I will make it happen, but I WILL make it happen. For now though, I will simply add to this headcanon (expect whatever I add to probably end up in the fic lol)

Winter in Hell is quite the phenomena - only occurring around once every century or so. It doesn't stick to a set schedule though (Lucifer still shudders when he remembers that time that they had five winters within the span of a single decade.) They are also completely by surprise: the most notice Hell has ever had for a winter is that the temperature dropped five degrees in one day. The next morning, sinners couldn't even open their doors the snow was piled so high. And of course, it wouldn't be Hell if the winters were the normal length, no. Winters in Hell can be anything from six months to the record of three motherfucking years. The last winter took place in the late 1910s - about a decade or so before Alastor died.

As mentioned in my previous headcanon, Alastor is a Louisiana boy. And Louisiana did not receive a SINGLE FUCKING INCH of snowfall the entire time Alastor was alive (trust me I CHECKED, that shit is WILD). That means a few things. 1.) Alastor has never seen snow in his now 120ish years of existing. 2.) Alastor has never felt anything below 50°F his entire existence. 3.) Alastor is painfully thin, which means his body has no way to preserve heat. And 4.) Alastor does not appear to have any clothing besides his three-piece suit that he wears all the time in Hell's usual blazing temperatures with seemingly no issue. Of course, this means that his suit would do nothing for him in Actual Cold Weather since he's so used to it.

With all of this knowledge, the only conclusion I can draw is that once winter actually hits, Alastor is royally FUCKED. Especially considering that a winter in Hell is compiled of all of the worst things about winter. The cold air is dry, and the wind is sharp and biting - in the way that leaves your face stinging and your hands and lips splitting. Somehow simultaneously, the snow can change between huge flakes and straight-up sleet, which if you've ever been in sleet, you know it sucks major ass.

If someone doesn't give Alastor a heated blanket He Will Die. Alastor makes the mistake of going outside exactly twice (because let's face it, I love him but this man is too prideful to accept that the weather will kill him after only one attempt - he's Just A Bit Dumb). Both times he has to be rescued by someone at the hotel after he almost fucking freezes to death like An Idiot, and he manages to also get hypothermia both times because he refuses to do anything in halves. After he also almost freezes to death in his room (which is how they find out there's a draft), he's not even allowed in there, and they move him to a guest room right next to Charlie and Vaggie's room that Lucifer added a fireplace to. He alternates between the kitchen (the oven is very warm and Food), his room (the fireplace is very warm and the bed is cozy), and the couch in the lobby (the fireplace is very warm and the couch is cozy and also Alastor is antisocially social).

He is cold. He is miserable. He is perpetually shaking like an old chihuahua. Some of the residents thought it was funny at first, but that quickly stopped after the first Almost Death. They have to watch him because Alastor becomes very despondent, and if he stops shivering, he needs to be warmed up again. Alastor is more exhausted during the winter then he has ever been in his entire existence due to all the energy his body is burning trying to stay warm. He's sleeping more than ever, but he looks absolutely terrible - eyebags so dark they look like a goth guy's eyeshadow, hair a mess, and an overall very strained look about him. He also eats a lot less, so he begins losing weight which is the exact opposite of helpful in this situation. It gets to the point where Husk is willingly braving the elements to get to the butcher shop Alastor likes just to get sinner meat so he will hopefully get something in him.

This winter is the first time any of them have ever seen him willingly snuggle up to someone, and it's fucking LUCIFER because this little bastard puts out the most heat because for some reason that it part of being a seraphim. Lucifer for his part just kinda lets it slide because Alastor would probably die if he didn't and that would make Charlie sad. Ok, and he kinda reminds Lucifer of when Charlie was little and would snuggle up to him, but that's no one's business but his own. If he's a little softer with Alastor afterwards, and less easily provoked by the sinner, that is also no one's business but his own.

hooo, I really let this one get away from me lol. Hope you enjoy this, and please feel free to haunt me as much as you want!! And when I eventually get this pushed out, it would be absolutely fantastic if you decided to make a comic/cover. I absolutely love your art

[prettygirl-gabi]

We Should Do This More Often

Rating: General Audiences

Warning:Fluffy fluff, even more fluff

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT) (boyband)

Relationships: !Idol-boyfriend Woozi x !f idol reader

Summary: You and Woozi are both idols from different companies you're a member of Alora under KQ ent. So your love story was unexpected but yet so pure, and everyone loved it. But you both loved the rainy nights

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

It was a rainy night and Woozi was feeling cozy in his safe place. He had just finished working on some new music and was ready to relax. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the dorm room's studio door. He stumbled to opened it, slightly expecting one of the boys to tell him to go to bed but only to find his girlfriend - you standing there with a big smile on your face.

"Hey babe," you said as he steps to the sode to let you walk in and you give him a tightly hug. "Hey," Woozi replied as he closed the door behind you. "What brings you here?" "I just wanted to see you, pluse we got some free time in our schedules for a few weeks" you said as you took off your (woozi's) coat and hung it over his computerchair. "Well, I'm glad you did," Woozi said as he led you over to the couch. "It's perfect cuddle weather." You smiled at him and snuggled up next to him on the couch. The both of you sat there for a while, listening to the rain outside and enjoying each other's company.

"I love nights like this," you said as you rest your head on Woozi's chest. "Me too," Woozi replied as he wrapped his arms around you securely. "It's so peaceful, now please save your work so we can stay like this all night." He sighed but did it and locked the computer only to come back to you as quickly as he left your arms.

You sat there in silence for a few minutes before speaking up again. "You know what would make this night even better?"  "What?" Woozi asked curiously. "If we watched a movie together," you suggested with a smile. Woozi grinned back at you. "That sounds like a great idea." The both of you left the studio and made your way to his room with all of the snacks on course.

After scrolling through Netflix for a bit, you both finally settled on an old classic movie that you both loved. As you watched the movie together, both of you couldn't help but make comments about certain scenes or characters that you found funny or interesting. It was one of those moments where everything felt perfect - being wrapped up in each other's arms, watching a great movie, and listening to the rain outside.

After the movie ended, and your eyes being low woozi decided to call it a night for the both of you. Woozi had gotten up from the be and stretched his arms out. "I should probably head home," you sat up fully and said with a yawn. Woozi shook his head in disagreement. "Yeah, no it's pretty late,cold and too wet for you to uber back home." You nodded you head walked over to the bathroom together to do your routine before you both crashed. Woozi had gotten done before you so he opened the window slightly to smell and hear the rain a lot better. Once finished with your routine you gave him a loving back hug. "Thanks for tonight, baby" you said with a smile pressed to his back. "I had a great time." "Me too," Woozi replied as he turned and hugged you back. "We should do this more often." You nodded in agreement as you and Woozi laid peaceful I the beg together.

"But how about we put on Transformers" you asked going to HBO: Max. "I think that's perfect baby," Woozi stated as he kissed the top of your forehead. The both of you crashed as soon as the part when they were in Egypt.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  MuseumGiftShopEraser! They have 9 works on AO3 in the Stranger Things Fandom, and 6 of those are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @museumgiftshoperaser:

Paint the Devil on the Wall

Conversations About Love

Now I'm A Stranger

An Exercise In Denial

Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me

Her fics are BEAUTIFUL. When I first read Paint the Devil on the Wall I was so obsessed I immediately recced the fic to everyone I knew who would be vaguely interested in a steddie fic. -- anonymous

Below the cut, @museumgiftshoperaser answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I stumbled into it immediately after season 4 came out. I’ve felt very attached to Steve as a character from the beginning of the show and I think I was subconsciously waiting for someone to pair him up with. I think they’re both such great characters to explore themes of dealing with expectation (either by conforming, or fighting against it) and that’s something I always love to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Absolute sucker for fake dating. Can’t get enough of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Enemies to lovers! Though now that I’m looking through my AO3 I haven’t actually written that much of it. It doesn’t have to be very intense enemies, though. I just like it when characters don’t immediately get along.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My brain has been forever rewired by took you for a working boy by pukner. It’s such a gentle, nuanced queer story. It feels vulnerable to me in a way that really only fanfiction can be. Can I sneak in another one?? Because everyone should also absolutely read the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy. It taps into this very specific kind of queer compartmentalizing, that I’ve never seen written this well. It broke my heart and patched it right back up.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been stupidly busy with my masters lately so there’s probably not a lot of writing on my horizon. I do have a wip called Doll that I’m slowly chipping away at. It’s a little darker than stuff I’ve written before. I know ‘dark’ isn’t really a trope, but I’m excited to see if I can push these characters a little further. 

What is your writing process like?

Absolute chaos. I write non-chronologically, without an outline, all in the same document. I keep writing snippets and scenes until the whole thing slowly comes together. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

Italicizing words for emphasis. I love it so much, you can rip it from my cold dead hands. It accidentally makes its way into my academic writing for my degree sometimes which is a little embarrassing, but I just love the flair of it. 

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I don’t really do schedules, it doesn’t work for me at all. I try to make sure I have a decent amount of the story written before I start posting to give me a bit of a head start, but forcing myself to finish something by a certain date is a surefire way to kill my motivation.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably Paint the Devil on the Wall. It was the first time I’d written the entire story before I started posting so it went through way more rounds of editing than normal. I think you can really tell. It’s also the longest story I’ve ever written (in general, even outside of fanfic). The whole project gave me a lot of confidence as a writer.

How did you get the idea for Paint the Devil on the Wall?

I knew I wanted to participate in the Bigbang and the deadline was coming up, but I still didn’t have an idea. I decided to work backwards and try to think of something that would be fun for the artist(s) to draw. I had a vision of Eddie wearing dungarees without a shirt, absolutely covered in paint and I knew I had to write something to make it happen. I set the story in 80s New York because neo expressionism is really the only kind of art I could see Eddie making. I think it suits him very well. I do actually have a background in art, though! I’m currently getting my MFA, but I’ve worked full time as an artist for several years before that. I had a lot of fun working my passion for art (and all those art history classes I had to take) into the fic.

When writing Paint the Devil on the Wall, what was something you didn’t expect?

All of Steve’s character, to be honest. The fic is written from Eddie’s POV and for a large part of it he has a very hard time figuring out what Steve’s deal is. Right alongside him, I also had an incredibly hard time figuring out his character. It wasn’t until I was working on the final chapter that he finally clicked for me. I realized very late, just like Eddie, that Steve liked him from the very beginning. Most of the enemies to lovers premise was all in Eddie’s head.

What inspired Now I'm a Stranger?

Oh boy, that was forever ago! I remember I started writing it while I was camping with friends because I liked having something to do after everyone went to bed at night. I think I had the idea for that very first scene where Steve doesn’t remember Eddie and it all sort of spiraled from there.

What was your favorite part to write from An Exercise in Denial?

That was the very first fic I wrote, right after season 4 came out! I’ve never written something that fast, I think the whole thing took me less than a week. My favorite part was probably Robin being completely exasperated with both of them. They’re such complete idiots in that fic.

How do/did you feel writing Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me?

Ahhh… I never got around to finishing that one. I probably never will, to be honest. I wrote the first two parts quite quickly and then the idea I had for the plot spiraled out of control and I realized I didn’t actually feel like writing the rest of it. There were going to be a lot of misunderstandings and I learned that I find that an incredibly frustrating trope to write (when done for drama at least. For comedy, I’m a sucker for misunderstandings.) So I guess I felt a little in over my head.

What was the most difficult part of writing Conversations About Love?

The ending! That fic is so incredibly personal to me and I knew from the beginning that I wanted it to have a very sappy, happy ending. It was important to me to write an aromantic character getting everything they wanted, but I realized as I was writing it that I don’t actually fully know what that means. So it took a bit more soul searching than fics typically do, but it was very much worth it. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I still think the short little prologue for Paint the Devil on the Wall is the best thing I’ve written. “You don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby” is probably the best summary I have for that story.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not really!

Thank you to our author, @museumgiftshoperaser, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @museumgiftshoperaser works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[insomniakisses]

Sometimes you have to learn to share

Requested? no

Warnings/Notes: jealousy, drama in friendships, jennie being a smol sassy bean, Sua lowkey jennie bashes, kind of ooc but i feel like pissed of and jealous Sua is lowkey a bitch.

Note 2: i spent days on this bc i have minimal time to dedicate a day to wrote so i thing it may flick between tenses.

Fic type: fluff, slightly angst

Reader: fem reader

You’d been Boras best friend for what felt like a lifetime. The two of you having met when you were trainees eventually debuting in different companies. Her in Happy face, later DCC and you in YG entertainment. Which was were you had originally met Jennie, finding her having some extra practice in on of the practice rooms.

You fondly remember how she had been so on guard about you interrupting her, assuming you were some crazy fan that had walked in rather than what you were; a trainee who had booked the practice room for extra practice the before before your debut.

That night the two of you had decided to share the room, intending to practice together as one was preparing for debut and the other a solo comeback. However the night took a turn when you fell trying to do a flip and Jennie managed to keep you from falling flat on your face. After that the two of you spent the night talking and getting to know each other, only realising how much of a fuck up that was when the morning staff entered the room and you were both very late for your schedules.

It was 2 months after that day that you two saw each other again, your schedules aligning and you running into each other in the YG canteen. Well she was running you were daydreaming. Regardless, it ended in her ice coffee all over your white shirt and her “helping” by rubbing it in even more. You proposed changing while she went to the studio since she seemed so desperate to get there fast but you never would of guessed leaving with her number.

She laughed at your shocked face when she had asked if she could give you her number, giving the excuse of replacing your shirt. Taking the opportunity to grab your wrist and pull out a marker, scribbling something down before skipping away.

“X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X, Jennie x”

It was the weekend when you finally text her, filled with nerves and slight embarrassment at your awkwardness. Fearing she might not remember you at all.

Unknown 10:23 am: Hey! Its y/n

Unknown 10:26 am: realised you probably don’t know my name, we met in the practice room.. then you spilt your coffee on me

Jennie 🫢 12:34 pm: Oh hey sorry, i was recording!! I’m free in an hour if you want to go shopping and replace that hideous shirt

Clumsy Girl 12:34 pm: So my shirts hideous now 🤨 I’m not good enough for the likes of miss Jennie Kim of BLACKPINK? I see i see 😂

Jennie 🫢 12:35 pm: Well… it was a nice colour?? 😂 AND i didn’t even mention your shoes 😉

Clumsy Girl☺️ 12:35 pm: So i guess ill meet you outside the building in 10, should i dress up for u little miss Chanel?

Chanel Princess 👑 12:36 pm: Like you could 😂😉

Chanel Princess 👑 12:36 pm: See you in 5! ☺️ I wait for no one 😌

You remember having to sprint half way there just to be on time, only for her to record your out of breath half walk half jog when you arrived. Claiming it was the best thing she had scene all day. And although you had planned on going on a shopping spree you had seen an arcade and practically dragged the girl in claiming she had to play at least one game.

Having spent the day playing game after game, you ended the night with a go on the claw machines winning her a dumpling plush and claiming it looked just like her. You could see the red taint her cheeks and how her gummy smile practically lit up the whole street and in that moment you couldn’t understand why anyone could possibly hate her.

Though the sky was dark and the air has began to get chilly, you decided to walk her home talking about anything and everything until you saw her starting to get a bit cold. Stopping you had attempted to take off your jacket only for her to raise a brow at you,

“If you think your going to go all knight in shining armour on me and give me that flimsy hoodie to ‘keep me warm’ then your dead wrong” she huffed pulling out a designer jacked from her bag and slipping it on.

“I am prepared and stylish!” She flicks her hair dramatically with a wink, “besides, it takes more than a half ripped hoodie that smells of arcade and practice room to woo me miss lover girl” she gives you a light shove.

Raising your hands in defence you nod approvingly “noted.” Smiling softly you pick up your conversation once more, unaware to the buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

Walking her up the drive to her house you could help but smile when she stopped at the door to give you a shy wave, holding back her grin before she all but skipped inside leaving you a giddy mess as you made your way back to your own house, finally fishing your phone out of your hoodie.

27 miss calls from Dancing Queen 💃🏻

23 messages from Drancing Queen 💃🏻

112 messages from Dreamcatcher and Y/N 💖

Gasping you quickly dialled Boras number going straight to answer machine, which was expected given it seemed like you had been ignoring her. Trying her phone again, this time it picked up,

~on the phone~

You: Bora Hey! I’m so sorry i was out and-

Siyeon: She doesn’t want to talk to you.

You: W-What? But she called me? Many times i might add

Siyeon: Maybe because you missed out weekly film night and didn’t even give us a reason why… we were all worried you know.

You: I’m so sorry! I can come round now? With ice cream and more stuff and-

Beeeeeeep

Sighing you decided to just go home figuring your friends would talk when they felt less hurt. Walking inside your bedroom you went straight to bed feeling incredibly guilty.

For the next few weeks you got radio silence from dreamcatcher, bar Jiu who had called a few times to check you were okay. Feeling alone you leaned on your members a lot more and made many new friends in the company. Eventually regularly having lunch with ur band mates, Blackpink and even some of the soloists and BTS members.

With all the radio silence on dreamcatchers end you felt your friendship with them drifting away to the point you figured they didn’t want to be around you any more. It hurt more that bora, a long time friend you saw as an older sister was leaving you out also.

But with all the lunch time hangouts around friends you and Jennie were only growing closer and closer and maybe you were so focused on your new routine and daily life you forgot to check in with dreamcatcher as much, missed some of there calls and even declined a few while hanging out with them.

It had been 4 months since your first date with Jennie and you could honestly say you were head over heals in love with her. She was the cutest person you’d ever met with twice as much sass. But despite her walls to protect her self deep inside was a shy and caring person who wouldn’t harm a fly, unless your names Lisa and you wear her clothes.

So caught up in your conversation with Jennie you failed to notice Bora, Gahyeon and Yoohyeon coming into the canteen planning to have lunch with you since they figured you still ate alone being to shy to talk to anyone. But there you were on a massive table of boisterous idols laughing and joking with your eyes locked on Jennie’s both of you smiling so wide as you conversed. Giggling and laughing about something nothing but love in your eyes. The boiling point being when she leaned in to peck your lips before winking and scurrying off with the rest of her group leaving you a bright red mess. The boys all cheering and making kissing noises at you while you sat still in shock.

Huffing she stormed off throwing the lunch she had made for you in the trash and angrily texting you to meet her at your dorm later, claiming you had to talk. Which leads you to now. Standing in your groups kitchen awkwardly as the older girl prepares food for you girls, the girls in questing hiding in there rooms from fear of Boras rage never having seen her so pissed.

“So,” she starts cutting the pepper way more harshly than needed causing you to wince “I hear you and Blackpink’s Jennie Kim are very… close”

Laughing awkwardly you hum, “w-well we are kind of close I guess..” you back away slightly as her chopping speeds up sparing a glance to the girls who were peering out their doors, silently asking for help but receiving doors shutting as an answer..

“Look Bora, Jen just-“ the chopping stops but she doesn’t turn to face you, but you can feel the way her face screws up and eyes harden. The air turning cold and tense around you.

“I mean, Jennie, she’s just so nice and sweet. Jennie is a caring person and we got close while around the company, Jennie even likes the show i wanted you to watch and-“

“Jennie this! Jennie that! WHO CARES ABOUT JENNIE!?” She turns around knife pointing at you.

“Bora.. i.. do..?” You chuckle awkwardly eyes flicking between her and the knife until she slams it down. “I like her a lot actually!”

“But does that dumb bitch spare a thought for you! Or is it all money and sex for her, wouldn’t put it past her“ she laughs “probably just using you because she’s bored and your such an easy target for a slut like he-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence!” You growl turning around to get the door intending to tell her to leave but freezing when u see Jennie standing there, silent tears rolling down her face as she begins to back up.

“Jennie! No don’t leave please!” You pull her into your arms as she cries, feeling Bora glare daggers at you from the kitchen.

“Well she should, There isn’t any room for her or food” she huffs with a laugh “Go on little miss big shot idol, leave!”

“No.” Tightening your arms around a shaking Jennie you glare at your old friend. “She stays. You go! You can come back when you learn some fucking manners”

She storms out telling you how Jennie will be bored of you in a week and not to come crawling back to her when that happens. But you couldn’t give a shit about that right now. Kissing jennies head you pull her to the couch and wipe her tears as she sniffles. “Y-you know none of thats true right, i would never-“

“I know” you smile, rubbing her back as she leans into you. “Why would you do that for me, loose a friend I mean?” You look at her like she had grown another head, “because bora was out of line and i care about you… i care about you a lot”

You feel her smile into your chest. “Does that mean were dating?” You let out a shocked laugh before exclaiming “was that not clear the last 3 times we made out!”

“Oh shush” she huffs curling into you as she turns on a movie to watch, rearranging herself till she was basically tucked into you like a baby kitten. Your baby kitten.

A/n: i accept no dreamcatcher or blackpink bashing tho!

Anyway! I hope you like it ;)

ps. originally was a male reader but i changed it sooo

[valkyrieromanoff]

🎃 LATE NIGHT PUMPKIN PIE: FIVES X YOU (day 5 of 31)

synopsis: After a long time seeing each other, you and Fives finally manage to use the time to bake together.

warning: fluffy, establish relationship.

 a/n: Hello there, I don't know why, but in my head Fives was going to be a houseboy, while his partner saves the day. He's fought enough, he deserves a rest, hope you like it💖

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ

ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ

It was late at night—no, probably midnight—when you sent a message to Fives via comlink. The chill of the season had crept into the halls of the Republic barracks, the cool air a subtle reminder that autumn had fully settled in. The Clone Wars kept your schedule precarious and chaotic, always pulling you in opposite directions, and with the battles at their peak, it was rare to find time to spend together. You couldn't help but wonder if the galaxy was conspiring to keep you apart—whenever you were returning from a mission, he was just heading out.

But tonight, or rather this morning, you had a brief reprieve. And you knew you couldn’t let this chance slip through your fingers. You quickly typed a message, your fingers flying across the screen as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways to the cafeteria. At this hour, the space was nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights casting long shadows. The clone troopers who had just returned from missions were likely fast asleep, craving their beds above all else.

The kitchen area was quiet, except for the faint hum of machinery, the air filled with the distant scent of warm spices that clung to the cool night air. As you spread out the ingredients on the counter—flour, cinnamon, cloves, and a vibrant orange pumpkin—you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cold, but from the anticipation of seeing Fives. You hadn't been together like this in too long. 

Just as you were starting to slice the pumpkin, Fives walked in, yawning, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to chase away the lingering fatigue. His armor clinked softly, but he had long since removed his helmet, letting the dim light cast soft shadows over his face.

“I hope you have a good reason for dragging me out of bed at this hour, mesh’la,” he teased, his voice still heavy with sleep as he approached.

“Isn’t seeing me reason enough?” you shot back, a playful smile on your lips as you met his gaze.

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist as he leaned into you, the warmth of his body instantly chasing away the autumn chill. “You could have snuck into my bunk, and we could’ve slept cuddling,” he suggested, his voice a soft rumble in your ear.

You bit your lip, tempted by the idea. “I admit, that sounds appealing, but I wanted to do something different. We never get a chance to do anything together, and I wanted tonight to be special.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he picked up on the slight melancholy in your tone. "Ahh, I see. So this is really about the pumpkin pie, huh?” he joked with a dramatic sigh. “Confess, mesh’la, you just didn’t want to fight with that pumpkin alone.”

A genuine laugh escaped you, your breath fogging in the cool air. “How did you know?” you teased back, rolling your eyes as you handed him a knife. The air outside seemed to echo your laughter, a soft breeze blowing through the cracks, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and the quiet promise of winter.

Fives grinned, and in that moment, the weariness melted from his features. You both settled into a comfortable rhythm, updating each other on your latest missions as you worked. His voice lit up with pride as he recounted how one of the prisoners he’d rescued from a Separatist base asked if he was an angel. You smirked, unable to resist a teasing comment, but you found yourself deeply content in the domesticity of it all. 

It didn’t matter that neither of you were expert cooks—the time together was what counted. The kitchen, dimly lit by the flickering overhead lights, was soon filled with your shared laughter. Fives opened a bag of flour too forcefully, and a plume of white exploded into the air, coating your hair and clothes. He stood there, looking half surprised, half amused as the powder settled over both of you, turning you into a pair of ghostly figures.

“Well, if we didn’t have a mess before, we certainly do now,” you said through giggles, swiping flour from your face.

“I’m just trying to get us into the Halloween spirit, mesh’la,” Fives quipped, his eyes shining with mirth. “A little flour never hurt anyone.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Right, well, if you’re going to haunt the kitchen, you can at least make yourself useful. How much cinnamon do you think this needs?”

Fives raised an eyebrow, leaning over to inspect your attempt at pumpkin pie filling. “Honestly? Not a clue. But if you want a real shock, you could try tasting it,” he suggested with a grin, nudging you with his elbow as he shaped the dough and placed it into the oven.

You sighed, feigning frustration as you added more cinnamon and cloves, stirring the mixture thoughtfully. A spoonful later, you frowned. “Needs more cloves,” you muttered, reaching for the jar.

Fives smirked, stepping closer, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth to catch a bit of the filling. Without breaking eye contact, he popped it into his mouth and hummed in approval. “Mmm, more cloves it is.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intimate gesture, the warmth of his touch lingering long after. You quickly poured the filling into the dough, and Fives slid the pie into the oven. As the minutes ticked by, you leaned back against him, your body fitting perfectly into his embrace. The warmth of his chest pressed into your back, and his goatee tickled your neck as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You know,” he mused softly, his breath warm against your skin, “you’re not a bad cook. You might be ready to settle down and get married.”

You raised an eyebrow, twisting slightly to look at him. “Oh really?”

He nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, just imagine—I come home after a long day, greeted by the smell of fresh pies and kisses from my amazing wife. Except, of course, since I’d be married to you, I’d be the househusband. You’d be off saving the galaxy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Trophy husband, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’d gossip with all the other stay-at-home husbands about how awesome my Jedi wife is.”

Before you could respond, the timer went off, signaling that the pie was done. Fives pulled it from the oven, and the rich, spicy aroma filled the small kitchen. The scent of cinnamon and cloves mixed with the sweetness of the pumpkin, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere despite the chill in the air.

You both sat down with forks in hand, savoring the first bite. “It’s perfect,” you hummed as the flavors danced across your tongue.

Fives grinned, leaning closer until his lips brushed your cheek. “Almost perfect,” he whispered before closing the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and sweet, much like the pie you had just made.

[mothguillotine]

Epilogue

Main Masterlist

cw: swearing (it's happy time now)

word count: 1.1k

Summary: It’s been three months since you were locked in a basement and had to fight an interdimensional monster made out of dead bodies.

Three Months Later…

You are laying on your bed as an early fall breeze blows in your curtains, it has a bit of a nip to it. And if you didn’t have a personal heater curled up behind you, you would probably be cold. The perk of having Robin as your girlfriend really measures up in this instance.

“You know Steve is gonna be here soon,” you tell her, pulling her hand from your waist and giving it a kiss you continue, “He doesn’t like waiting.”

Robin moans out and then says, “But I don’t wanna move.”

“Well, babe when school starts in a week we can’t cuddle everyday anyway,” you tell her trying to get up but she pulls you back into her.

“Says, who?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” you tell her flatly, “Our schedules. We're gonna be lucky if we get to work together.”

“Oh, please,” she says, “If anyone doesn’t get hired it’s Steve.”

“Yeah, that's fair enough,” you tell her, “But we also need to get interviewed first, so get up.”

As the two of you are finishing up in your mirror you hear a horn from outside, “Okay, thats Steve,” you tell her.

“How do I look?” Robin asks, giving you a spin.

“Very professional,” you tell her with a smile, “And what about me?”

“Very hot,” she tells you and you slap her shoulder, “Kidding, kidding, you look amazing.”

The two of you walk down stairs into the kitchen where your mom is standing over the stove mixing a pot.

“Are you two off for the interview?” your mom asks, looking behind her.

“Yeah,” you respond, “Steve is waiting so we have to go.”

“Okay,” she tells you, “Good luck, hopefully this place doesn’t burn down!”

You don’t answer, instead just putting on your shoes and leaving. When you open the door you see Steve waiting in his car, impatiently tapping his fingers on the wheel. You turn to close the door and you hear Steve yell from behind you, “Took you long enough!”

“We're coming!” Robin yells back, “Jeez.”

Both of you walk towards Steve's car and get in, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Well then let's get going,” you tell him from the back, Robin reaches her hand back and you hold it.

“Hey Rob? Can you look over my resume?” he asks and while Steve is driving he notices, “Oh, come on what did I say about P.D.A?”

“Fuck off,” Robin tells him still reading his resume, “I wanna hold my girlfriends hand.”

“Oh,” Steve says in surprise, “You guys made it official?”

“Yeah,” Robin says bashfully, “Last Saturday.”

Steve slaps Robin on the back, with more force than intended, “Congrats!” he says excitedly, “I’ve been waiting!”

“Waiting for us to be official?” you ask.

“Well it has been three months,” Steve tells you and he pulls the car into the Family Video parking lot. Robin lets go of your hand and you grab your purse.

“Let’s go get these jobs,” Steve tells the two of you and opens his car door.

“Let’s do this,” you tell Robin and open the door.

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin asks Steve.

“Yeah, why not?” he asks, “She’s, like, super well-respected.”

“That’s kinda sad Steve,” you tell him, “Why not use your basketball coach?”

Steve stops in front of the door, hand grasping the handle, “Well, shit.”

“You’re such a dingus,” Robin tells him and opens the door next to him.

All three of you walk up to the counter where an employee is sitting watching a movie on one of the many TVs. Even when you are standing there he still doesn’t look away from the screen.

“Ahem,” Robin fake clears her throat, “We have resumes.”

The guy looks away from the TV and at all of you, he lets out a breath and says in a monotone voice, “Let me see them.”

You take out your resume from your purse and put it on the counter along with Steve and Robin. He takes a few minutes to look over each of them, Steve’s being the shortest.

“It says you were fired?” he asks.

“Uh, just to be clear we weren’t fired, you know,” Robin tells him, “The mall burned down and, like, killed a bunch of people.”

“Thanks for sharing,” he says in the same monotone voice, “Didn’t know. Three favorite movies. Go.”

He snaps his fingers and points at Robin first, “Uh… The Apartment, Hidden Fortress, Children of Paradise.”

He snaps again at you, “You, go.”

“I- uh, The Exorcist, Alien, and um, Annie,” you tell him.

Finally he snaps at Steve, “Now, you.”

“Favorite movies?” Steve asks, caught off guard.

“Did I stutter?” he asks.

“Uhhhhh, Animal House, for sure,” Steve tells him to which both you and Robin cringe, “Ummm…”

“Eyes on me, Harrington,” he tells him and points his fingers between the two of them.

“Yeah, uhhh,” Steve continues to bomb, “Star Wars.”

“A New Hope?” he asks.

“A new what-now?” Steve asks.

“What he means is Empire,” you interject.

“Yeah and the one with the DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton, and he’s trying to bang his mom,” Steve tells him and laughs, “Those are my top three. Classics.”

He looks between the three of you, “You two start Monday. You start never.”

Steve's face falls as the two of you look at him with sympathy.

“Will you just, um…” Robin starts, “Will you give us a minute?”

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Let’s just go over here, bud,” you tell him and pull him over to a display.

“That was so bad,” Steve says to you, dragging his hands over his face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say, “You can’t get every job you want.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says, “I just wanna work with you guys again.”

“How about we rent a movie and hang out at your house later?” you suggest, “I may have a little something for later as long as your parents aren’t home.”

As the two of you walk back to the front of the store Steve turns to say something to you but instead trips over a cardboard cutout, “Goddammit. This is-”

Both Robin and the employee look at him, Steve picks up the cutout and looks at it, “Hm,” he attempts to fix the sign readjusting the stand.

“I should have said Fast Times,” Steve sighs and sets down the cutout, “Hey, Keith! I should have said Fast Times! Ever heard of it?”

Robin looks back, smiles, then shakes her head. The three of you leave with new jobs and a promise of a joint.

The End :)

[liushenbrainrot]

This is me trying to make a oneshot fanfiction of Bingqiu ft. Shang Qinghua in a modern au while listening to ALL NIGHT by VickeeLo on repeat….all because of a single tiktok <33 I don’t know how this will turn out but I’m already expecting it to turn out horrible. This is my first fanfic so I wonder how this will turn out.

ALL NIGHT

Shen Qingqiu was engrossed in the routine of late-night grading, the soft scratch of his pen the only sound in the quiet dorm room. The warm, faint light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the scattered papers, blending with the muted glow of the city outside the window. Across the room, his dormmate, Shang Qinghua, was similarly absorbed in his own work, the faint hum of his laptop filling the space between them.

Both were teachers at the same school, their lives tangled up in shared responsibilities and that oh-so-subtle bond that only comes from enduring countless nights like these, where time seemed to stand still. Or, more accurately, they were too exhausted to muster up their usual banter and silently decided it would be best to focus on grading papers.

Shen Qingqiu was lost in the monotony of grading papers, the soft rustle of turning pages blending with the rhythmic tapping of Shang Qinghua's keyboard across the room. The stillness was almost comforting, a rare moment of peace amidst their demanding schedules.

Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by a loud crash from outside their dorm window. Shen Qingqiu’s hand jerked, his pen leaving an angry streak of ink across the page. He froze, eyes narrowing, while Shang Qinghua jumped in his seat, nearly knocking over his coffee.

“What the hell was that?” Shang Qinghua whispered, his voice tinged with unease as he glanced toward the window.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing. He could feel his irritation bubbling up, mixing with an involuntary spike of curiosity. “I swear, if some idiot is causing trouble at this hour…” he muttered under his breath.

Shang Qinghua, still wide-eyed, looked at him with a mix of concern and expectation. “You’re not actually going out there, are you? It’s probably just some students messing around.”

But Shen Qingqiu was already on his feet, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He straightened his posture, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’m not going to sit here and let them disturb the peace. If it’s students, they’ll wish they hadn’t crossed me.”

Shang Qinghua sighed, clearly torn between staying safe in the warmth of their dorm and his sense of duty as a teacher. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go alone. If something happens, we’re both getting blamed.”

Shen Qingqiu shot him a smirk, his irritation momentarily replaced by a spark of mischief. “Suit yourself.”

As they approached the window, the cool night air seeped through the thin glass, carrying with it the faint sound of distant voices. Shen Qingqiu’s pulse quickened, anticipation mingling with his annoyance. He pushed the curtain aside, ready to confront whatever was causing the disturbance, while Shang Qinghua hovered nervously behind him.

Outside, the night was alive with a strange energy, shadows moving in the dim light, hinting at something just out of sight

---

As Shen Qingqiu peeled back the curtain, ready to give a scathing lecture to whatever fool was making noise at this ungodly hour, the sight that greeted him turned his blood cold. His face drained of color faster than the ink in a cheap ballpoint pen.

Standing under the streetlamp like the star of some cheesy teen drama, Luo Binghe—his golden student, the pride of the school—held up a giant, glittering sign that screamed: "Shizun, go out with me!"

Shen Qingqiu’s brain came to a screeching halt. ‘This can’t be happening. There’s no way. Did I fall asleep on my papers? Am I having some kind of weird, stress-induced nightmare?’

But no, this was all too real. Flowers—‘roses, because of course, it had to be roses’—were scattered around Luo Binghe’s feet as if he’d ransacked a florist. And in his other hand? A boombox. Shen Qingqiu could only watch in horror as it started blaring out a slow, sensual beat, the lyrics a direct assault on his sanity: "I wanna fuck with you all night… boy can we fuck the..."

‘I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die. Right here, right now. Someone, please, end my suffering.’ Shen Qingqiu’s mind spiraled. ‘Is this how I go out? Death by public humiliation?’

Beside him, Shang Qinghua made a strangled noise—a cross between a snort and a gasp. “What the hell was that?” Shang Qinghua whispered, his voice shaking with the effort not to burst out laughing.

‘Oh, you heard that too? Good, it’s not just me. Unfortunately.’ Shen Qingqiu could only nod, his eyes wide with horror. ‘The universe really decided to put me through this tonight. Just what did I do to deserve this?’

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe called out, his voice filled with so much earnestness it made Shen Qingqiu want to leap out of the window and flee. ‘Don’t you dare—‘

“Please, accept my feelings!”

‘well shit’  Shen Qingqiu felt his soul leave his body. ‘This is a disaster. This is worse than a disaster. What do I even do?’ He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a strangled noise somewhere between a squeak and a cry for help. Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua was practically convulsing in silent laughter beside him, tears streaming down his face. “You… you have to do something!” he gasped out, clearly relishing every second of Shen Qingqiu’s torment.

After a short while, Shen Qingqiu finally managed to regain control of his voice—sort of. “Luo Binghe! What do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded, his voice cracking just a bit at the end. ‘Smooth. Real smooth, Shen Qingqiu. That’s how you establish authority.’

Luo Binghe’s smile only widened, his eyes sparkling like he was the hero of a rom-com. “I’m confessing my love, Shizun! I’ve admired you for so long—”

‘Admired? Admired?! You’re supposed to admire my teaching methods, not serenade me with R-rated songs at three in the morning!’ Shen Qingqiu slapped a hand over his face, praying for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. “Go back to your dorm this instant, or I swear, I’ll—” He will what? Fail him? Suspend him? How do you even discipline a student for something like this? Unfortunately, There’s no handbook for ‘student confesses undying love in the middle of the night with a boombox.

Luo Binghe’s face fell, and Shen Qingqiu felt a brief pang of guilt—quickly smothered by the overwhelming need to make this all stop. “And turn off that ridiculous music!” he snapped, pointing a trembling finger at the boombox.

Luo Binghe obediently clicked it off, leaving behind an awkward silence that was somehow even worse. “Shizun…” he began, looking like a kicked puppy, but Shen Qingqiu was having none of it. He yanked the curtain shut, leaning against the wall as if he’d just survived a battle.

‘I’m never going to live this down. Never. This is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.’

---

Shen Qingqiu had hoped that by closing the window, he’d put an end to the night’s absurdity. But there was Luo Binghe, still standing outside, his handsome figure illuminated by the streetlights, his shoulders drooping but his determination clearly unshaken.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe called out with determination, “I just want you to know, this isn’t over yet.”

Shen Qingqiu, exhausted and barely holding onto his patience, rubbed his temples. ‘Of course not’ he thought wryly. ‘Because clearly, serenading me in the middle of the night was just the warm-up act.’

“I’m coming back,” Luo Binghe continued, his voice filled with fiery resolve. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll find a way to prove my feelings, even if it takes a thousand roses!”

Shen Qingqiu blinked, trying to suppress a chuckle. He shook his head, struggling to keep his tone even. “A thousand roses? Is this your idea of romance or a plot twist in a soap opera?”

Luo Binghe’s face lit up with renewed determination. “You’ll see, Shizun! I’ll find a way. This isn’t the last you’ve heard of me.” As Shen Qingqiu watched, he could have sworn he saw a smirk playing at the corners of Luo Binghe’s lips. To the casual observer, it was undoubtedly captivating—a subtle curve that suggested effortless charm and an irresistible allure. It was the sort of smile that made hearts race and drew gazes like moths to a flame, a promise of untold delights and mysteries.

But to Shen Qingqiu, that smirk felt like a warning. It was as if the smirk were a mask hiding something far darker beneath the surface. To him, it wasn’t just an alluring gesture; it was a flicker of something predatory, a hint of danger veiled in charm. Shen Qingqiu’s skin prickled with unease. He could almost see the smirk’s underlying threat, a reminder that behind those beguiling curves lay an intent he’d rather not fully understand.

---

Shen Qingqiu closed the window with a mix of relief and sheer disbelief. He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space outside as if willing the ridiculousness of the situation to evaporate. ‘What did I even do to deserve this?’ he wondered, feeling a bewildered laugh bubble up. ‘All I did was try to teach—was there a ‘become an unwitting romantic lead’ clause in my contract that I missed?’

Turning back to see Shang Qinghua still watching with barely contained laughter, Shen Qingqiu shook his head, struggling to find his words. “That was… something,” he finally managed, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Shang Qinghua grinned widely. “Luo Binghe’s persistence could win awards. I wonder what did you do to make him head over heels for you that badly. ”

“Yeah,” Shen Qingqiu was wondering the same damn thing as well. Even he, himself didn’t know too.

Shen Qingqiu replied with a tired smile, still trying to wrap his head around the absurdity. He shook his head again, adding, “If this keeps up, I’ll need to start charging him for disturbing the peace, trespassing, and maybe even a noise violation or two.”

Shang Qinghua chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, at least we know he won’t be giving up anytime soon. If nothing else, it makes for a good story.”

“Shut the hell up Airplane..” Shen Qingqiu protested, settling back at his desk. He tried to focus on his work, but the image of Luo Binghe’s earnest, dramatic face kept reappearing in his mind. As they returned to their tasks, the earlier chaos slowly faded into the background. Shen Qingqiu sighed. He hoped for a bit more normalcy in the days ahead, though with Luo Binghe’s persistence, he wasn’t holding his breath.

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 8)

Read on AO3 (I'm the_eternal_optimist).

Scully’s eyes blink open and all she sees is darkness. She wiggles her arm out from underneath the blankets and tries to check the time on her watch. She and Mulder didn’t get in bed until one in the morning, but it’s still pitch-black outside. So why is she wide awake right now?

Beside her, Mulder sleeps quietly, his gentle breathing the only sound for miles. She doesn’t know why she does it—maybe because she forgot to check on his injury before getting into bed—but she reaches over to touch his forehead. His skin feels cold. As her eyes adjust, she notices with frustration that he’s kicked off most of the blankets. Carefully, she reaches out and grabs the edge of the bedspread, then pulls it up to his chest. It’s far too cold to be sleeping without covers tonight.

Her movements aren’t subtle enough, though, because just as she’s withdrawing her hand, he loops his fingers loosely around her wrist.

“You awake?” he asks groggily, his voice rough and raspy.

She hums, biting her lip when he shifts onto his side to face her. He pushes the blankets back down to his waist and she tsks.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping without blankets tonight,” she chides. “This cabin has no heating.”

He huffs a laugh and pulls until the sheet covers his shoulders again. “That better, Doctor Scully?”

She nods and shifts to face him too. “Much.”

Silence stretches between them.

“What’s got you awake at this hour?” he finally asks.

“I can’t tell what hour it is,” she deflects.

“It’s three,” he supplies easily, as if it were totally obvious.

She frowns. “How do you know that?”

The blanket covering both of them moves as he shrugs. “Three a.m. is the witching hour,” he explains. “Haven’t you ever noticed that when you wake up in the middle of the night, the clock is always at precisely three o’clock?”

She snorts. “Considering the number of times you used to call me at all hours of the late night and early morning, no, I haven’t noticed a pattern like that.”

“Nag, nag,” he grumbles.

She fingers a loose thread on the blanket. “God, I forgot what it felt like to be this tired and wired.”

“Must have been nice, yeah? Having a normal schedule for a while,” he says tentatively.

She can practically hear the guilt and self-hatred in his voice, but still she nods. “It was nice.”

She licks her lips, considering it. For nine months, she got into bed at a reasonable hour and set the alarm to wake her at another reasonable hour. Except for her first few weeks in San Diego—when her thoughts were obsessively fixated on Mulder and before she prescribed herself sleeping pills—she slept a consistent eight hours each night, and never woke up in the middle. There were never any interruptions, even when Alan slept over. He was quiet, unassuming, opposed to watching television, and preferred to be asleep by nine or ten. And he never, not once, dragged her out of bed to chase cryptids in the forest. 

Something shifts uncomfortably in her chest. She’s loath to admit—especially to herself—that she used to look forward to Mulder’s midnight interruptions. How sometimes she slept with the phone on her chest, just in case he called. How many nights, she went to bed in her prettiest pair of pajamas, just in case he showed up. How oftentimes, she felt disappointed in the morning when she was well-rested and recharged.

Back then, life was a challenge, a guessing game. A beautiful, complicated mystery that her brilliant mind couldn’t wait to untangle. And Mulder was at the center of it.

His hand brushes hers, which she’s tucked under her pillow. “What’re you thinking about? The fact that you probably won’t get any REM sleep ‘til you’re back on California time?”

She knows he’s joking, but she can’t manage a laugh. “Actually, I was thinking that my life there had become a little too routine,” she admits truthfully.

She hears the wet crack of his smile across the bed. “Is that right? You miss the hustle and bustle of being out in the field, Agent Scully?”

“Don’t call me that,” she says gently. I miss you, she doesn’t say. You let me go.

“Doctor Scully,” he corrects.

She wrinkles her nose. “God, but I’m not really a doctor either,” she confesses, and part of her really doesn’t want to admit this part to him. Part of her is scared that if he knows just how restless she’s become in San Diego, he’ll have won. He’ll get to celebrate the fact that his misguided plot to save her life actually did—for a time—save her life. No more questionable trips to the forest; no more run-ins with monsters; no more horrifying autopsies. Just boring, normal life.

She sighs. “Being in hospital management is mostly administrative work,” she continues. “Budget meetings, fundraisers. I’ve seen very little of actual practice.”

Mulder is quiet for a long time and she wonders what he’s thinking. Is he reveling in the knowledge that her life looks totally different than it did with him? Is he judging her for the path she’s on?  

Finally, he speaks, his voice tinged with solemnity. “You don’t sound happy.”

She wets her lips. “I don’t think I have been,” she says softly, mostly to herself. “Not in the way I used to be.”

Her eyes pierce the darkness to glare at him accusingly.

“But the way it used to be, you were always in danger,” he argues.

“That’s what you fail to understand, Mulder,” she sighs. “You can’t make other people’s choices for them. By booting me from my job—even if it was to protect me—you pushed me into a life that I don’t recognize. A life that doesn’t make me happy. A life I never wanted.”

“But you want it now, right?” he asks. Do you want Alan, the ring, the house on the beach, the respectable career?

“Don’t ask me that,” she whispers with a shake of her head. Her hair swishes softly against the pillow.

She’s having trouble reconciling her own feelings. Sure, parts of her loved the stability California offered. It felt unbelievably good and healthy sometimes. But if she’s honest with herself, she knows she’s never been attracted to normal.

“Oh, don’t tell me you like being on the run with me,” he teases, and it’s such an easy deflection from their overly serious conversation that she grins.

“Ah-ha, I finally made you smile,” he murmurs proudly, his fingers reaching out to brush her wrist.

Her smile fades. “You used to make me smile a lot, Mulder.”

He frowns and withdraws his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

She regards him curiously. When she worked with Mulder, there were certainly moments of darkness, anger, frustration, fear. But right now, all she can remember are the times they laughed together about smalltown cops, or got excited about the same piece of evidence, or joked together at Frohike’s expense, or watched a stupid movie together at two a.m. on a shitty motel room bed because neither of them could sleep.

“I think you don’t understand what you were to me, Mulder.” She sucks in a breath. “If you did, you wouldn’t have sent me away.”

Mulder goes very still, all former joking gone. “And what was I? To you?”

She closes her eyes. She set him up for that question, but it’s something she really doesn’t want to answer. My closest friend, my biggest supporter, my fiercest defender, my protector, my partner, my challenger, my ally, my almost lover.

She snorts at that. Almost? That’s a swing and a miss. They were never ‘almost.’

She opens her eyes and sees him watching with a neutral expression. “Mulder,” she says.

“Yes?”

“That’s what you were to me. Just . . . Mulder.”

Across the dark bed, she sees the slightest hint of a smile rise to his lips. “And you were Scully.”

She nods. That feels right too. Not a federal agent, not a medical doctor, not a pathologist, not a trained investigator. That’s never what she really was, not when she was with him.

“Scully,” she agrees.  

He falls quiet for so long that she’s sure he’s drifting off to sleep again. But her mind is still churning, so she prods him with her foot.

“Mulder?”

He hums drowsily.

“How long do you think we’ll be here? Running?”

He clears his throat and shifts, coming so close that she can feel his body heat. God, he is warm. Like a furnace. Maybe he really doesn’t need those blankets.  

His fingertips trip across the bed to brush against her cheek, and the touch is so intimate and tender, she blushes. He shouldn’t be touching her like this. She shouldn’t allow it. “Not long, I hope. For your sake.”

She tilts her head and his fingers slip down her cheek to rest along her neck. “Not for yours?”

He’s quiet for so long that she wonders if he isn’t going to answer.

“Mulder?” she prompts.

“I can’t answer that,” he finally says, his dark eyes meeting hers.  

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

He pulls his hand away and she hears the quiet tap of his fingers drumming out an anxious rhythm on the sheets. “I don’t ever want you to be in danger like we are now,” he begins carefully. “But having you close again, knowing you’re safe. Being able to talk to you, to see you in person, after nine months without . . . .” He shrugs.

“You did that to me,” she points out testily. “You sent me away.”

“I know. I know what I did.” His voice strains with regret. A beat. “Have you forgiven me?”

She blinks. “I don’t even know if that’s the right word, Mulder. I didn’t have any of the information you had back then. On the outside, it looked like you were pushing me away because you—you suddenly decided you hated me. I suspected it was because you were trying to protect me after my battle with cancer.”

“And now that you know the truth?”

She sighs, considering it. “Now that I know . . . Mulder, we’re in hiding. We’re running. All we have right now is each other. What’s important to focus on is that we’re safe.”

He snorts. “I can see that regaining whatever it was we had between us isn’t important to you.”

She groans irritably and twists the sheets in her fists. “Mulder, nine months ago you told me you didn’t trust me anymore. Then you shoved me out the door and said ‘see you never.’ A few days on the run together does not a renewed relationship make.”  

He scoffs indignantly, but a slight smile catches on his lips. “Well, we can only hope that my irresistible charm and alluring features will win the day.”

In spite of herself, she laughs. “We can only hope,” she agrees.

In the silence that follows, a question still hangs over her. She fidgets with the blankets a bit before speaking. “Do you really think the ring was tracking me?”

Mulder sighs and stretches, his calves brushing her feet. God, his body takes up so much space. “I don’t know, to be honest. Alan was a pretty special guy,” he admits on a yawn. “Skinner suggested him, although if I’d had it my way, I’d have just moved out to California myself. You know I never wanted you to move away? That was a blow. I thought you’d just . . . go to Quantico. Never thought you’d move across the country. Anyways, they locked me up pretty tight there for a few weeks after you left.” He shoots her a self-deprecating grin and she shudders thinking about him in a psychiatric ward. “And Alan had special training, a medical background, all that jazz. He could slip easily into the background of your life.” He laughs humorously. “But he didn’t quite stay in the background, did he?”

She swallows against the sudden dryness in her mouth.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“You may.”

“Nine months. That’s not long,” he observes carefully.

She bites her lip. She knows what he’s getting at, but she won’t feed it to him so easily. “Do you have a question?”

His stark laugh shakes the bed.  

“I guess I’m wondering what made you so amenable . . . so quickly.”

“Jesus, Mulder,” she chides, cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“There had to be something about him,” he prods.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He was nice. Easy. We got along well. Mutual interests, all that.”

“Mutual interest was enough to make you agree to marry him?”

“Mulder,” she warns.

“I’m just trying to decide if it’s strange or not.”

“There’s something strange about a man wanting to marry me?”

“Jesus, Scully, no,” he huffs. “But nine months? That’s pretty quick for a person who doesn’t even commit to a new food group without a months-long investigation into the risks and benefits of said food group.”

She rolls her eyes. “I trusted you quickly,” she points out petulantly.

“You didn’t agree to marryme,” he retorts.

“You didn’t ask,” she deflects easily.

“And if I had?” He scoots closer, leaving only inches between their bodies. His eyes pin her to the bed and she squirms under the scrutiny.

“Come on, Mulder, be serious.” She pushes at his chest. “And besides, I did commit to being in a long-term partnership with you. And I committed to that very quickly.”

“You were sent to spy on me—”

“These relationships aren’t comparable!” she interrupts irritably, pushing at him until he rolls onto his back. She closes her eyes, unwilling to face him. She can practically see the look on his face right now—indignation, irritation, confusion, hurt.

But whatever he’s feeling, he stays stonily silent. It irks her. Why is he picking at this? Why is he insisting she reveal all her vulnerable places?

But if vulnerable is what he wants, fine. He’ll get vulnerable.

“If you really want to know,” she says indignantly, heat rising to her cheeks, “Alan just made sense. You—you ripped my entire life out from under me, Mulder. You have to understand, as my best friend—the closest—my closest—” Her voice breaks unexpectedly, but still, Mulder remains silent.

If he isn’t willing to participate in this conversation anymore, she’s going to make him.Sitting up, she yanks at the string hanging off the bedside lamp until light floods the room.

“Jesus, Scully, warn a man!” Mulder curses, squinting reflexively.

She turns to face him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. Mulder grumbles and shimmies up on the bed, sporting a petulant frown.

“You—our job—that was everything to me,” she tells him honestly. “You and the X-Files were my entire life. And you took that from me so suddenly, I was left feeling untethered. I—I lost my whole sense of identity when that happened. So of course I clung to the first good thing that appeared in my life. I needed an anchor. When I was offered some semblance of a normal life, when I saw a chance to make something good out of a terrible situation, I jumped. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to love him.”

His frown has faded; his eyes are liquid pain. “And do you? Love him?”

She drops her eyes. Love. That’s a tricky word. What is one love compared to another? What is the moon compared to the sun? And how can you love an Alan when you’ve known—and loved—a Mulder?   

Tears of frustration fill her eyes at the unfairness of it all. For reasons she can’t explain, she feels like she has a choice to make. But there’s not a choice, not really. Her only path forward right now is staying hidden until they’re safe. And then she’ll go back to California and figure things out with Alan, right?

Right?

Yes, of course. Because Mulder wouldn’t make sense. Mulder never chose her, not in the way Alan did. Mulder wanted to protect her and keep her safe, sure, but he never loved her. Not romantically, at least.

Her eyes spill over with tears and she doesn’t even know what she’s grieving—Alan or Mulder, Mulder or Alan. The separation from someone who loves her. The absence of a love that she always wanted and never got.  

Before she has time to swipe under her eyes, Mulder scoots forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders. Tired of fighting her feelings, she sinks heavily into his chest and sighs as he strokes her hair, his touch both a soothing balm and a maddening flame. Why couldn’t they ever have this?

“I know you miss him,” he murmurs, and she squeezes her eyes shut at his misinterpretation. “I know running is hard. Being away from him is hard.” His fingertips skim her spine and she shifts to bury her face in his neck.

Those things are hard, sure, but definitely not as hard as they should be. She won’t even begin to acknowledge that maybe . . . maybe she even likes this. The running. The being away. The being with Mulder.

He reaches for the lamp and his body folds over hers, bending her slightly backwards to grab the chain. She moves with him, her liquid against his solid. When the lights turn off, he shifts them down into the mattress, arranging them so her head is against his chest. She feels his lips brush her hair as he speaks.

“I’ll get you back to your life,” he promises once again.

Her chest clenches painfully at the thought of facing a life without Mulder again. Of having had him one final time, only to get it taken away once more. She almost can’t bear the thought. It’s like reopening a wound that had been sutured tight, but hadn’t fully healed. How much will she bleed this time?

But apparently, he’s thinking about it—about the after, about what it means for them. And to him, it means separation again.  

Wordlessly, she shifts, turning her back to him. He doesn’t seem to fully get her subtle message, but he understands enough, because he slips his arms out from under her. But before he pulls away, his hand falls to her hip and he ducks his head, pressing his lips to her wet cheek.

He lingers for a long moment, too long probably. Much too long.

And then he pulls away, draws the blanket back over her shoulders, and returns to his place across from her.  

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Tarlos @flufftober day 3 (yes, finally)

"Wait, you love me?" "Always have."

Push (AO3)

Some missing moments from Push (S03E04) between TK waking up in the hospital to him coming home to the loft with Carlos.

(after every --- it's a new day)

------

“Hey.” TK said softly to a sleeping Carlos next to his bed. He gave his hand a squeeze. “Carlos.”

Carlos’ eyes flew open and he looked panicked for a moment before finding TK and a sleepy smile spread over his face.

“Hey.” TK said again.

“Hey yourself.” Carlos replied and moved his chair a little closer to the bed, pressing a kiss to TK’s knuckles when he settled down again. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Kind of cold. Still.”

It had been a rough 24 hours. From TK almost dying and Carlos trying to get himself to say goodbye, to him miraculously waking up and getting stronger by the hour.

They were back together but they both knew there were still some difficult conversations to be had. Later. For now though Carlos just sat by TK’s bed and held his hand, fingers lingering on his pulse point, just to remind himself he was there, he was ok, and most importantly, he was his again.

“The doctor said that’s to be expected. It’ll take your body some time to recover from everything.”

TK gave him an amused look.

“What?”

“Have you been talking to my doctor about me?”

“No, no, no. She came to talk to your dad earlier. He was here. And I just… heard it too. I wasn’t digging or anything.”

“Babe, relax, it’s ok. I don’t mind.” TK assured him and Carlos seemed to relax a little at that.

“Do you want me to go find a nurse and ask for another blanket? Or maybe a hot water bottle? I don’t know if they have that but I can ask.”

“No, I’m ok. I just want you.”

Carlos smiled.

“You have me.”

---

“Aren’t you uncomfortable in that chair?” TK asked. He’d woken up from a nap and Carlos was right there in the chair next to his bed. Right where he’d been the past 48 hours, only leaving the room when the medical staff forced him to, or for quick bathroom breaks.

“I’m fine.” Carlos insisted. He sat up a little straighter and cracked his neck and rolled the stiffness from his shoulders. “Your dad went to get some food and call your mom. I think she’s planning on flying out as soon as the storm lets up.”

“Is it still going?” TK glanced at the window but the blinds were closed.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been outside in two days.” Carlos admitted reluctantly. “My mom dropped off a change of clothes for me and some food while you were asleep.” He explained.

TK nodded and they sat in silence for a while. He hated how awkward things still were between them. He’d never had a problem talking to Carlos, not even when he was still in denial he was falling in love with him.

“Don’t you have a shift?” he asked after a while.

Carlos shook his head.

“I had some time off scheduled. To… work on the loft... They made me take the days.”

“Oh…”

“I only got called in because of the storm. And because Marj was back at it again. I didn’t want anyone else picking her up.”

“Wait you arrested Marjan?” TK asked, carefully steering the conversation away from painful topics.

“Yeah. A few times actually. Didn’t she tell you?”

“I haven’t seen much of her lately. Fire got moved to other houses in the city and with the three of us working for Paragon… We just don’t really get to hang like we used to.”

Carlos nodded.

“Do you still hate working for Paragon?”

“So much.” TK groaned. “They only care about money and profits. If I take too long helping someone, I get called into the office to explain myself. But… it’s the only way I can keep working with Cap and Nancy, so I don’t have a choice.”

“Well… I’m here if you want to vent.”

---

“Hey, I found an episode of grand designs. It's probably a rerun though, so you’ve probably already seen it.” TK told Carlos when he came back into the room after a shower.

The nurses had started to take pity on him and his back, and had worked their magic to get a second bed put into TK's room as well as given him a towel and some soap so he could freshen up.

It had been four days since TK had all but come back from the dead and Carlos was slowly starting to accept he wasn't going to disappear or die on him if he left the room for more than five minutes.

“I haven't watched much TV lately. I picked up a lot of extra shifts. I uh… didn't want to be in the loft on my own. I mostly just went to bed the minute I got back after work.” Carlos told him and sat down in the chair next to TK's bed again.

“Let's watch it together then. I think it's just started.” TK scooted over and patted the mattress. Plenty of room for both of us.

“No, no, I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't. Come on, I want to cuddle with my boyfriend.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and giving in.

“You play dirty.” He said as he carefully got on the bed next to TK, wrapping his arms around him.

“Maybe. But it works.” TK replied, slipping an arm around Carlos' waist and getting comfortable in his embrace.

They watched the show without really paying attention to it, just happy to be close to each other again.

---

“And then Paul got stuck inside the ice house with the girl, but we got them out. And her dad was so happy, he wanted to buy us a Ferrari.” Mateo excitedly told them.

Mateo, Judd, Paul, and Marjan had stopped by to see how he was doing and catch him up on everything that had happened the past few days.

“Uh no, he offered to buy me anything I wanted, you two just tried to talk him into buying you expensive cars.” Paul cut in.

“Hey, I’m a new dad, I deserve to celebrate.” Judd replied.

“Celebrate by having someone buy you a sports car?” TK asked laughingly. “Anyway, show me a picture of my goddaughter.”

“Who says you get to be her godfather?” Marjan asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Almost dying does not automatically give you godparent rights.”

“Oh and being a social media star does?”

“No but being a kickass firefighter might.”

“So that makes me her godfather.” Paul said, daring the others to disagree. “Since you are no longer a firefighter.” He pointed at TK. “And out of the two of us, I’m the one who saved the girl.”

“Technically you didn’t save anyone. The rest of the crew saved you both.” Marjan pointed out.

“Alright quit your fighting. We haven’t decided on godparents yet. But my brothers and Grace’s sisters are higher on the list than y’all.” Judd told them. “But you’re all more than welcome to babysit.”

“Sure. I’ll be happy to.” Marjan said, a little too loudly. “Auntie Marjan will teach her how to deal with all the stupid boys in her life.”

TK laughed.

“She’s only a few days old, Marj.”

“So we’ll start early so when she gets to an age where boys become annoying, she’ll know how to deal with them.” Marjan replied. “Like when they’re obviously still in love with the guy they broke up with and won’t tell you why but just mope around for months.”

“Well you won’t have to deal with that anymore.” TK told her and looked at Carlos who was sitting next to him on the bed, quietly observing and letting the madness wash over him. “Right babe?”

Carlos just smiled and met him halfway when he leaned in for a kiss.

---

“TK will you please tell your mother I am not lying or trying to placate her when I say you’re doing better?” Owen said, exasperated, walking into TK’s hospital room, holding his phone away from his ear.

TK had been moved out of the ICU and onto a regular ward that morning, but thankfully still had a room to himself.

He took the phone from his dad.

“Hey mom, dad is not lying. This time.” He joked and laughed at Owen’s reaction. “I’m ok.”

“What does your doctor say about that?” Gwyn asked. “I know what you and your dad are like.”

“Mom, I really am ok. The doctors actually think I can go home soon.” TK lied. He was desperate to get out of hospital but none of the doctors had said anything about discharging him yet.

“As soon as the weather improves and Jonah’s ear infection clears up, we’re on the next flight out.” Gwyn promised. “I hate the thought of you on your own in that hospital because your dad has to single handedly save Austin from a blizzard.”

“I'm not on my own. Carlos is here.” TK said, ignoring his mom’s dig at his father and reaching out for Carlos’ hand.

“Oh Carlos is huh, does that mean the romance is back on?”

TK laughed.

“Don’t pretend dad hasn’t told you.”

“He might have mentioned him being at the hospital a lot.” Gwyn admitted. “But you know what your father is like, he never tells me anything important and leaves out all of the details.”

“There are no details. Carlos is here, we talked, I love him, he loves me… and we’re back together. We know what not to do now. We want to make it work. We are going to make it work.” TK said determined and looked at Carlos who squeezed his hand in confirmation.

Suddenly he heard a loud wailing in the background and Gwyn sighed.

“Jonah just woke up. I have to go honey, I’ll see you soon. Give Carlos my love.”

“I will. Give Jonah a kiss from me. Bye mom.” TK replied and ended the call.

“Wait, you love me?” Carlos asked, mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

TK had missed that smile.

He put a hand on Carlos’ cheek and leaned in.

“Always have.” He murmured right before kissing him to show him exactly how much.

Next to them Owen said something about giving them some privacy but neither of them noticed.

---

“Hello TK, good to see you again.” Andrea Reyes walked into TK’s hospital room, making both him and Carlos sit up straighter.

“Mama, what are you doing here?” Carlos asked her.

“Coming to see how TK is doing of course.” She said matter-of-factly. “I ran into Owen yesterday and he mentioned how the two of you have been camping out here, so I thought I’d come visit and check on you both.”

“I’m sorry for not keeping you updated. I was going to come over but things have been a little hectic here, especially the first few days and - ”

“It’s ok.” Andrea interrupted and looked at the two men for a moment and smiled. “Carlos, will you go get me a coffee from the restaurant downstairs?”

“There is a machine down the hall… The coffee isn’t great but it’s drinkable, or I could try getting you something from the nurse’s lounge. They won’t mind. They know me by now.” Carlos rambled.

“Carlitos.” Andrea started. “Por favor.” She just said and waited.

Carlos sighed and got up.

“Si mama.”

She waited until Carlos had left the room and then sat down next to TK’s bed.

“If you’re coming to give me the shovel talk and tell me not to hurt Carlos again, you won’t have to. I love him and I won’t ever hurt him again, I promise.”

Andrea smiled.

“That’s good to know sweetheart.”

“I’m really sorry I hurt him.”

“I know. He does too.”

TK nodded.

“I know I’ll have to earn your trust again after everything, but I promise I will do anything to convince you I’m serious about Carlos. I love him and I want to be with him. Forever. If that’s how long he’ll have me. And that’s probably not what you want to hear but…” TK trailed off, not really knowing what it was he wanted to say.

“Carlos is a big boy, he can make his own decisions about his love life.” Andrea told him. “If he’s happy, I’m happy. And if you boys want to be together again, then I’m the first to welcome you back into the Reyes family.”

“Really?”

“Of course. All I’ve ever wanted is for my kids to be happy. And you make Carlos happy, anyone can see that.”

“He makes me happy too.”

“That’s all that matters.” Andrea patted his hand. “Now when you get out of here, you boys should come over for dinner sometime. Gabriel would love to see you again too and I’ll make ropa vieja the way Carlos’ grandmother makes it. It’s his favourite.”

---

“I’m going stir crazy in here.” TK complained. “I haven’t been outside in almost two weeks.”

“The last time you were outside you nearly died.” Carlos reminded him.

“Yeah but I didn’t. And now I feel like I might die of boredom.”

“Oh I’m boring you am I? I’ve been in this hospital just as long as you, sleeping in these uncomfortable chairs, and this is the thanks I get?” Carlos said, trying to sound serious and angry but the smile on his face gave him away. “Give me five minutes.” He got up and quickly kissed TK before leaving the room.

“Where are you going?”

“Five minutes!”

“Carlos!”

“I’ll be right back!”

True to his word, Carlos did come back within five minutes, but TK wasn’t thrilled with what he’d brought with him.

“What’s that?”

“Someone who has spent as much time in hospitals as you have should know what this is.”

TK rolled his eyes.

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect solution to your boredom problem.”

“I can walk.”

“You’ve barely walked more than 10 steps the past two weeks. Come on, get in.”

“Why do I have to get in a wheelchair? How is this a solution?”

“Because..” Carlos started, grabbing a blanket from the bed and draping it over the chair. “We’re going out.”

“Out? Out where? I can’t just leave this place. My mom will fly over here and drag me back herself.”

Carlos chuckled, knowing Gwyn would probably at least try to do exactly that.

“Just downstairs. To the hospital garden. The weather is nice.”

“How do you know, you’ve been stuck in here with me the whole time.”

“One of the nurses just told me.” Carlos said laughingly. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air and maybe some ice cream.”

“Are you seriously bribing me with ice cream?”

“That depends… is it working?”

After a few minutes of back and forth, TK reluctantly got in the wheelchair and let Carlos wheel him to the hospital garden where they sat down on a bench.

“This is nice.” TK admitted, closing him eyes and tilting his face up to the sun.

“You mean I was right? This was a good idea.” Carlos teased.

“Shut up.” TK shot back, happily accepting the kiss Carlos pressed to his temple.

They stayed on the bench for a while, sitting close together to keep warm because TK refused to cover up with the blanket and choosing to wrap himself in Carlos’ jacket instead.

“I can’t wait to get out of here. I feel fine and I’m just taking up a bed when there’s someone out there who might really need it.”

“I’m sure they won’t keep you here longer than necessary.”

“I know…” TK sighed. “I’m just bored. And I miss my own bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, is that so strange? It’s a hospital, not a hotel. The beds aren’t that comfortable. And I’m fed up with the blood tests and the IVs and the wires they keep attaching to me.”

“I know. I get that. I just… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Ok… Sounds serious…”

“No. Yes. I mean. Yes it’s serious. But nothing bad, I promise.”

“That does nothing to reassure me.”

Carlos shook his head. The conversation was not going the way he’d planned.

“I was hoping... That when you can get out of here... You would want to come back to the loft. With me. Permanently.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you? Again?” TK asked, a smile spreading over his face.

“Yes. Again. I don’t want you to go back to your dad’s house, I want you to come home with me. The loft was always supposed to be ours… but I understand if you think it’s too soon or you’re not ready or something but -”

TK shut him up with a kiss.

“There’s nothing I want more.” He vowed. “But you’re helping me tell my dad.”

[kiraixi]

Referring to this anonymous ask, I for one am very much intrigued about how the action in Nancy's bedroom came to be. If you feel like elaborating 😁

Hey you are lovely! This was so fun to write, for anyone please don't hesitate to send me prompts in the asks it's a fun way to practice my skills >:D

ao3 link

They’re both downstairs babysitting the brat pack (Billy’s words not his) in Mike's basement.

It's been an hour or so of the kids going back and fourth over the a DND round, even after being here for many games Steve still doesn’t understand what the aim of the game is, who wins and who loses?

Billy’s beside him, decided to stay after dropping off Max when he saw Steve lazing in the corner, probably hoping to crash at his house after. Normally that would be great, any time spent with Billy is a blessing with how strict his schedule's been as of late but...

He keeps nudging him in the leg. His boyfriend’s been quite insistent, Steve thinks it just to annoy him so he lays his hand semi-discreetly (as much as be can with a bunch of teenagers hollering at each other on the floor) over the other's leg. Caressing the inside of his thigh with his thumb in hope to soothe the unruly blonde.

It stops Billy’s fidgeting for a bit. But then with renewed vigour Billy takes a different turn. Rubbing up against Steve constantly hands wandering into places that he 100% shouldn't in front of the kids, paired with lingering looks and fleeting touches.

Billy gets up, walking away and when Max gives him a questioning look he winks and she rolls her eyes. He knows only Steve is watching by the way he keeps wagging his ass or whatever and god it should be illegal to walk like that-

He really can't resist following the blonde up, it's like Billy carries half the sun around with him, leaving Steve chilly without.

Steve checks the downstairs bathroom first, the house is empty not counting the kids. Mrs Wheeler took Holly with her to do errands and God knows where Nancy's at, probably out doing something that "furthers her experience". The front door didn't open so that must mean Billy's up.

He hops up the stairs, one ear out to the kids and another to his boyfriend's whereabouts. On the landing he spots the only door open is Nancy's room... weird. Steve slowly approaches, maybe she came home without anyone noticing.

Peeking through only to find a familiar body, blonde curls spilled over pink sheets, blue eyes and that feral grin looking up at him.

He whisper shouts "Really ? My ex's room?"

Billy doesn't even have the shame to look guilty, just gets up and saunters over to an open draw. Asks questions that has Steve flustering bright red.

"What was the first panty she wore when you fucked her?"

"W— WHAT !?"

"C'mon Steve you were head over heels with her a some point, What was the first undies you remember?" Billy rifles through the drawers hoisting out a blue knicker with purple florals tracing up and down the sides. He actually does remember that one from some outdoor movie they went to see.

"I— I don't keep memories of people's underwear Billy."

He gets a face full of sad baby blues. "Please Stevie, just any details."

Steve huffs and sits on the bed, damn he hans't been here in a long time. "It was like— pink? or maybe white. I think there was lace on the outside." He raises his eyebrows at a Billy, head tilting to the side. "Why is that important though?"

Billy smiles and shakes something in front his face. "Is this it?" He leans back actually focusing of the offending garment and nods. Honestly it looks like it was worn only once and then discarded. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

Then his boyfriend is dropping his pants and boxers. Steve freezes, eyes zoning in on the way the pink fabric stretches over thicker thighs. Already growing warm in his jeans.

"Billy—?!"

A hand slaps over his mouth. "Cold feet now pretty boy?" They really shouldn't. Like shouldn't shouldn't. The whole party only separated by a floor and Mrs Wheeler could come back at any second.

Steve points at the door, pleading in his mind that Billy is not crazy enough to do this with the door open wide. He snorts and kicks the door closed, not nearly as quietly as Steve was hoping for, and then is back on top of him.

If Billy really wants to do this then Steve probably should be hopping to it, but he's just gotta take a moment. His mouth waters at a lap full of Billy the bad Hargrove, dressed in a strip of lace round his groin and an unbuttoned shirt falling off his shoulders. Looking ever delectable but impatient. A perfect image to burn into his retinas actually.

He places a hand over Billy's hips, letting him grind back and forth over Steve's bulge.

"Do you think she knows the existent of lube?"

That makes Steve laugh. He blindly gropes for the bedside drawer, pulling at a piece of ribbon jammed in the corner. Pays close attention to the way Billy's eyes widen in amazement when he realises it has a false base.

"Not what I expected..."

He grabs at a sachet of lube rips it open, slicking up his fingers and going straight for Billy's or rather Nancy's panties. God it was so weird but such a turn on.

He grasps the back of Billy curls and pulls him for a heated kiss, moving down to lick and bite at skin that has been unmarred for too long. He can hear every gasp and moan that slips from Billy's mouth in this position and slips a finger across the other's rim, loosening him up. Billys hands snake around his shoulders and he returns matching hickies onto Steve's neck.

He can tell once Billy becomes inpatient again as the blonde goes for his zipper, nudging Steve to fall backwards onto the mattress. From this angle Steve can get a full look at everything; Billy about the line himself up, the pink walls and over-stacked shelves of pinkish trinkets, the dumb poster of some movie star in the corner. He snorts at the absurdity of their situation which panders off into a moan once Billy fully seats himself on Steve's cock. He can tell Billy thinks so too with the way his eyes crinkle in amusement. He only wants to focus on the beautiful blonde in front so he gets up, using the momentum to flips them both over, hearing a resounding oof from the other.

He smirks.

"Get ready for ride of your life babygirl." While snapping the band of the panty sitting on the other's lower thighs.

Billy rises up to bite his lips seductively and then twists his ear not so seductively, says "If you ever say that again I'm going to kick you."

"Uh-huh, I'll just pretend your ears aren't flaming red then" He punctuates with a well aimed thrust, making Billy throw his head back on a long moan.

They go at it for a long time, until the Steve feels the pain of Billy biting into his shoulder and a spattering of cum against his chest. He slows down to languid thrusts letting the orgasm roll through his boyfriend.

Only once Billy comes back from his post-sex haze does Steve pick up the pace again. Feels the fluttering of Billy's overstimulated walls. He rises from Billy's neck to see baby blue's lined with tears looking imploringly up at him.

"S-steve"

He smiles at the blonde and shuts his eyes, blissfully pleasured. "Mhmm..?"

Only when he makes eye contact again does Billy glare at him, eyebrow's pinched together in that cute little frown, "Steve, hurry the fuck up!"

Oh, yeah okay. Billy's right, the kids will probably be wondering where they are. Steve laughs, burrowing into blonde curls and pulls his hips flush against Billy's ass emptying inside. He pulls away only then realising they didn't use a condom. Gives a wry grin in apology and passes a tissues for the other to clean himself up.

Only then does he register activity in the main hall. Dustin calling out a bit too desperate for his liking.

Steve zips up his fly, gives a massive smooch to his boyfriend's mouth, a promise of more sexy times after and proceeds to bolt down the stairs, hearing an all too familiar cackling in his wake.

[geasrua]

Text Version of Glimmer

Marcus turned away from the computer to take a much-needed break. He turned in his old, rigid swivel chair to look out the window at the overcast skies. Tiny droplets of rain had started steadily pinging against the window. He had already been at it for over a week. Eight long days filled with endless account balancing and pure monotony. Marcus felt a small moment of calm as he looked over the city from inside the cold office building.

Marcus leaned back and ran his hand over his face, his thumbs pausing momentarily to investigate the bags that had formed under his eyes. His eyes ached from the time spent staring at a screen. Overworked was too tame a term for what he felt. He felt utterly wrung out. His eyes wandered towards the window and appreciated the gloomy skies. They suited his mood. It felt nice to know that the world felt like he did. Eventually, he turned his attention back to the computer. At least his prison was next to a window.

Another interruption came a few minutes later. Steve stopped by Marcus’ cubicle on his way out of the building; the boss didn’t stay late, of course. Marcus went through the motions and told Steve he didn’t mind working overtime. Again. Being a team player was rewarding. All the while, Steve’s Rolex and class ring glinted garishly. They taunted him with a life he would never have.

Steve loved to flaunt and wore both every day without fail. The overpriced hunks of metal always gleamed on his tanned hands. Marcus said something about needing to return to work, and Steve finally walked away to go home.

Marcus had been told this was how it was going to be. Each year, January was their busy month. Of course, there is no way to anticipate this. It only happens in the same month every year. The business can’t afford more workers, or so the higher-ups claim. After all, what would they do after business died down? Well, they would probably fire them, honestly. What’s the point in having a few extra hands and letting your employees have a slow day? That doesn’t increase profits!

Marcus chuckled; the thought shouldn’t be funny, but laughing made him feel better. A little better, anyway. He sank into the cheap desk chair again and refocused on his station. The tiny cubicle seemed to fold in on him as he worked. He lost awareness of anything else as he willed his exhausted brain from one monotonous task to the next. Each account he closed should have felt like a victory. Another step closer to home. He knew he was hours away from going home with each completed task.

By the time he was finished, each account was all caught up and tidy. It was dark outside, fog clinging to the windows.

He stood and stretched. The office was deserted, save the custodian, a woman in her early sixties. She had faded gray hair. It framed her face in strands that seemed less like a style and more like neglect. Her hands were bony and gnarled as she clutched a rag and dusted down desks. She looked simultaneously like a grandma and a witch. She was wiping things down near his cubicle, scowling. Her name was something like Edna. No, that wasn’t it. He wished she had a name tag.

Marcus checked his phone. He had five missed texts from his daughter. They were all asking when he would be home.

He grabbed his jacket and bag, hit the power button on the work computer, and started to walk out. On the way, he passed the custodian, who scowled up at him. He wasn’t sure if she could smile. Maybe her face was stuck that way. As he went past, the woman spoke. Her voice creaked like an old, unused door.

“Working late again? How come it’s always you?”

Marcus looked at her, willing his brain to work. Why did Edna care? The schedule was horrible, but he needed the overtime. He didn’t like it, but this was how it was. Complaining wouldn’t change anything. Edna didn’t seem to notice.

“If I were you, I’d have done something about it by now. Who cares if someone else has to pick up the slack?”

Marcus’ brain finally caught up, “I am sure they used to work just as hard as me. It’s part of climbing the totem pole, you know? It’s not so bad. Although I am tired, thanks for your… thoughts, but I should get home.”

Marcus kept walking to the elevator but heard Edna call from behind.

“You know, he keeps his office unlocked if you ever want to mess with him. No cameras over there either; He probably set that up on purpose. That’s why no one has noticed his extra meetings with his secretary.”

Marcus looked back. “Why would I want to break into my boss’s office?”

“Maybe you could get a bonus.” She grinned and cackled, “Or you could change your schedule. That man’s so far up his ass that he probably would overlook it anyway. I think he has four of those watches. I can’t fault him for it. The gold looks nice.” She snorted.

He wouldn’t ever steal anything. Marcus was indignant; she would think he would fall to that level. He was sure she had already done something based on her suggestion and tone.

“Have a good night….” Marcus trailed off and didn’t try Edna. Maybe it was Suzy. He decided it was better to avoid using a name altogether.

“My name is Diane. Good night, Marcus.” Her scowl returned. “Say hello to your daughter for me.”

Marcus thought about Diane as he walked to the BART station. The rain had started coming down now. Apparently, it was going to rain all weekend. He vaguely remembered Steve and his other co-workers complaining about it, even though San Francisco was usually foggy. As if complaining would stop it from ever raining here.

Marcus realized he had forgotten an umbrella.

He tried to collect his thoughts as he waited at the station. He knew he’d never mentioned his daughter to Diane before. She hadn’t worked there that long, at most a few weeks. Perhaps she had just overheard someone, but something about her unnerved him. He didn’t know where they found her, but she had already implied she was stealing from her employer. Marcus tried to put it out of his head and resolved to report her later. He was sure that if anything were stolen, security would catch it or someone would notice.

The train arrived, and he stepped on. He found a seat and hoped it would be a peaceful ride.

After Diane’s behavior and the unsettling mention of his daughter, Marcus hoped she would be gone soon.

He tried to relax and ignore the noise and smell of urine. It was coming down now, but somehow nothing smelled like rain. The stench of the city only got worse. He still had a long walk after the train. The screeching of the train rang through his head like banshees calling to him. After arriving at his station, he still had to walk home. Berating himself for forgetting an umbrella, Marcus began the journey.

His clothes were soaked through and dripping by the time he arrived home. It was late enough that no one was in the street as he climbed the stairs to their apartment.

Zoey had left the kitchen light on for him. He went to the fridge and grabbed a slice of leftover pizza from the previous night. Kicking off his shoes, he went down the hall to his room. Their apartment was small, just a tiny kitchen area with an island dividing it, a small living room space with a couch, and Zoey’s Nintendo Switch. They’d had a TV with it, but it had broken a few months back. So now they just propped the Switch up to watch things. A short hallway led to a bathroom he and Zoey were forced to share and two bedrooms. It even had a little balcony past a sliding door. Just enough balcony to stand on and get some fresh air. The apartment was not much, but it was a palace for San Francisco apartment sizes and a steal for San Francisco apartment prices.

Zoey’s door was closed, and her light was off. He could tell by the blue light shining under the door that she was still awake. Zoey liked to stay up late like most new adults do. She would be up for hours, most likely. He decided to leave her alone. Marcus devoured the pizza, shoving it into his mouth. He chewed the last of it and threw his wet clothes into the hamper in the corner. He tossed himself onto his bed. He was out before he could throw the blankets over himself.

Marcus heard a loud creak, and he bolted upright in his bed. Usually, he would assume it was Zoey, but something about it didn’t sound right. He stood up and opened the door. Zoey’s door was wide open, but it was black inside. He didn’t hear her breathing or movement. He walked around the small apartment listening.

He didn’t hear anything,

“Zoey? Are you ok?”

He waited, and there was no answer. He entered the living room and saw someone standing on the balcony. Just a silhouette against the city lights reflecting off the clouds. The door was open, and there was a cold breeze coming through. He breathed a sigh of relief. Zoey was getting some fresh air. That was all. Maybe she was just as stressed as he was. She’d been working just as hard on her college applications… He started walking towards the door, but his foot struck something. It wasn’t hard and felt spongy. Marcus looked down at someone lying on the floor as his eyes finally adjusted. He flung himself back, falling to the floor.

“No, no, no. Please. No.”

Panic settled in as he realized how she was lying. On her side, blood pooled on the floor around her head. The same way he had found her two years ago. Her black hair was coated with her blood from the gaping wound on the back of her head. The wall behind the couch was covered in viscera. A revolver still lay in his wife’s hand.

He froze as the figure on the balcony turned. Slowly, deliberately.

The body on the floor began to warp and flex.

There was a snapping sound. Her neck ripped and forced her to look up at the ceiling, and her face was frozen, mouth open, almost laughing. Her arms and legs twisted like an insect. He looked from the body on the floor to the figure on the balcony. She rose up on her twisted arms. Twitching and raising her limbs, contorting and dragging herself towards him. He pushed back away from her, trying to stand and escape. She grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back down. He tripped, and her broken limbs scratched him, tearing at him and pulling him closer. She wrapped him in her arms and legs. Holding him in a cold tight hug. He heard a familiar laugh as she embraced him. Crushing him. He felt himself breaking; he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t….

Marcus woke up shaking and panting. He stopped and looked around. It was early morning. Everything seemed okay. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. the stress was probably getting to him. He laid back down briefly, forcing himself to slow his breathing and calm down. He didn’t usually have nightmares, especially this vivid. Marcus hadn’t thought about Charlotte in months. The burnout must really be getting to him.

Thankfully he had the day off today after closing those accounts last night. He could finally get some rest. Marcus laid his head back down for a bit, trying to go back to sleep. He kept hearing Diane’s creaking voice, his dream echoing in his head. Discovering Charlotte again after what she had done to herself. He sat up as he realized sleep was not coming to him. He decided to get some coffee.

He moved to the living room, drinking his fresh coffee and watching videos on his phone. He had the volume down to not wake Zoey and watched anything to distract himself. As he watched, his head became heavy despite the caffeine. He let his head fall to the armrest and fell back to sleep.

Zoey woke him up when she walked into the kitchen to steal some coffee from the pot. He shook his head a bit to wake up. He watched his daughter pour the coffee, her messy dark hair covering part of her face. Seeing her reminded him of Charlotte again. His daughter took after her. Dark hair, fair skin, sarcastic sense of humor. Marcus shook his head. Chasing away the thoughts of his late wife.

“Morning, Zo.”

“Morning, Dad.” She put the pot back in the machine and leaned against the sink. “You’re actually home. Busy season over then?”

“I hope so. I got everything caught up last night. I have the day off. So if there are more fires, it must wait until tomorrow.”

She grinned back. “Great. I don’t want to take your whole day off, but can you help me with this essay? It’s for Berkeley. I already edited it. I just need you to read it and tell me if you think it could use any work. That is, if you haven’t forgotten how. College was probably like fifty years ago for you.” She let out a little amused breath.

“You know I can still read, regardless of how old I am.”

Marcus stood and pretended to arch his back like an old man. He was middle-aged, not decrepit.

“Yer damn zoomers with yer flannel and Fortnite.” He waved his hand as if he had a cane. “Bunch of communists.” Although he was very proud of his old man voice, Marcus thought he had aged gracefully. He stayed active, after all.

“I’d be happy to go over it for you, sweetheart. Now give your old man a hug.” he leaned in to hug Zoey.

Marcus hated how busy he was. Zoey would be gone soon, and he had wanted to be there for her last year of high school. Still, he had missed so much just keeping the bills paid. Marcus wasn’t scared for her to leave and become her own person, but he finally understood how hard it was. Letting her move away was bittersweet. Even if she didn’t end up going too far. He was still forced to spend his days in an office, away from her. Part of him hoped she would stay close if she went to Berkeley.

“Love you, Zo. Sorry I’ve been working so much.”

“I’m pretty used to it. Love you too.”

He pulled away. “Now, let’s see that paper. If I finish it now, we can do something fun later.”

Zoey nodded and left to get the printed paper and a pen. Marcus leaned over to wash his mug and put it in the dishwasher.

Marcus sat back on the couch and pulled a small side table before him. There wasn’t enough space between the sofa and the TV for a good coffee table, so they made do. Zoey returned with the essay and sat next to him. She grabbed the Switch and played an action game about some black and white bugs while he read.

An hour later, he had read the entire application essay and done substantial writing in the margins. He set down the paper and sighed. Zoey paused her game and looked at him expectantly.

“It’s good, Zoey. I think you might be going to Berkeley.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

“No, I am not just saying that because I am your father. It’s really well put together. I put my thoughts all over it so you can revise it, but I am excited. I think the admissions board will agree with me.”

Zoey wiggled and threw her arms in the air. She clearly had been stressing over the essay. She really wanted to get into a good school. College seemed less critical, but Zoey wished to enter STEM and discussed getting a Ph.D. or Doctorate. Learning was essential to her, and Marcus would make it happen if she wanted to go.

She practically tore the paper out of his hands and ran to her room. Marcus called after her.

“If you want a break, we can go to a movie or shopping later. I know I need to get out of the house. If you don’t mind hanging out with your lame Dad.” He laughed at her enthusiasm.

Zoey stuck her head out her door and said, “Of course, I’ll take my lame Dad to the movies. Is anything good playing?”

“Maybe, they haven’t had any big films lately. Feels like everything gets pumped onto streaming these days.” Marcus pulled out his phone to see if anything was playing. It really did feel pointless to go to theaters. They both enjoyed the experience, though, so they would go whenever they could find something worth seeing. When Marcus pulled out his phone, he noticed a missed call and a voicemail. His heart sank. The call was from Steve. Marcus thought he had finished everything. He knew he had. Steve should have no reason to call him, and the only reason Steve would is if he needed Marcus to come in. He pressed play on the voicemail and held the phone to his ear. It felt like a grenade held next to his head.

“Hey… yeah… uh, Marcus. I got a call from Cameron earlier. Yeah, they left early yesterday. So their financial statements still need to be taken care of. Something came up here, and you’re the only guy I’d trust with this.”

Marcus could clearly hear laughing in the background. He also thought he heard the clinking of glasses.

“So… can you go in and correct those real quick? Just forward them over to me when it’s done. Thanks a ton, buddy. Bye.”

Marcus set his phone down. Thinking of going in and even touching work today was like drinking vinegar. He thought about ignoring it. Zoey walked to the bathroom to shower before their movie, humming. He thought about Berkeley. Marcus hadn’t told Zoey, but he had been saving for this. For years, every horrible weekend was spent in that cubicle. He had bitten his tongue and gone through it to ensure she had an excellent place to live and could have good things, even if it wasn’t a lot. He had saved and penny-pinched. She could go to her dream school. Marcus had saved a lot, but it wasn’t enough. He had to go back in.

Marcus stood. He walked down the hall, each inch feeling like lifting a weight. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked.

“Hey, Zo, I just got a call. I gotta go back to work for a bit. It should only be a couple of hours. Check out the movies and let me know what one you want to see. You can revise your paper while I’m gone, and we will go once I am back instead.”

She took a moment to reply. Clearly disappointed. Zoey’s tone tore at his heart.

“Okay, don’t work yourself too hard, Dad.”

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Sorry I have to go back. I’ll talk to you later today, okay?”

Marcus trudged to his room. Cursing Steve the whole way. He threw on a button-up, some slacks, socks, and shoes. He decided not to wait for Zoey to get out of the shower. He wouldn’t be at the office long if everything went well. He walked out the door, dreading another trip on the train. Marcus was determined to be done quickly.

He arrived at his cubicle and set to work while still damp from the persisting rain. He pulled Cameron’s work from the file share and fixed any errors he found.

After a couple of hours, it was done. He fixed all the financial statements and double-checked them. He sent a journal of what had changed to Cameron and Steve and sat back to breathe.

He hadn’t lost too much time. He could still have a day with his daughter. He stood up and got ready to leave. As he walked out, he noticed an open door. Steve’s office was wide open. It wasn’t last night, and he was sure Steve hadn’t returned. The man treated his weekends like religious holidays. He decided to look in, remembering what Diane had said the previous night. At first, the office looked the same as he’d always seen it, but one of the doors, his desk, was ajar. Thinking of Diane snooping, he decided to open it. Inside were typical office supplies and some hard copies of files. Nothing that she could do real damage with. They really should be locked away, though. He closed the door and started to walk out. He stopped when he saw it. On the desk was Steve’s watch. The exact Rolex he’d been wearing when he had left. He picked it up, shocked that such a valuable accessory was lying in the office. Maybe Diane was right. Maybe Steve did have more than one. It seemed odd he would have another of the same exact model, though. He thought about Berkeley as he held it, about what Diane had said. Steve was neglectful, barely paying attention to his job and employees. Why would he value the watch if he didn’t value his position? He just left it here, after all.

Marcus stopped and looked around the room and out the door. There really weren’t any cameras watching his office. Marcus started to set the watch down, but then he saw something else on the desk. A paper he hadn’t noticed. Another important document that should be locked away. It was a list of employees to be laid off in the coming quarter. Marcus’ name was second from the top.

He was instantly livid after everything he had gone through. All the burnout, all the years of work hoping to get ahead. Everything he had done was to give Zoey the life she deserved. They were going to throw him to the curb. Marcus looked at the watch again, looked around one last time, and shoved it in his pocket. Steve wouldn’t notice anyway.

He left the paper where it was, closing the office door behind him. He saw Diane watching him from a few cubicles away. Towel and cleaner in hand. He gave her a wave.

“Steve needs to learn to keep his door closed.”

Diane’s face twisted into an eerie grin. She seemed to smile just a little too wide. How had he not noticed that before?

“He sure does. You’re heading home, Marcus?”

“Yeah, hope you can get out of here soon. Have a good day.”

Diane called from behind him. “Have a good day, Marcus, and be careful when ya put it on.”

Marcus stopped momentarily but ignored the ominous remark and left.

Later that night, he and Zoey returned from their movie. It was some family film about a talking cat. Zoey had picked the film, and Marcus hadn’t paid much attention. Zoey was teasing him about his old brain when she asked him about it. The entire movie, he had been focused on the watch. The cursed thing in his dresser and Diane’s words about trying it on.

Back home, he sat on his bed, looking at the watch. Trying to decide if it was worth it. Selling it would get him tens of thousands. All of that could go to Zoey, and no one would know. He was close to funding her school, but this would make the difference. There shouldn’t be anything to link the theft to him, and he was reasonably sure Steve wouldn’t notice. He could get a new job and leave that awful place behind. Everything would be fine. He would just relax and revise his resume.

A part of Marcus considered returning the watch, saying he just took it to keep it safe for Steve. Steve would vouch for him and let him keep his job. But after years at that company, he knew that wouldn’t happen. After all the hours and overtime he put in, after all the excellent work. They were throwing him away. He decided against returning it. This was better.

He recalled Diane’s words, “Be careful when trying it on.”

How had she known it was in his office? Did she put it there for him? If she said anything, he could just claim he was holding it until he could return it to Steve. Before finding someone discreet to buy it and dealing with the creepy old woman, her last words rang in his ears.

Marcus knew he had to try it on.

He unhooked the gaudy gold band and placed the Rolex on his wrist. He waited for a moment to see if anything would change. Nothing happened. He reached around and fastened the band on his wrist.

He waited again.

And again.

Nothing happened.

Marcus looked at the watch. He had been holding it away from himself, Hanging on his arm like a hissing gold serpent. He started to feel like a fool, expecting something unexpected to happen. This was crazy. There was no way Diane could know what he had done. He paced around his room, fixated on the watch. He still hated the way it looked. It was too showy. But on his wrist… He enjoyed it. Marcus thought of Zoey’s face when she found out he was paying for her entire education and beamed.

He left the watch on for a bit. Wearing it wouldn’t harm anything, and having something luxurious felt nice for once. He reached over to his bedside table to grab a book he had been reading.

As soon as his hand touched the book, he felt something move from him into the book. The watch glowed, and the light traveled from his hand into the book. As the light entered the book, the air seemed to warp around it. The warping rapidly spread like ripples of water. The whole process only took a second. Once done, the book shone and reflected the room’s light.

Marcus pulled his hand back as if the book scalded him. He looked at his hand, quickly holding it away from himself. He carefully undid the clasp and let the watch fall onto the bed. Nothing happened. He reached over and grabbed the book. It was a lot heftier now and shimmered in the light. He watched the book, seeing if it would do anything. When it didn’t explode, he picked it up. The cover refused to budge. He thumbed the pages, and the thin gold film shifted slightly. The book had changed into pure gold. He wouldn’t be able to finish the story.

Extraordinary.

His thoughts raced as he immediately wanted to try more. He looked around for something that he wouldn’t mind losing. He decided to try a glass he had left on his dresser. A gold cup wouldn’t be too odd if he had to get rid of it. Although having a gold book and a gold cup probably would be strange. Still, he reached out and touched the cup. Nothing happened.

So Diane hadn’t lied, and he hadn’t misheard her. She knew about this somehow. The watch would turn whatever he touched to gold so long as he wore it. He could make anything gold. He could use this power to get whatever he wanted. No more pinching, no tiny apartment. Marcus could give Zoey whatever she wanted. Someone with a large amount of gold, seemingly out of nowhere, could arouse suspicion. Marcus would find a way around it, though.

He needed to do it again. He had to be sure that he understood the process. Now that he knew, he wouldn’t change his door. He put the watch in his pocket and walked out of his room. He passed by Zoey’s room. She was still working on her paper and didn’t notice he had left his room.

He went out their front door and down to the street. He looked around for a rock or piece of cement. It could look like some natural piece of gold. He found a few pieces of asphalt near a pothole. He surveyed the street. No one in the street or the sidewalk that he could see. He bent down and tried touching the pieces. Nothing. He pulled the watch from his pocket and fastened it onto his left wrist. With his right hand, he grabbed a sample no bigger than his thumb.

Nothing happened.

He looked at his hand in surprise. After a moment of thought, Marcus tried his left hand, which was the wrist the watch was on. The feeling returned and flowed through him into the chunk. He was still astonished when the little piece of asphalt warped and rippled. Marcus picked it up and studied it. Surely enough, it was gold.

The watch turned things to gold. It didn’t seem to have a limit on what type of things it would change. The change only worked if Marcus touched something with the same hand the watch was fastened to. Lastly, he could remove the watch and safely handle things again.

He stopped looking at the shining chunk in his hand and stared off into the street. Marcus peeked around again. He felt as though every window had a pair of eyes in them. Remembering his dream, the things Diane had said. The watch hadn’t done this before he picked it up.

She had mentioned Zoey, and Zoey was alone upstairs.

Marcus had to get back upstairs.

He stood up, dropping the golden asphalt in the gutter.

Marcus sprinted back to their apartment. He was careful not to touch himself or anything else with his left hand while he went to undo the watch. He did not want to know if this ability worked on his own body. At the stairs now, Marcus stopped to take off the watch.

He pulled the delicate latch.

It did not move.

He tried again.

The latch refused to yield.

He tried for another minute. A new panic joined his concern for Zoey.

This was fine, he reasoned. He would check on Zoey. Ensure that hag was nowhere near his daughter and then figure out the latch. He reached the stairs and took them two at a time.

Marcus reached the door of the apartment and threw it open. The only light came from his and Zoey’s rooms. He was ready to use the watch on Diane if it came to that. Just one touch would make sure he and Zoey were safe from her and whatever this was. He kept his left hand down and to his side, slightly behind, as if it were a dagger he was hiding.

Marcus knew where Diane would be. After his dream, he knew. He looked over to the balcony and saw a figure. The dark figure turned to look at him. The lights of the city outlined her. He ran to the sliding door and slung it open

Zoey jumped into his arms.

She squealed in excitement and hugged him.

“Dad, I finally finished.”

Marcus’ panic and reflexes took over. He lifted his hands and leaned back as she hugged him. Zoey’s beaming face was the last thing he saw as his left hand gently tapped her bare arm. Everything slowed down as the same feeling flowed through him. She didn’t realize it as her face warped in front of him. Her smile became otherworldly as reality shifted and her flesh rippled.

The next moment she was gone. Zoey’s face shined as it caught the little light, replaced with a smooth golden facsimile. The momentum and new weight slammed into him, and they fell together to the floor, his daughter’s golden arms holding his waist. As they landed on the carpet, her weight hit him. He heard two sharp cracks. The first was from the floor. Somehow holding the immense weight of the statue. The second noise came from somewhere in his body.

Marcus thrashed, trying to get out from under his daughter. His chest was in agony. He coughed, struggling to catch his breath. He frantically tried to push off the golden statue that had replaced his little girl. He realized it was hopeless and started sobbing. Blood came up with his hacking and cries. He laid still, looking down at his situation. Zoey’s arms had broken the floor, keeping some of her off him. The weight was still enough to flatten his body. The bones in his waist and thighs were splinters. There was a pool of blood rapidly expanding under him. He was completely pinned and, through the haze of pain, realized something worse than the pain. He couldn’t feel his legs. He tried to shimmy out from under the weight. Pain shot through him as he moved. Something had snapped in his chest, and his lungs refused to work. He laid his head back, gasping, crying, and looking at his daughter’s smiling face. Frozen in a freakish grin. He couldn’t look away. He heard a familiar cackle from the doorway. Marcus turned his head. His vision began to fade as Diane sauntered into the room. Diane bent down to unsnap the watch from his wrist.

“Thank you so much, Marcus.”