#id rather look like her than my dad my moms beautiful

[adaine-party-wizard]

oh my grandma does NOT like my hair darker. i told her i dyed it a little darker cause i was bored but i didn’t wanna bleach my hair cause that’s high maintenance and how it got fucked up last time so i tried a cool tone brown and that i really like it. her response was “but you look so good blonde too”

important: my grandma is blonde and my mom has dark brown hair. i already look like my mom. i look extra like my mom now. this isn’t about my hair colour

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

~

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help. 

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms. 

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key. 

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle. 

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

~

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner. 

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries. 

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you. 

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

~

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks. 

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could. 

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

~

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up. 

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him. 

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly. 

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms. 

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book. 

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

~

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate. 

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag. 

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other. 

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized. 

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided. 

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

~

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room. 

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room. 

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

~

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school. 

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one. 

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door. 

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed. 

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. 

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side. 

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded. 

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit. 

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze. 

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss. 

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh. 

~

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him. 

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

~

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous

[zaikaglow]

Umbrageous

Pairing: Erwin x Reader (eventually Reader x Eren, Reader x Levi, Reader x Hange maybe more)

Summary: Your mom has married the ever handsome Erwin Smith but the two of you have started an illicit affair under her nose. As you become more jealous of being the other women you start to engage in office affairs to try and force Erwin's hand.

Content Warnings: Step dad! Erwin, alcoholism, size kink, cheating, pseudoincest

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You barely have time to roll down the window before your friend, the tall boy with the long dirty blond mullet makes it to the shiny black SUV you're sitting in the passenger seat of in the dorm parking lot. “Hey y/n are you coming to the party tonight” he says nervously pushing his long fingers through his hair “oh hi you must be y/n’s dad, its nice to meet you, ya’know I can really see the resemblance there” he flashes a smile. Erwin winces at the comparison but it goes unnoticed by Jean who’s had his eyes on you the whole time. “Actually, Er-winny is my step dad, no relation” you say “I’ll be there tonight don’t wait up for me”. Jean drums his hands on the open windows “okay cool cool cool uh see you there”. As he starts to walk away you roll back up the window and you go back to looking at your phone with a bored expression, Erwin clenches the steering wheel and without looking at you says “who’s that boy”. Not looking up from your phone you reply “that's my friend Jean”. “Are you fucking that friend” Erwin grunts, “what do you care its not like youre not fucking someone else” you say never looking up from your phone keeping that bored expression that you know ticks Erwin off. Erwin moves his hands from the steering wheel and places his forehead into his palms “how many times do we need to go over this y/n, if I divorce her and the court finds out about this'' he removes one of his hands from his forehead and moves his two fingers in a circle “I’d be ruined they wouldn't care you were over 18 when we met. They’d label me a pervert I’d lose everything, I could go to jail” he places his hands back on the steering wheel and turns his blue eyes towards you “please at least give me till after you graduate. Things would look less bad after that, just play along a little longer y/n please”. You finally glance up at him from your phone, the desperation in his voice softening your resolve to ignore him “fine but only because I hate that bitch, and I guess it's fun sneaking around, trying not to get caught” your eyes go back to you phone in your lap.

You had always had a rocky relationship with your mother, always choosing flings with random men and booze over you. You swear you had been raised more by a television than you ever had her, you had been off to our first year at university when you had only gotten a text from her announcing that she was getting married. Honestly you couldn’t have cared less expecting it to be another fling with some guy and they’d be divorced in under 2 years just like the last 3 guys. But when you met this new guy things were different. Erwin Smith was tall, muscular, and a beautiful example of a man. At first when you and your mom had moved in things were awkward to say the least, you kept your distance from the man feeling guilty with how much you coveted your mothers new husband avoiding him through the obnoxiously large house. Until one day in the kitchen when two large hands placed themselves besides you at the counter. He had lowered his head to your ear, the stubble of his jaw brushing against your neck whispering in a hushed tone “you know it's rather rude to go and ignore the man whose house you're living in”. You had turned around to face him and something wicked had come over you, maybe it was the heat growing between your thighs that had made you as so bold as to tilt your chin down and look up behind your lashes and say “I’m sorry daddy I guess I’ve been a rather bad girl”. That was the day he had taken you into his study, sat you on his desk and stripped you bare, it would also be the first time you would choke attempting to fit his large cock down your throat. Thus began your affair with your mothers husband, of sneaking around the house when she wasn't home, once even having sex in their bed while your mother was passed out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine, now you sat in his car after he drove you back to campus after renting a hotel last night for the two of you to share. “You're so busy with work darling and I know y/n is having such a hard time at school right now and you're so worried about her, it's such a far drive I'll spend the night taking her for breakfast. I’m sure then she'll be fine until winter break. Yes I’ll let her know you miss her”. Such a simple lie that made him look like the doating step father when in reality you had spent last night with your hand fisted in his hair trying your best to fit his massive cock into your tight little cunt.

Erwin takes his wallet out of his jacket pocket pulling out a black card and holding it out to you between his pointer and middle fingers. “How‘s about instead of that party you just go ahead and treat yourself to some new clothes”? Your elbow is against the window propping your head up with your right hand “Well department stores close waay before the times that parties start so I guess it's a no brainer”. Erwin signs “just take it” you reach out and take the card sliding it next to your student ID card in the pocket on the back of your phone. “You're coming to get me for winter break in a few weeks right” Erwins hand moves to the back of your neck “Of course princess, your mom won't be leaving on any work trips during break so you can come to the office with me, how does that sound”? His hand now rubbing small circles on the back of your neck “it would probably be a bad idea for me to kiss you here, don't exactly need another one of your little friends walking by to see”. Your hand pulls the door handle as you say “Okay bye daddy, Ill see you in a few weeks” Erwin chuckles and shakes his head as he places both hands back on the steering wheel “you know I really hate when you call me that princess”

@alert-arlert​

[namjoonchronicles]

tumble | yg

↳ genre fluff, established relationship, slight smut at the end

↳ words 5k ↳ summary preparing for close friend’s wedding gifts is a given for young married couple. an unexpected encounter with an old flame led to an unwanted rekindled feelings but karma reminds you who your heart truly belongs to, because it’s all about the actions, not words.  ↳ notes this i wrote during first week of university of my final year, trying to run away from responsibility. midway, my friend @hellotherehoneybee​ was having a difficult week at hers too, so i wrote this extra fluff for her, i hope she noticed. thank you for working so hard! (i wish someone would comment on the work i put on the banners of each of my stories, but nevermind) ↳ warning attempts of infidelity (not by you) ↳ song ‘happiness is a butterfly’ lana del rey

Nimble fingers punched the numbers on the passcode pad, just outside the door. Crumpled papers on the floor. Supreme skateboards stacked on the wall. Yoongi walked in, greeted by a line of guitars at the corner of his studio. His attention was on the phone, preferring to text over calling. His face was shone by the light from it. His feet kicked away the crumpled papers on the floor to get to his computer. There’s a frame of baby breath on his table next to his stationery. A picture of you next to his desktop. Bothered by the melody he endlessly replayed in his head, he plans to record the notes in digital form. He hasn’t decided which work of his he wanted them in, but any of it would be just fine. Today, he is expecting a guest that will contribute to the guide. Jimin springs in first, as usual.

“Why do you lock the door knowing that I’m coming?!” Jimin groaned outside the door. He is leaning against the frames, knocking repeatedly.

This is exactly why he had those locks put up. Several young producers lined up. Yoongi is teaching them how to make music. With a wry look and dry greetings, Yoongi invited them in and started the meeting. The project is rather simple. Yoongi has provided a raw sample to the aspiring producers who will try to make lyrics. These melodies are then sung by Jimin. Yoongi whipped out his sample from his computer and he will give exactly 30 minute for the producers to think of ways to make the music a song. The young producers wrote down notes given by Yoongi. They write and they erase. They wrote and erased. Write. Scratch. Write. Scratch.

Noticing this, Yoongi gave a soft smile. It reminded him of himself when he was just starting. The uncertainty, the overwhelming feeling of not knowing if the lyrics are good enough, or just plain dumb. As an underground rapper with social anxiety, he was afraid to be ridiculed the most, and he is pretty sure that these producers have the same fear. What he is about to say is nothing new. In fact, he advises it frequently in his lectures. Clearing his throat and with the aura of a seasoned lyricist, he said,

“Go with your gut feelings. Understand the feel of the sample and what you could derive from it. Let your mind run wild. First rule of writing music is that there are no rules.”

He emphasizes on creativity. Jimin was trying to write the lyrics too. He wanted to learn to write faster. “Jimin, your problem is that you’re a perfectionist…” Yoongi spat, “Your mind goes haywire at the possibility of writing everything, you have no clear direction. That’s why it’s so hard. You select a theme, and you stay on it…”

“But Namjoon…” Jimin began.

“Namjoon is a genius. His diction is out of this world, and he has been writing lyrics for years. Don’t compare yourself to him or rather, learn with him rather than coming to me, uninvited,” Yoongi swivels in his chair as the three other producers hang their head low.

Jimin puckered his lips and muttered curses under his breath.

Yoongi reaches for the journal he kept by the book rack. When he opened them, a warranty card fell out. He crouches down to get them. It was from the phone you bought. He caught you buying a phone on an online store when he returns to the studio, earnestly picking a good one. You even asked him about these specs and technology terms you don’t know about. Some of it was written down as notes in this journal along with his own scribbles of song lyrics. You wanted to buy a phone for your mom and pretend that it was from your dad. Your mom always complains that your dad never gave her gifts and is reluctant to spend money on her. Yoongi didn’t need the extra information but you gave it to him anyway. Yoongi learnt from you that your mother had been using the same phone for a decade, and nothing can be updated anymore. And because your father isn’t doing anything about it but think about himself, you decide to buy your mom a good new phone. Saving your father’s face by pretending it was him who bought it.

You didn’t know this but, Yoongi fell in love with you once more.

That phone comes with a warranty card that is now made its home in his old journal. You know he wouldn’t throw any of his journals away.

Glancing at the digital clock on his shelf, he wondered, just how his favorite person in the world is doing…

Yoongi entertained questions from his students. Explaining the build up, the body, climax and ending. Sharing what is fun and what is not, in writing music. What’s cliché and what’s attention grabbing. But his explanation was cut halfway when his phone vibrated, and swiped his thumb over the caller ID and answered with a small, “Hello?”

Jimin and the students studied his face. At first, Yoongi seemed pretty laxed, and then he stood up, abruptly. Instantly and visibly tensed.

“Where are you?” Pause, “Okay, stay right there, I’ll be right over…” He grabs his coat from the hanger and his tongue glides along his drying lips upon ending the seemingly urgent call. He appears distressed but it is masked by his calm exterior.

“Is something the matter, hyung?” Jimin asked. “I have to leave, I am sorry because I  have to cut the classes short. Make sure you email me the verses by noon tomorrow. I will deduct marks for late submissions…” Yoongi said in one breath and yanked the door open, had them leave the studio at once and locked them.

Namjoon was standing outside the hall, watching Yoongi as he trudges through. The older one was putting on his jacket albeit roughly and as quickly as he could. Namjoon couldn’t even get a proper greeting in return. It seems Yoongi is troubled by something.

Troubled by something is indeed accurate.

A few hours ago.

You thought you made a great choice. It’s what you wanted when it was your wedding, and you’re sure that Jungkook would like it too. Knowing just how obsessed he is with having everything the same color code, the sapphire blue kohiki plates would have fit in right into his kitchen like it’s one of the built-in. Yoongi always thought that Jungkook’s gifts are the hardest to choose because he is picky, but also not very picky. He has specified interest but also not very specified. You know more than anything that Jungkook is neither of those things. Ever since you knew the boy, he had always been grateful for any gifts he was given. It didn’t matter how expensive or how rare, it’s the thought that counts. Many years ago, Jungkook came to your house, when you and Yoongi were still dating, and he frequently used the kohiki bowls you have. He said he liked it. That's how you came to decide that his wedding gift would be just that. For his wife, you don’t really know her well, but you had Yoongi book a Swarovski perfume after recognizing that she frequently carries the fun sized bottle around when she’s out.

“Would you like to also see the latest collection of our Kohiki plates, Mdm. Min?” the salesperson politely addresses you and you thought that simply looking wouldn’t hurt. You after all had time to kill today.

Your hands glide over the impressive finishing of the white kohiki plates, truly in awe of the time and the craftsmanship involved in making this. They came in many sizes and as you narrowed down to the end of the gallery, you recognized a collection so similar with the one at home. You turned to the salesperson with a beaming smile, almost child-like. The man bowed at you and explained to you how this particular collection was especially sought after and high in demand, they decided to keep it in collection. Yoongi’s personal family collection had been imitated countless times in the past centuries, they eventually trademarked the design to be named, Empire Min’s timeless collection. It had served countless royalties in the whole world and the tableware was of grand prestige. Sometimes, it dawns over you that you married quite an incredible man with a lineage of such esteem, comparable to those of aristocracy.

Min Yoongi’s family may have stranded far from the royals now, but the traces are there. His delectable face, porcelain skin and honey-succulent voice, are as good as a blue bloods’. His family registrar was kept in the national museum and you had a glimpse of it during Chuseok every year, where they pay homage to his ancestors and it’s quite unbelievable that something from centuries ago was still available today. You didn’t ask a lot about how his family branched off the King, but you do know that the surname Min belonged to four most important Queens in the Joseon dynasty. Is that where his beauty originates from?

You smiled to yourself as you saw his signature underneath the gallery as the last few descendants of the Queen.

“The gifts are wrapped up, we will have it shipped personally to Mr. Jeon Jungkook as per addressed…” the salesman ensured you with an assuring voice.

Kohiki plates aren’t cheap to say the least. But Min Yoongi doesn’t like you worrying about it. Much less, he’d rather have you spend his hard-earned money because he doesn’t always know what you like. One last thing, a visit to the gallery with your trustee art enthusiast, Kim Namjoon.

He stride over as he ended the call. He looks everly dashing in those turtlenecks and grey blazer. His pectorals and buff body looks great in it. He wore those glasses that made him look like he was a postdoctoral student. Only he isn’t. He shoves his phone into his breast-pocket and his face shifted from a serious one to a cheeky expression. He presented his arm for you to take and embraced in a small talk with you.

“You just ended your lecture?” you asked him. “It took a little longer than planned, sorry about that…” he chuckles, handsomely.

“This gallery better be lit…” “You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

Namjoon guides you into an exhibition, guarded by several men in black suits and ear-pieces. The whole way there, you realized that there was no one around. It is only given, because Namjoon owns it. It seems he had it shut down for the day, because the most important painting is arriving from Versailles, and he wants nobody to have a look on it. Except you, of course. And it’s easier to do painting shopping without people hustling in and out trying to catch a glimpse of the ‘Kim Namjoon’. Namjoon talked to you about the randomness of things as he introduces to you his favorite works. He was talking about his sudden trip to Paris and how he regrets it, then talking about a wrong purchase and the books he is currently reading. All in a quiet voice, the kind you give to your lovers.

But you know that’s just Namjoon being flirtatious like it’s his second name.

Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. This section of the gallery feels like it’s cut off from the rest. It has been endless modern art since the entrance until a few paintings back. This one felt like it was Rome or the Renaissance. The sculptures and dramatic scenes, the skin tones and flesh, it was a whole other world. You turned to Namjoon, questioning him with your eyes. You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like this type of art.

“I had a change of heart… while trying to understand yours,” he confessed. And it sounded strange because he let those words glide out as if he had no control over it.   He stepped back, pressed his lips together for saying more than he thought necessary, dropped his shoulder and turned to the art he loved.

“I understand it now,” he added, speaking to the frames, “Why do you like them so much… There’s so many stories to tell from each of these characters…”

You remember explaining to him about eyes in realistic paintings. How you wonder what they’ve seen, and what they have experienced. These endless thoughts usually trouble Namjoon, up to when he was about to sleep. You look beyond the surface of this painting and put feelings in them. That’s when he realized that emotions can be painted. Namjoon owed it to you, to having understood himself. And as he explained just how your art classes changed his perspective in life, he introduced to you the painting he thinks fit Jungkook the most. When you saw this painting unveiled before your eyes, you couldn’t agree more. It would look best in his spacious living room. Namjoon watched you as you signed the insurance paper to deliver the artwork. Watching you from afar like this felt foreign. With the history you both had, who would have thought that he would spend his life dreading the future he could have had with you.

It is all too late now.

The ring around your finger isn’t his. Maybe it’s for the better. He couldn’t have cared for you better than Yoongi does.

The most difficult thing about this relationship is, getting stuck between caring too much, and not caring at all.

“So you’ll deliver them to Jungkook’s house soon?” your eyes darted up at him as he approached the table.

“Leave it to me…” he said with a broad smile and dire confidence from a seasoned seller. A billion dollar man like him, could get away with anything with that smile.

Namjoon hooks his finger around the flaps of the door handle of your car and watches you climb in. Winding the window down, he rests his elbows and fixes his eyes on you, a coy smile on his pretty lips. You darted at him a look. A look you’d give to your malice doing little brother to warn him.

“Go on dates, go meet people, Namjoon… How long will you live this way?” “How would you know I’m not meeting people?” “You stacked books in my online bookstore, and still use my Netflix account to watch movies…” “Books and movies are better companions.”

You looked at him through your lashes and in those particular moments of silence, glances were exchanged and feeling somehow attempted to rekindle, however, before it could, you looked away.

“I’m going to Yoongi’s office, I’ll tell him you said hi…” “But I didn’t…” “Goodbye, Namjoon.”

The white Mazda CX-3 glides away, seamlessly. Stopped at the junction, and entered the main road. All these while, Namjoon kept watching. And it seems like, all his life, he had been watching. Because that was all what he was courageous enough to do.

“‘She loved him too early, and he loved her too late…” Namjoon muttered to himself.

At the junctions, your car pulls to a stop as the traffic light turns red. The building you were in were kilometers away but the scent of Namjoon’s body lotion hasn’t left. You always refrain from reading too much anything Namjoon does because you’re not who you were anymore. Your loyalty is with Min Yoongi now and it should be. Rather than feeling like you used to feel for Namjoon, it actually narrows more to pity. Namjoon had it all. He had your endless support, you had been his emotional anchor, and he had taken you for granted for many years. Eventually, you pick up your worth and search within yourself what you’ve given him. What you found out when you peel yourself away from everything that is Namjoon, is the fact that he had given you nothing but his concerns. There was no give and take. All he does is take.

Finding yourself, led you to finding Yoongi.

Yoongi was nothing easy to have. So it daunts you that difficult men might have been your type. Yoongi is rash and dry on his best day and even more harsh and unapologetic than anyone you have ever met. It came to a point where you exploded, thinking that even as life swallowed you whole and his arms was the only thing that could save you, you’d rather be swallowed whole. When Yoongi heard such a damning insult to his being, he got even. As harsh as Yoongi appears to be, he was a softie right under the flesh. Under his blank expression and inattentive eyes, he is all soul and bones. The more you know him, the more you realize that you both are strikingly alike. From the way you solve problems to the way he speaks, you both are a lot more common than you are different.

He is so intelligent and witty and blunt. You can ask him about literally anything and he always has an opinion about it. Because of his wide arrays of interest, you can never run out of topics to talk about. He is a great fun, and always adventurous although he prefers to whine about it at first. He said he hates camping but when you forced him to come with you, he looked like he has been camping his whole life. Lit the bonfire within seconds, adapted the forest life and just casually calm. The kind of calmness you hadn’t felt in awhile, you felt in Yoongi’s presence. Camping nights are always so romantic with him playing the guitars and you requesting songs you know he doesn’t know. There will be crinkles around his eyes before he looks down, embarrassed for not knowing that song. Once you give him a listen, he could play by ear.

He is adorable when he is confused or terribly tired. One night, he asked if you would come over his studio’s rooftop to spend time together. He spoke two sentences and fell asleep while you were talking. He unknowingly leaned his head on your shoulder as he dozes off. You brushed his hair away and thumbed his cheeks. His lips pouting cutely as he slept. You sat awfully still for hours, hours that he is still paying off with himself. To this day. It is astonishing how he could look like the cutest little kitty and also looked like he could swallow you whole.

His dangly multi earrings, gorgeous eyes and veiny arms, his multifaceted talents are as endless as his sweet words. Yoongi could make you feel heard without you saying a word.

The pedal planted to the ground, screeching tires and loud crashes. The windows on the driver side shattered and the airbag deployed. Loud ringing in your head as you try to gather your thoughts. What’s happened? You drove ahead a little more, because if you didn’t the road would have been congested. You pressed the hazard light on and parked on the side of the road to avoid other cars.

Hooking your fingers around the car handle, the door was pushed open. The car that collided with you stopped behind you. Your Mazda could continue driving but you don’t want to risk it because the shell of the tire was a little dented. The sharp ends were grazing your tire if you continued. The driver whose car you collided with was eerily quiet but he kept staring at an interval. You gathered your purse and fished for your phone.

“Please don’t get mad…” you huffed, “I got into an accident…” The back of your wrist on your forehead as you looked around in worry.

“I am at a round-a-about pass on Samsung Building 77 street… I’ll send the location,” you breathed, oddly a little calmer than he expected you to be. It all happens too quickly. You weren’t sure who was in the wrong. The last thing you remember was using the signal stick to turn to the right and the car on the right wanted to head to the left, surreptitiously ignoring the signal you gave. It seemed ages for Yoongi to get there, but when he did, he parked a little further and got off the car, jogging to where you are. Your eyes stung and got watery as he came to get you. You were so grateful that he wasn’t angry and in fact, just wanted to know where you were so he could be where you are. He held onto your hand as he went to inspect the car and its damages.

“What are you going to do with my headlight?” the owner of the other car came over, uninvited. Yoongi instinctively pulls you behind him at the forwardness of this man.

“Take it easy, let’s check the dashcam to see who was actually in the wrong, let’s take this to the police station…”

“What police station, it is more than obvious that she was driving recklessly and not paying attention!” The man tried to go over Yoongi to get to you but Yoongi held his palm outward at this rude man.

“Like I said, we will take this to the police station and they’ll decide who is in the wrong and needs to pay for the damages…” Yoongi once again marched against this man and stared dead into his eyes while dialing on his phone. He placed his phone on his ear and continued to warn the man with his body language.

“The insurance company? Yes, I have a car you need to tow. We’re along Samsung 77th Street by the roundabout, how long will you take to get here? 10 minutes, okay…” Yoongi spoke on the phone. You held onto Yoongi’s arm tighter. One hand in his tight grip, the other clawing on his sleeves, slightly below his elbow. Your eyes unfocused. You were biting your lips. Chewing on them.

Yoongi climbed into his car after you. Pressed the car engine on and thumbed your knee. You weren’t as calm now.

“What if it is actually my fault? What if I was the one driving foolishly…?” You stuttered.

“We will let the police decide okay? We hadn’t even seen the footage from the dash cam yet, he could just be manipulating you to think that you were in the wrong, just by the look on his face I know he’s the type to drive like a drunkard and blame people for his mistakes…” Yoongi’s large palm covered your entire knee.

“You want jellies?” he tries to console you. “What about the car?” you looked over the car seat to the view of your stranded Mazda.

“The insurance company will have it towed, don’t worry… It’ll be okay,” he smiles and chuckles lightly, “This isn’t a big deal, accidents happen all the time, honey.”

The car pulled to a stop at the red traffic light, and he extended his arm to gather your hand to kiss your knuckles. You looked at him with watery eyes, full of guilt and despair and you said to him in broken voice,

“I’m so s-sorry… I’ve troubled you,” you bursted into tears, “I just went out to get gifts for Jungkook’s wedding and it all happened so fast…” Yoongi gathered your head in one hand, pulling your face into his nape. He plants kisses on your head and fondly smiles against your hair. . . . .

The police decided to hold the man accountable. He was clearly changing lanes without signals, and he was also ignoring your obvious signals. Not only was he driving past the speed limit at a roundabout in broad daylight, he had the audacity to shift the blames towards you. The dash cam was proof that he was a reckless driver so he had his driving license suspended and he had to pay for damages you faced. Yoongi laced his fingers into the gaps of yours as he turned around from the man. Yoongi smiled smugly and took you out of the police station. With the reports done and you were acquitted from any traffic misconduct, the car insurance company will cater to all the repairing. Yoongi will have to drive you everywhere for now but it wasn’t something he minds doing.

You let go of his hand and proceed to walk to the car, hugging yourself while he watches you from behind. Your steps weren’t hurried, rather they were a bit slow but for some reason you thought it was far better to not hold him. In your head, you are still scolding yourself and knowing you as far as he did, he understood it. He climbs into the car, avoiding eye contact as his index finger sunk into the engine button. You were dazed, looking out the window at everything on the outside. Noticing this, Yoongi stops by your favorite mall. He said he wanted to get some tools and appliances for the sink at home. Every three months, Yoongi would have the sink maintained by pouring cleaning liquid and have it stay there overnight so it won’t clog anytime soon. Usually, when this happens, he would buy dinners outside and take you out for breakfast the next morning.

Both of you once experienced the sink clogging before, and the whole kitchen was flooded with foul-smelling liquid. To make matters worse, Yoongi was away for business in Tokyo, and you had to handle them alone. Some plumbers walked in to help, and even if Yoongi was grateful for their help, he would rather his house be under his maintenance. That's why he keeps a schedule for every heavy duty appliance in the house. This is to avoid unnecessary over spending and inviting unnecessary people inside the house. He has a yearly check for the washing machine, the refrigerator, the electric stove, the air-conditioners and the oven. He is always making sure that everything is safe for you to use.

With the car parked so swiftly, Yoongi joins you in the mall's lobby. There aren’t many people around since it’s weekdays. And as if you remembered that you needed a conversation, you jerked your head up and to the side, at your husband.

“Oh right! You have a class today?” “Sent them home early with an assignment to mark later…”

He pauses, momentarily. Lifting his left wrist for the time, he yanked his sleeve up. He then, out of a sudden let out a sigh,

“Should we have dinner here or…” his voice drawls, “I plan to start on the sink right away when we get home…” “That sounds great, I don’t feel like cooking…”

You lifted your eyes at the elevator door opening before you. Yoongi lets you step in first. You move to the back of the elevator at the corner, by habit and Yoongi joins you. He could see from your face that the accident hadn’t left your mind. So when the elevator arrived at the second floor, instead of the fourth where the hardware stores were, he took your hand and walked out. You didn’t question him right away but you thought it was odd.

“Ice-cream…” he beamed at you.

He ordered your favorite. Waffles, drizzled with chocolate syrup and some fruits. Then you talked about Jungkook’s wedding gifts and plans on that day. He asked you about the venues since you were the one that booked them. You excitedly say that it was in great shape. The venue was a garden, it has this magnificent backdrop of a man-made lake and Jungkook’s fiancé loved the idea of exchanging vows at the view. However, your smile swept away when you spoke about the wedding dress.

“Why?” Yoongi spoke softly. “Because she seemed conflicted to follow what her friends’ recommended instead of what she truly wanted. She texted me yesterday, saying that she hated her wedding dress,” your shoulders dropped. “Why did she hate them?” “Her friends basically forced her to get this dress from a designer they know. From what I heard he was pretty famous, but she originally wanted her old classmate to make one for her. So now she regrets it, because the dress was not her style,” you sighed yet again.

Yoongi looked at you through his bangs and a small smile formed in the corner of his lips. Always taking in other peoples’ problems as your own, always thinking of others and always solving other people’s problems like your own. Yoongi could feel how devastated you were to hear that story first hand, and he is certain, as you were scooping those waffles into your mouth, you are thinking of ways to fix it. Typical. When you make a folded taco, you would take the ugliest one so he could have the prettier sets. When you buy medical supplies, you always make two purchases, one for him. The bigger portion of cake is for him, the larger piece, the better half. Even when you ate something you think is tasty, you would buy one for him at home.

In one ways or another, you are constantly thinking of him. It gives him butterflies. How lucky was he to be able to find you. How can someone look past such a genuinely beautiful person. Inside and out. Whose love is this true and this devoted. Only a dire fool, that is.

From the ways you love him, he is most certain that you haven't changed any part of you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “I bought you something… I saw this at the bookstore, it's a moon and star water globe and I thought it would look good on your studio desk…” You rummaged your bag for the item while your husband sat there, staring at you with a fond smile. Literally, a woman’s bag is a wonder. There’s all kinds of things in there. Receipts from 5 years ago, set of cutleries for travelling, hand sanitizer, tissues, a notepad, a glue gun and candies. Coins.

He picks the old receipts up between his index finger and middle finger.

“Why do you keep these things?” he chuckles. You looked over at him and snatched them.

“Are you worried that a cop may come and ask you, where were you, four years ago at 2:53 pm so you can whip out that receipt from your back and be like, ‘I was at the Hunts Restaurant sir, I had a bento and tea. I have receipts to prove it?’ For your alibi?”

“I might…” you dashed. Half of your head disappeared into the bag, still looking for the globe.

Yoongi picks up Band-Aids, some unopened menstrual pads and coupons from your favorite pizza place that expired four months ago.

“Honestly…” he comments.

“Aha!” You exclaimed, “The globe…”

The globe, like its name, has moon and stars on it. His nimble fingers examined it, closely. You were so expectant of what he’ll say.

“It’s pretty…” he said. “Isn’t it…” you gushed.

You return them into your bag because Yoongi don’t have one. Once again, you reminded him to put them on his table later on. He assures you he will, he even kept it in the car’s dashboard, so that when he returns to the office, he’ll make sure to take it with him. On the ride back home, you fell asleep. He made sure that he went over the bumps on the road gently, making his turns like a grandma on the wheel. He parked the car and waited. Fishing out his phone and he took pictures of you sleeping. He scrolls down messages from work, check on items he bought online, read a few emails...

Then you inhaled sharply, awake. Stretching your fingers.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you mewled sleepily. “Based on experience, you take 10-15 minutes to wake up when the car stops... “ he nonchalantly passed. You smiled at his bluntness. He endured 10-15 minutes of silence with his sleeping wife despite the turmoil he went through today. You couldn’t have married a better man. Even if there was a better man out there, if it isn’t Yoongi, you don’t want him.

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said he wants to work on the sink immediately. You held the torch while he examined the sink. He wants to change the tap and clean the drainage hole. While he was struggling under the counter, you can’t help thinking that you were so fortunate. From how he handles things, to how he comforted you in times of need, to how he is made of husband material, you are certain, that God made this one, especially for you.

When he rolled out from underneath the sink, he caught you daydreaming. And he threw a sheepish smile at you. His thin white shirt is now drenched with spots of sweats on his chest and along his back. And he snarkily say,

“Wanna shower?”

You bit your lips at his remarks, playing coy at his forwardness. When in all honesty, you were down for it. And all the showers you will have in the future. . . .

Deep in you, knees dug into the mattress, between your thighs. His veiny arms gripping hard on the bed sheet. The sounds of heavy paintings, squelching cascaded in the room. He hovers sloppy kisses along your jaws like he was possessed and he said in his husky voice,

“That guy Namjoon… don’t feel right…” “I’ve been meaning to…” hisses in the delectable pain, “Talk about him…”

You propped your elbows up, leaning against it, brushing sweaty skin with Yoongi, you spoke is rasps,

“He said some strange things, so I am going to… delete him.”

Yoongi bit his smile, his porcelain skin glistening with the sweat that drenched him. His hand glides down your torso, with touches so hungry and starved kisses. He drew out a long deep moan, dove his face into your neck, chanted your name like a mantra--like a man standing on the verge of sanity, licking on the taste of infinity. .

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Copyright © February 8th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs makes me happy!

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [2.1]

Masterlist

A/N: OH MY GOD I LIVE!!!! Also, spoiler ahead for The Bastards graphic novel; not so much plot-wise but there are a few lines from the book. Indented paragraph is credited to Emerson Barrett and XoBillie.

“I have loved you from the moment you first smiled at me,

Giddy, mischievous, not ever looking for trouble yet somehow

Trouble has a way of always finding you.”

Remington stared wistfully at the view from Eva’s balcony, knowing how self-conscious she was when he watched her as she read a piece. In his lap sat Pluto, satisfied to have his ears stroked while he took his afternoon nap. 

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow Remington found he was always transported to a new dimension when he heard Eva’s poetry. It was so soft and delicate, he could appreciate it the same way one does the petals of the first flowers of spring. Everything about her writing was so soothing, now a familiar notion that he never wanted to let go of.

“You’ve ignited a fire in my belly with embers sparking and popping

Under the intense pressure of your dark eyes 

And the bubbling pearls of your laugh.

I loved you when I first ran into your open arms and marvelled

“My God, you feel just like home”

And with a few simple touches the open sores on my skin 

Recede and heal, and their pain is a faint memory in comparison

To the electricity your fingertips carry. 

I loved you when we were flying over the streets,

Vibrant yellow, orange and purple coating my eyes and

Painting you into Monet’s Twilight, Venice.

You’re a renaissance masterpiece that has been imprinted

Into the soft folds of my brain...”

Eva set her book down having finished the incomplete piece, watching her boyfriend with a dazed smile on his face as the echo of her prose sunk in. She simpered to herself with giddy.

“You know, I always have mixed feelings about reading you my poetry,” she said.

“Why’s that?” Remington asked, “It’s very good,”

“I know that. And you know that,” she smirked, “And I know that you know that I’m low-key inflating your ego with this shit,” 

Remington chuckled, reaching out across the small table to take her smaller hand in his, “Would it put you at ease if I told you my ego is too far gone?”

Eva rolled her eyes and snapped her notebook shut, “Maybe I should start writing poems about the things you do I find annoying?”

“You say that like it’s bad,” Remington shrugged, giddy when she shook her head in dismay at his teasing. 

Pluto continued to lie motionless in Remington’s lap, assuming the sphinx position as he had his ears rubbed. However, the tabby’s eyes sprung open when a guttural vibration shook through the small wooden table, disturbing the peaceful afternoon. 

Eva glanced at the familiar glare of ‘Blocked Caller ID’ appearing, refraining from showing little disdain as she declined the call. Remington however was curious; for the past few months he’d seen Eva decline calls like that over and over again. The first few times he figured it was telemarketers, or scam calls. However, he noticed how they came frequently in the weeks; more prominent on Wednesdays and Thursdays. 

“Who is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “It’s blocked for a reason,”

“But if you blocked the caller... then you have to know who it is so you could block them,” he reasoned, “Right?”

Eva responded in silence, taking her phone and quickly tucking it beneath her thigh. Remington stared at her pointedly. 

“Eva, you get these calls nearly every day,” he said, “If it’s something bad... you know you can trust me with anything,”

“I know...” Eva nodded slowly, exhaling, “It’s my mom,”

Eva had been exceptionally non-forth coming when it came to her life back in Seattle, only remembering hearing about her friends and family once or twice. He respected her privacy, though he couldn’t help but be a tad curious. She fit the overall profile as someone who was running away from her problems.

“You blocked your mom?” he asked, somewhat in disbelief though from what he understood of their relationship he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Eva nodded, “Yep. Either she can’t take a hint or she’s way more stubborn than I am,”

Remington looked across the street to his own house, the gentle breeze billowing through the sheer curtain in the living room he remembered his mom helping him and Emerson pick out. 

“Why don’t you speak to her?”

“Why don’t you speak to your dad?”

“I told you already,” 

Pluto then leapt off of Remington’s lap and landed on the table, crossing over to his owner and staring at her with his big, soulful eyes. Eva smiled and gently scratched his ears.

“She showed up to my graduation, which would have been fine... but she showed up with her new husband and a kid,” she admitted.

Remington raised his eyebrows, “Her own kid?”

“Yeah. She got married to her co-pilot and they have a ten-year-old son together. She abandoned our family and started a new one,” Eva shook her head, “I guess being married to a chem teacher wasn’t as exciting for her,”

“What did your dad do?” he asked.

“That’s the best part. He knew about it and chose not to tell me. I just couldn’t believe it,” she replied, “But the fact that she just... she disappeared for years and then showed up again with a new family -- at my college graduation! How could I possibly celebrate after seeing that?”

“And you haven’t spoken to her since?” he asked tentatively.

“No. The way I saw it, she walked out of my life with no qualms. So... I walked out of hers. And it doesn’t matter how much she phones me; I don’t have time for disingenuine people,”

Remington reached over to take her hand that was resting on the table, stroking gently over the bumps of her knuckles, “Did you... did you meet her son?”

It was then Eva looked truly bummed out, “I think that’s the part I regret most. I mean -- he’s a kid. It’s not his fault his mom is a flake,” 

Remington nodded, “Do you still love your mom?” 

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “Call me a coward, but avoidance is just easier to deal with,”

“You’re not a coward,” Remington assured, “I get it. But... speaking from experience, you can only avoid your issues for so long. As hard as it may be, you might want to address these problems sooner rather than later. I promise you won’t regret it,” 

“Rem --”

“She’s your mom. And obviously the fact that she’s still blowing up your phone should tell you something,”

Eva sat quietly, letting his words sink in. She knew Remington was right; knowing what she knew about him she also knew that he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. She appreciated that he understood where she was coming from, she just wished that his solution could be as easy as it sounded.

“I will call her back... eventually. My dad wants me to come home for Christmas, I guess I have to,” she chuckled sheepishly, warranting a sympathetic smile on his part, “Just... not today,”

“That’s okay,” Remington said, gently squeezing her hand, “It’s all gonna’ work out, Eva,”

“You can’t promise that,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, “Let’s not call it a promise, then. Let’s call is a whim,” 

July had faded into August, as did pandemic fatigue. The streets were becoming busier, the business’ were seeing more intake in revenue, and people were slowly coming back out to try and enjoy was little of a summer was left.

And while most people were doing their best to social distance and keep safe, the cases continued to grow. Safe in the confines of the house, Eva sat at the table and read over the final print draft of the band’s graphic novel. Eva was blown away, completely immersed from the plot line to the artwork. She was supposed to be working with Emerson on his latest project, yet afforded herself a small break. 

Across from her, Emerson was reading through Eva’s Tumblr blog, blown away at the amount of work she had posted since mid-June. Every prose and line was so vivid, painting a clear picture of her emotions. On the one hand, he couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable, knowing the sensual poems he was reading was about his older brother. On the other hand, everything was so poised and punctual -- he figured he may borrow some stuff to try on Shy some time. 

Eva turned to a new page littered with more text than it was visuals, but on the edge of the left page was a stunning, very accurate sketch of Remington. His hair looked so different in the form of a basic sketch, yet those eyes, that face still captured all the majesty and curiosity within. She was unable to help that her fingers glossed over the lines that made up his torso with all his tattoos visible, tracing down the length of his arm to the vanity beside him and back up again. The cold paper singed her fingertips as she read the prose beside the sketch, a small smile creeping onto her lips with every word that echoed in her brain.

“...Emerson thought that if hell and heaven had a bastard son, that it would be Remington. His brother had an angelic-looking face with big almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were brown but could shift into black, and melt into the iris. It was a look that Emerson though the angel of hell would be proud of. But then, in the right light, those dark eyes changed and came to glimmer like the purest of gold - a look angels would swarm for. Apart from the eyes, his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him...” 

Eva had to give credit to Emerson for his writing, capturing his brother in such a way that she herself would have. And like the flip of a switch, the memory of Remington’s eyes flashed through her mind, shining of gold and beauty the way the words had echoed to her. 

In another blink his eyes turned into the eerie shadow of black, flashing a look he’d throw her way when his lust for her consumed him. In one paragraph, Remington had been portrayed as a killer from hell, offering flowers to his peers instead of knives.

Though, all romanticism was put aside as Eva read the paragraph again, noting the last line she had skimmed over quickly:

“...his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him. The rest of him was not...”

There as no denying how cruel the world had been to Remington and his brothers, though the more she pondered the more she realized she had never seen the type of dejection in his face the way Emerson had described. He always appeared -- not happy, per say -- but content with his life. 

Emerson looked up from his tablet, noticing the way Eva’s eyes were glued to her own reading, her hand placed protectively over the sketch of Remington. 

“You okay, Eva?” he asked. 

She glanced at the youngest brother, shaken by the break in silence. But she smiled reassuringly and flipped the page, despite not having finished reading the last. 

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “It’s absolutely beautiful. I did make note of a couple grammatical errors... I hope you don’t mind,”

“It’s fine,” he grinned, “Deadline for rewrites is on Friday,”

“If you'd like, I could go through the rest for you. I’m in between articles right now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Promise I won’t post spoilers for fans,” 

“Might have to get you an NDA,” he giggled merrily, “I’ll send the file over. You ever work with InDesign?”

“A few times, yeah...” she trailed off, a new train of thought lingering in the back of her mind, “Emerson... can I ask you something sorta’ personal?”

Emerson raised an eyebrow, “How personal?” he asked. 

She breathed out carefully, “Remington had told me about your dad --”

“What did he say?” Emerson asked quickly, his cheerful demeanour quickly souring.

“Just that he hadn’t been in the picture for a while,” she said assuringly, “Nothing else,” 

Emerson began to relax a little, “Okay. What’s your question, Eva?”

“Say he out of the blue started making an effort to get back in touch with you... would you take that offer?” she asked.

“Nope,” he replied shortly, “Because if he wanted back in our lives, it would be for his own gain,” 

Eva stayed silent, his quick answer all she needed to know that she shouldn’t push the envelope. Emerson saw the fall in her face, feeling a tad bad for being so short with Eva. 

“Sorry...” he grimaced, “I just... I don’t like to talk about my dad,” 

“I understand,” Eva nodded, “I’m sorry I brought it up,”

“... Why did you?” Emerson asked curiously.

Eva exhaled, her fingers picking at the edge of the glossy page, “Just getting room different perspectives. My mom and I don’t exactly have a Gilmore Girls kind of relationship. I’ve just been thinking ‘cause she’s been trying to get a hold of me for so long,”

“Was she nice to you? When you were younger?” he asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Eva replied truthfully, “She was -- superficial. There but not really there,”

He cocked his head, his wispy black hair falling over his eyes, “So... you’re trying to figure out if you want a relationship with your mom?” 

Before she could reply, they both turned when they heard footsteps echoing in the hall towards them. Michael had appeared, panning his camera around for new footage for the band’s Youtube channel. Eva was unsure whether she pay attention or turn back to the book and pretend not to see. 

“What’re you two working on?” he asked, focusing the lens on Emerson so Eva was just out of the shot. Michael respected that Eva was a touch camera shy. 

“Top secret,” Emerson replied promptly, “And if we told you, we’d have to kill you,”

“I won’t unleash that wrath,” Michael chuckled, “Don’t have too much fun!”

“We’ll try,” Emerson muttered as he sauntered into the next room. 

Eva closed the book and pushed it aside, sighing to herself as she pulled back her laptop and opened Emerson’s project. The youngest brother watched her unabashedly, picking off the air of uncertainty swirling around her. 

“Does Remington know your mom keeps calling you?” he asked.

“He was kind of curious as to why I kept getting all these blocked calls,” she replied.

“What did he say?”

“That everything was going to be okay,” she nodded slowly, “You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that in my life and... it’s not. So, I’m super inclined to believe him,” 

Emerson swallowed, “My brother has a tendency to want to take care of everybody. And it’s not a bad quality. But he also doesn’t know how he can make it better,” he said.

“It’s not up to him to make it better,” Eva declared. 

“But he loves you,” Emerson stated, “And just because of that, he’ll want to help you find your way out of this. When Remington commits to someone, he tends to go one-hundred-percent all in,” 

Eva simpered to herself, “I appreciate him. He’s -- definitely been a plot twist,” 

“Good or bad plot twist?” 

“Very good,” 

Emerson smiled as she started to type on her keyboard, some of Eva’s vexations visibly released when the topic had changed to Remington. As she appreciated Remington, Emerson appreciated Eva for all that she’d done for him. He had this gut intuition, a simmering notion that Eva was going to be sticking around for a long time. And he had absolutely no problem with that.

“Can I ask you a serious question, though?” he asked.

“Of course,” Eva nodded.

“Do you like his blue hair...?” he asked with a drawling disdain.

The young brunette turned her head in the direction of the distant chatter of the boys. 

“I take it by your tone you’re not a fan,” she said.

Emerson scoffed, “He’s taking me back to the Kool-Aid dye trend,”

“Oh, Emerson,” 

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (2/8)

As I mentioned, this is the sequel to Of The Eight Winds. I will be posting the first two chapters today and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also read it on AO3 here. 

Chapter Two

It was decided the best place to go would be the Midwest -- far from family on the coasts. They’d avoid the biggest cities -- Chicago, Detroit -- but still stick to denser populations; mid-sized cities on the edge of farmland -- it would give them the ability to lose tails in the chaos of town or hit the road quickly and disappear into the woods. A college town where no one would think anything of a new family moving in at the beginning of a semester. It was early May and the summer semester would begin soon at many universities. Frohike said he had a trustworthy contact nearby, so they settled on Lansing, Michigan.

The inheritance from Mulder’s father’s estate would keep them afloat for as long as they needed. Now they just needed to tell the kids.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Frohike handed him a shoebox. Mulder opened it to find new IDs for the whole family. They were now the McDonald family of Okemos, Michigan. The driver’s licenses looked real, as did the passports. Mulder thumbed through everything slowly.

“How’d you get these so fast?” he asked, looking up.

Frohike shrugged. “Best not to ask.”

Mulder leveled a look at the older man.

“If either of my kids ever come to you for a fake ID, I’m hiring a plane and skywriting your location,” he said.

Langly snorted from his chair.

“This is your new address,” Frohike said, handing Mulder a piece of paper that he threw in the box. “Subleased a furnished house from a professor traveling on sabbatical. Darlene will meet you there at noon on Friday. Don’t be late, she gets cranky.”

“Darlene?” Mulder asked.

“Darlene Frohike,” Byers piped in. “Melvin’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said, surprised. He pictured Frohike with breasts and long hair and felt one eye start to twitch.

“Go to her if you need help,” Frohike said, “she lives nearby.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said again.

Frohike glared at him.

“They used to run pacifists over the border into Windsor, Canada during ‘Nam,” Langly helpfully piped up. “She can roll.”

“She can roll?” Mulder asked.

“Her kung-fu’s the best,” Frohike said seriously.

Mulder held up the box of fake documents.

“Family affair, huh?” he said, and Frohike shrugged.

Mulder thumbed through everything one more time before departing the bunker. They’d been generous with Scully’s height and his weight. He could picture his wife’s smirk already.

“Hey, Mulder?” Frohike called out just as he opened the door. Mulder glanced back at the three men. “Be careful.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder called a family meeting as soon as the kids walked in the door that evening. After the news they’d received the last time their parents had sat down with them like this, they both looked at them with trepidation.

“God, you’re not about to tell us Mom’s having twins, are you?” Lily said, plopping down on the couch in the living room. Will lowered himself down next to her, his eyes darting back and forth between his parents. When neither Mulder nor Scully laughed, Lily’s face fell. “What’s going on?” she asked seriously.

Mulder had debated with Scully how honest to be with them. While he thought they were old enough to handle the full truth, neither wanted to scare them. And yet they needed to know the severity of the situation. A parent’s eternal dilemma.

“Our family is in some trouble,” he started, sharing a look with Scully. “And we’re going to need to leave town for a while.”

“When?” Lily asked, “For how long?”

“What kind of trouble?” Will asked.

“There are some people that are after your mom-” Mulder started, and both kids interrupted him quickly.

“What kind of people?” Lily asked, at the same time, Will, whose voice rose almost an octave, said:

“After her for what?”

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. He was perched on the arm of the chair Scully occupied, and she reached out and took his hand.

“I think we need to start from the beginning,” she said. “The very beginning.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and began talking. Starting with the abduction of Samantha Mulder, Scully gave a thorough, yet succinct account of the ins and outs of their current predicament, making the whole outlandish tale sound coherent and almost reasonable. Both kids listened to her raptly and remained calm, and Mulder once again thanked his lucky stars for the woman next to him. For all the tumult they’d experienced through the years, there was no one he’d rather have by his side.

“I have a friend -- some friends -- that have set us up with a new life-” Mulder said, when Scully was finally done talking.

He was interrupted by Lily.

“The friends who you visit at Arlington Cemetery? The ones we’re not supposed to know about? Those friends?”

Mulder looked to Scully who wore a surprised smile.

“I haven’t said a thing, Mulder,” she said, looking to him.

“Lily hid in the trunk of your car once,” said Will.

“Will!” Lily shouted at her brother.

“Lil, is that true?” Scully asked her daughter, concerned. Lily wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m not sure whether to be terrified or impressed,” Mulder said. Then shook his head. Back to the topic at hand. He would worry about that later.  “Anyway, those friends have set us up with a life in the Midwest for a year, probably less. Until the heat is off. Until we’re sure we’re all safe.”

“Where in the Midwest?” Lily said with trepidation.

“Michigan,” Scully said.

“They’ve got good hockey in Michigan,” Will offered, and Mulder wanted to hug the kid for his optimism.

Lily looked pained. “What about school?” she said. “What about UVA?” She was supposed to start college there in the fall.

“Lil, these people are not above using you to get to us. The only safe thing is for you and Will to come with us. It’s not even for a year. You can defer. Just the fall semester,” Mulder said.

Lily fell back against the cushions on the couch. Scully and Mulder shared a look.

“And we have to leave soon,” Scully said, “before graduation.”

Will reached out and put his hand on his sister’s knee, his face all sympathy. To her credit, Lily looked at her little brother and gave him a thankful look, a small uptick of the lips. Will turned back to his parents.

“When do we have to start packing?” he asked.

“Tonight,” Mulder said.

XxX

A day later found Mulder in the attic with Lily and William, going through boxes, taking the few things that they had in storage that they thought they might need. Mulder had grabbed a tent, a few sleeping bags, a kit knife, various useful odds and ends.

Will was over in the corner and had unearthed a box of old pictures and held one up for Mulder’s perusal.

“What’s this one from?” his son asked.

Mulder came over to take a look. It was a glossy 8x10 of him and Scully facing each other, framed in profile, hovering on the edge of a crime scene. He remembered it, now. It had been taken by a federal crime scene tech who’d finished documenting a scene and had needed to finish off the roll of film. Mulder had seen him snapping and had handed the guy a fiver. Two weeks later it arrived in an interoffice envelope, accompanied by three dollars and a post-it that said “keep the change.”

In the photo, Scully was looking up at him, the sun at her back slanting on her autumn hair so that it shone like a halo of spun gold. She was wearing a dark suit, as was her wont, the bulge of her service weapon at her back, one arm out and gesturing at something out of frame. He was struck, as he always seemed to be, by her exquisite beauty; her face was a composition. A work of art. A call to prayer.

“God,” he said, a little awestruck, “look how young we were.”

“Mom used to be really pretty,” Will said, and though he said it kindly, Mulder turned to him slowly.

“I’m sorry, ‘Used to be?’” he said.

Will looked nervously between his father and Lily.

“She’s still pretty?” Will said, more as a question than a statement.

“God damn right,” he said, “Every day I thank my lucky stars that she still deigns to share my bed.”

“Dad, don’t be gross,” from Lily, who at 18 didn’t mind her parent’s displays of affection so long as they weren’t public.

“Gross?” Mulder said, pointing at each of them.  “Gross? You were born of the loins of an ethereal creature of heaven, the both of you. Don’t blaspheme.”

“Says the guy who just said ‘God damn,’” said Lily, cheekily.

Mulder grinned and turned back to the photo.

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first your eye I ey’d, such seems your beauty still,” Mulder said, looking at it.

“Which sonnet?” Lily asked.

“104,” he said, and they shared a smile. Another silent moment of admiring the photo and he set it down, turned to his children. “All right,” he said, “pack what you need. Let’s get a move on.”

He added the picture to his own cache.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Something caught Lily’s eye as her father was folding up the old box of photos. The corner of a glossy 5x7 was sticking up from the edge of the box -- in it, she saw her father’s face, smiling, looking extremely young.

She helped him shove it back into the corner of the attic with a scrape of cardboard on plywood and he stood, head still bent down in the cramped space so as not to crack his skull on the slanted beams.

William was already heading back down the rickety ladder onto the landing below them, the hollow sound of his steps on the aluminum like the beat of a drum.

“You okay, Lil?” her father asked, his eyes squinted at her in concern. She was still kneeling by the box.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him, and glanced around the attic, at the memories their family had built up over the years. She hoped they’d be able to revisit them one day. Deep down she was afraid this might be the last time she saw some of these things -- an old box of her brother’s LEGOs, her Raggedy Ann, the doll’s black button eyes fixed and sightless, a wispy cobweb hanging limply off her yarn hair.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” he said, and reached down to help her up.

Before she took it, she reached out and pulled at the glossy photo, sliding it easily out of the box and slipping it surreptitiously into her back pocket as she stood. It crinkled in her jeans as she walked toward the attic ladder with her father behind her, as she moved on toward she knew not what.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully sat in her car with her keys in her hand, staring at the woman’s house, debating whether or not to get out.

She had faith in her husband and all her things in a suitcase, but there was still a small part of her that didn’t quite believe the tale Olivia Kurtzweil had told them. In all their years working together on the X-Files, Mulder had always been the engine, and she had always been the brake -- and the impulse to tap the pedal when faced with the fantastic had never left her, even after more than a decade out of the basement office.

She drummed her nails on the steering wheel once and then made a decision, shoving the keys into the pocket of her coat, double checking that her service weapon was in order, and sliding out of her car and onto the sidewalk. She wanted one last talk with the woman before committing to this drastic course of action.

It hadn’t been easy to find Kurtzweil’s address -- even with the Bureau’s resources at her fingertips. She’d had to call in a favor to a friend with ties to the State Department to get it.

The street Kurtzweil lived on was quiet, just outside of Pentagon City. Parking on the street was by permit only, and there were hardly any cars. The house was a one-story ranch with a long porch, big enough for two rocking chairs, which were tilted at an angle toward each other just-so. The landscaping was impeccable and there weren’t any bugs in the porch lights. Olivia ran a tidy ship that Scully could appreciate.

She hesitated one last time at the door before reaching for the doorbell. She’d debated the merits of coming unannounced and had settled on the element of surprise -- hoping if the woman were lying about anything, unprepped and unrehearsed, Scully might be able to suss out lie from truth.

She heard the bell ring inside the house and waited for muffled footsteps or perhaps the bark of a dog. She was met with silence. She gave it about another ten seconds before ringing the bell again. When there was still no answer, she walked over to the garage and stood on tiptoes to peer through the window. There was a BMW parked inside. Scully made her way back to the door, and reached up to give it a knock. When her knuckles hit the wood the door gave an inch and suddenly feeling unsettled, Scully pushed it slowly the rest of the way open.

Just inside the door there was a purse laying on its side and a cascade of unopened mail fanned out on the floor. A chill ran up Scully’s spine and she reached for her sidearm, suddenly glad she’d brought it.

“Olivia?” she called tentatively, before taking a step inside, the gun held out in front of her, listening sharply for any hint of sound. None came.

She swept the perimeter of the entryway, all her senses on high alert. Hearing nothing, she called out Olivia’s name again. Still silence.

She turned the corner into the main part of the living area -- an open concept living room, dining room, kitchen, and nothing looked out of place. She edged her way slowly into the kitchen, and that’s when she saw it; two feet sticking out behind a large island in the kitchen.

Scully darted forward and slid to her knees next to the woman, quickly taking in what she saw before her: Olivia Kurtzweil had been shot, a double-tap to the head and one to the heart--a professional kill. Knowing she wouldn’t find it, Scully reached out to feel for a pulse in the woman’s neck. Her body was still warm.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder stood in the elevator, his finger hovering over the ‘12.’ It was one of the newer office buildings outside the district, a high rise of dark glass and steel. He thought maybe he should have called first, but hadn’t wanted to risk it. Finally, he depressed the button and the elevator lurched to life.

On the twelfth floor, the doors opened to a brightly lit lobby, the walls and floor all stark white granite. There was a sleek reception desk ahead, manned by an even sleeker looking young blond woman, who looked at him expectantly as he approached.

“Hello,” she smiled, not showing teeth, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Lauren Williams,” he hedged, and the woman’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.

“No,” he said, and started to wonder if he should have come at all.

“Okay,” the woman said slowly, narrowing her eyes, “I can call her assistant and ask if she can see you. Your name?”

Mulder felt like a bug under a microscope.

“Tell her it’s Fox,” he said.

She nodded.

“One moment.”

Mulder glanced at his watch. They were supposed to be on the road in four hours. This was a last minute stop for him, a barely thought-out ‘what if’ plan C in case the whole thing went to shit.

When he glanced back up, the receptionist was looking at him expectantly.

“She’ll be out in a moment,” she said, and Mulder smiled his thanks and took a few awkward steps back.

There was a small waiting area to the left of reception, but the seats looked more modern than comfortable, and the entire space had a disinfected don’t-sit-here vibe to it. Set dressing.

After a moment he heard the efficient clicks of approaching heels, and turned to see his ex-wife coming out of a metal door that he’d thought was a wall.

“Fox?” she said, her face one of pleased surprise.

“Lauren,” he said, as she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this. You look well.”

She did. She was in a crisp grey suit that was likely Chanel or Hermes, and trim as ever. Her face looked sculpted and her skin clear and bright. Not a wrinkle to be found. A mild cloud of the same perfume she always wore clung to her, lending her an air of sophistication where it may have made other women seem like they were trying too hard. She leaned back, holding onto one of his forearms and gave him an assessing look.

“You look… worried,” she finally said, her eyes narrowing a bit in concern.

He didn’t reply, and she turned to the receptionist.

“Thank you, Amanda,” she said smartly and inclined her head toward the metal door/wall which clicked open as they approached it.

She led him down a long hallway, with glass conference rooms lining one side and open concept work stations along the other. At the far end, she opened a floor-to-ceiling glass door and led him into a large and immaculate corner office.

Mulder raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, “it’s been a while.” She shut the door behind them and gestured to a small sitting area off to the side of the office. It was more welcoming than the lobby seating had been, and he slid into one of the chairs gratefully.

“Executive Vice President,” she said proudly, and took the chair opposite him. She settled into the leather of the seat and leveled a look at him. “You okay, Fox?”

Mulder glanced at the door, at the bustle of the office beyond it. No one seemed to pay them any mind.

“I’m…” he started, “we’re in some trouble.”

“You and Scully?” Lauren asked kindly, “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Mulder smiled, “she’s good, she’s…”

He fumbled a bit. Not quite sure where to start.

“Is it money?” Lauren asked. “Do you need-”

Mulder cut her off, laughing uncomfortably. He and Scully both made a very good living, and his father’s estate would have kept them more than afloat even if they didn’t. He huffed a deep sigh, and she sat quiet and patient, looking at him in concern.

“Our family is in danger, Lauren,” he finally said, “and we need to disappear for a little while.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Is it Scully’s work at the FBI?” she started, “Is it-”

He once again cut her off.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you much for your own protection. The less you know, the better.”

She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern.

“The reason I’m here is… we’re going away for a while. Headed to the Midwest.” She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Do you… does your aunt still have that hunting camp up in Michigan?”

He saw a small smile crack through her unease. Lauren’s Aunt Clio was half Williams Family Secret, half Williams Family Legend. A bright, effusive personality, she was blustery and smart, and unpretentious to the point of embarrassment, as far as Lauren and her upper-crust-endeavoring parents were concerned. She lived in Ohio, where she and Lauren’s father had been raised, ten years the man’s senior. She kept a hunting camp in the eastern Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Camp Hi Early. She hunted deer throughout the state’s archery season and had told a story at Mulder and Lauren’s wedding reception about running at a bear with an axe from the outhouse. The story had mortified Lauren at the time -- Mulder had just been delighted. Aunt Clio had been drinking straight whiskey at the party, and had just been about to tell Mulder a story of running ‘shine when Lauren had pulled him away and to the dance floor. Mulder had never forgotten it, or her.

“Aunt Cli died last year,” she said with a begrudging smile. Mulder marveled. The woman must have been close to a hundred years old. Lauren’s eyes met his. “But she left me the camp.”

“You still have it?” Mulder asked, amazed, “it doesn’t seem like your kind of… scene.”

Lauren laughed.

“That it’s not. But there’s a mining company that has its eyes on the northern 100 acres, and if they get their hands on it whether from me or from someone I might sell to, Clio Williams will haunt me from the grave.”

Mulder laughed, felt something loosen in his chest.

“If you need it, it’s yours, Fox,” Lauren said, the humor dissipating from her voice.

He leaned back in the chair.

“We probably won’t need it,” he said, “it’s just something I thought of as a distant Plan C. But if we need to get out fast -- if we need to go somewhere we can’t be found…”

Lauren nodded and stood, moved over to her desk.

“It’s rustic, Fox,” she said, and sat down in the chair, pulling open a desk drawer. “And not charming-rustic. It’s rustic-rustic. And likely in disrepair. I sent a local handyman out there this past spring. He assured me that the roof doesn’t leak and the windows aren’t broken, but that’s about it.” She was rifling distractedly though the drawer. “I’m not sure how well outfitted it is, and It’s probably overrun with mice and squirrels. He said it looked like a moose had been gnawing on the siding…”

“It’ll be a last resort,” he said seriously.

Lauren paused and looked at him.

“Bad?” she asked.

“Pretty bad,” he nodded.

She winced and stood, an envelope in her hand. She made her way over to him and raised it.

“This is the key to the padlock on the cabin door,” she said, “and a map to the camp. The handyman I hired drew it up for me, not the other way around, mind you. I haven’t been out there since I was a kid and Aunt Cli took me up there to teach me to shoot. There’s the boondocks and there’s this. I’m talking county highway to a dirt road to a two-track. A seasonal road that the county doesn’t plow. I don’t even know if an SUV can get in there. The road to Camp may be impassable...” she handed him the envelope.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said.

Lauren reached out and squeezed his shoulder, the concern on her face cutting rare lines into her perfect skin.

“I want you to check in with me, let me know you’re okay,” she said, “do you feel safe doing that?”

Mulder nodded, put his hand over hers where it rested on her shoulder, squeezed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m serious, Fox,” she said, “if I call, you answer your fucking phone. I’m scared for you. For the kids and Dana.”

“I promise,” he said, giving her hand one last squeeze before he rose to leave. “I’ll send you a number when I’ve got one.”

His phone rang then, like a premonition. He answered.

“Mulder?” Scully said into his ear, her voice shaky with panic. He heard the slam of a car door. “We have to leave. Now.”

[obbsessedwithliv]

Who is this?

Just to clarify this is currently in 1989 so Elliot hasn’t been to war yet, that happens in 1991.

Again, DICK WOLF OWNS I just borrow them and twist them a bit

Elliot’s P.O.V.

Sitting with Johnny and Greg reminds me that I have not been around for a while. Johnny is engaged to Kate even though everyone said they’d never make it past graduation. 6-years later they’re happier than anyone could have imagined, and he’s got down on one knee. I suspect they’ll have a baby soon but then again; I wouldn’t even know if they wanted kids. Greg had finally finished his internship for some high-priced suit to become some high-priced banker eventually. He is keeping his options open with women though. This is really weird to me, he’s been so set on a career since we was in kindergarten yet he doesn’t want to settle down with someone and create a life with them, I know it makes no sense me saying this as I’m currently single and not even had my first serious relationship but it’s hard when you’re a marine and you just don’t know if you’re going to go to war any day now.

I should pay more attention, but I just can’t take my eyes off the brunette at the bar. She doesn’t seem to be with anyone and definitely seems like she’s not waiting for anyone. Her dress tells me this isn’t her final destination. Suddenly the cola doesn’t seem to give me the confidence I undoubtedly need to go talk to her. I see the bartender checking her ID which tells me she’s having alcohol suddenly I’m thinking maybe trying alcohol mixed with her wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Greg and Johnny are talking about some meal they’ve got planned but ill be back on base then, just another reminder of the things I’m missing. I’ve started to think maybe being in the marines isn’t helping my social life. It defiantly would be nice to at least have someone to come home to other than these losers. I know my time will be over soon, but it feels like it’s taking forever. I have thought a little bit about what I want to do when I finish in the marines, but I know I’ll do it better than my dad ever did. My mom says I’m not living my own life because I want to be a cop but she’s remembering the fact I played Lego when I was a child and apparently that means I wanted to be an architect. If anything, I think I could have taken my high school football career further but building things isn’t for me, I’d rather do something where I can burn energy.

I can’t take my eyes of this woman and I already know she’s beautiful and I haven’t even seen her face. I can just tell, the way she holds herself and the way the dress fits her body like it was made for her just tells me she’s beautiful. I hear her laughing at the bartender and suddenly I’m wanting to be the one to make her laugh. Id like to hear her do more than laugh but that laugh is just something else entirely. The way she tilts her head back slightly and you see her hold onto the bar stool so that she doesn’t fall off of it, the way her shoulders rise to each breath of laugh. I’m glad I was the last one to arrive because I don’t have to ask the guys to get up so I can exit the booth. I feel like I’m needing something stronger just to not seem like a wimp whilst stood next to her. I hear myself ordering a beer and then the fruity thing Greg is having and then the whisky Johnny is nursing. I pay the bartender and walk my way back over to the guys, but I can feel eyes on me. As I sit back down johnny tells me I have an admirer, apparently the brunette has watched me sit down and I’m sure its just to see which one of us have the fruity cocktail. But her eyes don’t leave and Greg being Greg waves her over to come join us. With how we are sat the only place she can sit is next to me, so I move over and give her some space.

Looking at her I see that she has brown eyes which are perfectly complimented by her brunette hair, she has tanned skin which doesn’t look like fake tan, so I’d assume she tans well. She’s got a necklace on with some sort of pendant, but it isn’t overbearing and some small, hooped earrings. I see she has the same beer as me and when I take my first sip, I try to not show it’s my first ever taste of alcohol and the guys don’t show it either. Greg is his usual boisterous self and is overbearingly loud whilst asking her name. I get that were in a bar, but does he have to be so loud.

She tells us her name is Olivia and before she even has a chance to say anything else Greg again shouts that his name is Greg, I introduce myself and Johnny looks out of it, so I tell her his name. Greg quickly realises football is on and Johnny looks like he’s going to fall asleep any second now, so I take this opportunity to chat to her.

“So, Olivia does your night consist of anything other than this bar?” I’m useless at trying to make conversation that isn’t about football or being a marine, no wonder I’m still single.

“Well, I thought I’d start here and see where the night takes me, those two look like they’re going to be interesting the rest of the night. Are you going home when they do Elliot?” I look at Johnny and see that he has fell asleep with his head on the table and I definitely should be getting him home soon, thankfully Kate said she will come and get them before we even left as I was staying at the motel until tomorrow when I go back to my parents in Queens. My dad is away on some conference as of tomorrow so I might as well go home and save myself the cash I would usually spend just to get away from the constant nagging from my parents.

“Nah I’ll call their ride but I’m not totally ready to call it a night yet” I don’t exactly have any plans after, but I am not ready to go back to my room and sleep especially when I can hopefully spend more time with Olivia. Olivia lets me out to call Kate as its way too loud for her to hear me, she tells me she’ll be 20 minutes which is just enough time to try and get them both to have some water, they might hate me for it now, but they will thank me for it later. I might have only just had my first beer, but I have dealt with alcohol for many years and the two things I know is don’t drink on an empty stomach which they didn’t and drink plenty of water as alcohol dehydrates you.

Kate arrives quickly and I help her load the drunk fools into the back, I ask her to let me know when they get back and are safe. I trust Kate but I’d never forgive myself if anything happens to any of them. I walk back into the bar to find Olivia has moved back to the bar, but this time has left a space next to her, I quickly fill that space and we continue chatting. I learn she’s at Siena and is wanting to be a cop, I feel like I could spend forever talking to Olivia and I’d never get bored.

Suddenly I realise 3 hours have gone by and Olivia looks tired, I offer to walk her home as it is midnight now and I am nothing if not a gentleman. If I worry about my male friends getting home I sure as hell am going to worry about a young woman getting home this late, what if something happened to her. Oh gosh even the thought of it makes my stomach churn. She looks shocked that I even offered and tells me its okay as her motel is just down the road but even just that walk from the bar to the road is enough to give me anxiety. We leave together and start heading to her motel, I quickly realise it’s the same motel as me. When we get there, I ask her for a number to call her on tomorrow just to ensure she got home safe from the motel. She gives me her pager and says if she doesn’t respond right away not to panic as she is meeting up with a friend before going home. We separate in the lobby her going left and me going right to my room. I look back hoping I get to see her again before I go back to base.

Well there we go chapter 2 done. I don’t want to drag it out but I like the idea of not having them rush into a relationship as I just couldn’t see that happening.

[voidselfshipp]

Meet The Family

Cw: self depriciation, food ment.

Ok to rb.

Summary: the iida family wants to meet the partner of their youngest kid, but said partner is not ready for It.

Song: "just the two of us " Bill withers and grover Washington.

Jerico paced around the room with her hands behind her back, mina stops her grabbing her shoulders-- its gonna be fine!-- adds the student.

--But what if they dont like me?! What if they want him to date someone else?

Uraraka softly pats her Friends back-- dont worry ! Theyll love you! Theyll see that youre a perfect match for their son!

-- but just-- I got nothing to wear! What if they go formal and I just-- jeri sits on her bed clutching a pillow-- what if I have nothing to wear!

They hear a soft knock before anyone can answer-- jerico? Is everything alright in there? Midoriya told me that youre not feeling well..-- said iida.

-- coming!-- she says opening the door peeking her head through it-- tenya...babe..I think we should cancel...-- she says looking away sighing-- I dont think im the right one to meet your family-- she said leaning on the doorframe crossing her arms.

-- whyd you say that jerico? Youre perfect!

--Im not! First of all im from another country!-- she says with tears in her eyes looking away-- im so loud I cant control my volume, I have nothing to wear and to top it all off I dont even get the same grades as you do --She looks at him and sniffs drying her tears with her sleeve-- I think we should call it off

Tenya hugs her tightly and buries his head on her hair-- please dont say that...-- he says with a strained tone-- youre perfect jerico, my family wont care if youre not from here-- he cups her cheek with a flushed face-- youre funny, Smart, youre absolutely beautiful-- he cups her other cheek squishing them-- grades dont define you, you, me or anyone! Grades are just numbers, they are a grading system, but outside? They dont matter-- he adds lowering his hands to her jaw caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs.-- its going to be fine, but I wont accept you talking yourself down--he puts a strand of hair behind her ear-- its okay if youre loud because I love you this way-- he kisses her softly and after some seconds he pulls away-- I wont let my family talk bad about you, in fact they know the best of you!-- he says hapilly-- howd you saved me with stain, howd you won against me in the festival, they see you as I see you, for the amazing woman you are

The silence is short before jerico sobs even harder hugging him-- youre so sweet!

He hugs her tightly with a soft smile, bending down a little-- I wont let anyone be mean to you, theyll deal with me first

She dries off her tears and presses a kiss to his cheek-- thank you

Tenyas cheek turn red, and he fixes his tie, before he says anything his reciproburst goes haywire and he runs past her mumbling nonsense. Making her laugh.

-- anyways... I gotta go now, midnight said shed take me to see some stuff to we-- she turns around to her Friends finding her in tears too.

-- you two are so sweet! -- adds mina.

-- so cute!-- adds uraraka.

Jiro nodds -- so cute!

She chuckled and grabbed her jacket-- gotta go!

As she walks with midnight and recovery girl, who decided to join them to go outfit hunting her teacher softy elbows her-- we'll find you something nice to wear! Youll see!

Jeri scratches the back of her neck knowing what midnight could get up to.

They searched all the stores they could and the dinner was fast approaching.

Jerico is feeling anxious now, recovery girl softly pats her back-- we can try there!-- she points at a suit store.

Midnight nodds-- yes, that could work!

Jeri trusting her teachers judgment follows them.

Iida Is tapping his foot waiting for jerico at the entrance of the UA. He looks around.

--where is she?-- he mutters scratching tbe back of his neck. He was fine with arriving late. His family wouldnt mind.

--Sorry! We couldnt find anything!!-- jerico comes in his field of view, his breath is taken away when he sees her in a suit, her hair tied up.

--oh...-- he mutters and both uraraka and midoriya hold him back, jiro and mina roll up his pants so recirpoburst doesnt rip them.

Jerico giggles and hugs him-- lets go yeah?

Tenya nodds and fixes his pants saying goodbye and getting in the car.

As they drive he hugs her tightly-- you look so beautiful -- he says caressing her arm.

--If I could help you pull out your tubes I can do this!

--Come on it wasnt that hard!

She raises a brow.

[....]

Even though tenya was ready to make such change he was an absolute baby.

--come on ten!-- she said.

--Its gonna hurt jerico!

-- thats why im here, come on

He sighs pulling out the first tube, Before he can scream she sits on his lap and kisses him.

He turns red and hugs her waist with one hand.

-- see? Not that hard!

He starts to giggle meekly-- well..if I get a kiss for each one...ill get twelve kisses

-- let me desinfect that for you

[....]

-- as I was saying, not that hard!-- tenya protested-- besides! ...oh hey we're here

He gets out first and helps her, he takes her hand, and walk into their home.

Taking off their shoes they walk in and are greeted with iidas mom, dad and his brother.

--tensei!--says iida hugging his brother-- I cant Belive youre here!

The ex hero smiles-- I I couldnt pass up the opportunity to meet my brothers partner, hi, im tensei

Jerico nodds-- im jerico, nice to met you tensei-- she bows.

Dinner arrives and as they eat, jerico is struggling with the chopsticks..

She scratches the back of her neck and tenya just hands her a fork and a Knife.

-- th thanks-- she adds embarassed eating her food.

-- dont be embarassed!!-- says tenyas mom-- he told us you arent fully used to chopsticks so we put a set for you!

Tenya also pulls out a fork and a Knife smiling.

Her cheeks turn Pink and she smiles softly eating with a content giggle.

--so-- starts tenyas dad-- our son has told us plenty about you but id rather hear about you from your own mouth

Jerico drinks water and looks at her father in law-- well, im originally from Argentina!, Im the oldest from four kids-- she says-- Im more into art than anything, I also play the guitar, what else would you like to know mr. Iida

Tenyas dad smiles-- well, I can only say that my son scored a winner

Jericos cheek flush red and tenya chokes on his drink blushing red-- dAD!

After dinner jeri helps pick up the table and wash the dishes.

--youre a very lovely girl, but I must ask-- says tenyas mother-- who confessed first?

Sighing in relief that it was only a simple question and not a "whats your intentions with my son" question she giggled-- I did

Tenya flushes even redder than before and grabs jerico walking outside saying --GOODBYE!

his family laughs, and tensei says something before they leave.-- jerico, take care of him for me-- he says patting her arm-- and please show him how to relax

She laughs hugging tensei-- I Will, dont worry!

She says her goodbyes and both go back to the UA.

jerico crashes ontop of tenya both in their comfy pjs.

He hugs her waist pulling her closer and smiling.

-- my family really loved you back there-- he says leaving down the formality.

--im glad--she answers-- maybe one day youll meet mine!

Tenya smiles-- dyou think theyll like me?

She nodds and holds his hand-- im sure theyll do

He smiles and kisses her forehead.

As they fall asleep, tenya humms "just the two of us "by Grover Washington.

《I see the crystal raindrops fall

And the beauty of it all

Is when the sun comes shining through

To make those rainbows in my mind

When I think of you sometime

And I wanna spend some time with you

Just the two of us

We can make it if we try

Just the two of us

(Just the two of us)

Just the two of us

Building castles in the sky

Just the two of us

You and I

We look for love, no time for tears

Wasted water's all that is

And it don't make no flowers grow

Good things might come to those who wait

Not for those who wait too late

We gotta go for all we know ...

Just the two of us

We can make it if we try

Just the two of us

(Just the two of us)

Just the two of us

Building them castles in the sky

Just the two of us

You and I 》

[myparentsheadache]

A not so happily ever after

I came up with this while listening to someone sing love story in minor key cause it sounds more sad than happy in that key. I personally think the song is better in that key ANYWAYS.

Pairing -> Yandere Shoto Todoroki x fem reader

Warnings: Cussing

________________________________________________________________

His eyes were the first thing that caught my attention, one blue one brown. But once my eyes drifted from him I realized who he was, Shoto Todoroki. Son of Enji Todoroki, the son of the king. My eyes quickly reverted to my hands that were now gripping my dress. He never comes down from his castle on weekdays, why is he here? more importantly, is he gonna tell his father that I looked at his eyes? It is said he hates when people make eye contact with him. MY thoughts were cut short due to a cold hand softly grasping my face and lifting it to look at the person. My eyes practically shot out of their sockets when I made eye contact yet again with the prince. “Why did you look away? I like your eyes I’ve never seen someone with red eyes before.” Shoto gave me a soft smile and let his hand fall to his side. “I- uh- Its- uh rumored that you don’t like when people make eye contact with you, I'm incredibly sorry Prince Shoto!” I squeaked out most likely wrinkling my dress with how hard I was bawling it in my hands. “I don’t like when people make eye contact with me, but you’re just so beautiful It would be devastating if I couldn’t look into your eyes.” The prince spoke with such ease and a smile. “Thank you prince Shoto” I went to bow to the man but he grabbed my shoulders and forced me to stand up. “please don’t be so stiff. I would love it if you saw us as equals. What family are you from?” He has yet to let go of my shoulders and his grip was firm enough that I’m aware that I HAVE to answer. “My name is y/n Bakugou, My father is Masaru Bakugou and my mother is Mitsuki Bakugou.” He let his hands fall off my arms and his eyes now rested on something behind me. “Did this twerp do something wrong or can she go?” The sound of my brother's voice filled my ears. I could now feel his hand wrapped around my wrist. “Katsuki! Be respectful.” I scolded him but his grip on my wrist only tightened. “Is he your brother? He has your eyes. Does your entire family have red eyes?” Shoto asked as his attention returned to me. “everyone but my father has red eyes.” I responded giving me an apologetic smile for my brother's actions. “May I ask what your father does for a living? based on the way both you and your brother are dressed I’m guessing he owns a farm that both of you work on. your shoes are incredibly worn out and both of you have spots of dirt on your lower half.” Prince Shoto pointed out letting his smile form into a smirk. Did he find joy in pointing out that we were below him? “You’d be correct our family owns a farm and-” “it is none of your business half and a half bastard. this twerp and I are leaving.” Katsuki began walking away pulling me with him. My eyes widened at how rude my brother just was to the prince “Katsuki!” I shouted attempting to pull my wrist from his grip but achieved nothing since he was much stronger than I am. He didn't respond instead he dragged me back to our family's house. He threw the door open and shoved me inside. “MOM KATSUKI IS GONNA GET BEHEADED FOR BEING A DICK HEAD!” I shouted running into the kitchen. “GOOD THAT BRAT DESERVES IT NOW COME HELP WITH DINNER!” My mother shouted not realizing I was right in front of her. “what do you want me to do?” I asked washing my hands. “OLD HAG THAT HALF AND HALF BASTARD OF A PRINCE THINKS HES BETTER THAN ME!” Katsuki shouted walking into the kitchen. “No, you’re just dramatic.” I started drying my hands. “WAIT YOU ACTED LIKE A BRAT TO THE PRINCE?!” My mother was not hitting Katsuki with a newspaper. “This is what you get Katsuki” I laughed at my mother and brother arguing. I began cooking dinner while my mom and brother argued. the sound of the back door caught my attention, I lifted my head to see my father stood in the doorway staring at his wife and son fighting. “Hi, dad.” I gave him a small smile and continued what I was doing since I was almost done with dinner. “hi Munchkin, what are you making?” My dad asked kissing the top of my head. “ soup.” I started pulling it off the stove. “smells good, ill set the table since they would probably just throw the plates at each other.” and with that, he walked away. I brought the pot into the dining room where there were 4 bowls set up at the 6 person table. I poured the soup into each of the bowls and brought the soup back into the kitchen. “DINNER” dad shouted from the dining room. this made Katsuki and mom stop and quickly walk into the dining room. by the time I walked into the dining room they were all seated and just waiting for me. “Sit down already twerp you're taking forever.” Katsuki groaned. “yeah ye-” but I was cut off by a firm knock at the door. “who would come to the house this late?” Dad asked standing up and walking to the door. “IF ITS THAT NERD DEKU TELL HIM TO GO THE HELL AWAY!” Katsuki shouted kicking my chair out from under the table so I wouldn’t have to pull it out. No matter how much he acts as he hates me it's things like this that remind me my brother loves me in his way. stubborn way, but his way none the less. “King Enji and Prince Shoto! Uh- what brings you to my family's home?” This caught both mine and Katsuki’s attention causing both of our heads to snap in that direction. “Honey, can you set 2 more places at the table?” My dad was now speaking to my mom not acknowledging either of our questioning looks. My mother just gave a quick nod and quickly walked out of the room. My father was now leading the king and prince into our house and over to the table. “These are my kids, Katsuki and Y/n.” My father was now introducing us to the king and prince. “oh I already know. Your daughter and son are the reason behind this visit.” Prince Shoto gave me a small nod before sitting down across from me while King Enji says at the head of the table next to me. “yes we have some things to discuss once your wife returns.” The king stated eyeing both myself and Katsuki who looked so mad that he could blow up. And like that my mother quickly walked back into the room holding two more bowls of soup setting them in front of the two. “lovely, have a seat please.” the king stated making a face at the soup. “so what brings you to our home sir?” My father asked sitting at the table and grabbing my mom's hand. “I want your daughter's hand in marriage.” Shoto shot into the conversation. this caused my mother and father to gasp. A loud crash sounded from behind me and I was being ripped from my seat and shoved behind someone. “NO WAY! This is my sister and she isn't some fucking doll you can just take! NO WAY MY PARENTS LET THE HALF AND HALF BASTARD TAKE HER!” Katsuki was now screaming at everyone in the room. Shoto gave a small sigh and the smirk from earlier came back. “see that's another thing, the way your son speaks to my son is unacceptable. which is why he’s going to be taken to the dungeons for treason.” The king's words made my father stand up now. “Please please just leave our family alone.” he was now on his knees in front of the king. “AH, but see if your daughter were to marry me I think we could overlook the way Katsuki has treated me.” Shoto’s smile had only grown at informing us of this. “what will happen to my brother if I refuse?” I asked quite enough it could have been missed. “he will have a public beheading.” The king stated almost as if it was a normal thing. my mother was now in hysterics. “and he will be left alone if I agree?” “of course my love.” Shoto's smile will forever haunt my dreams but if it'll keep my brother safe I’ll do it. “NO, ID RATHER DIE THAN YOU LAY YOUR DIRTY HANDS ON HER!” Katsuki was still riled up. “I’ll do it.” “Oh love, you never had a real choice. But at least this way no one had to die.”

[fandomrewrites]

Season 3a; Episode 9: The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Hello all! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and please answer my pinned post! I want as much opinions as possible from you guys. And if you have any questions about the pinned post or this story feel free to ask! As always constructive criticism is appreciated! Also as you can see Isaac is no longer in the pairings, if you read the last chapter you’ll know why.

Season 3a; Episode 9: The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 2,495

Season 3a masterlist

I was sitting on my bed working on some homework when my phone rang startling me. Quickly picking it up, I checked the caller ID seeing Lydia's name flash across the screen. "Hey Lyds."

"Can you come to the school? Like right now?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?" I ask, eyebrows knitting together in concern. I stand up and pull on my black vans as I wait for her to answer. 

"There's a dead body. I went out but without realizing where I was going I ended up at the school."

"Okay, just stay there. I'll bring Scott. We'll be there soon."

"Thanks, I'll let Allison and Stiles know too." She hung up the phone before I got the chance to say anything. 

Walking through the bathroom, I pushed Scott's door open. "We need to meet Lydia at the school. She said there's a dead body."

Scott's eyes widened in surprise. "Okay, let me tell Stiles-"

"Lydia said that she would. She's going to tell Allison too. Let's go."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Arriving at the school, Stiles' jeep pulls up beside Scott and I. As soon as he's out of the car he asks, "Where is she?"

"Over here!" Allison calls. We all turn our heads to see Allison and Lydia coming around the corner.

"What happened?" Scott questions.

"I don't know. I just got here."

We all turn to Lydia to wait for her to answer. "It's the same thing- same as the pool. I got into my car, heading somewhere totally different, then ended up here. And you told me to call when there's a dead body."

Stiles interrupts, "You found a dead body?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean not yet? You're supposed to call after you find the dead body. After."

"Oh, no. I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on."

"How are we supposed to find the dead body?"

"Don't yell at her!" I wrap a protective arm around Lydia as I scold Stiles. "She's still new to this, hell we all are still pretty new to this supernatural thing. And you can't blame her for not wanting to be the first person to find the dead body! Especially by herself."

Stiles opens his mouth to retort but Scott speaks first, "Guys... I found the dead body."

We all follow his gaze to the Beacon Hills High School sign. On top of it lays the dead body of a deputy, blood streaming down the sign like something you would see in a slasher film.

*_*_*_*_*_*

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors and similes. All tools for the writer to tell their story." Ms. Blake says as she walks between mine and Lydia's desk. She pauses as she looks down at Lydia, who is drawing rather than taking notes. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents."

"You and every guy I've ever dated." Lydia replies.

I immediately bring my hand up to my mouth and bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. "And that was an idiom by the way." Ms. Blake answers.

Lydia looks back down to continue drawing as Ms. Blake continues, "Idioms are something of a secret to the people who know the language or culture. They're phrases that only make sense if you know key words. Saying jump the gun is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race. Or a phrase like seeing the whole board."

"In chess." Stiles speaks up, my head turning to look at him.

"That's right, Stiles. Do you play?"

"My father does."

"Now when does an idiom become a cliche?" Some hands go up to answer Ms. Blake's question but my eyes stay locked on Stiles. Scott leans over to say something to him but before I can listen in I notice Lydia looking at me from the corner of my eye.

I break my gaze to return her eye contact, "What?" I whisper.

All she does is cock an eyebrow. "What?" I ask once more. 

"Nothing." She hums, turning her attention back to her drawing. I sneak one last glance at Stiles then turn to focus on Ms. Blake once more. 

*_*_*_*_*_*

"I can't believe you two! Having Lydia distract Aiden. If she gets hurt I swear to God I will skin both of you!" I yell at Scott and Stiles. 

They both look at me with their mouths hanging open. Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, unable to form words. Scott finally speaks up, "I get why you're mad but we need to talk with Ethan and Aiden has been by his side nonstop."

"Fine, then let's go talk to Ethan."

A few moments later Ethan, Scott, Stiles and I stand in a stairwell. "You want to know about Emissaries?" Ethan asks.

"We want to know about your Emissaries." Scott corrects.

"Why are you even talking to me? I helped kill your friend. How do you know I'm not going to kill another one?"

My eyes flash white and a low growl sounds from my throat as Ethan looks at Stiles. Scott wraps a hand around my wrist when Stiles starts speaking, "Is he looking at me? You threatening me? You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it right up your freaking-"

"Stiles. We get it." Scott cuts him off. He then turns back to Ethan, "We're talking to you because I know you didn't want to kill Boyd. And I think if something like that happened now, you wouldn't do it again."

"You don't know what we owe them. Especially Deucalion." Ethan replies.

"What do you mean?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"We weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met him. We weren't Alphas."

"What were you?" Scott questions.

"Omegas. In actual wolf packs the Omega's the scapegoat, the last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse from the rest of the pack. That was us."

"So, you and your brother were the bitches of the pack." Stiles says.

"Something like that."

"If this is your idea of a sob story and you think we're going to feel sorry for you, you're mistaken." I snap.

Ethan clenches his jaw but continues his story, "Our pack- they were killers. People talk about us as monsters. They're the ones who gave us the reputation. And our Alpha was the worst of them."

"Why didn't you just fight back? Form Voltron wolf and kick all their asses?" Stiles asks.

"We couldn't. We didn't know how to control it back then."

"Deucalion taught you." Scott states.

Ethan nods, "And then we fought. We took on the whole pack, one-by-one. By the time we got to our Alpha, he was begging for his life. We tore him apart. Literally."

"Well, that was heartwarming." Stiles says sarcastically.

"Truly. A beautiful story." I roll my eyes.

"What about your Emissary?" Scott asks, ignoring Stiles and I.

Ethan shakes his head with regret. "Then they're all dead? Kali’s and Ennis’s too?" Scott asks once more.

"All except for Deucalion's." Ethan answers. He then flinches as if someone attacked him.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Scott asks the Alpha.

"Not me. My brother."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Quickly making it to Lydia and Aiden, Ethan and Scott rush over, stopping Aiden from attacking Cora. "Aiden, you can't do this!"

"She came at me." Aiden tries to defend.

I rush to Cora's side as Ethan continues to talk with his twin. They both leave the room as I help Cora off the floor. "I'm fine." Cora says, trying to push me away.

"You're bleeding, let me help."

"It will heal."

"Yeah well, it's not healed right now so let me help." I say again. I bring her to a bench so she can sit down, "Stiles can you get me a wet paper towel?" He nods and moves to the sink.

"I can do this myself." Cora tries to push me away once more.

"Cora, I know you can. But it will make me feel better if I can help." She looks at me carefully then nods, allowing me to clean the blood off her face.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks from behind me.

"She doesn't look okay." Lydia replies, seeing how Cora flinches when I reach up to clean the wound.

"I'll heal." 

As Stiles watches us he decides to ask Cora what she was doing. "You know how suicidally crazy that was? What do you think you're doing going after them?"

"I did it for Boyd. None of you were doing anything." Cora answers.

"We're trying." Scott says.

"You're failing. All of you. You're a bunch of stupid teenagers running around thinking you can stop people from getting killed. But all you do is show up late. All you really do is find the bodies." She then abruptly stands up pushing me away and walking out of the room.

"She's definitely a Hale." Stiles says, "I'll make sure she gets home."

"I'll come with you." I say, feeling concerned for the girl.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I have Allison on speaker while Stiles drives and Cora sits in the back of the jeep. "Philosophers?" Stiles asks.

"And Guardians. Which after last night has to mean something like Law Enforcement, right?"

"When I think of Guardians I think of parents. You know, like get a parent or guardian signature?" I pipe up. I then turned to Stiles, "Was Tara a mom?"

Stiles shakes his head, "No, she wasn't."

"Stiles, you have to tell your dad. Tell him whatever you need to, but get him to believe." Allison says.

Stiles looks scared, I reach over to grab his hand and provide some form of comfort. "What about Scott?" He asks.

"He's not answering. I'll keep trying. But Stiles, tell him. Tell your dad. Warn him."

"Okay. Okay- I know."

Allison hangs up, "I'll be there for you the whole time Stiles." I say, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Are you going to do it?" Cora asks.

Stiles reluctantly nods, "And I'm going to need your help. Both of you."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Cora and I sit on Stiles bed as his dad and him sit in front of a chess board. Stiles is using the chess pieces to try and explain the supernatural. We all awkwardly sit in silence, "Stiles," Mr. Stilinski starts.

"I'm just trying to figure out how to start." Stiles interrupts his dad.

"I don't have time for this." Mr. Stilinski begins.

Sighing, Stiles begins to explain, "For the last year you've had cases you couldn't figure out, right? The murders involving Kate Argent. Matt killing the guys who drowned him. And the murders now. It's like you've been playing a losing game."

"Stiles, the last thing I need now is a job performance review from my own son."

I grimace at the Sheriff's words, but Stiles continues. "That's just it. The reason you're losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board. I need to show you the whole board."

After about 15 minutes the chess pieces are labeled and Mr. Stilinski looks very confused. "Scott, (Y/N), and Derek are werewolves?"

I nod as Stiles answers, "Yes."

"Kate Argent was a werewolf-"

"Hunter. A werewolf hunter." Stiles corrects.

"Along with Allison and her father." Cora adds.

"Deaton, the veterinarian, is a Kanima?" Sheriff asks.

"No. He's a Druid. We think."

"Think of him like a Celtic witch." I try to explain.

"Who was the Kanima?" Sheriff asks.

"Jackson." Stiles answers.

"I thought Jackson was a werewolf."

"He is now. He was the Kanima first and had to die to become a werewolf." I reply.

"Who's the Darach?"

"We don't know yet." Cora says.

"But the Darach was killed by werewolves." Sheriff says, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Slashed up and left for dead." Stiles states.

"We think." Cora adds.

"Why was Jackson a Kanima?" Sheriff asks, still confused about the Kanima.

"Because sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are." Stiles answers, looking back at me.

"It's why I'm not a normal werewolf, but a Zeta werewolf instead." I say.

"What kind of shape does an incredibly confused, getting angrier by the minute father take?" Sheriff asks.

"That would be more of an expression. Like the one you're currently wearing." Stiles says.

I quickly stand up to stop any argument that may occur, "We can prove it, Mr. Stilinski." I look to Cora.

She nods and stands up, "Watch this." Stiles says. Before I can shift Cora tips over. I reach out my arms, catching her before she can hit the floor.

"Cora!" I exclaim, searching for her pulse.

"Call and ambulance!" Sheriff Stilinski yells at Stiles, also making his way over to the unconscious teenager. 

*_*_*_*_*_*

In the car on the way to the school I start to feel an ache in my chest. It's the same ache I get when someone in the pack is in danger. I know that Derek is alright because he was at the hospital with Cora. And I know that Stiles is fine because he's driving.

"Can you go any faster?" I ask, pulling out my phone.

"Why what's wrong?" Stiles looks at me, concerned.

"Danger sense." I simply state, pulling my phone up to my ear.

"Oh thank God." I say when Scott answers. "Are you alright? Stiles and I are almost there."

"I'm fine, what's wrong?" Scott replies.

"Danger sense. Who else in the pack is with you? Who can you see?"

"Ethan, Aiden."

I interrupt, "I don't care about them. Who in our pack can you see?"

"Uh." Scott's eyes search the room, "Allison and Isaac."

"Where's Lydia?"

"She- I don't know. She was just here."

"We're here. Meet us by the main doors." I hang up and call Lydia, not getting an answer.

"Lydia isn't answering." 

Stiles shakes his head, "She's not answering me either."

I move forward, my body telling me to go towards Ms. Blakes classroom. We make it to the classroom to see Lydia tied to a chair and Sheriff Stilinski aiming his gun at Ms. Blake.

We try to move in but she flicks her hand, sending a desk to block the door. "God, I really wish I had more strength as a werewolf." I grunt out as Stiles and I push against the door. 

After a few moments of us pushing against the door, the desk moves away and we stumble through. We look around the room, I rush to Lydia to untie her from the chair as Scott shakily stands up. 

He's bloody from his fight against Ms. Blake. Stiles finally chokes out, "Dad?" When he can't see his father anywhere in the small classroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:  @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe @judayyyw

[b-mydarling]

[01] MASCARA

I am still dwelling in self pity over a break up with my super hot ex-boyfriend, Sehun when my best friend decided to give me a replacement mascara to make up for all the loss that I've had from crying over that jackass (as referred by Byun Baekhyun himself) for the past one week. It was a normal gift to be quite honest, but little did I know, that one normal gift is the thing that made me realize just how drop dead gorgeous my best friend is. And to Baekhyun, that three boxes of Fenty Beauty mascara are the same exact thing that have made him realized that even after years, he has never lost his feelings for me.

🍰   pairing: baekhyun x OC

🍰   characters: baekhyun, OC, sehun, yeri, irene

🍰   genre: what else if not FLUFF 😭

🍰   aus: university student! baekhyun, best friends to lovers.

🍰   contains:  Playing with makeup with some cute music as the bgm but   definitely not in this chapter :>

🍰   word count: 3K

― note: this is my first time cross-posting my fictional work on this platform. (I guess), posting this chapter will help me to understand Tumblr's algorithm better 😔✋ oh and fyi, the main idea of this oneshot was actually inspired by my dream 😭😭 Yes, I dreamt of Baekhyun in the midst of a pandemic and during an online semester like I’ve had nothing better to do :)

p/s: let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter.

Best friends.

That is the perfect term to describe and explain my relationship with Baekhyun. We used to live in the same apartment complex and his mother used to babysit me while my parents went to work. The babysitting lasted for almost six years (from when I was still a wee child at the age of 7 and until I turned 13) before his family moved to Incheon from Seoul. Even though we didn’t get to meet as often as we used to, our friendship is still intact and growing strong until now, when we are both a university students.

It was fun and easy being friends with Baekhyun. He may be older than me by two years, but I have never mind the fact because befriending Baekhyun was so, so much easier than befriending his little sister, Yeri. Although we are of the same age, I’m not close with Yeri because she used to think that my presence was a nuisance to her family; stealing her one and only brother from her, stealing her mom’s love and affection away from her, and she hated it when her dad brought back matching toys or playset for us to play together. And yes, of course we didn’t play together. To conclude my relationship with Yeri, we don’t hate or loathe each other but we have come to agree with the fact that we just don’t click with each other very well.

Presently, it is a Friday evening and I am laying on the couch at my family house’s living room. I am beat from living off from only few hours of sleep and a lot of coffee for the past two days because I was trying to perfect my assignment that holds 30% weightage for one of the subjects that I’m currently taking as a second year university student majoring in Beauty and Hairdressing studies. And now that I have submitted the assignment, it feels like all the burdens have been lifted from my shoulders and all that I want to do is sleep. I shift a few times on the long couch, trying to find a comfortable position to take a nap. I don’t want to sleep in my room just yet, afraid that my parents might forget to take the house key with them and I don’t hear their knockings if I sleep in my room. That, and I’m just too scared to sleep in my room knowing that I’m all alone in this house. It only feels like a few minutes have passed since I fell asleep before the incessant ringing of my phone wake me up. I grumble in my hazy state and reach for my phone on the coffee table.

“Hello?” I mutter into the phone without even looking at the caller id or even opening my eyes, sleep already calling back to me.

There’s a small chuckle coming from the other side of the line, the caller’s voice so deep and warm; alarming me about who he is. My lips automatically curl to form a smile just by hearing his velvet voice. There’s a few beat of silence before he starts to speak to me. “Did I wake you up from your nap?”

“Yes, yes you did.” I jokingly say with a pout while putting the call on speaker before I put my phone down to sit up from my laying position. “I’m so tired, Sehun. Mrs. Kwon has finally approved of my dreamy makeup look sketching after the fourth consultation. I’ve just submitted the assignment too. But anyway, why are you calling me? Are you done with labs?”

Sehun fakes a cry and says “My poor baby. But hey, at least you’re done with it now, right?” I hum, enjoying the comfort that my boyfriend is giving me. “And yes, I’m done with lab and my basketball practice too.” Sehun says with a teasing voice. “Can you come down for a while, princess? I need to talk to you about something.”

I look at the wall clock and frown. It’s nearly 7pm now and I’m too lazy to change out from my comfortable lounge wear. “Now?”

“Yes, now. I’m already waiting in front of your apartment complex.”

Still feeling lazy to change my clothes, I try my luck again. “Can you come upstairs then, Sehun? My parents are not home yet. They went out to have dinner with my father’s colleague.”

There’s another beat of silence coming from the other side of the line before Sehun sighs into his phone. I couldn’t decipher whether his sigh is rather affectionate or because he’s just tired from a long day at university. But I guess whatever that he’s going to talk to me about is pretty serious from the way he responds to my invitation.

“I can’t do that, baby. I need to tell you something without having to face the possibility of your parents walking in on us and disrupting our privacy. I’m also kinda in a rush to meet my friends later.”

I pout. “Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes. See you, Sehun.” I say and after receiving a hum from him, I end the call while getting up from the couch and walk to my room to get change into something more appropriate to wear. I choose to wear Sehun’s grey hoodie that he has given me before and a legging. The hoodie is two times bigger than my own size so it’s really comfortable too. I grab my phone and lock the door before going down. Once I arrive down at the lobby, I can already see Sehun’s parked car a few metres from the apartment’s entrance. I walk closer to his Audi and knock softly on the window. Sehun is busy playing game on his phone that he gets startled by my soft knocking. He then unlocks his car and I get into the passenger seat next to him.

“Hi,” Sehun smiles at me and scans my face, his head tilting bit by bit the more he spends his time analyzing my countenance. Sehun then crinkles his nose. “Damn baby, you really look super exhausted. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s okay since I need to wait for my parents to come home too.” My reply is cut short because my mind is being clouded with the smell of freshly baked dessert in his car. I turn half of my body in Sehun’s direction before I turn my head to look at his back seat. I see that there’s a white transparent box of brownies from the bakery that I frequently go to and a big bouquet of my favourite red and pink roses. I turn my head back to look at Sehun and grin up at him. “Are those for me?”

Sehun grins back at me before he takes my hand into his big one. “Of course those are for my favourite girl. You can even share the brownies with your parents too.” His other hand stretches behind him to grab both the flower bouquet and the box of brownies before he places them in my lap.

“These are my present for you because you have been such an amazing girlfriend for me for the past six months. Now, let me talk about the thing that I have wanted to tell you.”

Sehun has broken up with me.

Before this, it only took him 15 minutes to gather his courage to express and explain his feelings for me and now, it only took him 10 minutes to tell me that he wants to break up with me. Because apparently, his basketball coach has strictly forbidden him and the rest of his teammates from dating to ensure that their performance will not be affected if anything were to happen to the relationship. It was an absurd reasoning, I know that. But how can I not agree when Sehun has reasoned with me so well. He is on a full basketball scholarship so he must give his very best to basketball and to his major studies too. So yes, I agreed to break things up with him (although a part of me is hoping that we could still work things out).

After I went back to my house, I just sat idly on the couch thinking about what have just happened. There are three thoughts that are currently running through my minds and I could not just brush away this three facts:

 My hot and athletic boyfriend has broken up with me.

 I still love him

Should I wait for the both of us to graduate so we can be together again? But that will take two more years.

My parents came home at half past nine in the evening with take-out food for me. I only thanked my parents and proceed to eat my dinner in silence before asking for their permission so that I can leave for my room first. I even told them that they can eat the brownies on the coffee table because I don’t feel like eating it. As a result, my parents got worried over me because they could sense that something is wrong with me and Sehun from looking at the abandoned bouquet of roses and the box of brownies on the coffee table.

Now that I’m all alone in my bedroom, the realization just hit me like a bullet train. I feel suffocated. I feel restless. I feel like there is nothing else that is worse than this breakup. But boy I was wrong, there is something that is even worse than this shitty feeling that I’m having right now.

Because at half past 10 pm, my phone gets bombarded with a lot of messages and screenshots from my close friends in university. And the content of the messages were all the same, two screenshots of Irene’s latest instagram stories with one of it being a picture of hers and a man’s legs on a bed, watching Netflix together and the other picture being the same exact white box of brownies and a bouquet of red and pink roses like what I have gotten earlier. The caption in the story was:

“First date. Thank you, my sweet boy @oohsehun”

And that was the exact moment when I feel like the world has crashed on me. I feel like I could not breathe with all this new information that I just get. I need to save my sanity and I need to see the person who understands me better than anyone else. I hurriedly change my clothes before telling my parents that I need to see that person because of an emergency. My parents allowed me to go out despite it being so late at night, partly because they’ve seen how shocked and restless I am, and partly because the person that I’m going out to see is my best friend.

Byun Baekhyun.

Baekhyun has just returned home from his daily night run when he saw me standing in front of his door. He was shocked, of course. Because I have never really went to his apartment without noticing him beforehand. But upon seeing my blood-drained face, he ushered me inside before he rushed through his shower so that he can talk to me. After he’s done showering, he brought me to sit across of him at the small dining table that’s just enough for two people. And when he was seated too, he only crossed his arms and placed them on table. He doesn’t open his mouth, but his eyes are demanding me to open up. And I was right because in the next second, Baekhyun is ready to be on his best friend’s duty.

“Okay, spill it now. Every single thing.”

“You know what? Just cry.”  

“Why are you asking me to cry?” I ask, annoyed that Baekhyun has been telling me the same thing ever since I was done telling him what happened. Baekhyun was also shocked to know just how much of an asshole Oh Sehun was. But he then said that I should have at least expected this since Sehun is a popular guy at university.

“Because,” Baekhyun uncrosses his arms on the table and leans back on the chair. He closes his eyes before continuing. “It’s not healthy for your mental health, you know? You don’t have to put on a strong facade in front of me. Acting like this when you’re hurting deep inside will only hurt you even more. I’ve seen you cry before. Multiple of times too, if I may add.”

I brush his words off and only stay silent. My eyes roam around his grey and red themed apartment, taking in the minimalistic interior of the house that belongs to the 24 year old man sitting across of me. He has a grey coloured two-seater sofa, his coffee table is full with his macbook, ipad, some of his still opened law text books, some documents and stationaries. His television that was originally brought from his family home is connected to the internet and his playstation 4 is still plugged into the television too.

When was the last time I visited his house? I couldn’t recall the memory but I know that it has been quite a while. Ever since I started dating Sehun, I only met Baekhyun at our university or anywhere else that is not his house because Baekhyun thought it was a little inappropriate for me to go to his house since I have a boyfriend. My little inspection of his house was interrupted after a short while when Baekhyun sighs a little loudly. I focus my eyes on him now and shrug my shoulder.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Baekhyun asks. “I don’t want you to get anymore hurt by whatever that jackass is doing or about to be doing after this. I know how much you like him and how much you cherish the relationship that you’ve had with him. It’s completely normal to be hurting by this news and it’s definitely okay to cry too. Cry until your eyes get swollen, cry until you fall asleep and wake up feeling a lot better than tonight.”

I bite my inner cheek and shake my head. Although I admit that I am hurt deep inside, I refuse to cry. Not because I have too much pride in me but because of these mixed feelings bubbling inside. Hurt from being lied and cheated on by the person whom I thought I was going to have a long lasting relationship with. Confused because out of all people, I didn’t expect Sehun and Irene to be together. Irene was my seatmate and one of my assignment group mates throughout the whole of last semester where I had taken an elective subject not related to my major. Appalled because this would have not happened if I hadn’t asked Sehun to join our group celebration dinner for getting an A last semester.  These feelings just keep on brewing inside me and it was too much to comprehend, leaving me to not be able to even shed a tear.

“I don’t know, Baekhyun.” I say while standing up from the dining chair.“I thought I should tell you about this and feel better, but I still feel like I have just gotten hit by a car. I guess breakup really sucks.” I laugh soullessly. “Hey, do you mind if I crash here tonight? I’m too tired to drive again.” I don’t wait for Baekhyun to respond because I straight away walk to his couch, not realizing that Baekhyun has also stand up from his chair to follow me.

I’m only a few steps away from the couch when I feel a soft tug on my left hand, turning me around before I am being pulled into a bear hug. My eyes widen in shock because my best friend has never hugged me so closely and so tightly like this. But his embrace is just so perfect and warm and very much comforting that I can feel all these mixed emotions inside of me are swirling all over the place before I feel something triggering the most wanted reaction from me. And just like his warm embrace, my dams of tears exploded.

“I really like him, Baekhyun.” I say with tears streaming down my face. Baekhyun doesn’t say anything but lets me cry on his shoulder. I take a long time to stop crying and when I am slowly sniffling, that is when Baekhyun starts speaking.

“That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” He asks while stroking my long hair. “You silly girl, you’ll feel a lot better after this. And oppa will make sure that jackass will regret doing what he did to you.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

survey by nadine07

Where were you three hours ago? I was sitting in bed eating Wingstop and watching As Told by Ginger.

Were you with anyone? No.

Have you had anything alcoholic in the last 24 hours? Nope. I haven’t alcohol in almost 10 years.

Are you wearing shoes right now? Nope.

How long have you known your 1st phone contact? Since the 5th grade.

Are they a relative? No.

Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? No. Those chapters are closed.

Would you ever go skinny dipping with the last person who commented you? No. I wouldn’t go skinny dipping with anyone or at all. 

When was the last time you saw a movie in theaters? Beginning of March 2020 before the pandemic and lockdown hit.

When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? About 5 years ago.

Has anyone called you beautiful today? No.

Are you still friends with the last person who broke your trust? I don’t have any friends.

Does drama seem to follow you everywhere? No. Other issues do.

Do you feel like anyone is playing mind games with you right now? No. 

How would you feel if your best friend hooked up with your ex? My mom would never do that.

How long did your last relationship last? I count whatever Joseph and I had and that went on for 3 years. 

If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? I’m very single and don’t want to get married, so.

Does it make you uncomfortable to talk on the phone around people? Yeah, it kind of does. 

Would you rather be 10 years older or 10 years younger? I don’t want to be in my 40s, but to be 21 again... I don’t want that either. Can I just stay my age now?

Have you ever kissed someone the same night your met them? No.

Do you bite your fingernails? I don’t bite them, I pick at and use nail clippers constantly. I keep a pair of nail clippers on my bedside table and reach for them all the time. Any little thing I can find to pick or clip, I do it. Sigh.

Would you consider yourself very flexible? Not at all.

Do you embarrass easily? Yes.

Have you ever tried to talk your way out of getting a ticket? I don’t drive, so I’ve never experienced that, but not like I would even try to do that and embarrass myself. I don’t have the confidence, the wit, or the looks. I have nothing going for me, ha. Plus, I’d be so nervous. Maybe they’d see how scared I was haha and feel bad for me. 

Did it work? -

Have you ever been banned from anywhere? No.

Do you have a ringtone or do you leave your phone on vibrate? I have one of the ringtones that came with the phone.

What was the last thing you drank from a mug? Coffee.

Were you born in the 90’s? No, I was born over halfway through 1989, I was so close.

When was the last time you paid less than $1 for something? Uhh, I have no idea.

Have you loaned anything out to anyone recently? Nope.

Are any of your siblings married? No.

Who was the last person to spend the night with you at your house? My aunt a couple weeks ago stayed a week with us.

How many different picture ids do you have in your wallet? Just one.

Do you have a hard time making decisions? Yes.

Has anyone kissed you when you weren’t expecting it? My first kiss was unexpected.

Did you like it? It was awkward, but most first kisses are. I was just giddy about having had my first kiss, ha.

Who was your date to senior prom? I didn’t have a date.

Does your dad smoke? No.

Is your mom over 50? She’s in her early 50s.

Do you want to get married? No.

Have kids? No.

Are there any movies coming out you wanna see? I want to see Godzilla vs Kong, though admittedly it’s because Alexander Skarsgard is in it haha.

Do you have any plans to get a new tattoo or piercing? Nope.

Do you know anyone named Christine? No.

Do you know anyone who’s biracial? Yeah.

Do you know anyone who works at Walmart? Not anymore.

Has the last person you rode in a car with seen you in your underwear? Yes.

Spell your full name without ‘C’,'I’,'R’, or 'Y’: Stephane. 

Open the nearest book, turn to page 11, and type the first sentence: Nah.

Are you currently listening to anything? I’m watching a YouTube video.

Would you ever consider getting breast implants? No.

If you could spend 30 minutes with someone who’s gone, who would you pick? My grandma.

Are you on birth control? No.

Do you know anyone who is bisexual? Yeah.

Would you walk into Walmart naked for $10,000? No.

Does anyone call you babe? No.

Do you hate it when people try to play with your hair? I did when I was a kid.

Who would you tell, or who did you tell when you lost your virginity? I wouldn’t feel the need to tell anyone.

Were you in a relationship 6 months ago? Nope.

Are you still with that person? --

Are you the kind of person who has crazy mood swings? I’m a moody person.

This is question 69…so have you ;)? *eye roll*

How long is it until your birthday? 4 months away.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #341

“anger, misery, you’ll suffer unto me”

Would you risk your life to save a total stranger? I don't think so. Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? No, and I never would. Grow up. Have you ever done something because of peer pressure you are ashamed of? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever been embarrassed to introduce your parents to anyone? No. Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? Yeah; guilt would eat me alive otherwise. Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? Fucking ew, no. Have you ever held back a well-deserved compliment because you were jealous? No. Do you guilt people into giving you what you want? Ugh, no. Would most people consider you better than average looking? Ha, no. For yourself, would you rather have a perfect body or high IQ? Give me the perfect body, living in my horrible one has affected my mental health badly enough. I'm fine with having a moderate IQ. I just want to feel happy in my own skin. Have you ever embarrassed some intentionally in public? Wow, no. Have you ever used a false ID? Also no. Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? I'm embarrassed to tell people I don't HAVE a job. Do you remember the first conversation you had with the person you have feelings for? I don't. I'm sure it was RP-related and not friendly, but I don't remember the exact convo. Have you ever got a D or F on your report card? I want to say no; I think the lowest I ever got was a C. If you had twins, would you give them rhyming names? Ugh, no. I'm sorry if you're into it, but I'm just not. I would want to ensure they knew their uniqueness and individuality was seen. Is there anyone that you wish was IN your life who used to be? There's a large number of those kinds of people. What brings out the worst in you? Probably when I'm building up towards a PTSD meltdown. I get VERY short and snappy and am convinced everyone hates and wants to leave me. My mouth also has NO fucking leash, and I know I can say very mean things that I'll regret later. What do you prefer, Skittles or Starbursts? Skittles. Mike & Ikes or Jolly Ranchers? Jolly Ranchers for sure. What is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter? Waffles (with syrup). Don't knock it 'til you try it, I'm telling you. What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? Besides birds obviously, there's squirrels, deer, opossums, raccoons... Have you ever had a lucid dream? I think I've had just one. What's your biggest problem at the moment? Probably my anxiety having stunted my growth in so many areas. Have you ever turned down a job offer? I don't think so, no. What's the longest hospital stay you've had? For what? I think my longest was almost two months for suicidal thoughts. Two months might sound long, but it was like... my third or so psych hospital stay for that same reason. What's something really basic that you're terrible at? Even the most simple math. I don't even know the majority of my elementary multiplication tables. Have you ever hugged someone for over a minute? Yeah. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? I have one there already, but I plan on getting it covered because it was an impulse tattoo that I feel no connection towards. Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? My old house, yeah. Are you a beach, country, or city person? Country. Living in the suburbs has definitely reminded me of that... Are you faster at text messaging or typing on the computer? Typing, by a long shot. I make typos texting too much. Have you ever kissed anybody who had a mustache? Yeah. Who is the last person that you said "I love you" to, besides family members? Sara. When was your first real relationship? Sophomore year of high school to early college. Have you ever cried over an ex? I've cried the entire mass of water on Earth over an ex lmao. Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yes. Is there something really bad that you’ve done, that only YOU know about? No. Have you ever copied someone else’s homework? I think I have once or twice, but obviously with consent. What’s a hobby you would like to try out? If my legs worked like actual legs and I didn't sweat like an absolute pig, I would like to try out herping, but without actually interacting with the animal like picking it up and scaring the daylights out of it. I'd just be happy enough looking for reptiles, amphibians, and inverts to photograph instead. Does that still even count as herping? What was the last event you attended? My youngest niece's birthday party. How about the last event you organized? I've never organized an event. What’s something you get excited about doing and want to do it right away? Whenever I take nature pictures, I'm immediately keen to get them into Lightroom and do the postproduction. Is there anything you feel you’re better at than anybody else? Definitely not. What’s the biggest insect you’ve ever seen? If you exclude places like the zoo, that would probably be a rhinoceros beetle or something. Oh no, actually some kind of local moth I don't know the name of. They're beautiful big white boiz. How about the biggest spider? I might be mis-remembering, but I believe at a reptile convention I went to with Sara, one of the vendors had a goliath bird eater tarantula in one of the cups. I do know it was some tarantula species for sure, though. Who was the first person to break your heart? My dad. Obviously not romantically, but him just splitting on the family with no proper communication absolutely broke my heart for years. First person to give you flowers or candy on Valentine’s day? I'm sure that would be my parents. If you exclude them 'cuz that's kinda obvious, I believe it was Aaron, my first boyfriend. I'm pretty sure we were together on Valentine's Day, because I remember getting him a giant Hershey's Kiss. First band you obsessed about? I wasn't truly obsessed with any band 'til Ozzy in middle school. Can you do a backflip? No; I've never tried and never will. I was and still am too afraid of breaking my neck. Like I have a MASSIVE fear of paralysis, particularly from the neck down; that fear is actually the biggest one that keeps me from driving, fun fact. Are you an optimist or a pessimist? Of the two, definitely a pessimist, but I at least think I align most with being a realist. What’s the biggest lie you’ve told someone? I'm unsure. Have you ever been hit on by someone of the same sex? Yeah. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Just one. Have you ever been engaged and broke it off? No. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Tyler once drew a picture of him and me. It was cute. That guy still dove in WAY too fast. Have you ever dated a redhead? I haven't, but I love redheads. Natural red hair is just gorgeous. What are your thoughts on facial hair on guys? Historically, I seem to generally like some, but it really depends on the guy's general appearance. I can like none at all or a full beard and mustache, it doesn't really matter to me. Did you go anywhere today? No; my mom is in Florida with her brothers totally cleaning out Grammy's house, so she's not here to take me anywhere. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Oh yikes, I have a lot. I honestly can't count because I've lost track of how many boys and girls Katie has. You have a choice to shoot your father or die, what would you do? Jesus. I'd rather die; some things just aren't worth living after, and I'd have no desire to keep going if I killed my father. Did you ever cry at the end of King Kong? I've never watched it, actually, but I. LOVED. The video game. I haven't played it in years and only faintly remember how it ends, but I don't remember crying. Are you in any amount of pain at the moment? Quite a lot, actually. It's kinda a TMI subject so I won't delve into it, just know I'm hurting like a bitch. What was the last sugary thing you ate? I snacked on some chocolate chips earlier today... which I really shouldn't have done, but I think I had reasonable restraint and didn't totally binge. When was the last time you did something extremely stupid? Who knows, that's not a rare occurrence, it feels like. Have you been to any parties lately? Only my niece's bday party in February. Thankfully it was kept pretty small, given Covid; not that anyone in that family besides my sister gives a flying fuck about precautions, though... Can you touch your pinky to your thumb around your wrist? Ugh, no. Close, but not enough. I still have thin wrists and hands, but yeah, yay for being overweight. If you were to start a charity, what would you call it? I'd hve to put more thought than I'm willing for one survey question. I'd have to decide what KIND of charity I want to start first, which I'm unsure of. Probably something related to animal wellfare and conservation or something similar to the Trevor Project. Maybe LBGTQ+ youth disowned by their families... I dunno. There's so much good I wish I could do. Are you comfortable with your body? Holy fuck no. It's only gotten worse since I started gaining weight again and almost entirely erased all weight loss progress I'd made. What is your recent inside joke? Most recently made? Idk, man. I don't make those often. Would you rather be a human, vampire, or a werewolf? Er, I'm good with being a human. If I was a vampire or werewolf, I wouldn't exactly be very welcomed, I'm sure, and both have seemingly painful traits to cope with. Are you good at giving directions? It is absolutely impossible for me. I have NO sense of direction, like, at all. I don't know highway names, local exits, etc. etc. etc. etc. Why did you last curse? Pain when readjusting myself due to aforementioned issue I'm having. What is your purpose in life? I hope it involves animals and spreading words of peace and an appreciation for art. What is one of your weak points? I'm very, very, very dependent on others. I'm really working on trying to correct that. I can barely do shit on my own as is. Who was the last person you heard snoring? My cat, haha. Would you rather shower by yourself or with another person? 100% by myself. Another person would just get in the way and make me VERY self-conscious of my body, even if it was my romantic partner. Just please leave me alone to hate myself for 10 minutes. :^) What was your last addiction? You could say my current one is John Wolfe, a really funny let's player I've gotten into. Been bingeing some of my favorite games he has playlists of for a few weeks now. You are in a tank full of spiders, what do you do? Well one, I'd like to know what kind they are. Venomous? Harmless? You gotta give me the details. If I don't have any, then I'm admittedly freaking the fuck out, even though I know I should stay very calm when trying to get out. Fear would win, though. If killing yourself meant saving the world, would you? Saving the world from what? But odds are, yeah. I don't cherish my pretty damn mediocre life more than I do the lives of what, 8 billion people? Have you ever stayed up all night just to talk to someone? Yeah. When was the last time you eavesdropped someone? I kinda do that sometimes when Mom's on the phone and I can hear her from my room, and if they're on speaker. Particularly if the subject is me. When was the last time you went to a club? I've never been to one. How have you been sleeping? Poorly. Are you adopted? No, I'm not. Do you like scrapbooking? Not really, no. Do you collect anything valuable? "Valuable to me." <<<< This. Nothing of great monetary worth, though. Have you ever been beaten up? No, thankfully. Do you know anyone with an eating disorder? I don't think so, in my personal life. What was the last thing you killed? An ant. Have you ever used someone for money? I never could, no. When was the last time you went to the zoo? Sigh, it's been many many years. I'm so ready to get my goddamn legs back in shape so I can go again, this time with a REAL camera, too. Last time I went was when I still only had a Kodak EasyShare; I have a professional Canon camera now with much more education on photography too, so I would be in absolute heaven with at least twenty memory cards in need, haha. Maybe next fall... Is there a teacher you hate more than anything? I actually never had a teacher I hated in my entire school career. It really, really is as simple as just being a respectful student. In most cases, I should emphasize, because I do understand some educators just suck. Now I had some teachers I wasn't very fond of, but most certainly none that I hated. Do you own colored eyeliner? No. Do you have manners? I honestly think I'm very mannerly. When was the last time that you had a pet that died? We last had to put my dog Teddy down; he had cancer and was literally withering away. I knew in my very core that even if we didn't bring him to the vet to euthanize him, he would've died naturally in a very short period of time; I doubt he would've survived another night. Now I'd like to move on. What is your favorite medication that you take, and why? The combination of Vraylar and Lamictal is the reason I'm alive. It keeps my bipolarity and depression under control. Do you decorate Mason jars? No, but those are some of my favorite crafts visually. They're very pretty and cute. Can you see the mountains from where you live? Oh hunny, I wish. Did you ever play pranks on April Fool’s Day? As a kid, yeah. I don't anymore. I'm not really even a fan of April Fool's Day as an adult because of how cruel some jokes assholes play are. Which instrument would you play if you could learn to play one? Maybe violin. Do you part your hair on the left side, right side, or in the middle? The left. What are some names you like that start with the first letter of your name? Uhhhh Bianca, Braelynn (look I know it's so stereotypically Southern but it's pretty)... and idk from there, those are the two that come to mind first.

[readyplayerhobi]

Mulled Wine

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 2k

; Synopsis: Christmas is a time for happiness, joy and love. Your first Christmas with Hoseok isn’t spent with him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get to enjoy it without him.

; A/N: Just a little drabble I knocked up. I didn’t proof read it but...I just wanted some soft Hobi so...enjoy I guess? Please reblog and like if you enjoyed and let me know what you thought! I’m in a bit of a writing slump so...<3

-

The lingering scent of Christmas dinner enriches the air around you, letting your mind wander back to the delicious meal you’d eaten only an hour before. Your stomach is slightly tender and swollen from the extortionate amount of food you’ve eaten, but you refuse to feel guilty over it.

It’s Christmas...it’s the time to overindulge and eat enough food to make yourself thoroughly sick the next day.

And god dammit, your mom’s cooking was delicious. So you had savoured every bite from your plate, enjoying the burst of flavours that evoked memories of previous years with fondness. Plus, it was always lovely to have a meal that you hadn’t made yourself. Food always tastes better that way.

The lighting in the living room is low, the twinkling lights that adorn the tree glowed softly while those on the window reflect back against the darkness of the night outside. Christmas cards adorn the walls and mantlepiece while tasteful decorations are dotted around the room. 

From the kitchen, you can hear your parents talking quietly as they clean up the table and you feel a momentary pang of guilt at not helping them. But they’d ushered you out of the room quickly, ignoring your protests and you knew that you’d lost against them when they presented a united front like that. 

They didn’t want you to miss your call with Hoseok though, and you knew that it was partially because they wanted you to talk to him on Christmas but also because they were a little sad he hadn’t come over. Despite the fact you’d pointed out that he had his own family to visit and spend Christmas with.

Your parents were just a little bit in love with your boyfriend, which made you really happy. This was your first Christmas as a couple and your anniversary was fast approaching too, but they’d wanted to see him today as well. They’d even bought him a present, which you’d found absolutely heart melting.

But you knew Hoseok, and he would rather die than miss Christmas with his own parents. Especially his own mom. You’d sent him home with presents for his own parents this year; a beautiful handbag for his mom and a set of classic English literature for his dad.

Neither Hoseok nor you had given each other your presents yet. Both of you wanted to actually be with each other when you exchanged gifts, which made you a little antsy because you loved opening presents and were eager to see what your lovely boyfriend had got you.

He’d promised to call at 5pm, and your eyes flicker over to the clock on the wall without you meaning them to. How to Train Your Dragon plays on the large flat screen quietly to itself as you unlock your phone, finger automatically going to Twitter to see what the world was up to on this fine day.

You’ve only been scrolling for a few seconds when suddenly the screen disappears and you’re met with Hoseok’s blindingly beautiful grin as his called ID comes up. Immediately you accept the call and note that it’s a video call.

A whine leaves your mouth automatically as you pout, rolling onto your stomach as you lay the phone out in front of you. “Hobi...I look terrible! You just got a great shot of my double chins and...you look nice!”

Your attention is distracted halfway through, taking in your boyfriend’s wide smile that fills the screen. He looks beautiful, a collared black shirt button up with the top few left open while his dark hair has been styled artfully. Hoseok obviously put some effort into his family’s Christmas day and it makes your heart feel funny as you watch him. 

As your words get through to him, you watch with a smile of your own as pink tinges his cheeks and he looks down with a bashful expression. “I...thanks. And you look beautiful. I love your chin...both of them.”

Almost immediately your gasping dramatically, a hand to your chest while your jaw drops open before you laugh at the mischievous look on his face. But his teasing words make you feel warm and soft as you focus on the fact that he’s getting ever more comfortable with you. There had been a time that he would’ve stuttered and tripped over his those words before apologising in case he’d offended you.

“Have you had a good day? Eaten some good food? Opened your presents?” He chuckles at your bombardment of words, tongue licking his lips as he nods happily.

“Yeah, it’s been good. My sister and her husband are here so that’s been nice to see her and get to hang out a bit. My dinner was nice and I liked my presents. They got me that yellow Pikachu N64 I wanted!” He said excitedly, face brightening as he gushed about the retro gaming console enthusiastically. “I don’t know how they knew I wanted it but it’s so cool. Oh...they say thank you for their presents too. Dad already started reading one.”

You bite your lip as you watch the screen lovingly. You’d told them that he’d set his heart on that N64 to add into his console collection and had even found one for them to buy. Totally worth the time and effort given how boyishly happy he was about it. He seemed so much younger like this.

“I’m glad, and my parents liked your gifts too. And that’s so cool! We can play Mario Kart 64 against each other now, it’s the best one,” The words are sincere as he smirks, brow raised. “You know it’s true.”

“Oh yeah? Does that mean you’re still gonna lose?” He teases, giggling and causing the video to shake wildly. You make a sound of indignant protest.

“Excuse you. But I don’t lose. I just choose not to win. It’s boring winning all the time.” You pout, making sure to tilt your head to the side for extra effect as his loud laugh erupts from your phones speaker.

“I’d accept that if you’d actually won against me once. But you haven’t.” He points out through laughs, white teeth chewing on his lip in amusement. You sigh gently and point at the screen.

“I just like to see your face when you win. You get so happy.” Almost immediately, Hoseok’s face darkens as he flushes at the compliment. His eyes dart around, looking for his family to see if they were in earshot and you have to bite your lip hard to stop yourself from laughing.

He was truly adorable.

“Have you had a good Christmas?” Hoseok asks quietly, shifting position until he could lay his head against a sofa cushion and watch you through bright eyes, the screen of his phone reflecting through his glasses.

“Yeah, it’s been good. We only just finished eating really and my parents are cleaning up. I think we’re just going to watch films for the rest of the night, maybe play a board game. My dad’s got some new game he wants to try out so...we’re his willing guinea pigs.” You say quietly, resting your chin on your crossed arms.

Hoseok whines softly, lip pushing out. “I want to play board games.” 

It hadn’t taken long to discover that Hoseok and your father had a connection through the nerdiness of board games. Your dad held a monthly board game night and Hoseok had been invited to the last two, making acquaintances with other people who shared his passion.

You’d let him go alone at first, wanting him to get accustomed to these people without you and build up a rapport without having you to hide behind. He’d loved it, and become pretty close to your dad already. Your dad had very much taken Hoseok under his wing and you knew that he’d be pretty sad if you both broke up.

“Oh baby, we can play them when you come over tomorrow. I promise,” You hold up your pinky and bend it repeatedly, watching as he holds up his and repeats the gesture to you. “My parents got me some really nice presents this year. Mom got me this beautiful black peacoat and some leather boots, I can’t wait to wear them!”

Hoseok nods along at all the right points in the conversation as you continue talking, telling him all about what you’d received and how you’d spent your day while he reciprocates quietly. Your parents come through at one point, bending down to wave to him and being thoroughly amused by his shy response.

Despite being friendly with them both, he was still that sweet guy you’d met on your first day at Poppin’ Culture. You hoped that he never really changed, because you loved that Hoseok just as much as you loved the one you got to witness in private.

The conversation lulls and you blink tiredly, the post-food tiredness causing you to want to take a nap desperately. Lethargy runs through your veins and you suddenly wish that Hoseok was there with you, curled up next to you with his body heating your own and the comfortable weight of his arm around you.

“I miss you.” You tell him quietly, the words so soft and gentle that he almost has to strain to hear them. But when they register, you take in the beautiful sight of his tiny smile. Dimples appear in his cheeks and you reach out to gently poke at them on the screen.

“I miss you too. We’ll see each other tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you.” His face lights up slightly as he smiles, his head shifting slightly from its position as he lifts up his own hand to trace his screen. It makes your heart skip slightly and you feel very sappy suddenly.

Maybe it was the wine.

“I love you. You know that? I really love you. And I can’t wait to see you again.” He grins brightly at that, his cheeks tinging pink once more as he nods slowly, his eyes warm as he stares at you.

“I know. I love you too. Happy Christmas baby.” You murmur in response to him, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever and you try to fight it momentarily, not wanting to let your time with him go to waste. But the smells and sounds of Christmas combined with the sound of his quiet breathing through the phone and your food lethargy, lulling you into a sleep.

Hoseok watches you for a few more minutes, his eyes going glassy for a few seconds as he feels an overwhelming amount of love and affection for you as he looks over your sleeping face. It’s not an elegant picture; your mouth is open slightly and your cheek is squished against your arm, yet he can’t think of anyone more beautiful.

His heart squeezes tightly as he thinks over the past year, all the moments he’d experienced with you and the way he’d grown subtly in his relationship with you. He may sound like he was being particularly sappy, but he definitely felt like his life had changed when he’d met you.

You made him want to be a better version of himself; not only for you but for himself too. And he couldn’t ever thank you enough for that. Nor for all the love you give to him, overwhelming him sometimes when his depression hits and tells him he’s not worth it.

“I love you,” He breathes out, so quiet that no one could hear but the conviction behind the words is loud to him. Love was something he had always been wary off. Hoseok wasn’t an open person, and love opened him up to a potential for unbelievable pain.

But it also brought happiness, and he’d never been happier than with you. He hoped desperately that this would be the first Christmas that you would both share of many, because he was pretty sure that he could see the rest of his life with you.

[taylornock]

how cell phones made our lives better while simultaneously ruining them

hi fam!! it’s me, again. are you tired of hearing from me? me too. that’s why I’m here to rant about social media / phone / technology. bc i hate it… but in a loving way???

everyone remembers when they got their first iPhone. seriously. why is that such a monumental moment in our lives? i can hardly remember what i felt like freshman year of high school but can pinpoint the feeling of sheer glee unwrapping my iPhone 6 in eighth grade. i have this thing that is attached to me 24/7 - when I go anywhere (even downstairs) without my phone i feel weird. that is f***ing SAD! PATHETIC. i hate feeling that dependent on what is essentially a pocket robot.

for what it’s worth - phones have done INCREDIBLE things for the world as we know it. for example, this quarantine shit has been testing all of us; and our phones are helping us get through it in so many ways. our phones let us see the faces of those loved ones we are missing, our phones provide us with stupid tik tok content to keep everything light hearted, and our phones let us check in on each other. all amazing things! when we are at school, we have instant access to our lives at home . being able to call my mom whenever i want is something i definitely abuse. “mom, I’m on my way home from Thompson right now and i think i have a brain aneurysm but my bio final is at 11am tomorrow will i make it” … an actual conversation i had with my mom at the end of freshman year. needless to say i was medicated shortly after THAT meltdown. I am such a brat that i don’t know what i would do if i couldn’t text my dad and have him immediately get me the password again to our Uverse account…… god forbid i miss an episode of the bachelor. i have this phone, and that’s what i do with it? abuse its powers to ask my parents for medical advice or a password i forgot? have we lost sight of everything here?

throughout life and especially throughout quarantine… my phone is the definition of a possession that is a blessing and a curse. I’m so grateful to have the ability to bother my friends - whenever i want! the options are endless! i love keeping in touch with people i thought id never hear from again, and being able to talk to so many people in my life and make my heart swell. now, when a conversation with someone other than my two roommates (shoutout parents) is so rare ⎯ that phone is my weapon and i use it to help flatten the curve: flatten the curve of covid19 and flatten the curve of my mental illness 🙃 [humor is a coping mechanism okay let me live] but like, i KNOW i’m not the only one that looks at my screen time and immediately wants to die. how can i honestly be looking at my phone for that long? picking it up THAT many times?????? my phone is the best distraction and also the most toxic - it makes me feel better but has a tendency to bring up all my issues and blast them into the reflection of my blue light glasses...... its called fashion look it up.

to give some examples - let’s open up my most used app: snapchat. I go on snapchat with the best of intentions - to see a memory from a year ago that makes me smile. to respond to my friends and see what their mood today is based on the look on their face. to creep on snap stories and see what everyone’s cooking and doing with their lives. somehow, tho, after spending a few minutes on the app.. i end up with a pit in my stomach most of the time. the person i want to respond hasn’t responded in 4 hours. oh god lets overthink this- they don’t like me anymore and are no longer interested in speaking to me and only respond every once in a while out of pity or because they are uncomfortable. everyone hates you. oh and GOD FORBID someone leaves me on open??! I am not funny nor interesting nor worth a reply - suddenly, i have equated my value to receiving or not receiving a photo of someone’s blank stare. this is extreme, and this is dramatic. but trust me —— this is the hamster wheel always turning in my head. I’m not even going to touch on snap maps; that feature is pandoras box and someone better fucking shut it.

second most used app is instagram. i scroll for hours, i have time limits set for the app acting like i’m actually going to listen to them and get off. lmaooooooooo. i love looking at aesthetic stuff and dogs and food and recipes and my friends’ beautiful faces. but you know what i don’t like? constant nudges to compare myself to others. oh look at her having a party with all of her friends even though we aren’t supposed to be. am i a loser for trying to be safe? oh look at her washboard abs, i’m never going to look like that and will never live up to the standard of beauty society has set for me. look at all of these people in their happy relationships. why can’t i have that? it goes over and over and over. its not like i sit there and think of these things just like that, its a precedent in my mind when i stare at everybody else that i am going to size my own life up against theirs. for years i followed every single elite model / VS angel on instagram to motivate me to do better - to start being psycho about what i did to my body so i could be as gorgeous as them. what kind of fucked up mindset is that? i would literally watch their footage of them eating rice and vegetables once a day and try to copy it. i would watch their runway walks obsessively trying to recreate them in heels alone in my house - like that was all i could imagine doing with my life. did i ever stop for a second to look at that photoshoot of gigi hadid and wonder if she was happy? wonder if the constant pictures she saw of herself ever made her insecure? what was i doing? the day i unfollowed those girls was a monumental day in my journey to a better self image. i didn’t realize the people i thought were my “motivators” were actually my triggers. i have grown to a point in life now that i would much rather eat a stack of chocolate chip pancakes that make me dance in my chair like an infant than practice my runway walk and shame my body in the mirror. and i am so freakin happy! 

i could go app by app for hours. but moving on to the next thing i hate about cell phones - how they have destroyed our biological methods of communication. you hear about those psychos who think the world is destroyed by technology and we are going to be overrun by robots. but hey, I’m with the psychos on this one. i have this amazing friend, Trevor Wright, who without fail at EVERY dinner announces “phones off friends on” and collects our phones into the center of the table. yes, we are 20 year old adults. yes, we hand our phones over to Trevor and let him yell at us for trying to see if ~that person~ snap chatted us back. i have so much respect for him because of this. there is nothing worse than staring at your phones when you could be having a good conversation about life, about love, about laughter + memories, about “do you think hellen keller is real?” anything, bro, anything. anything but snapchat messaging your hoe of the week or mindlessly playing tetris to twiddle your thumbs. we all need to start loving a little harder, and the first step to doing that is to communicate better. communicate smarter. I’m guilty of alllll of the above, don’t get me wrong. and I am ADD asf and constantly playing mindless games just to stimulate my brain. but i need to stop that! even writing this is taking some time away from the dumb shit on my phone - and encouraging me to communicate how i     r e a l l y   feel to my homies that will read this. communication - especially body language - is fascinating. I’ve studied it in  psych, I’ve learned the neurological bases of behavior and why we do what we do. I’ve learned how much our life experience impacts who we are as a whole...and it! is! fascinating! i also think that’s why i love film so much. because it can capture the raw moments of your friends just being your friends, of you just being the person you are, and the world around you just existing as it exists. i love the raw moments; and not just because indy blue posted one youtube video of her slow mo laughing and now thats the only footage i find myself shooting. 😚

im not quite sure what this post is, lol. but - just a rant on technology. so listen to me:

take advantage of technology + social media! it CAN BE GREAT. for so many reasons. but, don’t let technology + social media TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU. stay true to you - know how to communicate with yourself and your loved ones without the use of a robot. remember that feeling when you setup up your first iPhone? imagine if you could feel that again, with your phone nowhere in sight. if you don’t know how to communicate with yourself yet, start by journaling. WRITE! TYPE! SPEAK! do what you want. getting your thoughts down even without an audience is so crucial to understanding yourself and others. if you don’t like to write, reflect. breathe. meditate. make art. do what makes you feel at peace, and do whatever makes you feel like the world makes a little bit more sense than it does. 

IF YOU ARE READING DOWN TO HERE, I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU, SAY IT BACK! LIFE IS A FUCKING HIGHWAY. AND IM SO GLAD YOU’RE ON MY INTERSTATE. <3

xoxoxoxo

gossip girl

[omgjasminesimone]

Spousal Privilege Epilogue

Colt x MC

Author’s Note: In honor of hitting 100 followers (thanks followers!), a follow up to my most popular story, Spousal Privilege

Summary: Colt is out of jail, and ready to make Ellie his forever.

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 3000

Colt walks out of the changing room, glad to be back in his own clothes after a month in jail house orange. He heads to the discharge desk, a spring in his step at his impending escape from this hellhole.

Sanchez slides a plastic bag full of Colt’s belongings across the desk. Colt opens the bag, pocketing his wallet, keys, and putting on his belt. Everything he’d had on him when he was unexpectedly arrested while leaving the burnt out remains of his father’s garage, returned at last.  

Sanchez plops a stack of paperwork on the desk. “Sign these. Read it if you want, if you’re just dying to spend more time here.”

Colt skims the paperwork quickly. Conditions of his bail, instructions for the ankle monitor he’s required to wear, acknowledgement they’ve returned his property, blah blah blah, he’s just ready to get out of here. He signs his name where he’s supposed to, passing the paperwork back to his least favorite correctional officer.

Sanchez signs the paperwork as well, leaving it on the desk. “You’re free to go. For now. See you when you’re re-arrested for some other crime.”

“I won’t be back Sanchez.” Colt smirks as he stands, his chair scraping across the concrete floor. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Sanchez’ jaw clenches. “Pshh…disrespectful.” He mutters as Colt walks out the door.

Colt smiles when he steps out into the Los Angeles sun, free from bars and armed correctional officers after a long 35 days. His smile widens when he spots her.  

She’s running towards him, her long braid swinging behind her. She’s wearing a simple white dress with a sweetheart neckline paired with white sneakers, and she’s beaming at him. She’s so damn beautiful. He wonders for probably the 50th time if his father is now serving as his guardian angel because if not for divine intervention he has no idea how he got so lucky with her.

She jumps into his arms and starts kissing him ferociously. Her legs wrap around his waist as he grips her outer thighs, returning her kiss with equal passion. It’s really been way too long. He’s certainly not going to miss the jail’s no touching rule. He presses her into the wall of the jail to better support her, deepening the kiss and cupping her right breast over her dress with his now free right hand.

She pulls away, eyes fluttering open. She blushes as he squeezes her breast. “Colt, we’re in public.”

“I know. But I can’t help myself. I want you so fucking bad Ellie.” He grounds his hips against hers, letting her feel how badly he wants her.

She unwraps her legs from around his waist and he reluctantly allows her to drop down to the ground. She gives him another kiss, chaste this time, stretching onto her tiptoes. “Later. We have to get married first.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’re doing that today?”

She nods excitedly. “They had a cancellation and I got off the waitlist this morning! We’re so lucky Colt, the next appointment available is two months from now, which is after your trial.”

He looks towards the Heavens. ‘Thanks Pops.’ He thinks.  

She intertwines their fingers, leading him to her car. “We need to head downtown to the courthouse now. We can’t miss our appointment. I brought a change of clothes for you from your place.”

“Our place now.” He corrects, squeezing her hand.

She smiles softly as she unlocks the doors, sliding into the driver’s seat. She passes him a white dress shirt and black slacks as he takes the passenger seat. She quickly peels out of the jail parking lot, merging onto the 405 South.

He changes in the car, kicking off his jeans and leaving them crumbled on the floor. She glances at his exposed ankle monitor before he shimmies into the slacks. He catches the glance. “You know I have to charge this thing? It only has 12 hours of battery life. What a piece of shit.”

“Do you shower with it on?” Ellie asks, curious. She always loves to learn new things, and this is a whole new world for her.

Colt finishes buttoning his shirt. “They told me I literally never take it off. Hey, take the next exit. We need to make a pit stop.”      

“But we’re already running late!”

Colt rolls his eyes. Knowing her, she’s probably timed it so they’ll arrive at the courthouse thirty minutes early. “I need to stop by the bank. I found my Dad’s safety deposit box key in the garage. That’s what I was doing when I got arrested.”

Ellie merges to get into the exit lane. “Make it quick.” She warns.

He directs her to the bank, and jogs inside while she leaves the car idling in the parking lot. Ellie drums her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. Colt returns moments later, a thick manila envelope in hand. Ellie merges back onto the 405. “So, what was in it?” She asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Cash. Important paperwork.” He pauses, riffling through the envelope. “My grandparents wedding rings conveniently.” They’re stuck in rush hour traffic, so she takes her eyes off the road to look at the simple but beautiful diamond engagement ring he’s presenting to her.

“I know we’re not doing this right. I didn’t get down on one knee and propose, and we’re not having a real wedding like you deserve, but if there’s one thing I can do right it’s putting a diamond on your finger. We might have to get it fitted.”

Ellie smiles softly as Colt tenderly slides the ring onto her finger, it fits perfectly. He kisses her knuckles gently before releasing her hand so she can drive as the traffic clears up. “All of this is right Colt. I don’t need a fancy proposal or a big expensive wedding. You’re the only thing I want. I can’t wait to marry you.”

Colt leans back in his seat, looking at her appraisingly. “Did you tell your dad?”

Ellie’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “No.” She admits. “I know what he’s going to say. I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission at this point….Did you tell your mom?”

Colt looks out the window. “No. I was afraid she’d tried to talk you out of it.” He turns to look at her, smirking. “I think she likes you more than she likes me at this point.”

“No one could talk me out of this Colt. It’s what I want.”

“I don’t know. My mom could probably make a pretty compelling argument. I think she sees a lot of her in you. And a lot of my dad in me.”

Ellie exits the freeway, almost to the courthouse now. “We’re not them. We’re our own people, with our own story.”

…

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“You may now kiss the bride.” The court officiant says, after seeing that all their paperwork is in order.

Colt smiles, not a smirk for once, and grips Ellie’s neck, capturing her lips. Another bride-to-be Ellie struck up a conversation with in the waiting room (they were early, just like Colt suspected) snaps photos on Ellie’s phone.

Ellie smiles when he pulls away. He takes his grandparents’ wedding bands out of his pocket, slipping the smaller gold band onto her finger. He hands her the matching wedding band and she slips it on him.

He intertwines their fingers and they walk down the aisle towards the exit.

Ellie’s new friend smiles, returning her phone. “I took a lot of pictures. Hopefully some of them are good! Congratulations you two.”

“Thank you so much!” Ellie chimes. She turns to Colt. “Ready to go to our apartment?”  

He’s been ready to get her home all day. But had this been a real wedding, they wouldn’t be consummating it yet. There would have been a reception, with dinner and drinks and dancing. She deserves that. “Not yet. You’re mine now, officially, forever. That calls for a celebration.”

…

..

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Colt throws an arm around Ellie as they relax in the VIP booth of the nightclub. Neither of them is old enough to be here, but that was easily solved with a pair of fake IDs. They’ve been dancing and drinking (he double checked that his ankle monitor isn’t one of the newer ones that can detect alcohol) for hours, so now they’re content to enjoy the VIP booth he paid for with some of the safety deposit box money.

Ellie scrolls through the wedding pictures on her phone. “This is a good one.” Colt glances at the photo. They’re kissing, her diamond ring and wedding band visible since her hand is on his cheek.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” He agrees.

“I’m going to email it to my dad and tell him that we’re married.”

Colt raises a brow. “Is that the alcohol talking?”

“No, I know if I try to tell him in person he’s going to interrupt me. He’s not going to let me say what I need to say. This way is better.” She insists.

“Whatever you say Mrs. Kaneko.” He smiles. He’s never going to get sick of that. Mrs. Kaneko.

She types for several moments, and he plays with her long brown hair. “And….sent.” She sighs, as if a great weight has been lifted off of her. “Let’s go home.”

He smirks. Finally, what he’s been waiting for all night.

…

..

.

Colt unlocks the door and carries Ellie over the threshold of their one bedroom apartment in West LA. He gently puts her down, surveying the familiar apartment. Ellie loops her arms around his neck, hugging him gently. “Welcome home.”

“You’re my home.” He can’t help but reply, capturing her lips and walking her backwards into their bedroom. He gently pushes her down onto the bed, breaking their kiss. “Sorry there are no rose petals on the bed.” He unbuttons his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. “And no candles.” He drops his pants, climbing on top of her and supporting his weight with his arms.

“I don’t need that. I just need you.” She replies, reaching her hand into his boxers and gripping his manhood. She starts to stroke. After 35 days of celibacy, that alone is almost enough to make him cum. He quickly removes her hand from his boxers, not wanting their wedding night to end prematurely. She looks at him questionably.

“I want to take care of you first.” He explains, pulling the white dress over her head and tossing it to the floor. He freezes when he sees the lacy white lingerie she’s wearing underneath. That’s new. He feels himself becoming uncomfortably hard at this image of her, splayed out beneath him, hair fanned out on the pillow, chest softly rising and falling. The lingerie is practically see through, erotic but somehow still innocent at the same time. He almost doesn’t want to take it off of her. He commits the image to memory, gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.

She blushes at his intense gaze. “Colt?”

“You’re so beautiful Ellie. I can’t believe you’re mine.” He admits, trailing kisses over the tops of her breasts which are spilling out of the bra. Her fingers tangle in his hair as his kisses trail lower. Over her stomach, down to her inner thighs. He nips at her hip, pulling her panties down with his teeth.

“Colt….” She breathes out as he kisses between her legs. He grips her thighs, pulling her further down the bed as he licks and sucks at her most intimate area. Her back arches off the bed, her grip on his hair almost painful. His tongue delves inside her and she comes apart, seeing white until she slowly comes down from her orgasm.

She barely notices him removing his boxers, but she feels him as his hard shaft brushes her entrance. She starts to remove her bra, but Colt stops her, intertwining their fingers and pinning her hands near her head. “Don’t. I like it.” He slowly pushes into her. He groans at the feel of being inside her again. It’s been way too long. He promises himself it will never be that long again.  

“Colt, faster.” Ellie mutters, eyes closing in ecstasy as he follows her instructions, pumping into her faster and harder.

“Whatever Mrs. Kaneko wants.” He promises, the headboard slamming against the wall as he thrusts more and more aggressively. She tries to match his enthusiasm, rolling her hips in time with his thrusts.

He releases one of her hands, thumb trailing down between them to press at her clit. “Ahh…Colt.” Her free hand scratches down his back, leaving scratches but she’s too far gone to apologize. Loud moans and grunts fill the room. Colt laughs when his neighbor starts banging on the wall, wanting them to quiet down.

He captures her lips as her walls tighten around him, swallowing her loud cry as she orgasms again. As soon as she lets go, he does too, pulling out of her and cuming on her stomach. Colt rolls off of her, grabbing his shirt from the floor and wiping her stomach with it.

“That…was something else.” She comments, cuddling into his side. He unclasps her bra, and she allows it to fall to the bed. His thumb circles a nipple.

“I hope you’re not tired. I’m not done with you yet.” Colt insists.

…

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Colt is awoken a few hours later by the loud knocking at his door. He looks at his sleeping wife, stirring now as the banging continues. Colt rolls out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and going to the door. He looks out the eyehole, and sees what looks like a cop outside his door.

“You think it’s my parole officer?” He calls back to Ellie, opening the door.

A fist collides with his face.

Colt clutches at his nose, his hands filling with blood. “What the fuck?!” He complains, looking at the man who just stormed into his apartment.

“You son of a bitch.” The man seethes, looking at Colt with hate.

“Dad?” Ellie calls from the bedroom when she recognizes the voice.

The man, Detective Wheeler, Colt now realizes, stalks towards the bedroom. “What is wrong with you Ellie?”

Colt locks the door and slumps onto the couch in the living room, tilting his head back to try to stem the bleeding.

“Wait, Dad,…let me get dressed first!” Ellie shouts, slamming the bedroom door just before her father can get there. Detective Wheeler glares at him anew after hearing that. Colt grimaces. This is definitely not how he wanted meeting Ellie’s father to go.

Moments later, the bedroom door opens and Ellie steps out, wearing the white dress again. “What are you doing here Dad?”

“What are you doing here Ellie?! You’re married!? To a criminal?! And you deferred college?! I know you’re technically an adult now, but you’re definitely not acting like one.” Mr. Wheeler yells.

Ellie rolls her eyes, storming past her father and into the kitchen. She grabs an icepack out of the freezer, stalking into the living room and plopping down beside her husband on the couch. She gently removes his hands from his face so she can look at it. Her father has followed her into the living room. “I think you broke his nose.” She complains, placing the ice pack to Colt’s quickly bruising face.

Detective Wheeler’s glare does not soften. “He’ll live.”

Suddenly, someone else is banging on their door. Colt sighs and opens it again, not even bothering to check who it is. He’s pretty sure he knows.

She slaps him. Hard. “What the fuck Mom!” He clutches at the red mark he’s sure is forming on his face.

“Language!” His mother admonishes, glaring at him. “That’s for marrying that poor girl. And telling me about it via text message!” She slaps him again. “And that’s for getting arrested in the first place. I told you not to come out here. I told you to stay away from your father. You never listen Colt.”

She steps around him and into the apartment. She looks around the room and seems to quickly assess what’s going on. She walks over to Detective Wheeler. “Ellie’s Dad?” She questions. He nods. “I’m Colt’s Mom, Naomi Inoue. I’m sorry about all this. I promise you I raised him better than this.” She turns to glare at her son.

“Kyle Wheeler. And I thought I raised Ellie better than this too.” Mr. Wheeler replies.  

“Colt isn’t a bad kid. I think he was just trying to impress his father. But now, I assume he’ll be trying to impress his wife so hopefully that will keep him on the straight and narrow.”

Mr. Wheeler’s fist clench at the ‘wife’ comment, in disbelief that his sweet little Ellie is now this punk’s wife.

“Mom, that reminds me.” Colt leaves the living room, retrieving the manila folder from the kitchen table. “I emptied Dad’s safety deposit box. I want to pay you back for the bail.” He meets his Mom’s dark brown eyes. “Thank you, for doing that for me.”

“I don’t want the bail money back Colt. I want you to not run, to do what you’re supposed to do. Be the man I know you can be. Then I’ll get the bail back from the courts.”

“Not all of it. They keep a certain percentage. I want to give you enough to make you whole in all this since the criminal justice system is all a big scam.” Colt catches Detective Wheeler’s offended look. “No offense.” He adds.

Naomi accepts the money Colt is offering. Then, she grips Colt’s chin, checking on his nose. She’s a nurse, so she can tell it isn’t actually broken. “You probably deserved that.” She comments.

Colt looks over at Ellie, who is sitting on the couch as her father speaks to her in angry whispers. She meets his gaze with a sad smile. “She’s worth it.”

Naomi claps her hands once, getting everyone’s attention. “Well, now that we’re all family I think we all have a lot to talk about. Colt, put on some coffee.”

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