#i’m aware it’s september (almost)

[yaralulu]

do you guys think it’s insane behavior if i start working on my lucienweek fics from now

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[charmedreincarnation]

I shifted and manifested with your Morphics challenge !!!!!

I am sharing this on an alternate account because I don’t feel comfortable posting on my main account. I want to continue using my main account so, I hope that’s okay.

I’ve been in the LOA community for a while and have consumed every piece of information. You know how it is.. I had a Reddit and TikTok shifting account and was literally helping people shift with my advice. But aside from maybe slightly hearing or seeing my DR, I had never succeeded, and even that was years ago.

I’ve gotten lazier yet more somehow ambitious since 2020 when I first started this journey, which is insane because you know how when you first find out about shifting, you have a lot of symptoms and almost do it, but then months and years pass, and you’re more desperate yet doing the same useless things. It was like that. I was enlightened; I could spew every method to you backwards, studied many years from teachers like Neville Goddard, Joseph Murphy, Florence Scovel Shinn, Wayne Dyer, Earl Nightingale, Louise Hay, Esther Hicks (Abraham-Hicks), Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Wallace D. Wattles, Rhonda Byrne—okay, everyone and their teachers. I also spent so much money on paid subliminals, meditations, teacher personal subscriptions, witch spells, lucid dreaming supplements, etc., but there are some things money can’t buy, so really, don’t waste your money lol.

I’m not here to be wise and do nothing with that wisdom, so I realized maybe instead of trying to do everything so mighty and intricate and be pretentious in my intelligence, let me try something so simple I would be shocked if it worked. Then I came across a post that was like, "Everyone is going to shift in September," and I almost cried because I have been trying for almost 5 years. I’ve given everything, and I was starting to think LOA is a cult because, let’s be real, it checks off all the things of a cult:

1. Charismatic Leaders: Many LOA teachings are popularized by charismatic figures who attract devoted followings, similar to leaders in cults.

2. Promised Benefits: LOA often promises significant personal benefits, like wealth and happiness, which can be enticing and lead to strong adherence.

3. Community and Belonging: Followers of LOA often form tight-knit communities, sharing experiences and supporting each other, which can resemble the communal aspect of cults.

4. Us vs. Them Mentality: Some LOA teachings might create a divide between "believers" and "non-believers," fostering an exclusive mindset.

5. Simplistic Solutions: The idea that simply thinking positively can solve complex life issues might be seen as an oversimplification, similar to some cult ideologies.

It’s almost religious, but most people are religious, and you know what? Without faith in something, people might have probably just (TW) killed themselves. Everyone has some kind of cult behavior—religious, politics, loyalty to family who don’t love or respect them. At this point, if it was a cult, I guess I was okay with that. Hopefully, the belief would at least give some sort of false comfort. Because having awareness and enlightenment and still suffering is even worse. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Then I came across your challenge, and tbh I had tried every subliminal, meditation, binaural beat, etc., so at first, I thought, how will this be any different? But then I saw the LOA Bella success story, and I just felt this was my calling because I had never related to a success story so much. I wanted to cry because it felt like a sign.

This isn’t a very exciting or good story, but all I did was:

Morning
https://youtu.be/gOpZAPo8VvU?si=FA2oxWQkR6l2KU_M

During the day (together)
https://youtu.be/67T-wX2iqfM?si=-f-TvsYyQ_D-od1L
https://youtu.be/xwaSBZFucGg?si=8-XLLROuoIypBSu0

Overnight
https://youtu.be/uBHMmHbQwa0?si=h01rp0Ngdl7Xhv9C

Basically I had a lucid dream and woke up in my waiting room because I had used lucid dreams to get into the void state, but they were also fake voids, and it was annoying to think, "Wow, I’m going to wake up with my dream life," and then fail. So I was taking no chances. I had a dream I was at work, and this lazy girl was being lazy as usual but an actual nuisance. We were outside, and I was like, "Wait, I don’t work outside," and then I got too excited, so I started jumping around and did a backflip because I heard that helps stabilize the dream. Then I commanded my annoying coworker to take me to a portal, and she did. I envisioned my waiting room and set the intention that when I close my eyes and enter the portal, I would wake up in my WR. I walked through, and then I fell. I was scared to open my eyes, so I affirmed just in case as I fell, and I heard the beach waves, and I knew it was there.

I only did this for manifesting purposes because then I intended to shift back to the same reality but where I had my dream life and master shifting abilities and void ability.

Honestly, I was so depressed at that point I didn’t particularly have any dreams or aspirations, so I didn’t know what would make me happy, as sad as it sounds. But I just slid into my WR bed and set the intention because I knew anything is possible in my WR and fell asleep. When I woke up, I woke up in a brand new house with a brand new family in a beautiful room.

Now, like I said, I didn’t have any intentions, so for the last few days, I’ve been having so many surprises and things happening that I now realize, of course, I would want this. I am just very happy, and I can’t believe it was so easy after almost 4 years.

I don’t have any stupid enlightenment advice that I would have thought I would have when I finally succeeded. As stupid and cult-like as it sounds, don’t give up—something will click.

That's amazing! I'm so happy for you and your success :)) and I am even more happy that you’ve found happiness when you don’t even know what you wantedand that it worked out.

I had a very similar experience and what I took from this is to be open to experimenting with different methods because what might not work today could be the key tomorrow and it can seem random.

I wish you the best with your dream life and I hope you continue to find happiness in different ways

[guxciestone]

🥂 ❛ SATURN AND THE 27 CLUB ༉‧₊˚ ˚୨୧

(how saturn affected the lives of the members of the 27 club)

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the 27 club and the conspiracies behind it have always intrigued me. i always wondered if there were any astrological connections between the members and their consequential deaths. if you have any post suggestions, i’m willing to consider them. i hope you’re having an amazing day and enjoy !!🫶🏽🤍

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what is the 27 club?

The 27 club is a popular informal list of musicians, actors, athletes and other famous people who consequently died at 27 due to overdoses, suicides, homicides, addictions, and other mysterious circumstances. The first ever recorded member of this club was Robert Johnson, the first ever rockstar. There have been multiple theories surrounding Robert’s rise to fame and his death. The most popular story was that Robert got his immaculate guitar talent from making a deal with Satan at a crossroads.

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This club has developed the notion that most celebrities tend to die at that age. Additionally, most celebrities, especially the musicians, had high-risk lifestyles. The 27 club has become a cultural phenomenon and conspiracy theory that the public and other celebrities have become aware of. In Mac Miller’s song “Brand Name”, he mentions, “To everyone who sell me drugs: Don’t mix it with that bullshit, I’m hopin’ not to join the 27 Club.” Mac Miller passed away at the age of 26 on September 7, 2018 due to a drug overdose, 4 months from his 27th birthday, almost making it into the club. The celebrities from the 27 Club I am including in this blog are: Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, and Jim Morrison. They were all popular musicians.

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the theory of saturn and selling your soul

The main conspiracy that goes around as to why these famous individuals made into this club is because they may have decided to attain their desire of fame and fortune in exchange for their soul and tragic death at the age of 27. Although I do not wholeheartedly believe in this theory, it is still fascinating to consider what if this could’ve been the case for all of these stars’ deaths? Especially when there may be an astrological theory that supports it.

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Saturn is the planet of contracts, deals, and promises. This planet is infamous for bringing back karma or lessons when an obligation or promise has been broken or put to a halt, which signifies the “deal” that these celebrities make with the devil, and if the deal doesn’t perform the way it should, the person has to endure the consequences. It makes it even more convincing that in tarot the “Devil” card is ruled by Saturn.

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my theory on saturn and the 27 club

It is intriguing how all of these celebrities died at the age of 27, it makes you wonder, “What is significant about that age?” and “What did these celebrities specifically do differently than other celebrities to experience a death at that age?” After researching articles and creating my own observations, I’ve made my own theory as to how Saturn could have affected the 27 Club.

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Saturn is the planet of responsibility, maturity, and obligations. It is the reality that catches up to us when we have to grow up and take accountability for our true duties. It is the planet that we are so afraid of due to the harshness and honesty it beholds for us when it is time. At the age of 27-29 years old, every individual undergoes a Saturn Return—which is when all of that exactly happens. It is the time in which you have to take responsibility for your problems, issues, and wounds, and realize that it is up to you to create the life you need and deserve. This return is a wake-up call for individuals who suffer from addictions, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, and much more. Saturn gives you that wake-up call by giving you the karma for the reality you’ve created for yourself so far, because karma isn’t necessarily just about what you do to others, but also what you do to yourself. This may pertain to the deaths of the members of the 27 Club.

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Next, I am going to interpret each of the members’ Saturn placements to see how their Saturn Return affected them personally.

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NOTE: I am simply reading the aspects of these celebrities for entertainment and curiosity purposes; I obviously did not know them personally, and these interpretations may be incorrect. I hope you enjoy it.

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♡ amy winehouse ♡

Saturn in Scorpio in the 6th house

This indicates that Amy Winehouse may have had deep-rooted issues involving her self-care, habits, and health. There was this struggle to develop a close and intimate relationship with one’s personal wellbeing, and anything that interfered with that could have affected her. It is publicly known that Amy struggled with drug and alcohol addiction during her time and additionally dealt with other health problems such as bulimia. There were times where she repeatedly refused to go to rehab or get help. Before her Saturn Return, there may have been subconscious refusal to accept the problems that would’ve come from not taking much care of herself, and the only time when there would be acceptance of these problems is when it is too late because Saturn allows you to pick up the pieces of what you’ve put out for yourself as an adult. However, with maturity, this placement gives the individual the ability to dig deep into the depths of their nature and spirit to get to know themselves and satisfy their needs, wants, and desires in the most healthiest and effective way possible.

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Moon in Capricorn in the 7th house sextile Saturn

There is a sense of maturity and seriousness when it comes to one’s emotional fulfillment. Winehouse valued her personal relationships as it gave her a sense of security and personal contentment. It may have been particularly harder for her to express this to her closest people, considering the fact that emotions and vulnerability might have not been her forte (Capricorn) However, she also held her personal connections to a high standard–she might have held boundaries, rules, and restrictions towards her loved ones. If she sees that someone is not behaving in the way she desires, she could easily cut them off. This would have been helpful for her in developing a sense of self-respect and maintaining her well-being and health as it could help prevent attracting people into her life that could influence her in the worst ways, such as developing addictions from partners.

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Uranus in Sagittarius in the 6th sextile Saturn

Amy may have been an individual who was interested in sudden changes and unique circumstances in her work and routine. She would likely struggle in a workplace or environment that requires her to hold order and normality. She worked better in areas in which she can be independent, make her own schedule, and create her own flow. However, this placement can indicate unexpected changes in health as well–considering Amy had a 6th house stellium, health could have been an important part of her life. It seems that Winehouse would be able to maintain her sense of wellbeing and habits in a progressive and helpful way by allowing herself to create her own sense of routine. Perhaps using unique and healthy mediums of self-care would have helped (such as meditation, journaling, herbs–anything unconventional, but promising for her)

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Pluto in Libra in the 6th conjunct Saturn

This indicates that Amy had a strong sense of ambition, focus, and determination. She might have had a strong need to succeed, worked hard and pushed herself to her limits. This willpower is beneficial in helping her progress in her wellbeing and habits, especially considering that this aspect indicates sudden changes and transformations in health–either for the best or worst. However, Winehouse may have easily worked herself to poor health such as burnout and exhaustion. Additionally, individuals with this placement are often good at keeping secrets and holding their ambitions to their chest. Not to mention, they are more than likely to struggle with pessimism and this aspect can magnify realism to a huge extent.

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♡ kurt cobain ♡

Saturn in Pisces in the 7th house

This indicates the struggle to allow vulnerability and unconditional love submerge into one’s interpersonal relationships. Cobain was a sensitive, emotional, and imaginative individual who desired to hold his connections and loved ones closely. However, he might have had an issue with developing closeness in these relationships due to the fear of intimacy and being loved. Cobain could have had habits of isolating himself, distancing himself from potential connections, or developing loneliness. It was known that Kurt dealt with mental health issues such as depression. Although we are not sure of what caused Kurt’s depression, there are things we know about his life. Firstly, his parents divorced when he was young, and secondly, he also struggled with drug addiction with heroin.

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Venus in Pisces in the 7th conjunct Saturn

This indicates that one presents a loving and compassionate nature to partners and interpersonal connections. Cobain handled his relationships with a sense of selflessness and often held a huge imagination about and glamorized his partners. However, with this particular aspect, it may have been harder for him to express this true character to the people he loves and cares about–as transparency may have been one thing he struggled with. It seems that there is this fear of becoming codependent, needy, or illusioned in the realms of romance, so one tends to push themselves away from the possibility of connections with others. Furthermore, with the energy in Pisces, there could be a sense of melancholy or loneliness when he separates himself from the very relationships he longs for.

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Jupiter in Cancer in the 10th house trine Saturn

Cobain had an excellent sense of discipline as well as optimism and faith in his goals and aspirations. He was meant to be successful in the realms music, art, and creativity as he had the ability to deeply connect with the public and accentuate special emotions and feelings in the audience while maintaining a sense of realism within his imagination. He was fairly hardworking and career success came to him naturally; and it seems that Cobain would have benefited vastly from doing this. He could have found that developing professional yet close connections with the public, his audience, and business partners would have helped him miraculously in his journey towards being vulnerable with others and developing knitted and unconditional relationships.

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Midheaven in Gemini square Saturn

Kurt had the ability to communicate and express himself through mediums in his career, whether that be music, writing, teaching, and much more–it was in his path. However, it is possible that there could have been particular career blockages. Perhaps Cobain refused to integrate with the people and develop business connections with others, which could have made him struggle with expressing himself successfully to the public. He may have felt like he could not portray his image too well because of this, and it may have felt like nobody understood him and his image. Due to this, it could have been easy for Cobain to fall into deeper depression while in the public eye because it may have been another reminder of his lack of connections.

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♡ jimi hendrix ♡

Saturn in Gemini in the 6th house

There is this struggle of learning and taking advice from one’s peers in regards to your nature of order, routine, health, and responsibilities. Perhaps Hendrix lacked a sense of accountability in how he took care of himself or the habits he adapted. Perhaps he was the type to not be that interested in the regular workplace, schedules, or environment. He struggled with maintaining order in spontaneousness and control. However, it may be the other way around–perhaps there was a lack of accountability in being a workaholic, overworking himself, or pushing himself to his unforeseen limits. Peers, friends, or family members may have tried to consult him but there could have been the refusal to listen or abide. Apparently, although Hendrix did not suffer from drug addiction like most of the 27 Club members, he did have a fair fixation with alcohol, and there were times when he would get violent and abusive under the influence. There was even a time in which he had a physical altercation with his girlfriend while drunk.

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Sun in Sagittarius in the 11th house opposition Saturn

Jimi was a bohemian at heart. He lived his life in authenticity through rejoicing with others, exploring the horizons, and taking in a huge amount of knowledge. Hendrix had the core value of enjoying the present and taking in all that you can; however, he also was an advocate of being involved and gaining experience with his community. He could have been fairly popular and likable. Nevertheless, this aspect can indicate that the influence of friends or social groups could have easily led Hendrix to an irresponsible and careless path in regards to his obligations and wellbeing. There would not be a surprise if he got into alcohol or drugs though friends, cousins, communities or peers. Matter of fact, during his drug trial, Hendrix admitted that he found doses of LSD and marijuana through gifts at a fan club meeting for the Beatles.

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Mercury in Sagittarius in the 11th house opposition Saturn

Hendrix had the ability to attain incredible amounts of wisdom and was more than likely an intelligent individual. He was an expansive, open-minded, yet benevolent thinker; he was always willing to learn and challenge new customs and ideologies. He may have been particularly interested in social issues, his hopes and dreams, and connecting with communities. Furthermore, he could have been involved with many different groups of people, making him fairly known. However, there is a struggle with expressing himself through his means of communication, learning, being heard, and verbal expression. There could have been an imbalance in where to put his mental energy–either in expanding his horizons and indulging in new learning experiences or restricting himself to his duties and responsibilities. It may have been difficult for him to connect with others and he often felt distant from his peers, friends, and communities. He struggled between handling his work and advocating with his people.

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♡ janis joplin ♡

Saturn in Gemini in the 3rd house

This indicates an individual struggling with expressing oneself, connecting with others, and learning through peers when it comes to areas of communicating, their mindset, and thinking processes. Joplin was a mature, disciplined, and rigid thinker; she was wise and precise in the facts and messages she took in. She could have been an eloquent communicator as well. She was known for her strong and enduring three octave voice. However, this placement could manifest as her possibly struggling with communicating with others or developing connections with her peers and social groups. She may have been stubborn in receiving advice from her equals, and could have also struggled with negative thinking or pessimism. Apparently, when Joplin was in high school, she was one of the few to vocally oppose segregation amongst students, she endured bullying from racists and her peers. Furthermore, she was fairly a good student and popular until highschool–when she started to rebel and dress differently from other girls.

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Chiron in Leo in the 7th house square Saturn

This indicates that Janis has a wound surrounding self-expression and connecting with her true self in her interpersonal relationships. She may have struggled with feeling genuine within her romantic connections; she could have felt that she had to fight to be heard and understood by her partners. There could have been conveniences in which she felt the need to distance herself from her love affairs due to feelings of being misheard or misunderstood.

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Venus in Aquarius in the 12th house trine Saturn

Joplin was an electrifying, unpredictable, and quirky partner. She might have chosen different and special kinds of people to integrate into her love life. She thrived from eccentricity, and she desired to try new things in the matters of romance. However, she had a mystifying quality in regards to love. She was an idealist, and often had a huge imagination for her partners. She could have idolized them or put them on a pedestal. She may have dreamed about having the “perfect” lover too. She was fairly compassionate and giving towards the people she loves and cares about. This placement could also point to being a part of the LGBTQ+ community because Janis strived for unique partners and may have preferred it behind closed doors. There were tons of speculations that Joplin was lesbian, or at least bisexual, considering she had a long-term relationship with Peggy Caserta and went to gay bars before marrying her fiance Seth Morgan. Nevertheless, Joplin has innate ability to express her opinions, thoughts, and mind processes through these distinctive and thrilling connections because perhaps she felt could demonstrate her true self. This also made her a mature and stable lover as well, she was persistent and thoughtful in the matters of love.

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Midheaven in Sagittarius opposition Saturn

Janis was seen as a rebellious, hippy, jubilant, and outgoing individual in the public eye; however, the issue surrounding the relationship with her peers growing up and her struggles with feeling heard, connected, and understood by them still ran deep in her heart. She might have compensated for this lack of community or fellowship by pursuing his career endeavors, which could have been beneficial to her to an extent. It was mentioned that Janis escaped her day-to-day issues in school by diving in her passion for music and art. However, this aspect calls for one avoiding the actual issue and not being willing to fix it, which could have hurt her in the long run. There was a need to resolve the broken connection there is with associates and her immediate community and allow herself to express her thoughts and be understood and comprehended for who she is.

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♡ brian jones ♡

Saturn in Taurus in 9th house

The Rolling Stones member had a deliberate, cautious and organized mind when it came to his materialistic and mental assets in life. He may have had the fear of losing his financial security, depending on others, or lacking foundation in his life whether that be with money, relationships, or success. Furthermore, Jones had a firm and solid foundation of values and morals that he was stubborn to changing. He was intelligent and had the ability to maintain his views. He may have grown up with rigid beliefs in the household, and it may have been particularly difficult for him to change the beliefs he had surrounding security, stability, and his foundations. It has been said that Brian dropped out of college due to the fact he disliked the conformity and discipline of it, although he performed very well and was intelligent at a young age.

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Mars in Taurus in the 9th house conjunct Saturn

Jones was a disciplined, fairly motivated, and meticulous man. He was persistent and consistent when it came to his goals and aspirations. At some point in his life, graduating from college may have been an important thing for him to accomplish. This also indicates that he pursued his dreams and ambitions with the desire for security and stability in mind. However, this aspect can point to one being stuck in accomplishing their goals, whether that be from overworking, refusing to learn from failures, or pessimism.

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Mercury in Aquarius in the 5th house square Saturn

This indicates that Brian Jones struggled with mediums of communication, learning and interacting with his immediate community. He could have had issues with expressing his unique and exciting talents due to his inhibited and stubborn views and morals. Perhaps at some point, college may have prevented him from pursuing music and producing, and it made him feel misunderstood and disconnected from his versatility and creative processes. This could also point to using detrimental vices to compensate for the lack of connection with one’s hobbies and pleasures (such as addictions, investing in endeavors you aren’t interested in, punishments, and much more)

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♡ jim morrison ♡

Saturn in Gemini in the 5th house

Morrison was an intelligent, critical, and versatile individual. His special abilities were being creative and deliberate in solving problems, speaking his mind with eloquence, and handling long-term projects. However, there seems to be an issue with balance between being too reckless and feeble-minded and too critical and stubborn in the acts of creative endeavors and joys in life. It may have been hard for Jim to indulge in his hobbies, affairs, or even considering children. Morrison did not have any children nor did he have a good relationship with his parents, so all of his will went to his girlfriend.

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Chiron in Virgo in the 7th house square Saturn

Morrison has a wound surrounding the criticality, order, and sensibility. He may have had a strong sense of perfectionism and judgment when it came to his interpersonal relationships. Perhaps growing up he had to deal with harsh and fault-finding parents, friends, siblings, or partners. It could have caused him to develop a feeling of inadequacy–like he is not good enough. According to Morrison, his parents had “immense discipline” growing up and would have military-like punishments such as dressing down. He reportedly mentioned how he distanced himself from his parents over the years. This feeling of inadequacy may have caused Jim to develop a critical, self-inflicting behavior when it comes to him enjoying his personal endeavors, affairs, casual relationships, or hobbies.

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Sun in Sagittarius in the 10th house opposition Saturn

Morrison was a career-oriented individual who valued learning new things, expanding his knowledge, and experiencing new excitement through his professional endeavors and public image. However, he may have noticed that over time, prioritizing his legacy, image, and success could cause him to distance himself from his true passions and leisures. This may have influenced serious, “wet blanket” behavior and possibly becoming overly critical and strict himself.

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[wynnyfryd]

the kind of charm we need

written for @steddiemicrofic september prompt ‘charm’ + 548 words | rated T | pre-relationship, fluff, flirting, boys being dumb

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“‘Not the kind of charm we need,’” Steve mutters derisively to himself for the tenth time that day as they pull up to the cemetery curb.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin sighs, “your time and talents are sooo wasted on us, Steve, we get it.”

Max glares at him from the rearview like she agrees with Dustin, then shoves out of the backseat and slams the door shut behind her without a word.

Shit.

Steve watches her climb the hill, guilt rolling through his guts. Fuckin’ Nancy. There are bigger problems here.

Like, for example, the metalhead fugitive having a nervous breakdown in a boathouse.

“Oh, my god,” Lucas says from the backseat as the walkie crackles to life, Eddie’s quivering voice calling out for ‘Dustin? Anybody? Hello??’

He passes the walkie up to the front with a look like he’s debating whether or not to just smash the thing to pieces on the asphalt instead. “Can you maybe use your charm on Eddie before I murder him?”

“He’s in distress!” Dustin cries.

“He’s on my last nerve!”

“Seriously, anybody?? Please!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, give me that.” Steve yanks the walkie out of Lucas’ hand, hauls himself out of the car — leans in to tell the two shitheads to stay put and shut up before he closes the door.

He leans against the driver’s side, head throbbing, body sore. Can’t tell if he’s too young or too old for this shit. He pushes the talk button with a begrudgingly slow press.

“Steve Harrington’s babysitting and distraction service, how may I help you? Over.”

“Stevie!” Eddie whoops, sounding genuinely thrilled to hear Steve’s voice. Steve knows he’s just excited to hear anyone’s voice, but. Hm. “Goddamn am I glad to- wait, where’s Henderson? Sinclair? Are they—?”

“They’re fine,” Steve assures before the creep of hysteria he hears can fully take hold. He kicks his heel against the front tire. “They’re waiting in the car. I’ve been instructed to, like, charm you into calming down, or whatever.”

“Charm me?” Eddie’s voice lilts with interest. Steve can almost see the smile, the way he licks across his front teeth.

“Just a— well, not a joke, but, like…” Steve trails off, gives up trying to explain. Nance has this way of making comments that cling like cactus spines. “Never mind.”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “Go on. I’m ready to be charmed.”

And maybe it’s the way Eddie says charmed like a snake scenting the air, or maybe it’s the stress of the day; maybe he’s finally having his own little mental breakdown as a treat, because for some insane reason he leans into whatever this is, pitches his voice all low and slippery and asks, “What are you wearing?”

Silence for a moment, and then Eddie cackles, the noise so loud it overwhelms the little speaker in the walkie, bursts of laughter breaking through the static noise. Steve finds himself laughing, too, a slow thing that builds and builds, swells inside him like blown glass until he’s warm and bright all over.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes when he finally calms. “You’re— you’re ridiculous. Shit, man, I really needed that, you have no idea.”

Steve smiles to himself. Bites the inside of his cheek. Not the kind of charm we need.

No, but someone might.

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note: i am aware that this is canon adjacent (which is to say that i meant for it to take place in canon but i didn’t feel like rewatching the scene for total accuracy so like, canon can bite me it’s close enough)

[seungkw1]

the truth is out there — csc

♡ pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader ♡ theme: x-files au ♡ wc: 8.2k ♡ warnings: none ♡ a/n: started rewatching the x-files recently and the idea of this popped into my head so i simply had to write it!! also, y/ln refers to ‘your last name’ bc ya know. agent stuff.

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

When you joined the FBI you didn’t expect to end up working in the basement with a peculiar agent obsessed with all things extraterrestrial, but your new assignment is certainly taking you places you’ve never been before.

10 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

taptaptap

The light knocking on your desk pulls your focus away from the almost-completed report on the screen of your monitor. Most would call report writing the boring part of the job, and while you don’t necessarily disagree your high levels of attentiveness allow you to efficiently plug away at the otherwise mind-numbing task - so, you don’t mind it so much. That is, unless you are interrupted. 

“Hey Frenchie, the Bergmeister wants to see you.” 

Stifling a sigh, you look up at your bothersome coworker, Soonyoung, who is currently leaning over your desk while eating a sandwich. You grimace as you see the multitude of crumbs he’s managed to drop all over your paperwork in the five seconds he’s been standing there.

“What does he want?” you ask, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“Didn’t say,” he mumbles through the large bite he just stuffed into his mouth.

The Bergmeister is the inane moniker Soonyoung and his pals call your supervisor, Assistant Director Bergman, behind his back. Frenchie is the irritating nickname nearly half the office now calls you, to your face, due to an unfortunate incident involving French dressing and the light gray pantsuit you chose to wear on your very first day on the job. You figured they’d get tired of it after a few days, but that was several weeks ago at this point - and much to your chagrin it seems to have stuck.

You give Soonyoung a very obviously fake grin to accompany your obviously sarcastic response. “Thank you, Agent Soonyoung - helpful as always.”

Soonyoung winks at you. “For you? Anytime.” You imagine grabbing his sandwich and bopping it on his head. 

The muted sounds of landlines ringing, keyboards clacking, and fax machines whirring drift past your ears as you walk steadily to Bergman’s office, maintaining a false air of confidence as to mask your anxiety. You’ve never been called into his office alone in the two months you’ve worked for the FBI - you quickly leaf through your mind for anything you’ve done that could be a potential mistake, but you come up empty handed. 

Bergman’s door is ajar - you rap your knuckle against it twice as you step inside. He peers up at you through thick, round lenses. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, come in, have a seat - and shut the door behind you.”

The heavy door closes with a deep thunk. As you lower yourself into the chair facing the desk you notice you’re joined by a man you’ve never seen before. He says nothing, but looms in the corner of the room, smoking a cigarette. 

“I’ll spare you the bullshit, Y/ln,” Bergman starts. He looks more tired than usual. “Have you heard of the bureau’s division known as the ‘x-files’?”

You feel your normally stoic face contort into a confused expression. Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well, yes, sir… but isn’t that an unofficial department?”

He takes a sip from his styrofoam cup of coffee. “Correct - it’s not official, but I assure you it is very much a ‘functional’ operation.” He all but rolls his eyes at functional. 

You shoot a glance at the unintroduced man in the corner, but he remains expressionless. Bergman continues. 

“I’m sure by now you’re well aware of the reputation surrounding this subsect and its…proprietor, shall we say.”

You give a single nod. By your second day in the office you’d heard all about the x-files: cases allegedly involving aliens, the supernatural, and all sorts of nonsense you chalked up to pure baloney. You’d also learned of the lone employee who spearheads the whole operation from the bureau basement: Agent Choi. Nobody seems to take him, or it, seriously - so much so that you had begun to doubt if it was even a real department, and if Choi even existed. But apparently, the rumors were true. 

“I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind this decision,” Bergman tells you, “but all you need to know is that this assignment is significant in nature.”

Assignment?? Surely he doesn’t mean…

“I’m not sure I understand,” you ask hesitantly, “am I-”

“Being assigned to the x-files? Yes.”

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth to inquire what exactly it is you’ve done wrong, but clearly he anticipated this exact response. 

“This is not a punishment - though I certainly know why it might seem that way. But, it’s imperative that we receive reliable insight into the operations of this endeavor.”

You sit there in silence for a few seconds, dumbfounded. “So, you’re asking me to spy on Agent Choi.”

Bergman waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I know how this sounds. And essentially - yes, you will be our eyes and ears into this otherwise elusive project. Choi will know we’re sending you there to report back to us, but we don’t care. We are confident you will succeed in providing us with useful information.”

You wait for him to go on, to elaborate in any capacity, but apparently he’s finished. 

“Alright then, so when do I-”

“Immediately,” Bergman interjects. You purse your lips, trying to hide your displeasure. 

“Yes sir,” you reply as respectfully as you can muster. 

“Great. We’re counting on you, Y/ln.” You glance once more at the smoking man in the corner, but he remains silent. 

“Dismissed.”

You walk out of Bergman’s office, still trying to process what the fuck just happened. You have the misfortune of passing Soonyoung’s desk on the way back to yours - he opens his mouth, clearly about to say something annoying again, but you briskly zoom past him before he can get a word out. You make a beeline for your desk, grabbing only your purse and coffee cup before heading toward the elevator. 

X-files, here I come, I fucking guess. 

—-

Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust as you step into the dim basement. The elevator doesn’t come down to this level - you spent a good ten minutes trying to locate the correct stairwell that would even bring you here. You make your way through a seemingly endless hallway of dusty filing cabinets, forgotten boxes, and broken computers before you find yourself in front of a nondescript door, not quite shut - the only thing signifying that you’ve arrived at your destination being the makeshift paper name plate with S. Choi written in ink. You raise your fist to knock but before you can do so you hear a voice call out from inside. 

“Come in.”

You push the door in, its hinges giving you a high-pitched squeeeeak as it opens. You make a mental note to find some WD-40. 

The sad excuse for an office is equally dim-lit as the hallway, but it’s a sight to behold: a desk at the center of the room - neat, but stacked with newspapers and case files, a small lamp lighting up the open file in the desk’s center; a bookshelf nearly reaching the ceiling, overflowing with books on seemingly every topic under the sun; archival boxes stacked as tall as the numerous filing cabinets, which are also topped with more boxes; a massive bulletin board filled with articles and photos; but most notably, pinned the wall, is a poster featuring a flying saucer, accompanied with the text I WANT TO BELIEVE.

In the bizarre room sits a dark-haired man typing at his computer, his back to you. 

“I presume you heard me coming,” you state. 

“From a mile away,” he replies, still typing. 

You wait for him to turn around, say hello, anything - but the clickclack of his keyboard continues.

Several seconds pass, but the man says nothing. Apparently, it’s on you to break the silence.

You sigh under your breath. “I’m Agent Y/ln, I’ve been-”

“Assigned to the x-files to spy on me?” he interrupts, eyes still glued to the monitor. 

“They told me you’d know that,” you admit. 

The typing stops. Choi turns around, the heavy desk chair giving an unpleasant creak as he leans his elbow over its back, finally facing you. His appearance takes you by surprise: strong eyebrows, plump red lips, soft dark-brown eyes - you weren’t expecting to find such a handsome face attached to the man with a reputation for being a “crazy UFO freak”, in the words of your coworkers. He’s much younger than you anticipated too, around your age - and seemingly so… normal. His eyes do a quick scan of your figure - his expression barely changes, but a quick flash of interest tells you you’re not exactly what he expected either. It is extinguished almost immediately. 

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone is passive, but you detect a hint of somberness in his words. His warm eyes lock onto yours. 

“Name’s Choi, but I’m sure you already knew that. You can call me Seungcheol, though.” If it was anyone else, you’d think it was flirtatious in nature - but you can tell that was not his intention.

“Okay. Well, Choi, what exactly am I to do here?”

An eager grin lights up his face. He rises from his chair, grabs a case file off the pile on his desk, and opens it - throwing it back down onto the desk, facing you.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

You quickly skim the details: a series of disappearances in a small town, all teenagers. So far, no bodies have been found. Local law enforcement has compiled a list of suspects, but they don’t seem to have many leads.

“Okay, so we have a potential serial killer.” 

Choi shakes his head. “That’s what the local police think. Which seems reasonable, unless you’re familiar with the location.”

You glance back at the file. Spirit Lake, Iowa.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a known UFO hotspot. Sightings have been reported for decades, most notably in 1967 when there were three different sightings - one of which was caught on camera by two different witnesses.”

He hands you a stack of old polaroids. You flip through the grainy photographs, which all appear to showcase an ambiguous but distinct saucer-shaped object in the night sky.

You stare at your new partner. “Choi, this could be anything. Most so-called UFO ‘sightings’ are nothing more than aircraft that are very much from Earth.”

“The U.S. Weather Service officially stated that it was a weather balloon, however no weather balloons were launched within 500 miles that day. There were also no flights - civilian or military - on record for the area that night.”

“And have you considered that this could all just be a hoax?”

“Sure, it could be. But what if I told you that in 1967 there were also three recorded disappearances, all coinciding with the UFO sightings?”

He hands you a separate case file on the 1967 disappearances. All of the cases are closed, as the three who went missing eventually turned up again - unable to account for what happened to them, but otherwise unharmed.

You close the file, setting it on the desk. “So let me get this straight: you think these people were all abducted by aliens. And you think the exact same scenario is happening again, this year?”

“There have been three recent UFO sightings in the area reported, and we have three missing teens. It all matches up.”

You stand there in silence, at a loss for words. Guess everyone was right, you think to yourself. The man is insane. 

“Okay, let’s say you’re right,” you finally respond. “How exactly are we supposed to contribute here? Looks like they’ve already exhausted all leads. Why the hell do we need to fly out to Iowa?”

Choi gives a knowing smile. “They found the first girl this morning. Alive. Barely remembers anything, but unharmed.”

“And you want to go catch some little green men.”

“Actually, ‘little green men’ is a misconception - known encounters have widely reported extraterrestrials to be gray-skinned and not that much smaller than us. But anyway, more or less - yes, we’ll be in search of evidence that alien life is making contact with humanity.”

You stand there in disbelief. So this is where you’ve ended up - in the basement with a madman on a wild goose chase. As you’re thinking about quitting on the spot, Choi goes back to his computer.

“Anyway I’ll get us booked for the first flight out of here tomorrow morning,” he informs as he resumes his typing. “Want me to pick you up?

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“Suit yourself.” 

You wait for him to say something further, but he doesn’t. You turn to leave. As you approach the doorway you hear the creaking of his chair once more. Looking back, Choi is facing you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Y/ln.” 

His expression is sincere. You may be stuck with a madman, but at least he’s not a complete asshole.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

You feel Choi’s eyes follow you as you exit the room.

—

11 September 1993 Spirit Lake, Iowa

The gravel driveway crunches loudly as the rental car slows to a stop. Your partner shuts off the ignition and turns to face you, his left hand still resting on the wheel.  

“Ready?”

You glare back at him. “You’re acting like this is my first case, Choi. I’ve done this before.”

You open your door and exit the car before he can reply. You’ve barely gotten started on this investigation, but he’s already on your nerves. 

You approach the cottage-style house and ring the bell. A disgruntled-looking woman in her 40s opens the door.

“Mrs. Miller? I’m Agent Choi, and this is my partner Agent Y/ln.” You both raise your badges. “We’re here to speak with Alexandra, may we come inside?”

Mrs. Miller practically scowls at you. “She’s already spoken to the cops three times, leave us alone.” The door slams shut in your face.

You and Choi shoot a look at each other. You hear a voice shouting inside, followed by loud arguing. The door reopens to a young girl, high-school age, with jet black dyed hair, heavy eyeliner, and a nose ring.

“Ignore my mom, she’s a huge bitch,” the girl says as she steps outside, slamming the door behind her. She marches past you. “I’ll talk to you, let’s walk.”

Choi raises his eyebrows at you as he turns to follow the girl. You join him.

“You must be Alexandra,” he says to the girl, who is still walking.

“Alex,” she corrects. The girl finally stops, turning around to face you. “Are you going to take me seriously or are you just going to laugh in my face like the cops did?”

“I believe you,” your partner assures her. 

The girl turns to you, arms crossed. “I take it you’re the skeptic then?” Before you can respond she continues. “Trust me, I am too. I’ve always heard all the stories growing up about the abductions in this town, but I thought it was all bullshit. But I don’t know how else to explain what happened to me.”

“Can you start from the beginning?” Choi asks.

The girl sighs. “Yeah, sure. I was driving home from my friend Becky’s house, by myself. It was pretty late, like around 9pm. I was on Campbell Road, I had just passed the old schoolhouse. It was dark as shit and nobody else was around. Then suddenly there was this crazy bright light, it was all around me and I couldn’t see anything. I remember slamming on my breaks, but I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t know how long I was out, but I do remember waking up a few times and I swear I was in some like laboratory or something. I was laying down but I couldn’t move - I could just barely make out some figures standing over me. Then, next thing I know I’m walking down the road again, right where I was driving. No fucking clue how I got there. A deputy found me and took me to the hospital. They told me I was gone for six days. I had to talk to the cops like a hundred times, but there was nothing else wrong with me so they sent me home. And now everybody thinks I’m fucking crazy.” 

“Nobody believes you, then,” your partner empathizes.

“The cops think I’m lying and that I ran off with my ‘boyfriend’ for a week,” she scoffs. “I don’t even have a boyfriend. But of course that’s what my mom believes now, so now I’m fucking grounded.”

“I’m sorry,” Choi tells her sincerely. 

“Do you have any connections to the others who have gone missing?” you ask.

Alex shrugs. “I mean, we all go to school with each other, but I don’t really know them.”

Choi finds a piece of paper and a pen in his jacket pocket and scribbles something on it, then hands it to the girl.

“This is where we’re staying, if you remember anything else give us a call.”

On the drive back, Choi appears to make a wrong turn. 

“You were supposed to go left,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “I want to check out the location where Alex was taken from.”

“Why?” you ask, “There’s nothing there. When they found the car they towed it.”

“Just want to check it out.”

You can tell you’re not going to get any further answers out of him, so you just sit there in silence, listening to whatever is on the local radio playing quietly in the background. Your stomach starts to rumble, so you glance at the clock: 4:54pm. No wonder, you think to yourself. You hadn’t stopped for lunch, so you were well overdue for a meal. You made a mental note to look out for restaurants on the way back.

“There’s the schoolhouse,” Choi points out a few minutes later. “We must be close.”

The sound of static fills the car as the radio cuts out. You fiddle with the knob, trying to find something else, but nothing is coming in. Guess we’re out of range.

Suddenly, the car goes silent as the engine dies. You’ve barely rolled to a stop when your partner jumps out of the car and starts running back the way you came.

“Where the hell are you going??” you shout after him. No response. With a sigh you exit the car as well. You see him standing in the road, looking at the ground. He turns as he hears you coming, pointing down to the road. 

“See the tire marks? This must be where Alex hit the brakes.”

You look at the ground to see the black marks, indicating a car had braked abruptly.

“Our car shut off right as we passed this exact spot,” he says excitedly, jogging back to the rental car. As you follow, you hear him trying the ignition a few times, until the car finally turns back on. 

“Look,” he commands as you re-enter the passenger seat. He points to the digital clock on the dashboard: 5:11pm. “What time do you have?” 

You glance at your watch: 4:56pm.

“Many instances of alien activity result in residual electromagnetic fields. It’s often been reported that those visiting such sites will experience ‘missing time’, a phenomenon we appear to have just experienced.”

The look on his face is energized - borderline excited. You stare back at him, unenthused.

“Choi, just because my watch is wrong doesn’t mean we time traveled.”

“Then why did the car turn off in this exact spot?”

“It’s a machine, cars malfunction sometimes,” you respond, nearly exasperated. “You’re trying to connect dots that aren’t even here.”

“These events happening in tandem indicate that something abnormal is going on here, Y/ln. You’re choosing to ignore substantial evidence.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, holding your head in your hands.

Choi shifts the car into drive and makes a u-turn. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said all day.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

On the drive back into town, you subtly watch him out of the corner of your eye. He drives in silence, but you can tell he’s deep in thought - about what, who knows. Despite his ridiculous antics and asinine beliefs, you admit that his passion is oddly inspiring. You find yourself starting to grow fond of your new partner for some strange, inexplicable reason. 

You push that thought to the back of your mind.

—

13 September 1993

“Can you hand me the Ramos case file?”

You look around for the requested file, to no avail. You joined Choi in his motel room early in the morning to review case files, which is proving to be incredibly difficult as he is apparently one to haphazardly leave shit all over the room while he is working. 

You finally locate the folder and toss it over to him. “You know, this might be easier if the entire place wasn’t an absolute disaster zone.” 

“I like to call it organized chaos,” he says proudly.

It has been six days since the second kid, Mark Ramos, disappeared - and Choi is convinced that he’ll be “returned” today, given that Alex was found after the same amount of time. So, much to your displeasure he planned for you two to stake out the location where he was last seen: the parking lot of the gas station corner store where the boy works.

“Wow, that sounds enthralling,” you told him, deeply sarcastically. 

As you are wrapping up prepping for the stakeout, the landline on the nightstand rings.

Your partner reaches and grabs the phone, stretching the cord across the room and placing the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he continues working. 

“Choi,” he answers curtly.

You hear a muffled voice on the other end utter a few sentences before he stops what he’s doing. A tired look washes over his face.

“God fucking dammit. Alright, thanks.” He slams the phone back onto the base.

“They just found the kid. We missed it.”

You’re secretly relieved that you don’t have to go sit in a car for hours now, but you keep that to yourself. He’s clearly peeved, and although you’ve never witnessed his bad side you’re discerning enough to know that you don’t want to be on it.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally.

To your surprise, he walks over to the bed - where you’re sitting - and plops down onto it, holding his head in his hands.

You sit there awkwardly in silence for a few moments, not knowing what to do.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask.

Your partner sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought we had this one.”

You feel the urge to ask the question that’s been on the back of your mind since you met him, but he seems really dejected - and you don’t want to upset him. Fuck it, you decide.

“Can I ask you something?”

He lifts his head up, resting his chin on his interlaced hands as he looks over at you.

“Sure,” he answers. You find yourself starting to get lost in his big brown eyes, but you force yourself to snap out of it.

“Why are you so obsessed with aliens? I mean - it seems like more than just an interest for you. It seems… personal, almost.”

Choi exhales, closing his eyes. He sits up, leaning back onto his hands, staring into the distance with a sense of sadness in his expression.

“When I was 12, my younger brother and I were very close. We were three years apart, but we had so much in common.

He pauses, lost in thought for a moment. He continues.

“Jinsang and I always shared a bedroom. We had a bunk bed, he slept on the top bunk.” He smiles wistfully. “He loved it up there. Always called himself ‘king of the world’. Even as he got older, he never lost his childlike wonder. He was the definition of pure at heart.”

You listen solemnly. You honestly were expecting some off-the-wall answer from him - you didn’t anticipate that it’d be anything so serious.

“Late one night, I was supposed to be asleep, but I was reading a book under the covers with my flashlight. Suddenly there was a blinding light that filled the room, and a deafeningly loud whirring noise that made me cover my ears. I pulled the blanket off me, but the only thing I could make out was some dark figures standing in the room. I couldn’t see who it was, so I assumed it was my parents. I called out for them, but the figures didn’t move. It was so loud and so bright. I was terrified.

Then - I heard my brother scream. He was screaming for help, but I was paralyzed. Suddenly everything stopped. The light and the sounds disappeared in an instant. I looked where the figures were standing, but nobody was there. I didn’t hear my brother anymore either. I jumped out of bed to check on him - but he wasn’t in his bed. I started to panic. I told myself maybe he had run out of the room, but I knew I didn’t see or hear him climb down. I ran to my parents crying, ‘Jinsang’s gone!’ They searched the house, but he wasn’t there. They searched the neighborhood, thinking he had run away, but he wasn’t anywhere. The police investigation went on for months. They never found him.”

He rests his head back on his hands. You sit there silently, not knowing what to say. Your mind races, trying to process his words: So, he believes his brother was abducted by aliens? He may be strange, but he’s not mentally disturbed, I really don’t believe he would just make something like that up… But what can the explanation be? Is it a false memory created as a trauma response to his brother disappearing?...

“I’m so sorry,” you finally tell him. Without thinking you place your hand on his shoulder - but after a moment you realize how awkward that might be. He’s your assigned work partner - you met him three days ago. But, you feel his tension slightly ease - your touch seems to be relaxing him. Choi lets out a deep exhale and sits up - you quickly drop your hand back to your side. He rests his palms on the bed, just barely grazing your pinky finger. You hold your breath as a spark of electricity rushes through your body - you ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. “I know how it sounds to other people. But that’s why I get so invested in these cases. I have to know the truth, Y/ln.”

You sit in silence for a few moments. 

“Well,” you finally speak as you get up, returning to the scattered files, “if your theory is correct we have one last chance.”

Choi perks up, a surprised look on his face. He stares at you for a moment, then grins as he processes what you just said. You grin back at him.

“Let’s go catch these sons of bitches.”

— 14 September 1993

Your stakeout plans are back on - this time you’ll be surveilling in the middle of the woods, by the lake, where the third kid had disappeared when camping with friends. Choi wakes you unnecessarily early with rapid knocking on your door. You answer in your pajamas, half asleep still. He invites himself into your room as he brushes past you and slams more files on the table. Turning to you earnestly, he begins to recant the game plan. 

“Choi,” you interrupt, trying to shut him up. He doesn’t hear you. He rambles on - practically bouncing with excitement.

“Choi,” you repeat, this time louder. He stops, his round eyes animated with enthusiasm. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s 6:30 in the morning. We’re staking out the location tonight.”

“And?”

“You could’ve at least let me sleep in til 7.”

“No time to lose!” he says eagerly as he turns back to his work, picking up where he left off. You let him yap for a minute before interrupting him once more.

“Can I at least get some coffee first?” 

You head to the nearby shitty diner together, Choi of course working through breakfast. You can tell through his excited state that he’s on edge. This has to go right - it is, according to him, the best chance he’s ever had. You spend the day going over everything, reviewing every last little detail - cooperating with whatever he needs, whether it be tactical or simply supportive. Before you know it the sun starts to go down, and you’re on your way to the middle of fucking nowhere together, to find some aliens.

Choi parks the car on the rocky path near the shore, killing the engine. It’s quiet out here - peaceful. The lake is bigger than you expected, and surprisingly beautiful as it reflects the painted colors of the sun-setting sky. 

“Romantic, isn’t it?” 

You turn and look at your partner, intending to make some snide remark, but all thoughts in your mind vanish when you see him. The golden tones of the dusk sunrays bring out a beautiful glow in his skin, his brown eyes radiating in the light; you knew he was good-looking, but seeing him this close - he is absolutely stunning.

The logical part of your brain starts setting off alarms - you know you should be feeling uncomfortable in the intimacy of the whole situation (he’s your coworker for gods’ sake!!) but it couldn’t be more opposite. The other part of your brain simply has the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“Mhmm, sure,” you reply, feigning sarcasm, veiling your true feelings.

You chat informally with Choi (“You can call me Seungcheol,” the memory of his words flashes through your mind), conversation flowing naturally as you both talk about whatever comes to mind. You find yourself laughing more often than not, and you find yourself relating to your partner more than you ever anticipated. It’s easy being with him.

Logical brain is absolutely screaming at you right now. There’s no fucking way you can allow yourself to develop feelings for your work partner - you know this. 

I’m allowed to like him as a friend, you say to yourself. You’re gonna be working with him for god knows how long, of course you need to get along. But you’re not convinced.

Conversation wanes into the night as darkness falls over the lake. You feel your eyelids grow heavy. Choi notices.

“You can sleep if you want,” he tells you. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. But it’s quiet, dark - and soon you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

VRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

You jolt awake, instantly blinded by the overpowering light surrounding you. A deafening booming noise permeates the air - you don’t know what it is, but it sounds like the rumbling of a thousand jet engines.

You can’t see shit, but you can tell Choi isn’t in the car. You heave open the passenger door, straining to push it open against the rush of wind engulfing the vehicle. Once your eyes adjust somewhat you find your partner about 15 feet away, camera in hand. You look up, but you can’t make out the massive object hovering over the lake - all you can see is five giant blinding spheres of light in the sky.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” you scream to your partner - but he doesn’t hear you.

Suddenly, everything stops.

The lights, sound, and wind disappear in an instant. Disoriented in the dark, you stumble over to where Choi was standing, but you realize he’s gone - your eyes adjust and you see him sprinting down the lakeshore. In the distance you see another figure, laying on the ground. Choi approaches the figure, kneeling down next to it. You head toward them, but he turns to you and shouts from afar.

“CALL FOR BACKUP!!”

—

The figure on the beach indeed had been the missing boy. The ambulance rushed him to the hospital - but just as the previous two missing kids, he was okay. The next day you and Choi were able to get in and talk to him briefly before being shooed out by the nurse. It was the same story as the others - he didn’t remember anything, but he was completely unharmed.

Three out of three missing people now returned, safe and alive - your business here is done. You can finally get the fuck out of Iowa.

You’re pretty thrilled about leaving, but Choi is ecstatic. You remind him neither of you actually solved anything, but he doesn’t care. He got his photos of whatever the fuck was above the lake that night - it doesn’t answer all of his questions, but nevertheless he got what he came for.

It’s dark by the time you depart from the hospital, driving back to go pack up your things so you can leave first thing in the morning. 

Choi parks the car, and you walk back to your rooms. As you approach the motel, he suddenly swings his arm out in front of you to stop you - the door to your room is slightly ajar, the lock broken. Choi draws his gun, and you follow suit. Holding up his fingers, he silently counts down from three. He bursts through the door, sweeping the room. You follow, turning on the light to see the entire room has been utterly ransacked - the contents of your suitcase as well as all the files from your briefcase are strewn everywhere. 

Choi pops out of the bathroom. “All clear, but the bathroom window is open - if they were just here, they still might be nearby.” He sprints out of the room, pausing briefly and motioning for you to wait. “You stay here, I’ll sweep the area.” He’s gone in a flash.

You turn around and grimace at the absolute mess left behind by whoever the fuck was here. With a sigh you begin to clean up the mess, starting by gathering all the documents. As you sort through them all to put them back in some sort of order, you note that everything seems to be there. Your personal belongings all seem to be accounted for as well. Whatever they were searching for, they clearly didn’t find it.

Choi reappears in your room, sweating and breathing heavily. He shakes his head in disappointment. “Nobody in sight. Asked the manager if he saw anything suspicious, but he clearly didn’t know shit.”

He removes his suit jacket and throws it on the table before plopping down in the singular chair. He runs his hand through his sweaty hair as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Anything missing?”

You shake your head. “Not a single thing.”

“Shit,” Choi mumbles under his breath. “They were probably looking for my room.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Who-”

He waves his hand at you, interrupting. “Don’t worry about it.”

You are worried about it, but you know he’s not going to elaborate even if pressed. 

“Okay. Well, I want to shower and go to sleep, so kindly get the fuck out.” Your tone isn’t angry, you’re just exhausted. 

Choi gets up, but instead of leaving he deadbolts the door and returns to his seat.

“Absolutely not, what if they come back? I’ll keep watch.”

You give him the most exasperated look. “Are you shitting me? I don’t need you to keep guard, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not taking that chance,” he insists as he crosses his arms. 

You’re stubborn as hell, but in the short time you’ve known Seungcheol Choi he’s done nothing but give you a run for your money in that department.

You roll your eyes. You’re too tired to argue with him. “Fine, whatever. Just give me some privacy, alright?”

Choi salutes you as he turns his chair around. “Roger that.”

You shower and make your way back to your bed. Choi is still sitting in the chair, facing the locked door, his gun and holster sitting on the table right next to him. 

“Are you going to be able to sleep in that chair?” you ask. “Looks uncomfortable.”

Without turning, he replies. “I won’t be sleeping.”

“Seriously? You don’t need to stay up all night just to-”

“I’m not sleeping, Y/ln, it’s not up for debate.”

You stare at the back of his head. Sighing, you pull the covers up and go to turn off the lamp, but you pause.

“Choi?” you call out in a soft voice.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He turns his head ever so slightly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Goodnight, Y/ln.”

With a swift click you pull the chain on the lamp, and the room is flooded in darkness. As your eyes adjust, the moonlight seeps in past the closed blinds, and you can just make out Choi’s shadow as he keeps watch. Protecting you. 

Within seconds, you are fast asleep.

—

You open your eyes, the bright early morning sun rays peeking in through the window. You lay there, contemplating going back to sleep, when you remember the events of last night. You sit up abruptly to see your partner still in the chair, still facing the door, awake.

“Did you really stay up the whole night?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Choi turns around, his eyes tired but still alert. He nods.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep? Very quietly - it’s cute.”

“Oh, shut up” you grumble as you get out of bed.

Choi rises and grabs his jacket before heading toward the door. “Get ready, we have to be at the airport in an hour.” The door shuts behind him before you can respond with something snarky.

As you make your way to the parked car with your suitcase, you see your partner waiting for you - zoned out in the driver’s seat. 

You yank the driver’s side door open, startling him as he nearly jumps out of his seat. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him sternly. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, I’m driving.”

“I’m fine, Y/n.”

You go to yell at him when you pause, realizing he just called you by your first name for the first time. He must be delirious, you think to yourself. 

“No, you’re not. And I’d like to make it back home in one piece, thank you.”

“Y/n-”

“Seungcheol Choi get your dumb ass out of the fucking car NOW.”

The expression that washes over his face looks like that of a scolded puppy. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to shout at him. 

“Okay, okay! Fine, you win.” He gets out of the car, walking around to the passenger side. As he opens the door he looks at you, trying to conceal the grin spreading across his face, but failing. 

“I like you like this. You should yell at me more often.” 

You stare at him, exhausted. “You’re insane.”

“So I’ve been told,” he says with a wink as he disappears into the car. 

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time this week. After a few deep breaths, you reluctantly join your partner in the car. 

“And since when do you call me by my first name?” you inquire as you turn the ignition. The car engine comes to life with a rumble. 

Choi looks at you, his eyelids heavy. He gives you a sleepy smile as you back out of the parking space. 

“I told you you can call me Seungcheol,” he reminds you. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He gives no response, but shrugs, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. You stare at him for a brief moment. His black curls lay unruly against his forehead, brushing against his long eyelashes. A faint shadow graces his jawline - the result of not having shaved today. The top few buttons of his shirt remain undone; he didn’t even bother with a tie. Once again, you find yourself stunned by how handsome he is. You push that thought away as your attention returns to operating the vehicle. You shift gears and pull out of the lot. 

“Take a nap, dummy,” you tell him softly. 

—

Not five minutes have passed into your drive before the sound of gentle snoring greets your right ear. You glance over to see Choi positively zonked out in the passenger seat. A grin involuntarily appears on your face - he may be a headstrong pain in the ass, but even the toughest agents eventually fall victim to the cursed necessity of sleep. 

The “highway” out of town toward the airport is nothing more than a vacant country road. You drive for at least fifteen minutes without seeing a single other car. In the absence of Choi yammering on about some off-kilter conspiracy theory, or recounting a tale of a previous case that seems too fantastical to be true, your mind starts to wander. The events of the past week replay in your head. Unlike your partner you don’t quite believe you saw an alien spaceship, but whatever it was certainly is making you question a lot of things.

Your musings are cut short when Choi suddenly jolts awake, nearly making you jump. 

“Jesus, Choi, you scared me.”

He blinks dully a few times, the gears in his head creaking back to life as he tries to reorient himself. After a brief moment of mild panic he regains lucidity, slumping back into his seat with a groan. He yawns as he rubs his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he responds drowsily. 

“Did you know you snore in your sleep? It’s cute,” you jest, repeating his words from earlier back to him. After a moment, he realizes. 

“Fuck off,” he mumbles - but out of the corner of your eye you see him grin. 

You turn the radio on low volume, tuning into the rock station the dial was already set on. A few minutes pass without words, the crooning voice of Mick Jagger supplementing the conversation. Suddenly, Choi perks up, looking in the rear view mirror before turning around to peer out the back window. You glance in the mirror to see a dark car in the distance. 

“Finally, some sign of life,” you remark. “I was beginning to think we’d entered The Twilight Zone or something.”

Choi says nothing, but you notice the concern on his face. I wish he would stop being so paranoid, you think to yourself. He turns back around but keeps his eye on the mirror. Not even a minute later he snaps his head back to look out the rear window again. 

“Shit,” he exclaims, his voice disgruntled. 

You look in the mirror again to see the same car, rapidly approaching as it speeds toward you. Your eyes dart forward again, only to see another dark car up ahead - parked in the middle of the two-lane road, creating a blockade. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Choi, can you please enlighten me as to what the fuck is going on,” you ask nervously. 

“Fucking SHIT,” he shouts, not elaborating. 

“CHOI.”

“Stop the car,” he gripes, his head in his hands. 

You apply the brakes, as you couldn’t keep going even if you wanted to. The car ahead is blocking the whole road, and the trees on either side are preventing you from being able to swerve around it. 

The car following you parks, also blocking the road behind you. Two men in dark suits emerge from each car and casually surround the rental. One of them, from the car in front, walks over to the passenger side of your rental - he knocks on the glass twice. 

“Get out of the car.”

Choi unbuckles his seatbelt, taking his time, before reaching for the door handle. He pulls the latch and opens the door slowly. 

“Both of you.”

Your partner turns to you. “Do what they say,” he says quietly.

You follow the mystery man’s orders. It’s early, but the sun already stings your skin as you step out of the car.

You look at the men, trying to get some sense as to who they are, but you’ve never seen any of them before - you presume they would have nothing on themselves that would give any sort of identification anyway. The men’s guns remain in their holsters, but their hands rest on the frames. You don’t doubt that they would shoot you in a heartbeat if you made any funny moves.

“Open the trunk,” the same man orders to neither of you in particular. His tone is stern, but not overly aggressive.

You make eye contact with your partner. He gives you a slight nod.

You take the keys from the ignition and walk to the rear, inserting them in the lock and turning the key. The trunk lid gives a loud clunk as it pops open. The man signals to the two men that came up from behind you - they approach the trunk, pushing you out of the way as they open it. Choi’s hands clench into a fist, but he doesn’t move.

The men carelessly rummage through the trunk’s contents until they find what they were apparently looking for: Choi’s camera bag. The man opens it and pulls out the chunky Nikon, removing its film. 

“Hey, be careful with that!” Choi shouts angrily. 

Once the other man finishes fishes out the remaining film canisters from the bag, they put the camera back. They signal to the ringleader - he nods. The other men immediately return to their car.

The man in charge claps his hand onto Choi’s shoulder forcefully. 

“Thank you, Agents Choi and Y/ln - very much for your cooperation,” he says smugly. Choi shoves the man’s hand off his shoulder, teeth clenched. Without another word, the man heads back to his car. 

“You won’t get away with this forever,” Choi shouts after him. 

The man keeps walking. He doesn’t even turn his head as he replies mockingly.

“Keep up the good work, Agent Choi.”

You watch the cocky bastard enter the driver’s seat - both cars immediately take off. It was over as quickly as it had begun. 

You know Choi is infuriated, but more than anything he looks absolutely dejected. He leans onto the car, his head resting on his arm in defeat. 

“Who were those men?” you ask him quietly - but you suspect he doesn’t know either.

He takes a few moments before he lifts his head, resuming his posture. His saddened eyes lock with yours. 

“They’re the sons of bitches who make sure nobody knows the truth. Lying to the public, hiding information even from us - destroying all evidence that UFOs exist.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I really thought I had it this time. Turns out, I was just really fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you tell him firmly. Softer, you add, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you about… well, everything I guess.”

He laughs softly. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you. I’m the crazy alien guy in the basement, after all.”

He nudges you with his elbow, his voice friendly. “You know, you’re alright Agent Y/ln.”

You smile. “You’re alright too, Seungcheol.”

His face lights up at the sound of his first name. He smiles back at you warmly.

“Now, let’s actually get the fuck out of Iowa,” he says with vigor.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

—

20 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Have a seat, Agent Y/ln.”

You sit in the sturdy oak chair across from the Assistant Director’s desk. You are, once again, joined by the nameless man - smoking his cigarette silently in the corner of the room.

“I read your report on the Iowa case,” Bergman tells you as he flips through the open file on his desk.

You wait for him to continue.

“It is certainly… of lower quality than your usual work.”

You hide a grimace. “What exactly was the problem with it, sir? I was very thorough.”

He gives you a tired look. “Yes, of course - but the report itself is not what I take issue with. What I take issue with is its contents. I assigned you to the x-files as a voice of reason - to rein in Agent Choi, not perpetuate his outlandish theories.

“With all due respect, sir, I followed standard protocol. My report gives no indication that I agree with Agent Choi’s conviction that what we saw was indeed a UFO, and that the government is responsible for some larger conspiracy - I simply detailed everything that I witnessed in Spirit Lake objectively as I experienced it.”

Bergman sighs before closing the file. “Alright, Agent Y/ln. You do good work. But next time, maybe try to prevent your partner from chasing after little green men.” 

“They’re supposedly gray, actually. According to Agent Choi,” you inform him matter-of-factly. 

Bergman stares at you, incredulous. He opens his mouth to say something, but gives up. He waves you out of his office. 

“Dismissed.”

[to be continued…]

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Happy Holidays (Let’s Hope For The Best)

or: You always hated the holidays. Schlatt tries to change your mind

originally posted on a different blog of mine. i’m well aware it’s september.

i hope you enjoy! I've never written for Schlatt before, so I hope it's okay and i got his voice right

tw/cursing, angst if you squint, ‘jay’ for schlatt

schlatt knew your hatred towards the holidays.

long winded rants when you were less than sober, talking with your hands about how this holiday had become more on gifts than the actual spirit of christmas, the idea to stay in and be with your loved ones on a holiday-

and in his defense, for a long time, he listened.

eyes slanted as he slowly shook his head as you ranted, an occasional, “yeah, no. right-“ so you know he’s listening.

it started small, he didn’t force it.

“Jay,” The sigh is evident in your voice, “what the fuck is this?”

you hold the tiny culprit in your hand, a miniature snowman, made of ceramic and chipped with age, no larger than your palm.

"What do you-" He sets his phone down, eyebrows one, genuinely confused for a second before the smallest smile you've ever seen pulls gently at the tips, threatening to actually smile-

"Jay." You say gently, simply.

He gives himself away.

"I dunno who would do that," He shrugs, eyebrows knit as he stares at his phone again, "Especially knowing they live with the actual Grinch."

"Do you?" You tease, hope he doesn't see as you pocket the snowman, bury him deep into your jean pockets, a new lucky charm for you. Some of the ice melts away, slowly, a little crack falls off, but you wouldn't let him know that.

"Yeah," He snorts, pads over to the couch where you sit, wiggles his toes to be buried under your thighs, "Tried to fuckin' evict 'em, but it was too much work."

Days pass, and you almost forget about it.

Every time you slip into the jeans for work, you remember the small snowman buried deep into your pocket, rub it like its some sort of worry doll.

The snowman was the first, but not the last.

Second, it was the creepy santa soap dispenser shoved in the corner by your sink in the bathroom. Schlatt left the rest of the bathroom untouched, and when you squeeze it into your hand, your immediately hit with the smell of marshmallows.

“who the fuck is putting christmas shit out?” he says again, bites his lip to hide the smile, “Especially in the grinch’s lair.”

“yeah,” you tease back, “and i used it and it smelled like fuckin’ marshmallows.”

“marshmallows?!” he buffs, “that’s it, i’m writing the landlord.”

and he kisses the crown of your head and pads downstairs.

from then on, he gets bolder.

You come home and he’s gently wrapping christmas lights around the bush in the front yard, sees you coming and speaks first: “to keep the fuckin’ kids away.” with a wink, as if he has something figured out.

he has a stupid santa hat on top of a baseball cap, teetering, threatens to fall off any second, and his face is pink from the cold, his fingertips are ice and it’s obvious, from how lit up the house looks, that he’s spent a lot of time planning and putting this together.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” you tease back, grabbing him by his coat and pulling him in for a kiss.

“what?!” he yells back, “that’s not how it fuckin’ works?! shit!” he teases back, the smile gives him away.

when you pull away, he takes the santa hat off his own head, shoves it over yours, and turns away, back to the bushes with a smile on his face.

You make your way inside, towards the kitchen to make him some hot chocolate to enjoy as the temperature falls more, and the sun slowly sets, and act as if you don’t see the mistletoe in the threshold of all the rooms, or the lights hanging around, even the little christmas village knick knacks that hang onto every surface-a post office shoved into the corner of the kitchen, and Santa’s Workshop sits in the front room-

days pass again, and you finally give in.

“Look,” you lean against the door as Schlatt comes in, a mixing bowl against his hip and a kiss the cook apron around his waist. “promise me you won’t make this a big deal.”

“okay,” he licks his lips, nods, “that’s ominous as fuck.”

“Just-sit on the couch, close your eyes, and promise to not make a big deal about it.” you grab him by the hand and gently lead him to the couch, have him sit on the edge of it and lift his hand so it rests over his eyes.

Schlatt bites his lip to keep from smiling as he hears something being dragged against the floor of the living room, before you speak again, obviously out of breath from the mini work out.

“Okay, don’t read into this,” you say one last time, “Open your eyes.”

he obeys, slowly blinks them open and sees the cardboard half busted tree box, and lets out a loud laugh: “Guess the grinches heart did grow two sizes larger, hm?”

he stands, pulls you close and kisses you on the lips, his voice drops, which is rare, his voice comes back gentle, which is also rare, means he means what he’s about to say, listen up: “I’m glad you changed your mind. Was worried id gone to far.”

you snort, “You? too far? never.” and your voice drops as well, “besides, had to give in eventually. make new traditions with you, or something right?”

you’re obviously referencing to the first few weeks of December, when he all but begged for at least a free, a string of lights-something, anything-is use to these lavish holiday traditions-only to be met by your stubbornness, the sting and ache of lonely holidays, another regular day too much for you-

“we can make new traditions,” he insisted one night, curled into you in the too small bed, the only light coming from the street light outside that flares into your eyes if you move your head the wrong way, “it doesn’t have to all be bad. let me help-“

“leave it, Jay,” you huff, shake your shoulders so his chin falls off form your shoulder as you flip to face the wall, sick of this discussion.

“that’s right-“ he smiles, surprised you were listening, “that’s exactly right, yeah.”

And he helps you drag the box into the corner, sets up his phone to play all his favorite christmas music, tells these stories of songs he loved growing up, doing certain activities to certain songs-

The music plays and though it doesn’t cal for it, Schlatt stops you every once in awhile, spins you around on your heels and dips you to a song, only for you to stand back up straight and slowly hang up the small collection of ornaments he stock piled away.

The night ends with cookies in the kitchen, the pre made kind that he bought the day after halloween and you kept shoving further and further back to try and forget of their existence, little cherry santa’s with crooked hats and little snowman placed on a tray as you two wait for them to be done, suddenly little kids again, the excitement of waiting up all night to try and find santa hangs in the air-

schlatt plates the cookies, makes hot chocolate and pads to the front room, throws a blanket over the two of you as you clink cookies together as a gentle cheers, settling on whatever movie hallmark is playing, even if it’s half way done.

schlatt is quiet next to you, plays with your hair as you rest your head on his chest, enjoying the sight of your new tree before you crane your neck to look up at him-

“i think i like our tradition now.”

he smiles, runs the pads of his thumb over your face gently, “Yeah? You a christmas fan yet?”

and you want to say the truth, how it’s hard not to be when your in his presence, how it’s hard to not smile and want to embrace every cliche, but instead you snort: “let’s not get carried away.”

he rolls his eyes, “of course not,” but his voice drops as he drops his head, rests his lips against your forehead as he speaks: “Im glad you’re enjoying it though, you deserve some good holiday memories instead.”

and he kisses your forehead as he settles back in, pulls the blanket togetber over you, and hangs you the obnoxious santa mug he had stored in the cabinet for you for when you finally came around

[fisshbones]

Halloween head cannons with genshin characters!

A/N: yes I’m aware it’s September, do i care? Not at all. In-fact (almost) every month of the year I celebrate Halloween! I just love the colours and vibes. So i bring you part 1 of the halloween head canons!!

Cw: None! Sfw, Gn reader! Could be read as platonic or romantic!

Scary Movies! Lyney, Lynette, Freminet. 🍿

It was Lyney’s idea to watch scary movies. His plan was to put a scary movie on so you would jump into his arms when you were scared! It was the perfect plan, key word was. He really should have read up on what this movie entails. Cause this man was a scaredy cat. He jumped at every noise. You’d think working for the fatui would make him less afraid of this stuff but apparently not. He’s not alone within his fear. Freminet is holding onto Pers for dear life. Though unlike his brother he’s not waking up the entire neighborhood screaming. Then there’s Lynette who is still as a board. Not scared in the slightest but highly invested in this movie. She originally kept trying to shush her brother and his dramatics, but eventually gave up. She’ll let you hide your self in her shoulder, just don’t move or make too much noise.

Haunted Houses! Hutao 👻

One question. What the hell were you thinking taking her to a haunted house?? You can’t tell who’s scaring you more, her or the scare workers? Whenever the atmosphere is too quiet or your grabbing a snack from a food truck; Hu Tao will come sneak right up behind you and say “Boo!” while poking/grabbing your shoulders. One time you screamed so loud and dropped your food she was giggling like a maniac. While everyone around you stared at you guys for a solid 30 seconds. (can you blame them? nothing creepy happens in the food court, normally atleast)

If you enjoyed please like, reblog, and/or comment!

fisshbones© 2024 do not repost, alter, or translate

[veersnz]

News of a new Beginning

I am beyond exhausted right now but I wanted at least try and write something tonight. And where do I even begin… I’m overwhelmed by emotions right now, good ones I promise.

As today marks the day I finally graduated high-school. And some may wonder; « but Veer, you’re 22, how come you’re only graduating now ? »

The story is a little complicated but yes, I did start high-school just like everyone else my age over 8 years ago. 8 years ago was also when I started my recovery journey, and as with any journey, nothing is ever goes smoothly and to fulfill it I had to drop out of school. I tried my best over the years to go back and finish my education but I faced many challenges that made it nearly impossible. I managed to finish two of the three years of high-school over a period of 7 years between many hospital stays and periods of great difficulties. In my heart I knew I was getting too old to go back to high school, the gap between me and my peers was widening each year and with it grew the fear of going back, of feeling out of place, alone and crushed by the weight of my own expectations. I was raised believing my academic achievements made my worth and I’m sure many will relate to that, this fear of never being enough. So I almost made peace with never having the future I wished for. But truthfully, this future I had imagined for myself wasn’t mine, it was someone else’s dream. And I was left stranded on the shores of those wishes, not having the faintest idea of what my life would become. And I almost made peace with that.

I clung to those realizations until last September when I enrolled in this special needs school far away from my home. One last time, I thought, one more chance. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after that, if I even managed to stay until the end. But it didn’t matter, my family believed in me, so did my therapist and my friends, even after so many failed attempts they kept their faith intact. And this love, I think that’s what helped me make the decision.

So I took that leap of faith, got a small room and started living on my own for the first time while pursuing my education. I would lie if I said it was an easy ordeal, many obstacles came in my way and I almost gave up, many times. But with the help of my family, friends and the incredible people I met at this school I persevered. I am very aware of the incredible luck I had that September of 2023, being surrounded by so many loving and caring people. I couldn’t be more grateful. And you all count to, it may seem silly because this is « just a kink community » but I’ve met so many brave souls, incredible people and so much love even from afar. Having this positive presence in my life has brought me strength and respite sometimes from the outside world, even just for a moment sometimes. And for that I am eternally grateful.

And so after 11 months I am graduating with the highest honors and finally putting an end to this journey of 8 years. Of course the path to recovery will continue on, but I am turning to a new page of my life’s story and I couldn’t be happier and grateful. I’m still probably in shock and the realization will settle over me in the next few days. But today, today I know that I’ve reclaimed my future.

I know there will be many more challenges, uncertainty and pain to face but tonight I am basking in the happiness of having accomplished something my past self could only dream about. And I hope the parts of myself I left behind are proud of me.

Thank you ❤️

[steviewashere]

Misplaced Emotion

Rating: General CW: None Apply To This One! Tags: Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, And Gets One, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Cuddling, Arguing, Making Up, Hurt/Comfort

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being able to say your sorry and mean it."

💕—————💕

Robin’s leaving for college this morning, Eddie knows this. He said his goodbyes yesterday. But Steve is saying his goodbyes today.

What this means, though, is that he needs to be prepared for Steve to come home. He knows already that he’s going to be an emotional mess. Will probably have some things that need to be said. Will probably put his sadness in the wrong place. Eddie’s well aware of how Steve functions in his emotions; it’s not always the prettiest thing to behold. It’s going to be a chilling September afternoon.

Though, when Steve does walk through their apartment, he’s oddly silent. Barely makes a noise with taking his jacket off or stacking his shoes on the rack. Doesn’t puff or groan or growl, like Eddie thought he would. No, he just slides into the living room with a completely glazed-over sheen to his face, limbs tense and awkward as he moves around the coffee table, completely silent when he sits down.

Eddie hesitates, “How’d it go, sweetheart?”

Steve doesn’t look over at him. His eyes set on his hands. Fingers picking at one another. He chews on his lips and shrugs. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he states. His voice is far away and quiet. Almost lost in the air between them. He collapses back into the couch, moving to tuck himself into a little ball on his side, head pillowed on the arm of the sofa.

“Hm,” Eddie hums. “Y’know, you got back earlier than I thought you would. Thought that she didn’t have to leave until four?” He looks at his watch very briefly. “It’s only two,” he points out.

“Eds,” Steve sighs. “I just said I don’t want to talk about it. Need…Silence, I think.” His eyes are so far away, Eddie nearly fears the distance they’ve travelled to. What happened, he wants to ask, but knows better than to attempt it.

Though, “Are you sure, Stevie? I can turn on a movie or something or maybe make—“

“Eddie!” Steve snaps. Eddie startles in his cushion, face immediately souring at Steve’s tone. He crosses his arms over his chest, broadening his shoulders in the face of Steve’s sharp glare. There’s some clearance in his eyes now. Eddie’s not very pleased with how they’re on him, though. “I don’t want to talk! Just—I just need some time to think!”

“What—Steve,” Eddie growls. If Steve’s going to be pissy, then Eddie can shoot it right back. “Why are you getting angry at me? I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay! This isn’t how you are normally and—“

Instead of listening anymore, Steve abruptly shifts on the couch. Sitting up ramrod straight. Face away from Eddie. Huffing as he stands up. And then he leaves the room entirely, shuffling down the hallway. He slams their bedroom door hard enough that it ricochets the wall behind Eddie.

On any other day, Eddie would dignify Steve’s anger by letting him have his space. But this isn’t a normal day. And this isn’t how Steve even voices his anger, usually. Typically, he’s the type to immediately go sit in their room, contemplating what happened, only reappearing some time later to explain what’s going on in his head. This isn’t him. And something is wrong. And Eddie knows it.

He goes to the farthest door in the hallway. Shuffling absently in front of it, raising a hand to land on the doorknob. And that’s when he hears Steve…crying. Nothing soft or sniffling or quiet, which is typical Steve behavior. No, this is almost wailing. It’s clawing out of him, nails raised at his tender skin, breaking through with blood and bones. The kind that sounds like it hurts to even travel through his throat.

Eddie opens the door. Gently, softly as to not bring attention to himself. He sidelines the bed completely, instead crossing into their attached bathroom. It’s odd to pretend that he’s using the bathroom, just to make sure he doesn’t upset Steve anymore.

But also, if he’s honest with himself, he’s sort of feeling like a massive piece of shit. On one hand, for pushing and prodding at information that Steve doesn’t have or won’t give. And on the other, for not taking care of Steve when he needed it. Why couldn’t I just shut up, he begs to wonder. Because that’s part of it, right? He pissed Steve off by not silencing his yapping. Always one to aggravate the dragon.

When he goes back into their room, he settles tensely on the edge of their mattress. Strips out of his pants, turns on the bedside lamp, sets his alarm for a few hours later, and settles on top as if going to sleep. Steve’s next to him still. Whimpering into his palm. Laying on his side, curled into himself, hands tucked under his chin. He jostles the bed with every small sob that escapes him, but he attempts to bite it back. As if he doesn’t want Eddie to hear. Which, that’s pretty usual for him, but it still makes Eddie ache in a terribly painful way.

He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply, feigning to pretend. Just imagine the room silent and dark. That he’s actually tired and wants to take a nap. Miraculously, it works. He drifts off, still aching and yearning to soothe Steve, still listening in on the cries and the sniffles and the gross wet coughs. But he falls asleep.

The next time Eddie wakes, it’s to his alarm blaring on the table. He clumsily reaches out a hand and silences it. Groaning, running a hand down his face, grimacing at the drool on his fingertips. He’s rolled onto his side at one point and shifts onto his back once more. But as soon as his bleary eyes focus on the space around him, he yelps, freaked out.

Above him, staring at him with the saddest eyes in the world, is Steve. His face is swollen and his eyes are wet, bloodshot, absolutely devastating. Steve’s breath is stuttering hot and cold over Eddie’s face. There are tear tracks sizzled into his skin. A shiny spot of snot at the edge of his nostril. Like he just finished crying.

“Christ,” Eddie breathes. “Hi, baby. Scared me.” He wrestles one of his hands from under the comforter, running it up the length of Steve’s spine, resting his fingers at the nape of his neck, and toys with his hair. “Give a guy a warn—“

“I’m sorry,” Steve cries out. He hiccups a sigh and coughs on the sob at the end of his breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Eddie whispers. He carefully sits up, hand still in place, Steve moves with him. His other palm goes to Steve’s left bicep, squeezing with subtle soothe. “Hey, honey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“But I was so mean and awful and I didn’t—“ Steve coughs again, gagging with it. His breath shudders in his chest. Face going splotchy red all over again. “—I didn’t—I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

Eddie tentatively wraps his arms around Steve, tugging him into his chest, cushioning his head under his chin. Steve turns into his shirt, sobbing loud and jagged right where his heart is. It hurts, hurts, hurts. He shushes the best he can, fingers splayed over his warm back, running in soothing stripes up and down his spine. “I know, baby. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it,” he assures. Because that’s true. Steve acted on impulse, matching where his emotion was already high strung and set. “I’m sorry, too,” Eddie whispers, “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Steve only cries harder at that.

They sway lightly from side to side. Eddie’s torso is cramping from his twisted position and knows with how cramped up Steve is, he isn’t faring any better. But still, they rock and sway. He hums and takes deep breaths, just so that Steve has something to follow, to come back to from however far away he is.

And when Steve only hiccups, his little breaths short and forced from his nose, does Eddie stop moving them. “You with me again, sweetheart?” He asks.

A nod against his chest. The silence stretching between them, sans Steve’s breathing. Eddie briefly wonders if this is it. If this is the only thing he’s going to get out of Steve. And knows, that though it’s not the best thing in the world, he’ll take barely anything over nothing.

But then, “She left already,” Steve mutters.

Eddie hums in question.

In tentative, slow movements, Steve pulls away from him. His head is tilted down. Hair hanging limp in his face. Eddie brings a palm to his hairline, guiding it back to the crest of his skull, holding his hand there. It’s weight hot and grounding against Steve’s scalp. With the hair out of the way, Eddie can see the sad, yet contemplative look on Steve’s face.

“Robin,” Steve murmurs, “she left for college already. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“What?” Eddie squeaks. Because that can’t be true.

Steve nods solemnly. “Yeah,” he whispers, “hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t she say she was leaving early? That’s—“ Eddie huffs, now is not the time for him to angry. “I’m sorry, love bug.”

“Drove all the way out there at the ass crack of dawn. Got to her house just in time, or so I thought. But when I knocked on her door?” He asks rhetorically. Eddie nods, though he doesn’t think Steve actually sees him. Steve huffs. “Her mom answered. Saying that Robin already left. Said that she had to leave early to make it to her flight.” He shrugs. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

Eddie brings his other palm up and rests it on the side of Steve’s face, cupping his jaw, thumb sweeping over his soft cheek. Steve nuzzles into the hold, eyes closing, sighing from his nose. A stray tear drips down onto the tip of Eddie’s thumb. He wants to crumble at the sight.

“She’ll call,” he tells Steve. “She’ll apologize and find a way to make it up to you.”

“What if—“ Steve chews on his lip. His voice is raspy with emotion when he speaks again. “—What if she just got tired of me?”

Eddie squishes Steve’s cheek, holding him steadfast. “No way,” he rushes to say. Heated with it. “No, Steve, she didn’t. Baby, she was a sobbing mess yesterday about how much she’s going to miss you. All it was was poor planning, that’s all.” He pets Steve’s hair again, smoothing it flatter to his head, tickling his ear with the dry skin of his palm. “That’s all it was, baby. She loves you so much. She’ll call, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, small.

“Yes, Steve,” he assures. “She has our phone number. Robin will call.”

Steve nods in Eddie’s hold. He’s practically boneless, exhausted. He swallows hard. “I really am sorry about how I acted,” he murmurs, “that wasn’t fair of me to put the target on you.”

“Forgiven,” Eddie whispers. He pulls Steve back in, tucking him safely and securely into his body heat. Melding them together. “I love you too much to be angry about something like that. You’re okay.”

With that, Steve shakes again in his embrace. Wetting the skin on Eddie’s neck. He swallows and tilts his eyes to the ceiling. He’ll cry later, now is not the time. He holds to Steve tighter. Doesn’t want to let him go again.

💕—————💕

[alecvolturiswifeforever]

all too well 𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫ felix volturi x reader

warnings: angst? fluffff ( tbh i was listening to taylor swift while writing this hence the name)

Pulling back the old curtains of your childhood home the familiar image of the Swan house came into view and the muscles of your jaw tensed on their own accord. Wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck and pulling your wool hat over your ears you stepped out of the front door, onto the porch. You were weary, well aware of the fact that if was snowing and there was more than likely ice waiting to send you sliding down the concrete stairs.

You lived in the house on the opposite side of the street. Both you and Bella had grown up together, practically conjoined from the moment she arrived back in Forks every time she would visit her father right up until the moments she had to leave.

That was until she left when she you were around thirteen, confessing to you that she wouldn’t be coming back to visit again anytime soon. You remembered the moment all too well, as if it was yesterday, the memory replaying in the forefront of your mind.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

You both let out rather loud giggles as you lay together upon your bed, flipping through old magazines you had stolen from your mother and gossiping like the preteen girls you were.

“Oh! I should get going… dad said I have to be home by six today! Early flight and all tomorrow” Bella rolled her eyes as she spoke and another giggle elicited from you as you sat up.

“How long are you going for this time?” You had questioned innocently and the atmosphere immediately changed as your room was suddenly full of an uncomfortable stuffiness. That was when she confessed.

“Um.. I don’t… I’m not really planning on coming back anytime soon…”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“Mom said that we’re moving again… but it’s going to be more permanent this time and I just… I don’t really like coming here that much anyway…”

“Oh…”

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

You recalled the tight feeling in your throat and the burn of tears behind your eyes. Yes you lived in the small town for your entire life but you had never really had many friends, none with the bond you had shared with the Swan girl and you definitely did not want to be friends with people like Jessica Stanley.

When Bella had moved back it was almost relieving and you both fell back into your old ways quickly. Staying at each others houses late, gossiping, sharing books and little trinkets.

That was until he came into the picture.

If you knew one thing it was that you absolutely despised Edward Cullen. Especially for taking your best friend away again just to leave her. Alone. In the middle of the woods. In the middle of September. What a jerk.

You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of voices, averting your eyes as you saw both Bella and her devil spawn step out of the house. Your lips parted as you made eye contact, and she threw you a glare turning to face Edward.

“Y/N, are you coming or not?” You heard the voice of your father yell from the car and you sighed before pulling the door shut and locking it.

“Coming!”

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

“Bella please!”

You heard the yell from your spot on your couch and you rushed outside to see the commotion. Crossing the road and eyeing the sharp look of Alice.

“Bella is convinced she is going to Italy to save her leech..” Jacob hissed.

“Leech?” You whispered in confusion before shaking your head “Bella you cant just leave and go to Italy right now, what about your dad?”

“I’m 18. It’s legal.” She rolled her eyes and you huffed. Why did she always have to be so stubborn?

“Well then i’m coming with you.” You had reached for the handle to the backseat of the car and slid in. That was when Alice paused, Bella throwing a worried look in her direction. After a moment of silence she spoke up.

“Y/N I can’t let you come”

“Why not?”

“It’s not… safe for you.”

“Well either i’m going or both me and Bella or staying… and by the looks of it she’s not willing to get out of the car” You turned and strapped yourself in and Alice huffed under her breath before muttering a sharp ‘have it your way’ and speeding off.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

The rest was quite blurry for you, only remembering certain snippets of their explanations on the plane ride there. You were informed about the existence of vampires, how Bella and Edward were mated, Alice’s vision… all that boring stuff. You remembered one moment very well though.

The moment you made eye contact with him. The way his eyes softened as he took you in. The feel of his hand lightly brushing your back as you stood in the elevator.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

“Interesting” You heard the raven haired king hum, dropping your hand as he turned to look at the giant, seeking for his hand. He let out a loud laugh as you flinched back only to find Edward had pulled Bella back a few feet. You turned to look at him, eyes darting between him and the smaller Cullen next to them.

“What’s going on?” Your voice was accusing as you eyed them before you turned back to the man in front of you who was still looking at Felix.

“My dear, you have finally found your mate”

You remember the flip of your stomach, heartbeat increasing. You turned a hateful gaze back to Alice.

“You knew…” You spoke carefully as you put the pieces together. Your voice raised as she shook her head.

“You knew and you tried to stop me from coming!”

“Y/N…”

You only glared at her as the blonde king quickly moved back to the situation at hand.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

They had granted you all until graduation, Felix would visit you frequently while you continued the rest of your education and Edward had until then to turn his mate. The journey home was awkward to say the least. You and Alice had argued back and fourth in the reception once Demetri had guided you out of the throne room and after that they refused to acknowledge you. You rolled your eyes at the memory - the audacity of them to think it was you who was in the wrong, as if any of this was your fault.

They were furious that you had allowed him to speak to you, let alone touch you.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

“What do you want?” you heard Edwards menacing hiss as the vampire came into frame, lifting your head from where you had buried them into your knees to see what was happening.

“I’m here to speak to my mate. You will do well to back off before I put you through the wall again.”

You hoped his eyes wouldn’t fall onto you however the hope was quickly crushed as his gaze moved right to you, holding a large hand out to you.

“May I take a moment of your time?”

You sighed, half tempted to look to the others for guidance however you stopped yourself when you remembered they now wanted nothing to do with you. So you took his hand, uncurling yourself from the position you was in and allowed him to guide you out into a seemingly abandoned hallway.

“I apologise for the… violence… you had to witness, I did not intend for it to startle you.” Clearly he had heard the way your breathing had shallowed and your heartbeat increase then.

“It’s.. it’s fine” You struggled to find the right words to speak to the stranger in front of you and you shifted your weight from one foot to another awkwardly.

“You are so much more beautiful than I had imagined” You were convinced you weren’t meant to hear that, tilting your head to look up at him. You took in his face, the bright red of his eyes, the way his hair fell softly over his forehead and you couldn’t help but feel entranced. His hand lifted as if on it’s own accord and he searched your eyes carefully.

“May I?” His voice was deep as he spoke and you gave him a weary nod, jolting at the current that ran through your body as his cold hand made contact with your cheek, running his thumb across your cheekbone. You let out a breathe you had no idea you were holding and melted into him as he pulled you into him.

“I have finally found you.”

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

You smiled at the memory, watching the scenery blur by the window of the car. For once you felt at ease, as if everything was perfect.

That was how you knew, you were exactly where you needed to be. You knew it all too well.

[frvnkcastles]

TAKE ME WITH YOU ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You show Frank your appreciation for keeping you going.

Warnings: Suicide ideation (both reader and Frank mention having suicidal thoughts), feminine nicknames, hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: Today is the last day of Suicide Awareness Month and I really wanted to do something for it because it really means a lot to me as someone who lost a friend to it but also struggles with those thoughts on most days. I’ve had a good couple of weeks lately but it’s still something I deal with and Frank has helped through so much. If only I could actually thank him. But I guess this is the closest thing to it :) I hope this resonates with some of you, I’m proud of you for being here <3

On the second-to-last night of September, you were filled with nerves from your head to your toes, your eyes constantly glancing at the clock to see it tick closer and closer to eleven — the time Frank had promised to be home. You had tried to open your mouth about what was on your mind in the morning when you were still melted together under the sheets, and again before he had left but his sweet kiss on your lips had rendered you silent. Now, you had decided you weren’t going to shy away from being vulnerable, even at the risk of crying.

You knew he was a safe space, he was your safe space, but you always hesitated talking about the truly dark and sad inside you. Maybe it was some innate fear you’d be pushing him away, or maybe you worried about worrying him — either way, it often took him probing a little bit for you to open up, but tonight, you insisted on being brave all by yourself.

At exactly eleven o’clock, Frank’s key turned in the lock of your door, and you perked up on the living room couch and watched your tall, scary man drag himself indoors with heavy boots. As soon as the door was shut and he faced you, a tired smile crawled up to his face and remained there when he crouched down to undo the laces of his shoes.

”Hey, sweetheart. Been waitin’ all night, huh?” he figured you out pretty quickly, and with a sheepish chuckle, you shrugged. He shook his head but made his way to the couch where his first priority was kissing your forehead. ”’M sorry for keepin’ you up”, Frank added, and with your hand brushing against his fingertips when he slumped down next to you, you tutted at him.

”Don’t be sorry, baby. I kinda wanted to talk to you about something, anyway”, you swallowed before averting your gaze from his deep, dark eyes to his built figure. ”Are you okay?” you asked before proceeding any further, and to reassure you, Frank lifted his hand to the back of your neck and softly caressed your hair there.

”I ain’t bleedin’ out tonight, baby. What’s on your mind?” he questioned with an attentive stare, and when you met his eyes, you could see him trying to figure you out; detailing your expression, hoping to find out if something was wrong.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you reached behind your back to grab the small gift you had wrapped for him last night. You handed it over to him without a word, and with surprise washing over his bruised face, he took the silver present while his other hand dropped around your shoulders to keep you close.

”Shit. What’s the occasion?” he asked, blinking, and you could tell he was sucker-punched by your gesture. He had been learning how to be better with affection — in fact, he had become almost clingy with you, but he still couldn’t quite comprehend… this.

”Well”, you cleared your throat, ”I don’t know if you knew but September is a month for… for, uh, suicide prevention and awareness. And I guess I kinda just wanted to thank you, because you keep me going. You’re the best preventative means I’ve ever had.” You chuckled quietly and looked down at your hands while continuing, ”I didn’t think I’d make it this far. But you give me a reason to stay alive, and I’m really… really grateful.”

Silence landed between you and you swallowed so thickly you could have sworn it was audible, but before you could panic that it was all too much, you gave a weak gesture at the gift. ”You can open it now”, you encouraged, and realizing he still hadn’t, Frank looked away from you and down to the small package he began unwrapping.

It was almost funny seeing his big, rough hands manhandle the tiny gift, but he did his best, and eventually, unveiled the small jewerly box inside. He glanced at you, but proceeded to lift the top of the box to reveal a silver chain with your initial hanging from it. He was indescribably gentle and feather-light when he picked it up, his dark eyes glued onto the piece as you waited with bated breath.

”Maybe it’s a little corny—”, you began, but Frank cut you off with one hand grasping yours tightly.

”I love it”, he stated simply, glancing between you and the necklace. ”I really fuckin’ love it. Yeah, this is…”

You licked your lips and nodded. ”I just thought… whenever you need the reminder, I just want you to know you’ve saved my life over and over again. You do so much for me, you have no idea”, you whispered, and tightening his hold on your hand, Frank swallowed, and you could see him fighting off tears.

”C’mere”, he spoke eventually, quiet and fragile, and you didn’t fight back when he pulled you into a tight, warm hug. You closed your eyes and breathed him in as his arms wrapped around you firmly, and you could feel his lips grazing your temple. ”I love you, y’know that?” he murmured against your hair, and struggling not to cry yourself, you nodded.

”I love you, Frank.”

He continued to hold you for a while, but eventually, the two of you wound up getting ready for bed and before you knew it, the next day came. You had to drag yourself to work early on, but you were energized by the sight of a sleepy Frank still dozed off on your pillow, his new silver chain shining in the sunlight peeking through your curtains.

Still, as the day went on, you couldn’t help but begin overthinking. Had you been a little too dramatic? Was it too much pressure to put on one person? The questions piled up and by the time you were going home, your nails had been chewed down to nothing and your lip was mere moments away from bleeding.

But Frank? He had been nothing short of honored. And so, when you walked through the front door, you were met with the scent of your favorite dish, your favorite playlist playing through your little radio while your favorite guy stood in the kitchen where your favorite flowers awaited. At the sound of the door closing, Frank turned around and grinned at the sight of you speechless at the doorstep, your bag falling on the floor and your eyes wide at what you were witnessing.

As if it was any other day, Frank swooped you in by the waist and kissed you deep and slow, taking your breath away in an instant. You lifted one hand to his cheek, holding his face close to yours even when your lips disconnected, and you could feel his smirk against your cheek.

”Welcome home, sweet girl”, he murmured, and unable to hold back a smile of your own, you kissed him once more.

”What’s going on?” you wondered, your curiosity getting the best of you, and so, you let go of Frank and stepped into the kitchen where the flowers smelled heavenly and the food was almost ready.

”Think I shoulda been a lot more… I dunno, receptive last night. Really means a fuckton that you shared with me, sweetheart”, Frank voiced from behind you, and with anxiety rising in your chest once again, you twirled around to face him.

”I was starting to worry it may have been too much”, you confessed, and with a scoff, Frank landed both hands on your hips and pulled you in closer.

”Nah, I’m just a dumbass, baby. Really, I… I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be able to help ya out. Y’know, it fuckin’ breaks my heart to even imagine a world without you. ’M so grateful you’ve stuck around”, he insisted, and when you looked down shyly, he immediately lifted your head with his thumb and looked into your eyes.

”I mean it. You’re so goddamn important to me and I’m so glad you’re here with me. If you ever feel like… ya know… not being here anymore, all you gotta do is tell me and I’ll be by your side, no matter what. There ain’t a place I’d rather be, aight? You’re my girl and whatever you need, I’mma give it to you”, Frank continued, and with your lips pursed into a weak smile, you whispered a thank you. A tear rolled down your cheek, but Frank was quick to wipe it away with his thumb.

”That really means the world to me, Frank”, you promised with a kiss left on his cheek, and nodding, he took your hand in his and squeezed.

”I know I don’t, uh, talk about it much, but shit, I get it. I really do. There are days when I wanna just disappear, when I want it all to just stop. Days when it feels like too much and there ain’t any cure for it. But then I see you or hear your laugh or smell your perfume and, fuck, there it is. That shit makes me wanna hold on and see what’s comin’ next. As long as you’ll be here to see it with me”, Frank admitted in a quiet but firm tone, every word coming straight from the heart.

You wiped your eyes but there was no stopping the tears. You hugged him tight and felt the cold chain against your forehead as you did. ”How’d we get so lucky to find each other?” you whispered, and with a quiet laugh, Frank shook his head.

”Shit, I really dunno, sweetheart. But I ain’t ever gonna take it for granted”, he hummed before chuckling, ”guess this is our day, huh?”

You smiled up at him. ”I like that”, you whispered, ”our day.”

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A journal entry. Meanwhile, Armin does what he can to help Eren out.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder and torture of a woman, misogyny.

— Notes: Hello, hello! Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged chapter 1 of this series. I really appreciate it <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

just friends

September 8, 2024

There’s nothing I hate more than arrogant women. That’s why I had to kill her. 

All I wanted was for her to smile at me. She wouldn’t. I filled her room with all her favorite things and even loosened her handcuffs. But she was so fucking hard-headed it drove me crazy. The little bitch even dared to spit at me. I had to teach her a lesson. I had to let out my anger somehow. 

For a while, it was exciting to watch her writhe in pain. I can’t even begin to describe how thrilling it is to see how much a human can tolerate until they break. I told her it was compensation for the look she gave me the day we met. She kept lying and saying she didn’t even remember having bumped into me on the street.

I really wish she could’ve bounced back this time. I’m so lonely without her now. I miss her.   

Humans are social by nature, it's what all the books say. When one is young, we need protection and love from our caregivers. As we grow, our world gradually expands and we bond with other people — friends from school, teachers, neighbors, coworkers. If one must stick to tradition, there's bound to be a romantic relationship to develop at some point. But for some people, that imposed path doesn't come naturally. Or rather, there have been blockages throughout the years that resulted in stunted social growth. 

That's where you find yourself. It's not your fault. When one grows up forced to believe she's nothing but a burden, it's only natural to try to take up as little space as possible. But again, it's not your fault. One doesn't acquire those thoughts on their own. 

You ruined my life!

As much as wellness and self-help gurus will preach there's a place in the world for everyone, self-awareness keeps you from blinding yourself toward the baggage you carry. It wouldn't be fair to lay that on anyone else. 

So you've shrunk yourself. No making yourself seen, no making yourself heard. No talking outside of what is strictly necessary to survive. No inserting yourself into other's lives. For the most part, it's worked. Albeit, you've been deemed unlikable, weird, and rude. It's better this way. There's no use in putting yourself out there if there's so much to feel ashamed of. It's too much to trouble others with your pitiful self.

Who in the world would want to put up with you?

After the usual snarky murmurs and judgmental glances, you're rarely acknowledged save for when someone — usually a man — tries to “take a crack” at you and the whispers float in the air for another while. Other than that, you're at peace with yourself. You're almost convinced you've developed invisibility powers. 

That is until Armin came along. At first, you sighed at the prospect of going over your routine yet again. Cementing boundaries and erasing any hope that it just takes the right guy to “loosen you up”. It was disgusting to have your quietness be misinterpreted for arrogance by the men at work. Even if that were the case, who was anybody to assume you needed to be knocked down a peg through sexual advances?

But Armin proved himself to be different. He tore away at your skepticism by simply being kind with no ulterior motives. Men can be so stupid. They'll believe a girl can't pick up when they're being slimy. It must've shocked them when you started having lunch with Armin more frequently. 

It was thanks to him that you slowly expanded your world's limits. It was because of him that you began to question the voice that rang in your ears. After receiving the housewarming party invitation, you wondered whether to step forward or back. There was no denying Armin's expansion had awoken something in you. You wanted company — craved it — but you didn't want to risk bringing trouble into the group. What if Armin was an anomaly and the things that echoed in your head were true? Maybe Armin wasn't an anomaly at all, he just didn't know enough about you. You certainly didn't let him in enough. 

In the end, your heart overruled your brain. You wanted more. With a hopeful heart, you went to the party. 

A heavy sigh slips past your lips as you pick at your dinner on Sunday night. Your hair is still damp from the shower and it rests uncomfortably along your neck. Your phone lies next to your plate, buzzing every few seconds to match the texts that come into the group chat — arrangements are taking place for the next get-together with Armin and his friends. 

After your moment of realization on the balcony, you faked a yawn and went back inside to pretend to fall asleep.

This morning, you avoided being alone with Eren. Not out of fear of something happening, but you needed to sort out your feelings on the situation.

There's no denying Eren is an attractive man — but that doesn't faze you. 

Catching Eren's eye wasn't something you planned. Your world suddenly expanded outside of your will — out of your control. You're not annoyed, just overwhelmed. 

Being the center of someone's attention means more expectations, more to live up to — he has no idea you're not the kind of girl he needs. Nobody needs someone who's a burden. It's not as if you're open to reciprocating any special attention, anyway.

If history has taught you anything, it’s that love isn't in the cards for you. It's best not to entertain any silly ideas.

Friendships are tricky, but no more than romance — or whatever crossed Eren's mind each time he looked at you. Keeping to oneself is easier than either one. But with the latter idea being too late to return to, you'll have to nip this problem in the bud.

The few hours before lunchtime seem to drag slower every Monday. Given that sparing time to eat was nothing but another task to check off your to-do list, you never used to pay much attention to the clock. But since Armin, lunchtime means more than bringing food to your mouth, methodically stretching your pace to fit the length of your lunch break.

Now it means meeting with a friend, having someone fill in the silence with tales from the accounting department, and occasionally going on quick drives to Kuchel. 

So when you venture off to his cubicle, only for him to tell you he's swamped with work and won't have lunch until later, you're mildly disappointed. You don't let it show. After all, work trumps your trivial need for company.

So you wish him good luck and return to your desk. Without any conversation to fill in the minutes, you finish your food fairly quickly. When you glance at the time on your phone, barely fifteen minutes have passed. Your fingers tap rhythmically against your desk before you decidedly stand, grab your bag, and head for the elevator. 

The coffee shop on the corner of the street has been your go-to spot since you started working here. You've been there alone and with Armin. It's where your feet take you on the rare occasions when Armin is too busy. There's nothing wrong with the in-house coffee kiosk from your office building, but you find more comfort in being surrounded by strangers who keep to themselves than bumping into someone who doesn't like you. 

The early September days serve as a transition into cooler temperatures. A light breeze has added to the warmth leftover from summer. The leaves have yet to develop a clear change in color, but some yellow streaks are popping up here and there. The beginning of autumn pushes you toward all things cozy. By the time you reach the shop, you've got your heart set on having a warm cup of cinnamon tea.

You settle at a table, place your order, grab a book from your bag, and wait. Before you can reach the second paragraph of your read, a shadow casts over your left side, forcing you to look up in confusion. It's too soon for your tea to be ready. 

You're met with striking green eyes and plump lips that pronounce a bashful hi.

It's a strange coincidence. You wish you could say you've never seen him around here before, but you've never bothered to commit any face to memory if it's not necessary. 

“Eren, hi.”

The tint on his cheeks you remember so well from two nights ago resurfaces. A nervous swallow pulls at your throat. You never did map out a plan — then again, you weren't expecting to see him again so soon.

“I wasn't sure if it was you. Are you here with someone?” he asks, taking a second to look around the shop.

You shake your head. 

“No. Armin's busy so I came here alone,” you explain.

He nods, rocking his weight on his heels. A question seems to linger on the tip of his tongue as his gaze flits between you and the floor. It takes him a moment for him to find his voice, though. In spite of yourself, you have to admit it's actually a bit endearing. It's different. It's refreshing.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” His eyes are overflowing with hope. 

You nod. He sits. The book in your hands is put away.

For a while last night, you debated the validity of your theory. Maybe Eren wasn't interested in you in the way you thought. After all, it was your first time meeting and he might’ve been nervous. You know enough about the way you present yourself to acknowledge you're not the most approachable person. Maybe all he needs is time to get used to you.

“Do you want to order something?” You ask, prepared to wave over a server. He stops you with a dismissive hand.

“It's okay, I already had some tea.”

Your eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Not a coffee guy?” 

He shakes his head, sputtering a nervous chuckle.

“Not really. I don't like bitter things.” His nose scrunches as if he can savor it on his tongue.

A server brings over your tea along with a small tray of additives. You thank them before returning to Eren's statement.

“You can always add sugar,” you point out with a shrug. 

He shakes his head again. This time you're relieved to find a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Nothing can beat tea with honey.”

Your hand pauses mid-air on its way to pick up the wooden wand half lost in a jar of golden syrup. 

You hum in thought as you reach for the sugar spoon instead. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. That's how my mom made it for me when I was little. I'd get a stomachache or a cold and it was the first thing she'd make for me. I feel like a kid each time I drink it. It makes me think of her.”

The corners of his lips tug into a smile. You find yourself mirroring his expression as you look down at your hand stirring the sugar into your tea. 

“Your mom sounds nice,” you murmur.

“Oh, she's the best. I love her.”

Eren's shoulders relax. He feels at ease talking about his mom. He feels even better knowing he's successfully carrying out a casual conversation with you. In the light of day, everything is less scary. There's less to worry about. That carefree feeling blankets over everything. Suddenly, the motive he walked into this coffee shop for seems doable. 

Then a sinking feeling comes over his stomach. 

“Sorry.” The word bounces off his tongue without thinking.

“What for?”

He doesn't want to say it, but he hopes his apologetic gaze is enough to convey an explanation.

Your eyebrows shoot up in realization at his hesitance. Then they furrow as you press your lips into a fine line and shake your head dismissively. 

“Oh, that.” 

The recall of Saturday night when you drunkenly talked about your mom causes your cheeks to flare with heat.

Guilt settles in Eren's stomach. He didn't mean to bring up his mom. He also didn't mean to be so quick to apologize. It just made things worse now that you know he's tiptoeing around you. That's probably the last thing you want — to feel purposely pitied.

Flustered, he rummages through his brain for a solution — a way to get back on the track he was on. 

You fix your gaze on him. It's obvious he feels troubled. It's a foreign experience having someone worry so much about if they've caused you any harm. You're unsure of what feelings to associate with it other than guilt. He's not at fault for your crappy family life.

“So you and your mom are close?” you ask.

The crease in his forehead smoothes over. 

When he shyly reconnects with your gaze, your eyebrows raise ever so slightly in encouragement. The movement is so subtle it's hard not to miss — but not for Eren, who takes in every detail of your face with so much care. For Eren, the small shifts in your features are so interesting to look at. You express so much with so little. And yet there were times when you would accentuate your expressions as much as you could. What you held back vocally was compensated tenfold through your face. It's fascinating to him.

“Yeah.”

His voice is soft — a trace of his withering embarrassment.

“She's my best friend,” he adds with a little more confidence.

You take a sip of tea. The drink warms your stomach, mirroring that of your chest elicited by Eren's words. The fondness in his voice taints him with a childlike innocence. 

Eren Jaeger isn't worried about looking cool. He's honest and clumsy. It's charming.

A light shake of your head keeps your thoughts from drifting further.

“So not a coffee guy but a mama's boy, for sure. Got it.” You nod along with an overly serious expression painted on your face. 

He laughs, the sinking feeling in his stomach now dissolving into nothing. Had he not been on the receiving end of your bluntly spoken teasing the other night, he might not have laughed so easily.

A blush spreads across his cheeks. 

“Come on, don't tease me,” he mumbles.

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Eren falls back into his previously relaxed state. 

The conversation continues to flow in between every sip of your tea.

“Do you come here often?” you ask as you prepare to take another sip. 

Your eyes are locked on his. He struggles with the intense eye contact. At least, it's intense on his end.

“Not really. Armin mentioned it to me so I thought I'd try it out.” 

The pads of his fingers drum a nervous beat on the table.

You nod, relieved. You'd feel silly if it had turned out he was a frequent customer and your disregard of the people surrounding you kept you from noticing him. It would've piled onto your embarrassment from the Kuchel incident. 

“Ah, so are you on your lunch break, too? Do you work around here?”

“Um, kind of. I do media production and marketing for a museum, but I do a lot of hours at home. My place is just a few minutes by car.” 

“That's so cool.” 

The amazement in your voice in addition to its sudden turn up in volume is enough to make him blush. 

“It's nothing special. I'm definitely not raking in the big bucks like Jean.” 

“Still, it's cool. It's a lot more interesting than being an office manager.” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together with newborn disdain for your job before you finish the remainder of your tea.

“Well, I can't argue there,” he says, imitating the sliver of bitterness in your voice.

You gasp in mock hurt. 

“Hey, only I can say it.” Your tone is serious, but he knows you're joking. He can tell by the twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

He laughs.

“How long until you have to get back to work?” 

You peek at the clock on the wall across the room.

“I still have some time. It's a short walk back, anyway.”

Despite your wording, your answer triggers his nervous antics. You're bound to part ways eventually and he swore to himself he would get the words out. He runs a hand through his hair to distract himself from the anxious flutter in his stomach. 

It's no big deal, he thinks. She's just a girl. 

He regrets not ordering something else when you asked him. It would give his hands something to do. Then again, he can't keep them from shaking as he gathers the courage to pronounce his next thought. So it's better he doesn't have any breakables in his hold.

He pronounces your name carefully. His heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. It's strange to think that you hold so much power over him within just a couple of days since meeting. He wants to get closer — he needs to. Again, that feeling of wanting this moment with you to stretch farther squeezes at his chest. 

“Do you want to hang out sometime? Just the two of us?”

He can feel himself growing numb to his surroundings as he awaits your response. It's similar to the feeling he gets after stepping foot off a rollercoaster. The adrenaline is pumping furiously through his veins while his mind goes blank. It's a weird moment of chaos and bliss all at once.

You clear your throat. 

“So… a date?”

He swallows thickly and nods.

He watches you contemplate his proposal. Your lips are pressed in a fine line, your gaze low and brow furrowed.

It's too much to hope you're equally attracted to him — he's aware. But he hopes you like his company just enough to say yes. Or at the very least, you're curious to know more.

Your mind is in conflict. This is more than you've bargained for. All you wanted was to get along with Armin's friends.

“I'm sorry, Eren. No.” 

He instantly deflates to your firm tone. 

“It's nothing personal,” you explain. “You're a really nice guy. Really. But I'm not interested in dating… at all.” You sigh, dreading the pending words on your tongue. “And I don't really see you that way. I just want to be friends.”

He remains quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheeks as he processes your words. 

The situation is uncomfortable for you, but his defeated form weighs heavier on your heart. He looks so small. It's definitely worse for him. 

“Eren?”

Your voice grounds him. 

“Sorry, I really spaced out there,” he nervously laughs. “Friends, though. Yeah, friends is good. Friends is perfect, actually.”

The word leaves a bitter taste on his tongue each time. He can pat himself on the back for shooting his shot later but, for now, his senses have been blurred by the disappointment of being turned down.

“I really like talking to you, Eren. Really.” 

Your attempt to lighten the defeat on his shoulders works — a little. It's a relief you're not entirely opposed to having him around, at least. Eren finds comfort in that. Maybe it'll suffice while he fights away at his attraction. 

“I like talking to you, too.” His voice carries a tint of helplessness. 

Your eyes soften. 

“I should get going.” 

You pull out a fresh bill from your purse and place it under the empty teacup before standing.

He stands with you and holds the door open. It's not until you're both out on the sidewalk, bidding each other goodbye, that he forces a smile. 

“I'll see you around.”

“Bye, Eren.” 

“Sorry I couldn't make it to lunch,” Armin says. He leans against the edge of your desk with his hands in his pockets.

It's been an hour since you got back, and you've been typing away, replying to emails. 

You shrug, tossing a small reassuring smile his way before focusing back on your computer screen.

“It's fine. I wasn't alone this time.”

He perks up.

“Really?”

You hum in affirmation.

“I went out for tea and bumped into your friend Eren.”

Armin's jaw falls open.

“Huh. Well, what do you know? That's a crazy coincidence.” 

There's something suspicious about Armin's theatrical tone, but you're too engrossed in going over your email for typos to notice. You only manage to murmur a simple uh-huh. 

“What'd you talk about?”

You send off your email with a satisfied click and look up at Armin as you lean back in your chair.

“Just this and that,” you reply nonchalantly. 

His lips press into a dissatisfied line.

“Well, what do you think of him?” His eyes light up expectantly. 

“He's…” You lose yourself in thought for a moment. Images of blushing cheeks, boyish smiles, and shimmering green eyes flash through your memory. You remember the honey and his simple confessions. “... like a little kid.” 

Armin's face bears a mix of confusion and amusement.

“What do you mean by that?” 

A soft pensive hum vibrates through your throat.

“Dorky,” you reply firmly. 

Armin snorts, readying himself to come to Eren's defense, but you continue.

“He's… honest, like a little kid would be. And he's a little clumsy with his words but it's… Kind of endearing. He's a sweet guy.”

Armin nods along, his face serious. Finally, he smiles. 

“Sounds like you had a nice talk, then.”

Date proposal aside, your moment with Eren was enjoyable. Even taking your rejection into account, you didn't sense any resentment directed at you and that just further proved your pure perception of him.

It's not the first time you've been asked out. It's certainly not the first time you've said no — that's always been your response, albeit for different reasons. A few guys in the office have tried getting closer to you but, even if you were open to dating, you can always tell it's nothing genuine from their approach. Their overly kind performance just makes it easier for you to decline. Once that's been done, their creepy narcissistic truths come to light — you're stoned with sexist slurs and disgusted looks. It'd hurt more if you were still the kind of person who craves approval from the wrong people.

There's a clear difference between them and Eren. So even though you rejected him, you still wish to be close as friends. He's a nice person to know.

“I did,” you tell Armin.

There's a shimmer in your eyes he manages to catch. Your features are soft and serene as you prop your chin on one hand while you mindlessly scroll through your emails with the other. Your lips are shaped into a discreet smile. Like a kid.

On his way back to his cubicle on the opposite end of the floor, Armin hums a cheerful tune to himself. There's a proud bounce in every step he takes. 

“Armin, check your phone. It was buzzing like crazy a few minutes ago,” a female coworker says in passing before grabbing a manila folder from her desk and rushing off to a meeting room across the hall.

“Thanks, Mina!” he calls after her.

Armin taps the missed call notification on his screen and brings the phone to his ear, grinning expectantly.

“You suck,” Eren's voice comes through the speaker after the first ring.

“Woah, woah, woah. What did I do?” Armin laughs as he steps out onto the empty smoker's balcony. 

There’s a groan on the other end.

“What do you think? I crashed and burned.”

Armin’s face contorts in confusion. From what he could gather on your end, the coffee shop incident went well. You were smiling, and although the things you said about Eren didn’t seem like it, you meant them fondly — Armin knew you well enough to confidently confirm that. At the very least, it meant you weren’t completely repulsed by his company. Even if there are different sides to every story, the discrepancies shouldn’t be anything major.

“What are you talking about?” Armin sighs.

Another groan on Eren’s end. If Armin wasn’t so patient, he would’ve hung up. 

He really is like a little kid, he thinks.

“I asked her out and she said no.”

Armin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. How could you keep that part out of the conversation you had earlier?

His shock doesn’t stem from your rejection, but rather because of Eren’s unexpected bravery. Although Eren was tough on the playground when they were kids, he grew up to be a fairly meek guy. When it comes to a girl he likes, he’s never been the bold type. Armin found it a bit strange at times. Eren’s had a track record of being popular among women, so his confidence should be over the roof and his personality, unbearable. But if he’s honest, it’s a good thing he doesn’t pay much attention to those things. It’s easier to root for a friend who only acts on more honest feelings. Even if that confidence didn’t stick with him.

“This is all your fault, Armin. So much for having my back.”

Even through the phone, Armin can tell his best friend is pouting. He has to hold back from rolling his eyes — it feels deceitful to do it behind his back when he has to play the role of a sympathetic friend right now. 

He rubs at his nape, unsure of whether he should feel proud of Eren for making a move or apologetic for not contemplating what seemed like a far-fetched risk. 

“To be fair, buddy, I didn’t send you over there to ask her out. I just thought you would like the chance to talk to her and get to know her a little better.”

“You couldn’t tell me that before? I don’t think I can ever face her again!” Eren half-yells.

Of course, Eren chooses to focus on the negatives. Armin cherry-picks the situations he meddles in. Even if it’ll serve as a confident boost to reveal to Eren what you said about him and how you said it, it could do him some good to bounce back on his own — and learn to pace himself. 

“First off, you have to relax an—”

“I can’t.” Eren’s voice is reduced to an embarrassed murmur. “She makes me nervous. I can’t help myself.”

There’s a long moment of silence. 

It’s been obvious from the start that Eren is attracted to you, but the near confession pulls at Armin’s heartstrings. It’s times like this when he’s reminded how cute Eren can be. 

“That bad, huh?” Armin smiles down at the people walking on the street.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with her or anything but…”

There's a long pause on Eren's side, only disturbed by some light rustling as he moves his phone around.

“... I like looking at her… and I like hearing her talk. Do you ever notice how soft her voice is? There’s just something about it… There’s this thing with her eyes, too, it’s crazy.”

“Well, as long as you’re not falling in love with her.”

Eren releases a third groan.

“Armin, please. I just want to get closer to her. And I don’t want to make myself look like an idiot each time we’re alone. I wish there was something I could do to make her like me.” 

“I don’t think she dislikes you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“She said she doesn’t see me that way. She just wants to be friends.”

Eren’s desolation is seeping through the phone now.

“Maybe I jumped the gun by asking her out so quickly.”

When Armin suggested Eren find you at the coffee shop during your lunch break, he figured it would help him get used to you. So that when the time came, he could ask you out without being more anxious than he needed to be. Had everything gone accordingly, Eren wouldn’t be moping now and wondering what would have happened — if anything was meant to happen — if he had just given you a little more time.

“Maybe,” Armin echoes.  

“Do you think I blew it?”

Armin shakes his head even though there’s no way for Eren to tell.

“I think you just got a little excited. You never know how she might feel later on.”

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I hardly think she’ll like me any better if I act like those guys who can’t take no for an answer. I should just try being her friend.”

Armin wants to beg him not to feel discouraged — that there’s a reason why he was so excited to introduce you to each other, and why he teased him at the housewarming party after he caught him blushing while doing the dishes with you.

It didn’t start that way but, the more he got to know you, the more he thought you and Eren would be good together. 

Soft-spoken girl who keeps to herself meets the most dependable and kind-hearted boy.  

Armin would be lying if he said he wasn’t swayed by the promised satisfaction of playing matchmaker in the fantasy playing out in his head. Not that he felt you absolutely needed to get together. But he could feel it in his gut. You and Eren could do each other a lot of good. He already knew Eren would feel a pull upon meeting you and, if there’s anything he gathered from both sides of the coffee shop incident, it’s that you like Eren enough to let him stick around. It was a good call on your end, though he may be biased.

If you happen to fall in love along the way, then so be it.

“You’re a good guy, Eren. Everything will turn out fine.”

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[twinksrepository]

September prompt 13

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Horror movies, mischief, following, implied fun times

Word count: Roughly 1.5K

A/N: I forgot today was Friday the 13th. So have a prompt based on that fun date.

Images belong to Solmare.

We have a problem

Huh? What are ya talkin about Asmo?

They’re going to the movies tonight!

Why do we care who’s going to the movies?

It’s just some boring horror movies that are re-runs anyway. I think some of them are from the human world

I’m losin interest

Mention anything scary and scaredy cat Mammon is out!

Lucifer’s stealing our Little Lamb! He’s taking her to watch the movies! We can’t let them go alone!

So we're in agreement to try and stop this date?

Several texts later and six of the brothers have their plan in place to follow the pair to the movies. Even if Mammon is against going because of the horror aspect and wants to stop the date at the first chance he gets.

Walking with your hands in your pockets you feel a bit on the shy side, glancing at Lucifer next to you. “Are you sure you wanna spend the next few hours with me? I mean I know you’re busy.” 

“As busy as I may get, I enjoy our time together. Even if it is watching what passes for horror movies in the human world.” It still makes your skin warm as he says it in a way that could be taken as arrogant, but you know he’s also teasing you. 

“Leave my hockey mask wearing murderer movies alone.” Shaking your head as the two of you approach the theater. “Still.” Biting your lip as you glance at the ground. “Are you sure I’m not taking you away from work?” 

Feeling his gloved hand wrap around your forearm to stop you from moving forward, an action that has you turning to face him. Swallowing at the intensity of his crimson gaze set on you. “If anything my work gets in the way of my time spent with you.” Loosening his grip so he can slide his hand down to your wrist and gently tug your hand from your pocket, interlacing his fingers with yours. “You’ve been rather patient lately with how often our dates get canceled.” Giving your fingers a squeeze, the most he’ll do in the semi public space outside the theater. “A bit of work can wait.” 

“Well, when you put it that way.” Feeling your face warm more but at least you’re smiling now instead of wearing that slight frown. “I’m looking forward to tonight.” Leaning into him so your chest is pressed against his arm holding your hand. “I’m excited to watch some of my favorite horror movies with you.” 

“It will be interesting to see what passes for human horror. I’m sure by now you’ve seen far more terrifying things in the Devildom.” With your hand in his, Lucifer starts to walk again heading towards the ticket booth. 

“I have, but maybe I’m also looking forward to watching them with you.” Hearing his chuckle is worth it as he releases your hand to pay for the double feature before the two of you head inside. “Are feeling any snacks?” 

“Perhaps a normal sized portion of popcorn.” It’s your turn to chuckle, aware how usually you end up with several of the largest buckets because Beel is with you. Well. Usually, it’s all the brothers since they seem to always want to spend time with you. Not that you’re complaining but some alone time with Lucifer out and about is always welcome. 

With your snacks acquired, you could have sworn you saw a familiar head of purple hair as you turned from the concession stand. Chalking it up to your imagination as you find a gloved hand reaching for yours once more before heading into the theater proper. 

“Oy! Ya almost got us caught Levi!” 

“I thought they already went into the theater!” 

“Popcorn.” 

“Beel, we don’t have time for snacks right now.” 

“I don’t wanna think about the things Lucifer will do to our sweet little lamb in the darkness of the theater.” Gasping as the thought hits Asmo out of the blue. “Maybe he’s the one that suggested the horror movies! An excuse to get to comfort our little lamb so the only thing she had was him!” 

“But.” Staring at the concession stand with a forlorn expression as Beel is dragged by Belphie after his brothers. “She likes horror movies.” Only to be ignored by the others as they try to slink into the theater without making the two of you aware of their presence. 

Hearing Lucifer sigh you tilt your head towards him. “What’s wrong?” 

“My brothers are here.” Lifting a hand to his forehead before letting out a nasally exhale. “So much for our date.” 

“Yea, they aren’t exactly good at sneaking around. I thought I saw Mammon when were on the street, and Levi after getting our popcorn.” Sliding your hand along the armrest until you can coil your palm around his elbow and tap his hand away from his head. “We can ignore them, it might make things easier. Or” Grinning as you feel a bit mischievous at the thought. “We give them a different kind of show?” 

In the low lighting, you watch the corner of his lip raises just as the screens begin to lighten while the rest of the area goes dark. “Do tell my devious little lamb.” Whispering your plan to him as the opening credits start gets you a grin as he agrees, the hardest part will be having to wait to put it into action. 

“They just seem to be watching the movie.” 

“Wait for it, Lucifer’s sneaky.” 

You grin, below their sight, his bare finger is tracing a random pattern against your palm. One that has you feeling the hammering of your heart in your chest that has nothing to do with the teenagers being killed on screen. Closing your hand around his long digit when you’re about two thirds of the way through the first movie. 

The signal he’s been waiting for. You pretend to flinch at a jump scare you were expecting, using it to discreetly lift his hand and slide it along your shoulder so his entire arm is resting against your back. Smirking as his hand tightens and you both hear an indignant squawk from the back of the theater before it’s quickly shushed. 

Neither of you makes another move for a while, not until the second movie starts and you adjust the way you are sitting, dropping your head onto his shoulder. Hearing silence from the back you speak just low enough for Lucifer’s keen ears. “No reaction, move up the plan.” 

“So demanding.” Whispered back in his deep tones and a pressure builds against the side of your head as his cheek presses against your temple. 

That gets another noise from the back and a mad scramble. 

“Should we look?” 

“No.” Chuckling now and you think you feel the brush of his lips against your skin. “It’s the sound of one of the ushers throwing at least one of them out.” 

“This is fun.” Sliding your hand across his thigh until you find his other hand to hold. “What do you think of the movies so far?” 

“They seem interesting, but I’m not sure it’s horror though the premise is interesting. A human that kills because he was allowed to drown.” Lifting your hand higher so he can kiss the back of your hand. “Is he like that because his mother was killed?” 

“I think revenge has something to do with it, but the main reason it’s considered horror is because you never know if the big bad evil is truly dead.” 

“Isn’t that a spoiler?” 

“Well, you asked.” Chuckling as you shift and snuggle a little closer to him. That gets a few more noises from the back. 

You both go back to watching the movie, enjoying the others presence and the shared body heat. As the final scene begins to play you shift once more. “Thanks for taking the time to come with me Lucifer. Even if this isn’t your sort of thing, and well things did go a little sideways for us.” 

He shifts as well, turning to face you instead of the screen. An action you can’t help but mirror, fascinated by the flickering lights across his handsome face. “My thing or not, I always enjoy my time spent with you.” Closing the distance to connect his lips to yours in a soft kiss that has you melting more against him. 

At least until you hear the sound of furniture being ripped from the floor. 

Later back at the House of Lamentation you shake your head, glad Satan and Belphie didn’t do too much damage. “It wouldn’t be a Friday the thirteenth if something didn’t go wrong. Even in the Devildom.” Hearing a knock at your door, you pause. Pushing it open and grinning like the fool in love you are. “Lucifer.” 

“Since our date was interrupted, I thought we could try again in my room.” Sweaty and naked under the covers several hours later you have the next movie in the series playing while listening to Lucifer’s steady heartbeat under your ear.

A little longer than I meant most of the prompts to be, but I scrapped one of the later days since I'm ahead to write this for Friday the 13th.

I hope the brother's dialogue made sense.

September 2024 Challenge Masterlist

[partofmycharm]

Hello!

It’s come to my attention that a “yautja guide” has been posted that has plagiarised my content, specifically the biology section. I would like to state that I did not given permission nor was I credited for anything even though some places are almost word for word of what I’ve written.

I know this is true because we were originally working together to create the guide when I decided to take my work and post it separately. I was told that they would use my content and rewrite it anyway. I requested them not to, and I thought that they had decided to omit my work considering my handbook was posted September 2023. This has proven to not be true, and my work has been posted somewhere else without credit.

The original biology handbook can be found with this link.

I intended to keep updating this information, however, due to life circumstances, it has not been a priority.

I’m not saying that no one should support this guide, nor am I discrediting the work that has been done beyond this. I just wanted to bring awareness that their biology section is not truly, 100% their own, and that the content is mostly mine.

[seungkw1]

the truth is out there — csc [TEASER]

♡ pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader ♡ theme: x-files au ♡ teaser wc: 1.5k ♡ warnings: none ♡ a/n: i started rewatching the x-files recently and the idea of this popped into my head so i simply had to write it!! also, y/ln refers to ‘your last name’ bc ya know. agent stuff.

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

When you joined the FBI you didn’t expect to end up working in the basement with a peculiar agent obsessed with all things extraterrestrial, but your new assignment is certainly taking you places you’ve never been before.

👽 full fic out now 👽

10 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

taptaptap

The light knocking on your desk pulls your focus away from the almost-completed report on the screen of your monitor. Most would call report writing the boring part of the job, and while you don’t necessarily disagree your high levels of attentiveness allow you to efficiently plug away at the otherwise mind-numbing task - so, you don’t mind it so much. That is, unless you are interrupted. 

“Hey Frenchie, the Bergmeister wants to see you.” 

Stifling a sigh, you look up at your bothersome coworker, Soonyoung, who is currently leaning over your desk while eating a sandwich. You grimace as you see the multitude of crumbs he’s managed to drop all over your paperwork in the five seconds he’s been standing there.

“What does he want?” you ask, not bothering to hide your exasperation.

“Didn’t say,” he mumbles through the large bite he just stuffed into his mouth.

The Bergmeister is the inane moniker Soonyoung and his pals call your supervisor, Assistant Director Bergman, behind his back. Frenchie is the irritating nickname nearly half the office now calls you, to your face, due to an unfortunate incident involving French dressing and the light gray pantsuit you chose to wear on your very first day on the job. You figured they’d get tired of it after a few days, but that was several weeks ago at this point - and much to your chagrin it seems to have stuck.

You give Soonyoung a very obviously fake grin to accompany your obviously sarcastic response. “Thank you, Agent Soonyoung - helpful as always.”

Soonyoung winks at you. “For you? Anytime.” You imagine grabbing his sandwich and bopping it on his head. 

The muted sounds of landlines ringing, keyboards clacking, and fax machines whirring drift past your ears as you walk steadily to Bergman’s office, maintaining a false air of confidence as to mask your anxiety. You’ve never been called into his office alone in the month and a half you’ve worked for the FBI - you quickly leaf through your mind for anything you’ve done that could be a potential mistake, but you come up empty handed. 

Bergman’s door is ajar - you rap your knuckle against it twice as you step inside. He peers up at you through thick, round lenses. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, come in, have a seat - and shut the door behind you.”

The heavy door closes with a deep thunk. As you lower yourself into the chair facing the desk you notice you’re joined by a man you’ve never seen before. He says nothing, but looms in the corner of the room, smoking a cigarette. 

“I’ll spare you the bullshit, y/ln,” Bergman starts. He looks more tired than usual. “Have you heard of the bureau’s division known as the ‘x-files’?”

You feel your normally stoic face contort into a confused expression. Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well, yes, sir… but isn’t that an unofficial department?”

He takes a sip from his styrofoam cup of coffee. “Correct - it’s not official, but I assure you it is very much a ‘functional’ operation.” He all but rolls his eyes at functional. 

You shoot a glance at the unintroduced man in the corner, but he remains expressionless. Bergman continues. 

“I’m sure by now you’re well aware of the reputation surrounding this subsect and its…proprietor, shall we say.”

You give a single nod. By your second day in the office you’d heard all about the x-files: cases allegedly involving aliens, the supernatural, and all sorts of nonsense you chalked up to pure baloney. You’d also learned of the lone employee who spearheads the whole operation from the bureau basement: Agent Choi. Nobody seems to take him, or it, seriously - so much so that you had begun to doubt if it was even a real department, and if Choi even existed. But apparently, the rumors were true. 

“I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind this decision,” Bergman tells you, “but all you need to know is that this assignment is significant in nature.”

Assignment?? Surely he doesn’t mean…

“I’m not sure I understand,” you ask hesitantly, “am I-”

“Being assigned to the x-files? Yes.”

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth to inquire what exactly it is you’ve done wrong, but clearly he anticipated this exact response. 

“This is not a punishment - though I certainly know why it might seem that way. But, it’s imperative that we receive reliable insight into the operations of this endeavor.”

You sit there in silence for a few seconds, dumbfounded. “So, you’re asking me to spy on Agent Choi.”

Bergman waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I know how this sounds. And essentially - yes, you will be our eyes and ears into this otherwise elusive project. Choi will know we’re sending you there to report back to us, but we don’t care. We are confident you will succeed in providing us with useful information.”

You wait for him to go on, to elaborate in any capacity, but apparently he’s finished. 

“Alright then, so when do I-”

“Immediately,” Bergman interjects. You purse your lips, trying to hide your displeasure. 

“Yes sir,” you reply as respectfully as you can muster. 

“Great. We’re counting on you, y/ln.” You glance once more at the smoking man in the corner, but he remains silent. 

“Dismissed.”

You walk out of Bergman’s office, still trying to process what the fuck just happened. You have the misfortune of passing Soonyoung’s desk on the way back to yours - he opens his mouth, clearly about to say something annoying again, but you briskly zoom past him before he can get a word out. You make a beeline for your desk, grabbing only your purse and coffee cup before heading toward the elevator. 

X-files, here I come, I fucking guess. 

—

Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust as you step into the dim basement. The elevator doesn’t come down to this level - you spent a good 10 minutes trying to locate the correct stairwell that would even bring you here. You make your way through a seemingly endless hallway of dusty filing cabinets, forgotten boxes, and broken computers before you find yourself in front of a nondescript door, not quite shut - the only thing signifying that you’ve arrived at your destination being the makeshift paper name plate with S. Choi written in ink. You raise your fist to knock but before you can do so you hear a voice call out from inside. 

“Come in.”

You push the door in, its hinges giving you a high-pitched squeeeeak as it opens. You make a mental note to find some WD-40. 

The sad excuse for an office is equally dim-lit as the hallway, but it’s a sight to behold: a desk at the center of the room - neat, but stacked with newspapers and case files, a small lamp lighting up the open file in the desk’s center; a bookshelf nearly reaching the ceiling, overflowing with books on seemingly every topic under the sun; archival boxes stacked as tall as the numerous filing cabinets, which are also topped with more archival boxes; a massive bulletin board filled with articles and photos; but most notably, pinned the wall, is a poster featuring a flying saucer, accompanied with the text I WANT TO BELIEVE.

In the bizarre room sits a dark-haired man typing at his computer, his back to you. 

“I presume you heard me coming,” you state. 

“From a mile away,” he replies, still typing. 

You wait for him to turn around, say hello, anything - but the clickclack of his keyboard continues.

Several seconds pass, but the man says nothing. Apparently, it’s on you to break the silence.

You sigh under your breath. “I’m Agent y/ln, I’ve been-”

“Assigned to the x-files to spy on me?” he interrupts, eyes still glued to the monitor. 

“They told me you’d know that,” you admit. 

The typing stops. Choi turns around, the heavy desk chair giving an unpleasant creak as he leans his elbow over its back, finally facing you. His appearance takes you by surprise: strong eyebrows, plump red lips, soft dark-brown eyes - you weren’t expecting to find such a handsome face attached to the man with a reputation for being a “crazy UFO freak”, in the words of your coworkers. He’s much younger than you anticipated too, around your age - and seemingly so… normal. His eyes do a quick scan of your figure - his expression barely changes, but a quick flash of interest tells you you’re not exactly what he expected either. It is extinguished almost immediately. 

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone is passive, but you detect a hint of somberness in his words. His warm eyes lock onto yours. 

“Name’s Choi, but I’m sure you already knew that. You can call me Seungcheol, though.” If it was anyone else, you’d think it was flirtatious in nature - but you can tell that was not his intention.

“Okay. Well, Choi, what exactly am I to do here?”

An eager grin lights up his face. He rises from his chair, grabs a case file off the pile on his desk, and opens it - throwing it back down onto the desk, facing you.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

—

a/n: thank you for reading this teaser!! i'm v excited for this one :) reblogs, comments, or any kind of feedback are all greatly appreciated &lt;3