#lost my own clip of this and had to borrow one sorry

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

ROOK: Lucanis is in here somewhere, right? He's... what? Where they kept his blood?

SPITE: Yes! Go there! But. The locks. Everywhere! I can't touch them!

ROOK (sarcastically): How do I get past the locks? Turn myself into a mouse? Fight a bunch of giant spiders?

SPITE (not amused): By getting past the guards. It's a prison!

ROOK: Right. What was I thinking?

[locallygrowndaikon]

Post therapy holiday short story about my ocs that i totally didnt just run through grammarly once and called it a day under cut!

“Woah,” Lark breathed out as he squints at the light reflecting off of the fields of white, “I’ve never seen it snow here in prairie before.”

The once-green fields were now covered in snowfall. The sun still shines down as it hangs in the clear sky but instead of warmth, the air still felt cold. Kari sifts their hand through the snow. It was still powdery, still fresh.

“That’s so cool!” Ness squeals in awe before running past Lark and throwing herself into the ground. Kari follows Eira as she walks up to Ness who’s rolled onto her back and started making snow angels.

A disgruntled voice comes from behind. “It’s too cold here now. The grass was better. And why are you wearing a sunhat in the cold? That’s weird,” Beefy releases a string of complaints as he stops next to Lark, looking down at Ness.

“It’s for the aesthetic! Not that you would know anything about that,” She throws back as she sits up while grabbing her hat defensively. The metaphorical camera pans to Beefy’s god-awful outfit consisting of too many expensive cosmetics thrown together. He just scoffs at Ness’ glare.

Ness stands up and brushes snow off of her pants. Beefy has his arms crossed as Ness approaches him. She lifts one of the capes Beefy has stacked up on him before she pulls out a white camera.

“Wha- Hey!” Beefy sputters as Ness examines the camera.

“I’ll be borrowing this, thanks,” Ness deadpans before taking off and flying away.

“DO YOU HOW MUCH THATS WORTH GET BACK HERE,” Beefy yells as he chases after Ness, leaving Lark, Eira, and Kari standing there in silence.

Lark takes a few steps forward and looks back with a smile that one would put up when dealing with young rowdy moths. “Sorry guys, I’m going to go make sure those two don’t get lost. I’ll be right back,” Lark says then runs off after Beefy, leaving just Eira and Kari standing in silence.

Kari kicks at the snow. “Lark knows some weird people, huh.”

Eira lets a small laugh at the comment. “Beefy scares me sometimes,” she replies. Kari silently agrees in their mind. They did not sign up for meeting Beefy when Lark had become their friend.

“I think the snow is pretty,” Eira changes the subject. Kari looks over at her.

“Really?”

“It reminds me of Valley of Triumph. I like the snow,” She says. Kari looks away. She did say that a long time ago when they were younger, didn’t she?

Kari kneels down in the snow without a word. Eira looks over Kari’s shoulder as they start scooping up snow in their hands and pressing it together into a small pile.

“Can I borrow your hair clip?” Kari asks, holding out their hand, waiting for Eira to agree, which Eira does. She puts the clip in their hand without much of a reaction. Kari flips the clip over in their hands. They had fiddled with this clip in their hands the first time they found it too. It really has been a while since then. Eira must’ve held it with so much guilt during the time they separated too.

Kari glances at Eira for a second to check her expression. It’s blank. She’s still looking at Kari, confused. Kari goes back to pressing snow together with the clip in their hand. They hope Eira doesn’t see their expression falter at the sour thoughts and picks up two small stones and sticks them in the crooked lump of snow they’ve made before sticking the harmony clip on too.

“It’s you,” Kari takes on a mischievous smile as they present the little wonky pile of snow that barely resembles a snowman. The only it has similarity to Eira that it has is the harmony clip that sits on the side of it. Eira covers her mouth as she chuckles and kneels next to it.

Kari watches as Eira makes her own little pile of snow, her pile becoming more of a flat pile than the one Kari made.

“Can I borrow the leaves on your antlers?” Eira asks, similar to how Kari asked earlier with her hand pointing at Kari’s withered antlers. Kari lowers their head and lets Eira pluck two leaves. She sticks the leaves on her little snow pile.

“It looks like bunny ears,” Kari notes. Eira smiles.

“It’s supposed to be you,” She says as she adds a bit more snow to the base of her Kari snowman, which also barely resembles Kari. The two take a seat back to admire their little snowman copies of each other. Kari wants to laugh at how bad the snow lumps look.

It’s quiet as the two sit there with their snow versions. Eira is the first to break the silence. “It’s nice, spending time with you again,” she says with her eyes on the snow. “I missed it.”

Kari’s expression falls. “I’m sorry.”

Eira looks up in shock at the sudden change in Kari’s tone. “I- No, it’s-“ she stutters, still taken aback from the sudden apology, “No, I didn’t mean that… that I’m talking about how we hurt each other, I just- I just think the moment we’re having right now is nice. I’m just glad we’re here together right now.”

“Oh,” Kari answers, still focusing on the snow rather than Eira.

Eira pulls her knees to her chest. “I’m glad we’re here now,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re still here with me after everything.”

Kari hums in response. Eira scoots closer to them.

“You’re still hung up in the past,” Eira states.

Kari grimaces. Eira didn’t sugarcoat it or talk around it. “It’s hard not to be. It’s hard not to think about it when I’m with you. Hatred is what most of my memories of you are. It doesn’t feel like long since we’ve become… friends again.”

Eira doesn’t say anything immediately. She sticks out her hand and pokes the snowman Kari made.

“I feel scared when I look at you sometimes too,” she returns. “I’m not used to this yet.” Kari keeps their face flat as they listen.

Eira continues to talk. “I hope it will change one day, so let’s keep making new memories together.”

Kari tries to wear a smile, hoping Eira doesn’t see through it. “Let’s keep making the good memories.”

Eira gives a similar smile back. Kari pokes at the snowmen too.

“Our snowmen copies of each other are kind of ugly,” Kari comments. Eira gives a real huff of laughter at this.

“I guess so,” Eira says fondly with a smile that doesn’t look as strained as before. Kari finds that their own smile is a bit easier to wear too.

Footsteps crunching in the snow sound behind them. Lark leans over the two sitting skykids. “I’m back, what are you guys do-“

Lark is promptly interrupted by Beefy being shoved into him and Ness pushing Beefy off to the side. Beefy regains footing and buts back in but Ness continues to try and push him.

“Are you making snowmen-“ Ness starts.

“-without us??” Beefy cuts in, pushing Ness back away. Ness screams for Lark to do something about the hooligan on the loose as Lark proceeds to ignore the chaos.

Lark sits down next to Eira. “Oh, these little guys look like you two!” He points out.

“Barely,” Kari smiles. Lark laughs in response. He starts lumping together snow and makes a small snowman with two coherent bolls of snow stacked on top of each other.

“That can be me then,” Lark proclaims as he dusts his hands free from snow. Kari squints at Lark’s snowman. It looks good for a snowman, but in terms of resembling Lark himself, Kari gives it 0 points. At least theirs and Eira’s sort of have their defining features. Lark catches on Kari’s judging stare. “It looks close enough to me,” he shrugs. Kari continues to disagree silently.

Ness finally pushes Beefy over and bends over Lark. “Oh, let me add myself in too! I'm joining the snowman gang,” she declared as Beefy held his knee while he limped over, cursing something about how Ness should stop aiming for the knees.

“What? Snowman gang?” Beefy asks as he finally catches up, “I bet my snowman’s gonna look the best.”

“There’s no way,” Ness states with a dead stare into Beefy. Lark definitely let out a sigh somewhere in the background. Kari personally finds the whole situation entertaining to watch as Beefy tries to make the largest pile of snow before sticking his party hat and sunglasses into the pile and calling it a day. Ness just makes a little snow bunny as she stares at Beefy’s “snowman” in disbelief.

Kari scoots closer to Eira as Beefy tries to preach about why his snowman is the best while Ness has never looked more distressed and Lark just acts as if this were another day. The Eira snow lump and the Kari snow pile were now surrounded by other friends' snowmen. Kari smiles without even realizing it.

Their snowmen look a lot less lonely now.

[saunne]

Little anecdote time since it's my scheduled break or librarianship-thesis-doom-writing-deadline-is-close lmao.

Okay, so when you work as a librarian, the "I'm so sorry for the book, I know it's late, I'm sorry" is actually quite frequent. Older patrons tends to freak out more about being late, even if it's only one-two days and every time I have to tell that it's okay, the worst thing that can happen is their loan card will be blocked at the automaton and even if it happens, if the document is late of less than one week, the librarian can overstep the block to allow loan. We are generally quite lenient on this, as long as the late document is not a document reserved/booked (ah! book pun) and therefore expected by another patron.

We stopped giving fines for late returns a long time ago in the library were I work now. Instead, you'll get three notices of "this document is late, please return it". The first one is sent one month after the original due date, the second another month after and the third one, two weeks after the second one. And shortly after the third, you receive a tax stamp from public finances for a fixed amount to be paid in a tobacconist. But if you return your book before paying the stamp, it is canceled, because the stamp is basically "if you have not brought the book back, we consider that you have lost it so please give enough to buy it again".

Something that's funny sometimes is that books that were late or lost and whose status had been changed in the software sometimes reappear in surprising ways. Just last Tuesday, a patron wanted to borrow a comic book and couldn't, and for good reason! According to the software, this comic had been "lost" almost two months ago.

Another funny thing that happened to me in the first library I worked at was a retired university professor who was weeding his personal library in preparation for moving out... who found a book that was overdue of a year and a half ! He had accidentally placed it among his own collection and apparently never received any calls or mail of the library. He brought it back to us with a little note of apology held on a paper clip and he was so very sorry. A really sweet man, we had a nice conversation about said book while my manager took care of the situation (I was only in internship and it was my first "well it happens sometimes" situation).

Another funny one is from when I worked in my university library, where students are a bit... lax about due date lmao. A teacher needed a really specific book for a lecture to come but it was in loan in another campus on the other side of the country (we sent it after we got a demand for it) and late. Happily for him, a student who was getting is books loaned said he had one at home and if the teacher wanted, they could go fetch it after their afternoon class. It was a really sweet interaction and a funny one too, cause they were not in the same field of study !

forgive me library enthusiast for I have sinned. I have not confessed before. It’s been almost two months since I got the final notice to return my library books and I keep forgetting.

I am not here to shame you and neither are librarians! These things happen! Its okay!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[qyllenhaal]

Muse

Pairing: Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve’s an artist, and you’re secretly his muse. 3rd POV. WC: 3.5k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, MDNI), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Fluff. Friends to lover.

Steve knew it was a risk to quit his job and focus full-time on being an artist. His boss laughed in his face when he turned in his letter of resignation and asked Steve how much he thought his "little paintings" were going to make him. Steve didn't just face this scrutiny from his boss, but his friends too albeit not as harsh. Many of the people in his life didn't understand his passion for something that might leave him struggling, but Y/n was always there encouraging him.

"You may struggle for a little bit, but I think it's great Steve! Only one day into your new life as an artist and you already seem happier!"

Steve has known Y/n for almost a decade. They met under odd circumstances that some would consider a meet cute. She's still so sweet and bubbly just like she was the day he met her. It wasn't hard for him to fall head-over-heels for her. She always has a kind word and an open ear even during times of distress.

Sometimes he blushes when she gives him a compliment. She claims to not know anything about art, but every time he shows her something new she always has something stark to say that sticks with him. Maybe it's because it's coming from her.

His time spent alone in his studio is sacred. He converted a room in his apartment into a makeshift studio and he finds so much solace in those four walls. He has wanted to dabble in painting live subjects, maybe even a nude model or too, but he found himself getting real shy about it. He'd love to have someone to pose and to capture the way the light perfectly hits their face. That someone he imagined was often Y/n.

He was shocked when she allowed him to make her his subject. It started with him asking to paint a few photos of her she had lying around for "practice." Y/n was more than happy to help her friend Steve, only under the condition that he show her the final product. Steve found no problem in showing off the pastoral setting paintings he created, but it was much more harder to show off paintings of the person he thinks is the most beautiful person in the world.

Just like he couldn't muster up the confidence to ask anyone else to be his model, Steve could never ask Y/n to model for him in person. He found himself becoming too shy whenever the question was on the tip of his tongue. It would be much better if he were here in person with him, but he opted for photos of her clipped to his easel for reference. He'd finish a painting in one day and send her a photo via text of the finished product.

“I really look like that? It's amazing Steve!”

But eventually he ran out of photos. He tried to reuse some old ways and paint in a different style, or play with the colors, but it was beginning to become stale. Steve needed something new, but he didn't want to let go of Y/n as his subject.

"So you need new pictures?"

"Yeah — it's fine if you don't have any more," he tries to play it off as if he doesn't have 10 canvases in his studio of paintings of her that he hasn't shown her.

"We could take some more. Do you still have that digital camera you got a few Christmas' ago?"

"No. I think it got lost when I moved."

"Oh. Well I think Sam has a camera we can borrow. It's one of those fancy ones, right?"

Steve agreed to ask Sam to borrow his camera, but he honestly wishes that he had just bought his own. The amount of teasing he had to endure when he explained to Sam exactly why he needed the camera made his skin heat up. He couldn't stop his cheeks from becoming rosy when Sam asked when is he finally going to tell Y/n how he feels about her. Steve doesn't want to ruin what they have just in case Y/n rejects him. He'd much rather wallow in his school boy crush than put a strain on their friendship.

"How do you want me to pose?"

Y/n sat on the lone couch in Steve's studio room. It wasn't the best quality but it was still useful.

The curtains were drawn to shield the sun that was nearly set. The lighting in the room was dim save for the soft light coming from a small lamp pointed at her. It casted a warm, yellowish light onto her skin. She wore a white dress and kicked her shoes off at the front door.

"Whatever comes natural to you," his voice is weak as he responds. The atmosphere of the room is slightly romantic and he can't shake his nerves. Everything feels extremely intimate.

Y/n is almost as nervous as Steve. She's never modeled for someone and it feels a little bit awkward. She's always comfortable around Steve, but she can't help but get a little nervous when she sees Steve with the camera in his hands.

"You look perfect like that," he compliments the half-asses pose she's doing before snapping the first photo. He looks at the preview before the camera's screen could go dark.

"Let me see." He shows her and she just nods her head, "let me adjust myself," she whispers.

Y/n unbuttons the first two buttons of her dress, exposing more of her chest that only gives a glimpse of her breast. Steve pretended to not notice it as he took another picture of her. Once again Y/n asked to see the photo and looked a little more satisfied with it this time.

"Do you think that I could — nevermind."

"What is it Y/n?" He asks with a soft laugh that makes her want to melt.

"Do you think I could unbutton my dress all the way?" Her voice faltered as she asked. She watched Steve's reaction intently. She hopes the question doesn't make him uncomfortable. "It's just that I was looking up some ideas online so I could prepare and I saw this really pretty picture of this model and she was semi-nude but it was really pretty so I wanted to ask if we could try it," she explained; or perhaps over-explained.

Steve was completely dumbfounded. If Y/n couldn't see it in his dropped jaw, then she can see it in the way he just freezes.

"It's okay if that's too much."

"No! No, it's okay."

Y/n gave him a half smile before she began to unbutton the front of her dress. Steve tried to look away, but how could he not? The more she revealed herself, the easier it was for him to see the swell of her breast. Her skin looks so soft and he feels compelled to reach out and caress her bare skin. But he keeps his hands to himself.

"Is this too much?" The puffy sleeves of her dress were off of her shoulder and her dress was all the way open until the middle of her stomach. It's a lot for him to handle, but he feels blessed to see such a sight.

"No. It's perfect. You're perfect."

Y/n's skin heats up despite the room being cold. She was starting to get a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a bad one or an uncomfortable feeling, but it was something she wasn't used to.

Now she's half-naked and posing on his couch. The first few photos he took of her like this were awkward as they both had to adjust to Y/n being half-naked.

Steve couldn't ignore the way the cold air made her nipples hard and breast tender. Steve was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he is seconds away from making a stupid mistake with his best friend.

Y/n arches her back which makes her breast jut out at him. Steve pauses to pray that he doesn't get a hard on. He feels a bit like a scumbag for even having this dilemma. It's just his best friend's half-naked body — that looks so soft and tender.

He forced himself to steel his resolve and hurry up and finish the task at hand. He began to treat her more like a model instead of the best friend he has a crush on.

"Try this," he suggests to her to move her body in a different way, which she does, but it's not quite what he wants. He was hesitant to get his hands on her, but he went for it anyway, "a little more like this."

In the process of moving her body, his hand brushed against her nipple. Y/n involuntarily let out a moan which made both of them pause. They looked at each other before Y/n let out a nervous laugh to try to play it off.

"Sorry," Steve apologizes.

"It's okay."

He glosses over what just happened and goes back to moving her body to her liking. He can't get over how good she feels underneath him. The truth is that he was taking his time to be able to have this experience for much longer. He may never have this kind of closeness with her again and he just can't quite let go.

Y/n watches his face as his hands touch her body. He looks so handsome under this lighting and Y/n wonders if she's always felt this way about Steve. For some reason she feels lust swirling inside of her. She hopes she isn't making a mistake when she leans forward and kisses him. Steve freezes under her kiss, stunned by reality, but he lets it happen. Her lips feel so soft against his, just like he always imagined.

She pulls away and places her forehead against his. Steve still has his eyes closed, lost in the dream that is Y/n's closeness.

"You can open your eyes now," she teases him. He obeys her and laughs along with her.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admits.

The revelation is shocking to her. She had no idea he felt this way about her, but now she wonders how much she's been oblivious to.

"Do you want this, Y/n? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"No, no — I want this Steve. I wanna feel you touching me," her voice became somewhat whiny as desire fueled her.

With her blessing, Steve did not hold back. He kissed her hard, the way he imagined he would always kiss her. Imagine the way his heart nearly stopped when Y/n kissed him back with the same amount of fervor and want. Her hand came up and rested against the stubble on his cheek. They wish they could say their kiss was delicate, but it was not; it was sloppy and their tongues danced with each other.

When Steve pulls away, he's out of breath, but he's happy. The light touches he gave to her body earlier were not a bit rougher. He wants to explore every inch of her body in seconds, but he wants to be patient; he has all night to discover every inch of her.

"Touch me right here, Steve."

Y/n places his hands on her breast with his thumbs in reach of her nipples. Steve's thumb runs across her taut nipples which makes her sigh. "You like that?" He asks with a bit more confidence. She nods her head and her approval emboldens him. “Good.”

His lips ghost across the skin on her neck before he places a wet kiss against the skin on her throat. He can feel her breath hitch every time he places a tender kiss on her flesh. She smells like lavender and it makes him feel dizzy. He keeps playing with her nipples as he begins to suck on her neck. Y/n wants to just lay there and take in the feeling of him spoiling her, but she also wants to hear him moan. She strokes the bulge in his pants with her knee and she feels him groan against her skin. He lightly grinds himself against her knee to relieve all of the tension that built up inside of him. Neither of them are sure who wants who more, but it doesn’t matter to either of them. Knowing that this is an equal exchange of love and lust is enough for the two of them.

“Oh god Steve,” Y/n coos when he sucks on the most sensitive part of her neck. They’ve only just begun, but he makes her feel so good. A part of her is wishing that she had discovered Steve’s crush on her a long time ago, but she has him now and that’s all that matters.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says against her skin, “I wanna make you cum.”

Y/n can’t help but moan at his confession. She can already imagine how it would feel to have him between her legs.

“Please Steve!”

Steve sits up just to push her dress up. The cotton panties she wears has a pink bow sewn onto it and he finds it adorable. He glances back up at her and he notices that she’s looking away from him. She’s now feeling bashful knowing that he’s going to see her completely naked even though she wants all of this and more. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” Steve pacifies her by slowly stroking her outer thigh. She finally looks at him, her pupils wide with lust. She almost sighs in content when he starts to slide her panties down. The cool air of the rooms only heats her up once it hits her hot sex.

“My god,” Steve whispers to himself. She looks so pretty, but she’s absolutely messy between her legs. She places her foot on the back of his couch to spread herself wider for him. “Good girl.”

Steve lowers himself between her legs and just stares at her for a moment. He wants to remember this for the rest of his life just in case this is the last time something like this happens between the two of them. He would be crushed if Y/n asked to just continue on as friend’s after this, but he would be eternally grateful that she granted him this opportunity. All he wants to do is make her feel good; his pleasure will follow suit, but it’s all about her.

One of his fingers runs along the edge of her folds. Y/n whimpers at the delicate way he treats her body. She feels so lucky to have someone so kind and sweet like Steve. He touches her with care, and love is in every stroke. “You’re so perfect,” he says before kissing her inner thigh. Every part of her body is sensitive but somehow she is able to withstand it all.

The first lick to her pussy overblows both of their senses. She’s sweet like honey and juicy like a peach. Steve’s first instinct is to groan against her pussy which sends vibration throughout her entire body. She feels like she’s on fire as all of the blood in her body goes straight to her sensitive nub. His tongue focuses on her clit and she’s in heaven. Steve’s tongue moves with so much skill and precision, but most importantly, passion. Steve treats her like he truly wants her, and Y/n can’t help but fall for him at this moment.

“You taste so good,” he coos against her slick.

The way he paws at her body while licking her pussy makes her feel like she’s being worshiped. Tears well in her eyes the harder he sucks at her clit. She hopes his neighbors’ aren’t home because they’d probably be annoyed at the loud sounds of her cries of pleasure. He has her on the edge and it just takes him rolling her nipples with his fingers that finally push her over.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Her cries are so angelic to him. And as much as he wants to keep licking her out, Steve needs to be inside of her so bad. He tames himself and pulls his mouth away from her to pull himself out of his pants. His incredibly hard, the head of his cock an angry red as it leaks pre-cum. “This is what you do to me,” his words are haunting. Y/n whines and wiggles her hips from being so impatient.

Steve lowers himself and presses the head of her cock at her opening. She’s so slippery that he pushes into her with ease. His cock is so big that she inhales sharply as she takes all of him inside of her. Her walls are like silk around him.

“So tight baby — oh god.”

Steve feels like he’s going to explode already. Her pussy is squeezing him and she looks up at him with wide eyes as she takes his cock like a good girl. It is the hardest task he’s ever faced in his life to not cum already. She just feels so good.

“Are you okay?” He asks sweetly before dipping his head to kiss her forehead.

She nods her head, “yes, Steve…feels so good,” she manages to speak coherently.

Her legs were thrown over his legs which allows him to fuck deeper into her. She looks so beautiful underneath him. Steve wants to feel her cum on his cock so bad. She flutters around him when he pulls out of her only to push back in seconds later.

Steve can only control himself for so long before he’s pounding into her. The cry of his name on her lips is so saccharine that it gives him a sweet tooth. He sucks on the skin of her neck to satisfy that need while Y/n places her hand on the back of his head as she moans for him.

“I’m gonna cum Steve! You’re going to make me cum!”

The ridges of his cock feels so good inside of her, but what really does it for her is how the head of his cock is kissing her cervix. The stretch of his cock is such a delicious burn that she wants him inside forever. With his face planted in her neck, lips kissing at her skin, Y/n is completely enamored with the way Steve consumes all of her. She is his just as much as he is her.

He feels her sex squeeze him one more time before she’s cumming all around him. She clings to him as her orgasm ravages through her. Steve fucks her through it before reluctantly pulling out of her. Her jerks himself off until he’s cumming all over her pretty tits, painting her body like she’s one of the world’s most precious masterpieces.

The two are completely spent as their limbs dangle off of his couch. Y/n’s heart is full feeling his cum cooling on her chest. She dips a finger in his spent and sucks it off, savoring his taste since she didn’t get a chance to go down on him. Steve almost passes out at the sight.

“You’re crushing my legs Steve,” she laughs warmly. He rolls off of her and off of the couch entirely.

Steve grabs a towel and starts t0 clean up her chest. He remembers what they were supposed to be accomplishing, but after what just happened between the two of them, Steve is certain he won’t be anxious about asking her to be his model again.

“So, where do we go from here?”

The question catches him off guard. He slowly wipes away his cum with the damp towel from her chest. As much as finding the answer to this question is hard, he is happy that she asked it because it means that she’s giving him a chance.

“I don’t want this to be the last time we do this,” Steve admits. He’s quickly become addicted to the way their foreheads pressed together; it just feels so intimate. “I love you too much for this to be the last time we ever spend like this together.”

As much as tonight has been shocking to her after the revelation of Steve proving to her that he loves her, she’s only overwhelmed with positive emotions.

“Then let’s not let this be the last time,” she whispers against his lips.

A wave of relief washes over Steve as he just lays there against, their bare bodies pressed against each other as if this is always how it should’ve been. His only hope is that they can stay like this forever.

[awkwardgtace]

Secret Brother Pt1

New OCs let's go. Trying out something idk if I'll write more with these guys. Realizing some bit of traumatic past seems required in my ocs so far.

TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.

Part 2 Part 3 (Final)

Secret Brother Part 1

Everything started when Mikhail’s students were talking about some weird happenings in their dorm. Things were going missing and a voice was heard commonly late at night. They started to say they thought it was haunted. He offered to host a study session to disprove anything, making sure to bring his shoulder bag. It was easy enough to leave open on the ground and should be tempting enough for the ‘ghost’ to climb in. He kept a close eye out and sat near a wall he thought he saw a crack in. He was starting to worry that this wouldn’t work, until he saw a small form climbing up the edge of his bag. He didn’t like doing this, but he knew the students in this dorm were more likely to share their discovery. They were being too obvious here, probably someone who just struck out on their own. Now the dorm ‘ghost’ would be somewhere much safer and could learn the skills they needed.

Mikhail was anxious for the remainder of the session. He couldn’t be obvious for the sake of the one in his bag, and the others around him. He carefully placed his bag on his shoulder, opting to carry the books he’d used out as he continued speaking with the students. He rushed to his car, placing the bag safely on the floor of the passenger seat. He took the drive slower than normal, eyes constantly drifting to his bag. He parked and rushed straight to his door. Once inside he placed his bag on the ground, unzipped it, and pulled out a random book. He quickly walked off, settling down in a chair pretending to read. He was keeping an eye out for when his passenger left the bag. After an hour he decided to just leave the bag on the floor for a few days, give the little one time to get out.

It took a few days, but he finally heard the ‘ghost’ acting. It started with a clatter sound from his kitchen late at night. He held his breath, waiting for another sign. A voice that sounded somewhat young started mumbling. He wanted to get involved and help, but it’s never gone well in the past. He would just stay as an oblivious human and they could figure this all out. At least that was his promise to himself, but the little one was far from subtle. He could hear them talking to themselves on a daily basis, they were leaving messes, and worst of all they left trails back to their entrances. Mikhail had promised himself he wouldn’t get involved anymore, but he couldn’t leave this. He sighed, gathering what he needed to help out the inexperienced borrower.

He faked a phone call claiming he’d be gone for a few days then left shutting the door loudly. He went around to the back of his house, pulling out a fishing hook with a line attached and hanging it on the windowsill of the kitchen window. He’d left it open just enough someone the size of his guest could squeeze through. He focused on the feeling he’d grown used to over the years and watched the world slowly grow around him. In only a few seconds the world towered around him. He started climbing quickly, a little out of practice since he’d gotten his size under control.

He squeezed through the open window, reminding himself to open it just a bit more next time. Once inside he froze, he never once considered the borrower might recognize him. He considered squeezing out the window again, but was stopped before taking a step. He heard a small clatter, and saw a poorly made paper clip hook fail to catch. He heard a groan from below as the paper clip fell from the counter. He just had to hope they wouldn’t notice the similarities between the human they were living with and the new borrower in the house. He took a steadying breath then marched to the edge of the counter. The borrower was already murmuring to themselves, it was clearly a problem.

“You know you’ll get caught talking to yourself like that right?” he called down. The source of the failed hook screamed, clearly not expecting anyone to be here. Mikhail hadn’t been wrong, this was definitely a kid. They were probably a teenager, and honestly didn’t look like they’d had an easy time. He took his own hook, placing it down and throwing the string off the edge. “Climb up and we can talk. Don’t want to be too loud in case the human is around.”

The kid had no hesitation climbing up, that much trust could be dangerous. Although most people this size trusted each other almost blindly. They were worn out and panting once they were at the top of the counter, clearly new to borrowing. Had he accidentally kidnapped a young curious kid? He’d find out if anyone else was there once he’d trained the kid a bit. He gave them another minute before finally starting with his plan.

“Kid, why were you making so much noise? Half of being a borrower is being quiet especially when out in the open.” he said. The kid opened their eyes and Mikhail realized he’d made a mistake. Their eyes were watery, they must have been terrified. The kid sniffled a bit as they finally got their breath back.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” they said, “my parents didn’t really teach me how to borrow yet. W-we were on our way to a new home when a storm hit and I got separated. I wound up here by accident. I climbed in the human’s bag, I thought I saw loose threads I could use, along with some food. Th-they closed the bag on me and I wound up in this house.”

“Where were you before?” Mikhail asked. He wondered if there was a chance he could find the kid’s parents at the school.

“I’m not sure, I was dragged by water for a long time. When I got out of it I-I ran to the first building I found. I’m pretty sure they got dragged away too...” the kid’s voice was quiet. They seemed to know they weren’t going to find their parents. It sounded like there may be more to the story the kid didn’t want to mention yet. Mikhail would do everything he could to make sure they could survive on their own. He was getting attached already and he hated it.

“Well I was planning to stay here for a few days before moving on again,” he started. “I can teach you the basics. I happen to know you picked a pretty good human to live with. This one doesn’t tend to investigate small noises, but he has gotten curious from times I took too much.”

“Wait wait, you'll teach me? W-why? Isn’t it better to just move on and leave me to whatever happens?”

“Who told you that?” Mikhail’s voice went icy. The kid lost their family and just needed some guidance.

“Well, I uh, I met other borrowers who always said that. Then my parents too...sometimes.”

Mikhail was ready to scream hearing that. He’d dealt with people like that a lot since he lost his parents. He wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. They froze but soon melted into the contact, he started rubbing his arm on their arm to calm them. The kid started to cry and Mikhail just let them. He knew they were safe and later, he’d say they should be careful. He let them go as long as they wanted, he knew sometimes you just needed times like this. The kid was the first one to pull away, looking a bit ashamed as they did so.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said. “We were lucky the human didn’t come back, I could have gotten us both caught. I-if this is where you usually live I can leave. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“I offered to teach you, didn't I? No one has to leave, besides I tend to be a bit more nomadic. My name is Mik, he and him,” he said.

“I-I,” the kid shook his head, “My name is Ian, he and him too, I think. Are you really all right to teach me?”

“Don’t worry about the he and him thing too much, if something else feels right just tell me, ok Ian?”

Ian nodded his head. Mikhail took the time to really assess him now that he didn’t have to worry about being an accidental kidnapper. He didn’t look like he’d had much to eat recently, although that wasn’t uncommon for borrowers. His clothes were a bit baggy, and needed some patching. Mikhail may try to pull some tricks with his shifting to get him some better clothes. Ian seemed to be at least a full inch shorter than Mikhail, which wasn’t reassuring if they ever met when he was human.

“Ian, how old are you?” he finally asked. He needed an idea before deciding the next steps.

“I-I’m seventeen, or well I’m almost seventeen.”

Mikhail nodded, a little surprised he was that old. Ian was just a teenager after all. He knew what to do then. First they’d make a better hook, then practice having it catch on tables and counters. Then how to grab supplies without leaving a trace. He’d leave him with the fish hook once the few days he gave himself were up. The fish hook and line is sturdier, and would last with fewer replacements longer. Perfect for someone still just learning, plus he could just start a collection of random hooks to leave out.

“All right, here's the plan,” Mikhail explained. It didn’t take more than that for Ian to get excited. He trailed behind Mikhail hanging on every word, mouthing the important things. Mikhail felt like he had a little brother with how this was going. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying being with Ian like this. It’s been a while since he really spent time with people outside of work. By the time the weekend ended and ‘Mik’ had to move on, neither was happy with it. Mikhail knew Ian would get better without trouble, but he didn’t want to leave him alone.

They were sitting in Ian’s home, set up a lot better with the supplies they grabbed safely over two days. Ian had gotten into a habit of staying almost on top of Mikhail while in the home, like he thought he’d disappear. It left Mikhail with a sour feeling, knowing he had to leave the kid at least for the week. He jumped a little as that thought crossed his mind. He could, probably, keep this up on the weekends. Eventually Ian would see the human’s face and he may put two and two together, until then he could keep this up. He’d only come back until he was positive Ian wasn’t being reckless, if he went a week without seeing him then ‘Mik’ would come to say goodbye. It would work fine and then Ian wouldn’t have to deal with everything that’s happened alone.

“Can I go with you?” Ian asked, it knocked Mikhail from his thoughts. Mikhail looked at him with a sad smile shaking his head. “Why not? You said I was doing well. I can get used to being an outdoors borrower. Or, or just a traveling one or whatever. Please?”

“It’s too dangerous. Maybe when you’ve improved more. I don’t want you taking risks you don’t have to. I was told the same thing by the person who taught me everything,” Mikhail explained, he knew he couldn’t just abandon him. “I can try to come back though. I help keep some others connected, but I’ll come back, I promise.”

Ian grabbed him tight into a hug, the promise barely keeping him together. Mikhail knew it was a dumb idea, but he couldn’t do it. He’d promised himself not to get involved with borrowers again after the last time, but he never expected to find a kid who had no one. Once Ian could take care of himself he’d tell him the truth and then deal with the consequences. For now he’d help him stay safe. Ian fell asleep holding Mikhail in a tight hug. He knew he shouldn’t stay like this, but it was nice to be with someone else. After a few hours he knew he had to leave. It was Monday so he had to be a human again and go to work.

He slipped out of Ian’s grasp, careful not to wake him. Quietly he grabbed the hook that they’d fashioned out of some threads and a paper clip, leaving Ian the one that he’d brought. He snuck through the walls until reaching an entrance that he’d leave open just enough to come in through again. Once out of the walls he focused on shifting back to his human size, the world slowly matching him again. He quickly made his way to the front door, keeping an eye out for anyone awake right now. He snuck in quietly, trying to avoid being loud enough to wake Ian up. He collapsed on his bed, turning his phone on with an alarm set for the class that started in a few hours.

[masterwords]

the silence drowns (part eleven)

Summary: Morgan interrupted Foyet in Hotch’s apartment and saw everything. Now Hotch is staying with Jessica, Morgan is trying to figure out how to save the day and Foyet is on the road.

Warnings: Foyet is a damn creepo and this whole chapter is from his POV so evil thoughts, murder, sicko talk...think about whether you want to be in Foyet's head or not

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.4k

Notes: Getting into Foyet's head has been exceptionally hard for me the last few weeks, I couldn't find the right evil and I'm so sorry it took ages to get to. We're almost there!

Chapter List

Read on AO3: The Silence Drowns

**

The drive to Chicago was long and boring. So long and so boring that even his recording hadn't done it for him, and he'd resorted to talking to himself. Practicing accents, regional dialects, colloquialisms. Chicago, as it turned out, was ugly...nothing like the intimidating concrete jungle that was Manhattan with all of its brick and mortar and grime. Chicago was simply gray. He wasn't any more interested in Chicago than he was in Derek, and he almost lost interest and turned around, wondering whether Aaron would still be in the hospital. Maybe step-down by now, maybe he'd signed himself out AMA...Foyet wouldn't put it past him, the minute he had his wits about him. If he remembered his own name, anyway, there was the very real possibility that he'd lost too much blood, been unconscious for too long. He thought he'd seen a spark in those eyes, but maybe he was fooling himself.

No, he'd seen his heart rate leap. He'd seen it with his own eyes.

Derek's mother was too easy to find. A quick peek in the phone book and there she was, Fran Morgan. Address, telephone, they might as well have offered him a map. He parked across the street and hunkered down, slipped himself over the console and between the front seats into the back where he'd be obscured by the tinted windows that were all the rage for teenagers who wanted a little privacy in mom and dad's borrowed car. They were a little dark but he could see enough. Fran Morgan kept lacy curtains, not standing on privacy. She grabbed her mail right from her front porch, wandered around smiling and laughing on the phone, completely unaware of the camera snapping photo after photo mere feet away.

There was a little sister that dropped by, Foyet knew her name was Desiree and she was more his speed. He found his focus faltering, just a little, when she pressed the doorbell and waited there. A few photos just for himself, couldn't hurt. He was only human after all. Truly, he was barely interested in Derek or his family but this could help him get at Hotch later, the guy would die for his stupid meat head boyfriend's family before he'd die for his own. Fran Morgan would mean more to him than Sean, and he thought he could prove it with just a phone call. He'd put money on Jack calling Derek's mother Grandma, or maybe Meemaw or Nana...possibly something worse. It made him ill.

The phone burned against his thigh and the minute that Desiree was inside, he knew it was time. Fran picked up on the third ring, the casual ring...the one that says I wasn't waiting for a phone call, I almost missed you, not too eager. She was a pro. What was more, he could tell it was a land line. She was old fashioned, with her slippers and her lace curtains and her cordless phone.

“Mrs. Fran Morgan?” he asked, affecting a big city clip to his speech. “I'm with the Chicago Tribune, ma'am, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about your son Derek Morgan.”

“What about my son?” she asked, her voice shifting from warm and inviting to cold. He watched her pace and he tried to hide the smile from his voice as he asked if she knew anything about what her son was wrapped up in back in Virginia. “An attack?”

Something in her voice turned his stomach, she was lying to him. She did know. It was so quick the way she turned on him, too, he was impressed. If he was a betting man...oh yeah. She knew and Sean hadn't, that was something.

“He hasn't called me,” she said softly, trying to calm Desiree who was sitting and watching from the dining table. “He would have called me I'm sure of it.”

“Maybe he's too busy. My sources tell me that Agent Hotchner is in critical condition, he may not make it.”

She remained silent, too smart to incriminate herself. But he heard Desiree speak behind her somewhere and then he could hear them, the tears. He wished he could taste them. “Mrs. Morgan? Are you and Agent Hotchner close?”

“He's been,..he and my son are very close...anyone important to my son is important to me.” She tried not to give much, she was accustomed to reporters and questions being married to a police officer. She was trying to be so careful but her emotions were raw. “Excuse me. I need to start dinner.”

He watched her after the line went dead. She fell into the couch heavily, and soon Desiree was putting her arm around her mother's shoulders...neither of them started dinner. He chastised her for lying to him and watched her pick up the phone again, wondering who she was calling. One of her daughters? Derek maybe? He hoped it was Derek.

He didn't want to keep watching, she played right into his hand like the good mother she was. Derek, he knew, would come from a solid family. People who loved eachother and showed it. Foyet knew that because he watched (oh, he watched) Derek show that love to Hotch who seemed to have so much trouble reciprocating. He wondered as he threw his bag of tricks onto the cheap motel bed what would have happened if the roles were reversed, if he'd perched on top of Derek and slipped his knife through supple skin, through those Herculean muscles...what would Hotch have done? Would his eyes have been dead? Maybe not, maybe that would have elicited some show of love. Of tenderness. Maybe he'd test it out. See whether Hotch was capable of what he was not.

A paper map on the desk showed him the lay of the highways and with a smile he mapped out a nice quick route to his next destination...the Hotchner matriarch, dear old mommy. He really had to play this one close, she would (if she was any kind of a mother) call him right after, just like Derek's mother had and then he'd know. He would definitely need to be in the wind before Hotch got hold of the knowledge that his oh so private life was this easy to get at.

(x)

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hotchner,” he said, extending his hand. She placed hers' demurely in his and he smiled, of course, a southern lady through and through. He brought her knuckles to his lips, dusted a friendly kiss there and nodded. “My name is Roy Colson, we spoke on the phone. I'm so glad you'll give me a few minutes of your time.”

“Come in, dear,” she said, opening the door wide and brushing in behind him. Automatically she was dashing toward the kitchen with offers of iced tea and cookies, apologizing for the state of her home and how unprepared she was to have visitors...neither of which rang true, she was clearly ready and her house was immaculate, but he had anticipated nothing less. It was simply what women like her did. While she busied herself in the kitchen, he poked around at the photos on the wall, on the mantel, cataloging it all for later. Once or twice he pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures...they'd be blurry at best but the feeling was all he needed. His mind was a powerful machine.

“You said you were writing an article about what happened to my son?” She breezed back into the room with a tray held before her, teetering carefully were tall glasses of iced tea and a crystal bowl filled with oatmeal raisin cookies. If she was the sort of mother he thought she was... “These cookies were always Aaron's favorites. I suppose as soon as you said you wanted to talk about him, it was all I could think about. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all, ma'am.” He hated raisins in cookies, but it made sense. Aaron did seem like a raisin kind of guy. No fun at all. Sean probably preferred chocolate chips, maybe nuts and m&ms too. He was a wild card. Foyet was getting to know the Hotchner family pretty well. “I've been studying The Reaper for a long time, but I prefer not to write about him...I'd rather humanize his victims, so I thought if I could talk with you, find out a little about him...”

“Of course, dear. What would you like to know?” She opened up like a fire hydrant in Hell's Kitchen on a hot summer day. It was like she hadn't had anyone to talk to in years, no one who would listen to her parade on and on about how wonderful her boys were, how idyllic life was in those days. Of course, Foyet could see through it, she wasn't a very good liar. Sure, some of it was true, but it was like watching home movies through a lens smeared with Vaseline. Carefully blurred, photos cropped, stories with details smudged by time and willful refusal to admit anything could have been less than perfect. In the end, what she said meant very little, but what she didn't say...that made him happier than a pig in shit.

“Mrs. Hotchner, would it be too much trouble to get a copy of that recipe? Those were some of the best cookies I've ever eaten.” Her willingness to share was almost comical, it was too easy. He thought perhaps at one time she was closed off, a shell of a woman, but her husband had been gone a long time and she no longer lived in his shadow. She was free to be herself, and for a moment Foyet thought he might be doing a favor if he just put a bullet between her eyes. Quick and painless. She was so lonely. If he wanted to stay the night, she'd be up preparing a room for him right away. Aaron's old room, perhaps, with his dusty box of vinyl records piled up in a corner like some forgotten relic. She'd removed his clothing, his sheets, anything he didn't take with him to university but those boxes of records she kept. The rest of the room was more or less used for storage, photo albums he'd been invited to peruse, medals and trophies, a living scrapbook of Aaron and Sean's youths. The kind of things good mothers would keep, and she was convinced she was a Good Mother. Foyet thought otherwise, of course, but said nothing. Her loneliness was spellbinding. When she walked him to the door with a small Tupperware of the leftover cookies and a handwritten recipe on an adorable sheet of gingham print stationary, he felt the gun burn against his ankle, almost begging. One shot.

Not today. Another day, perhaps. When the song of those vinyl records and photo albums became too loud to ignore...but that wasn't today.

“You send him my regards, yeah? I don't wanna bug him while he's healing but you let him know I'm thinking of him.”

“Of course, dear.”

Finding Derek living in Hotch's apartment wasn't exactly shocking but it was frustrating. He'd been hoping to find it empty, make himself at home a bit longer, but maybe he'd just been away too long. As anticipated, his key didn't work. He dropped it into the storm drain on his way back to his vehicle, ready to do some more watching. More waiting.

Trailing Derek through the hardware store wasn't necessary, but it was fun. Boo! Get Derek's heart rate up so he didn't have to worry about doing his cardio for the day, that's what he figured. With a little hope he watched him leave the store, hoping he'd lead him to wherever Hotch was staying, but no luck. Right back to that stupid apartment. Once again, Derek with all that love and affection on full display, the poor sap was doing the work himself. Bandaids on his knuckles, gypsum and mud all over his jeans...the way he loved Hotch made Foyet sick. Hotch deserved better, Hotch deserved his knife.

Back in his stolen uniform (one of many he kept stashed in the trunk of his trusty car), he strolled into Hotch's building like he belonged there. Like he owned the place. People lock themselves out all the time, he could be a regular fixture. Steve, good old Steve, walked toward him with a smile. He'd never get over that, being greeted like a friend...oh Steve, if you only knew the places my knife wanted to get to know you. He didn't suppose he'd just stab Steve, though, he was a big guy. Gutting him would be fun. “Eh, Steve-o. You got a new key for 201? Guy livin' there said he's doin' some work and changed the locks...”

It was too easy. Steve lead him right down the hallway to his own apartment, hunted for the new key right in front of him. He could have taken anything he wanted, but Foyet wasn't greedy. Only what he needed, and what he needed was a new damn key to apartment 201 because Agent Morgan thought he was so clever. He probably bolted all of the windows too. Once this ruse was figured out, Steve would probably lose his job...might be doing the guy a favor if he gutted him now, really. Poor guy won't be hired at any other buildings, not after this scandal, and he lived here too? He'd be out on the streets.

He called it a mercy kill, and did it with a smile.

It was amazing how easily the man's body fit into the coat closet. Foyet didn't bother cleaning up the trail of blood, but he did lock the apartment up anyway. Someone would come knocking for the Super, they'd find him...maybe when the smell got bad enough that one of the snooty old ladies down the hall started nosing around. By then it wouldn't matter, Foyet knew he'd be dead too...he had no worries. Not a care in the world.

It was almost serene, the way he saw his own body on the floor in a pool of blood, his skull in pieces, beautiful brains everywhere. His brilliance splattered forever on Derek's freshly painted walls. Mr. Handy couldn't fix this one and he expected that Hotch wouldn't move, even still. Something would keep him rooted there. Foyet hoped that he would lay in the same place he'd taken Hotch's safety, his hope for peace. Hotch would never feel totally safe in any home again, he knew that for certain, and he relished it.

Now he waited and he watched. It was all he could do, and really, from his maintenance closet in the basement of the building with its exterior window that made coming and going so easy...he had all the time in the world.

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

mango, m | jjk | 3

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; suggestive words/actions; bullying; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok the wise man lol

–

2.

-

“What flavor?”

Your hand snaked down to your hoodie pocket, but Jungkook wrapped his fingers around yours, grip like iron.

“Whisper it to me,” he murmured, tapping his ear. You stiffened as you two neared the counter, chewing on your lower lip. Your other hand crawled to his black leather jacket, tightening around the folds. He smelled sharp and clean, warm against you.

“Mango.”

He grinned. “Should have guessed.”

He casually spoke to the cashier, ordering two scoops of mango ice cream. You didn’t bother to look, not wanting to see her smitten expression as she spoke to Jungkook. You could hear it in her voice. Jungkook’s hand tightened around yours, making you gasp into his neck. He shivered.

When you were alone, people tended to ignore you. You were good at fading into the background, earbuds in to avoid having to respond to anyone unless it was necessary. But being with Jeon Jungkook was different, because now you were constantly stared at, either because they were staring at him or staring at you and wondering why you were continually eating slices of dried mango.

Even with Hoseok it was different, because Hoseok didn’t hold your hand like Jungkook did. He didn’t hold out ice cream cones and smirk at you as you tried to take it from him.

“Lick it.”

“I’m not a child.”

“It’s going to melt.”

You frowned and took a small lick. It was sugary and potent with mango.

Jungkook’s lips parted, licking his teeth.

“You’re a pervert.”

“Your pervert.”

It made you feel all weird and floppy inside when he said stuff like that. You make a face as he wrapped his pink tongue around the dripping confection, slurping it up. That also made you feel weird, but in a different way.

You two sat at the table, exchanging the ice cream back and forth, eating it slowly.

“Sorry I made you talk for me again.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. I like it.”

“I’ll try to be better at talking to strangers.”

Jungkook chomped into the cone, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s fine if you’re not. I’m not good at talking to them either.”

You raised an eyebrow. Jungkook grinned, white teeth flashing and his nose scrunching.

“It’s different when I’m with you though. Because you’re there, I don’t feel as anxious.”

His slicked-back black hair was pushed back on the right side with a silver clip. It made his cheekbones stand out more, accenting his sharp jawline and silver hoops. You looked away, feeling like you were looking too much. You took the cone, breaking off a bit to nibble on.

“Besides,” Jungkook continued, scooting closer to you. “I like it when you whisper in my ear.”

You stiffened, his warm breath on your neck. You took the rest of the ice cream cone and shoved it in his mouth. He choked a little, blinking at you in confusion as you stood up abruptly.

“I have to go buy a book.”

And then you began walking, Jungkook trailing behind you, your ears burning.

-

You hurried to Chemistry lecture even though you were early, clutching The Cobra Event by Richard Preston. Jungkook didn’t understand why you tried to read books in English.

“Seems so difficult,” he mumbled as you browsed the shelves, phone in your hand to translate the words you didn’t understand.

“Life is difficult.”

He looked down at your thick black stockings and short dark green skirt. “That’s true.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

A shoulder slammed into yours. You twisted, eyes shifting to the group of girls right next to you despite it being a large hallway. They were talking loudly about nothing that interested you. One of them caught your eye and sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes and swiftly stuck your heel out. One of the girls tripped and fell flat on her face.

You walked briskly past, nails digging into your book.

“Hey, bitch! Apologize right now!”

You heard the words being slung at you, but made your way to the Chemistry lecture door. It was locked.

Shit.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and flung it away, glaring. The young woman glowered back, her friends helping up the fallen one.

“You think you’re so fucking special, but once Jungkook fucks you, he’ll toss you aside like every other girl he’s dated,” she spat at you, emphasizing the last word with punching sarcasm.

You frowned, digging into your bag.

They laughed at you. “Always have to have something in your mouth, huh, slut?”

Your hand froze. There had been subtle signs before when you started dating Jungkook. Side looks and snide remarks made out of earshot. But this was the first time someone had actually confronted you about it. You weren’t normally the subject of bullying – you were good at staying out of everyone’s way and simply not existing in their universes.

Now, thanks to Jeon Jungkook, you were in everyone’s universe.

You cleared your throat and removed your hand from your bag. Fuck Chemistry. You turned away, intending to leave until class started. That is until you walked face-first into leather and denim. Too much slicked-back hair. A tiny winking mole under a mischievous smirk.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of dried mango. Your eyes went up to his dark brown ones.

“Eat it.”

You tried to reach for it, but he pushed your hand away with his free one.

“Eat it.”

You frowned and leaned forward to grab the mango with your teeth. The second your lips touched it, Jungkook bent down, chomping on the other half. Your eyes widened as his arm snaked around your waist, pressing your lips to his, sweet mango between you. Dark brown orbs onto yours, apologetic.

“Sorry I’m such a problem for you,” he murmured, pulling you to him.

Your gray sweatshirt hit his navy t-shirt, unexpectedly feeling the contours of his torso. His lips were still on yours, licking the sugar crystals off. Your black pleated skirt suddenly felt too short for some reason, your black tights not opaque enough for how tightly Jungkook was pressing his dark blue jeans against your legs. The silver and black boots you liked to wear stumbled against his black chunky sneakers.

“I’ll be better about protecting you,” Jungkook said softly, placing one last kiss on your lips before backing up.

You blinked at him, fingers reaching up to touch your mouth. The skin tingled strangely. You turned around, but the girls were gone. Your brows furrowed.

“I think I made my point,” Jungkook chuckled.

“Are they right?”

You turned around to face him. Jungkook tilted his head.

“Are they right about you?”

Now it was his turn to knot his brows. “Of course not. I’m serious about you.”

The Chemistry professor showed up then, unlocking the door. You turned away from Jungkook and hurried inside, not paying attention to him chasing after you, throwing yourself down into the front row seat and opening your book immediately. He tried to talk to you, even after the lecture, but you held The Cobra Event like a shield.

You ignored him for days.

-

“I borrowed a silver color today! Thought it would be different,” Hoseok grinned, tapping the silvery polish excitedly.

The side of your mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly as you helped him take off your current red polish. The wood of his table was a little stained by the acetone, but Hoseok assured you that the low table was ‘a billion years old and probably owned by a coke addict at some point’ so, in reality, you two were cleansing it.

“You’ve been cheerful these last couple weeks,” Hoseok quipped as he filed your nails. “Something good happen?”

You thought of that slicked back long hair and piercing dark eyes. The winking mole under pink lips. You frowned. You had ignored him even when he tried to poke at you between classes. Hoseok watched you carefully, frowning as you frowned.

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t think my life has ever been paradise, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled merrily, pinching the back of your hand lightly. “What about me? I’m the sunshine!”

You gave him a small smile. “You’re right.”

Hoseok smiled back, adjusting your hand on the table to spread out your fingers. Painting carefully, tongue between his lips. You watched him, lost in your thoughts. You wondered if Hoseok had ever had someone he wanted to be with all the time. Someone to hold his hand, go to places with.

“He kissed me.”

Honey brown eyes shot up, holding the brush between loose fingers. “Who kissed you?”

Your eyes found his. “How do you know if someone actually likes you and isn’t trying to turn you into a trophy?”

Hoseok put the brush back into the bottle and closed it, leaving three nails unpainted. He frowned slightly, taking a deep breath. “Is that it? You like someone, but don’t know if they like you back?” he asked, rubbing your knuckles.

You pursed your lips. You watched his fingers trace your skin, knowing it was different than the way Jungkook touched you. It was comforting when Hoseok hugged you or patted your back. When Jungkook had his arms around you, it was a feeling you didn’t understand, different from every other embrace you had ever had, from your mother, from doctors and nurses, from Hoseok.

You looked up at him. “I don’t know how I should be,” you said quietly. “I don’t know what signs are good ones. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know if I’m going too slow. And…”

You swallowed, eyes moving to the wall.

“I don’t know if I should even try, when I’m not even sure what love is.”

You heard Hoseok open the nail polish again. The scent attacked your nose and you turned back to him and his knowing smile. You thought he was going to tell you what to do. Hoseok was a happy person. He could teach you how to be happy.

“The funny thing is,” Hoseok mused, painting your last few nails. “No one really knows what love is until you’re in it.” He waved a hand over them, trying to dry them faster. “And it’s different for every person, every couple, even at different times in different phases of the same relationship.”

You watched him place small black hearts on the end of each nail with a pair of tweezers.

“Say what you want to say. Do what you want to do. If that’s too much for them, or too little, then talk about it.” He nodded, smiling as he placed two hearts next to each other on your ring finger. “Listen to their words the way you want yours to be heard.”

You stared at him, confused as to how Hoseok seemed to know these things. He added the top coat, not getting any on your skin. He was getting good at it now.

“Hoseok.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for being my friend.”

His smile could light up an entire nation.

“Same goes for you.”

-

You knocked on Jeon Jungkook’s apartment door impatiently. Was he not home?

There was a hasty shuffling and the door was yanked open. Jungkook blinked at you, startled.

He was shirtless.

Your eyes widened, seeing his naked chest. His tan skin was glowing, ink black tattoos along his right arm glistening. His hair was damp, long dark curls around his face, almost to his jaw. It wasn’t slicked back like it usually was, but freshly washed. Black sweatpants slung low on his hips; feet bare.

You nearly turned around and left, but he called your name. The way he said it, sad and deflated, made you pause. You stared down at your silver nails, at the small black hearts. Then you faced him, brows furrowed and determined.

“Let’s not date anymore.”

He blinked at you, crestfallen. “W… what?”

You nodded tightly. “I don’t want to be thrown away by you. I don’t want you to think I’m disposable or replaceable or whatever other words can be used to describe lack of importance.” Your hands twisted in your purple sweatshirt, bunching against your tight black leather skirt. “You’re important to me and I want you to feel the same way too. So, if you don’t feel that way, you better say it right now, because I am scared and I don’t know how to express myself except directly.”

You locked eyes with those intense dark brown orbs, taking a deep breath, frowning slightly. There. You said it. You didn’t know if it was right or wrong, but it was what you had.

“I love you.”

You blinked at him.

“Huh?”

Jungkook smiled, brown eyes sparkling. “I really, really love you, strange girl with mango eating obsession.”

Your lips parted at this declaration. He leaned against the doorframe, looking down at you.

“I don’t think I realized what love was until I met you,” he continued, looking sheepish. “People were nice to me because they thought I was good-looking. I thought that was enough, being desired by many, thinking it was love. And isn’t being loved by many better than being loved by one?” Jungkook chuckled, earrings sparkling in the light. “But that’s not true at all. Because it hurt way more when you ran away from me. It hurt way more when you didn’t respond to my texts. It hurt way more when you acted like I didn’t exist.” He tipped his head against the doorframe, sighing softly. “Usually, I just go hunt for affection from someone else. But this time I sat around and wondered what I did wrong and what I could do better.”

Jungkook reached out and placed his fingers against your cheek, stroking it lightly.

“I think, even if you didn’t want to be with me anymore, I wouldn’t go looking anywhere else for a long, long time. Maybe ever.”

You reached up and wrapped your fingers around his.

“What if… this train crashes and burns?”

He smirked. “Then we went down in a blaze of glory and it would still be worth it.”

You took a step forward. Jungkook tilted his head, expression calm. Another step. Now you were right in front of him.

“Can we not call it dating?”

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. I’m fine with anything.”

You twisted your mouth to one side. “I don’t know any good words.”

Jungkook leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “That’s okay. Doesn’t need a word unless you want one.”

You smiled.

Then you raised your head and captured his lips with yours, surprising him. His eyes widened as you held his hand tight, inhaling the scent of his soap. For once, he wasn’t all leather and denim, too much gel, and sharp clean cologne. And you didn’t taste like sweet dried mango, no book to hold on to.

It was just you and Jeon Jungkook, standing in his doorway, sharing a kiss.

-

4. smut.

--

masterpost

[another-fantasy-world]

Hi! Can I request a part 2 to your Valkyrae imagine?

GIF isn’t mine. Credits to the owner!

Title: Idol’s Inspiration Part 2 

Pairing: Valkyrae || Rae x Fem! Reader

Summary: A collection of moments involving an idol and a streamer

Warnings: Cursing?. Just pure fluffiness

Word Count: 3,043 words

I had way too much ideas on this one so this is going to be a collection of said ideas. Have fun!

Actually, I saw someone on my dashboard asking for Rae x Reader imagines, so hi to that person!

You can read Part 1 Here

➽───────────────❥ 

You took a couple of days before you gathered the courage to actually message Rae, you also spent those couple of days staring at the paper containing her number and your phone, which also has her number punched in. 

“Okay. I just have to press send...” Your fingers hovered over the icon as you chewed your lips in nervousness.

“Oh damn it.” Luna groaned before snatching your phone and pressing send, barely giving you time to retaliate

“Hey!” You complained, staring at her in disbelief

“You were taking too long” She shrugged, sipping on her milkshake as she tossed your phone back to you

You only had time to roll your eyes before phone vibrated.

‘About time you texted me, I was beginning to think you forgot. Oh and totally, I could make a lobby for you rn’

‘Sounds good! I’m free this Friday!’

You smiled, well, looks like you’re playing with your favorite streamer group this Friday then.

-

Your bandmate Jace actually owns a gaming pc, to which you borrowed to play among us, which ended you up here, in his room, on a private discord call with Rae, her helping you set up for tomorrow.

“So is this your first time, ya know? Playing among us?” Rae asks as the download bar for the proximity chat

“Oh no. Uhm, My bandmates and I play all the time, sometimes on public lobbies and sometimes we drag our crew to play, especially while on the tour bus. Plus, I watch you scream and play all the time so you don’t have to worry about me Rachel” You explain, smiling softly at the memories, trying to ignore the feeling of content and satisfaction at how easy her name rolled out of your tongue

“That’s cool.” She replies, about to say something when a bark interrupts her

“Mika! Hi! Hi baby~” You hear her coo, your smile widening

“Raeeee! Tell Mika I said hi!” You chuckled

“Y/N says hi!” She says, running her hand through Mika’s fur, the white furball now sitting in her lap

“Awee~ You’re both so cute~” You coo, laughing when Rae hid herself behind Mika

You spent the night talking about random stuff, setting up for the game and running a test run with her, but then laughing when you realized you can’t play with just the both of you, ultimately deciding to start early tomorrow for a test run. Her also adding you to their discord before sleeping.

-

“My new favorite seafood!” You furrowed your brows when you heard Sykkuno’s voice fill your ears when you joined the discord call

“Shrimp.” Brooke giggled

“OOOOOHHH. So that’s why they were saying shrimp for Rae. I was like, what does that even mean?” Rae’s sentence caught you off guard, especially since you just tweeted that exact same phrase before logging in.

“shit.” You mumbled, having dropped the lid of the water jug you were drinking from.

“Y/N! HI HI HI HI” Rae greeted

“Hello.” You replied, a little overwhelmed at being the center of attention.

“Pfft- My chat is saying shrimp for Y/N now” Sykkuno announces

“Mine too” Brooke agrees, soon followed by the rest of the lobby, making you laugh

“I’m Sorry, Sorry! Actually, I may know why that’s happening. Fun fact! I actually gave people permission to shrimp for me on an interview, since I found it funny, especially since I’m also shrimping for someone.” You explained

“Oh yeah! I saw that clip.” Rae mumbles, trying to decide which color she should be in and what hat she should wear

“I wonder who Y/N is simping for. Hmmmm. Who could that be? Hmmmm.” Toast teases

“Yeaaah. I wonder who that could be.” Poki replies, her teasing tone much more evident

-

It had been a couple weeks now since you first played with Rae and her friends, her friends who are now also your friends. You were pressured to stream on YouTube by your fans and also Rae, who you now have late night talks with.

“Y/N! Hiiiiii!” You hear Rae as you rounded, soon followed my Corpse’s voice

“Choke me-” Corpse started

“LIKE U HEYT MEH BAT U LAB MEH-” Rae continued, mispronouncing words that made you chuckle

“Lowkey wanna date me when you hmm me.” You sang, connecting the wires

“NEW SONG! NEW SONG! Corpse and Coldify! C and C!” Rae exclaimed, her little red bean circling you and Corpse

“Oh yeah, definitely, Corpse? You up to it?” You ask, doing a little wiggle to show your excitement

“Hell yeah! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” he does that deep voice thing that made you flinch

-

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the sound of my voice.” Rae exclaims, talking to chat you assume.

You rolled your eyes, finding Rae’s voice beautiful. You jumped out of the vent, knowing that no one was around, making her scream

“Hi! Just wanted to pop in and let you know that your voice is actually beautiful and I would love to sing with you some time. That’s all, I’ll go back to killing now, Oh! you might want to check vitals, love.” You say, hopping back into the vent, laughing silently. Then abruptly stopping when you realized you called Rae “love”, glancing at the chat, who were now spamming your ship name with Rae

Seeing Lily alone, humming a tune, you quickly popped out of the vent, sliced him in half before a meeting was called, Ludwig finding Toast’s body.

“Before we start. I just want to say, to the person who called me “love”... You don’t get to call me that then run away!” She exclaims

“Sorry! I got embarrassed!” You pouted. You wiggled your eyebrows at your chat, smirking slightly

“Uh-huh. Oops, Sorry Lud. Carry On” Rae says, letting Lud explain his “Different Universe” theories about how Toast died.

-

“Heeeey...” Rae trailed out, her cornering you in storage

“Hiiii?” You smiled nervously. You don’t know what was happening in her mind

“Soooo... Babuska?” You immediately got what she was implying, nodding frantically, before realizing she couldn’t see you

“Yeah. Yeah let’s do this!” You both walked out, Rae on the lead while your white character trails after her

“OH LOOK! There’s Corpse! And Sykkuno! Hiiiiiii!” She greeted cheerily, somehow you could see the evil smile on her face

“oh- Oh. Hi Rae! We’re just shooting some space rocks here!” Sykkuno says, her green character circling Rae

“I see. I see... Babushka.” Rae states, you wait a couple of seconds letting Sykkuno and Corpse panic first, before slicing Corpse in half.

“OH JESUS! You killed Corpse! You killed him! You really kil-” He was cut off when Ash creeped behind him, biting his head off

“Thanks Ash.” You say, laughing as Rae gasped and laughed as well

-

“Rae~ Oh Rae~” You chuckled, looking for the brunette

“What?!” She exclaimed from her spot behind the seismic reactors

“Oh uhm, are you streaming right now?” You asked her, preparing yourself for what you are about to say.

“Uh yes? Duh?” 

“Ohkay... well, hypothetically, If I were to ask you out, is it okay if I do it on stream orrr?”

“Well, hypothetically, I would be fine with it either way, yes.”

“Oh okay!” You clear your throat

“Ms. Valkyrae, The Valkyrae, Rae, would you please grace me with your presence on this coming friday night and allow me to buy you dinner, m’lady?” You say in your best posh voice

“...Yes” She says in a small voice

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7!” You say

“Great! Okay”

“Great. I’ll kill you now.” you say

“Wait what?!” she exclaims, her scream perfectly cut when the victory sign flashes on your screen.

“THE AUDACITY! HOW DARE YOU! I- I CAN’T EVEN” She rages

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You apologized, laughing your ass off

-

“I’m on Y/N Protection Services! She’s been dying a lot lately!” Rae exclaims, you rolling your eyes at her dramatics, both of you were impostors.

“Well, thank you m’lady” You replied, faking gas

“Ooooooh! I have speci, come.” Rae says, her red character slicing toast nonchalantly when you passed him doing telescope

“Uhm-”

“Shh.” 

And suddenly, when the decontamination doors open, Poki emerged from it, panicking you killed her.

“Oh shit! No! Wait! I’m sorry! Pokiii!” You whined, following Rae into decontam

Finding Janet in Speci, You go to say hi, only to be interrupted by the body being found.

“OH NO! TOAST! He was just with me! OH JESUS!” Sykkuno exclaims, making you bite your lip to avoid laughing

“Where’s the body?” Jack asks

“Medbay, by the telescope” Brooke answers

“It has to be Y/N! She’s the only one who could’ve killed Toast!” Janet accused

“Hey! What?! Why me?!” you complained, 

“You came from upper decontam! Toast’s body is in medbay, That’s sus.” Janet says, you were about to defend yourself when Rae chimed in

“There is a possibility that Y/N is the impostor.” She states

“Wha?! RAE?! You- You were with me in speci!”

“What? No I wasn’t! You’re lying! I lost you when I was doing gas! I was looking for you everywhere!” Rae says making you look at chat with a pout

“I didn’t see her there either...” Janet backed her up

“Wha?! Guys?! Come on, let’s skip! There’s barely enough evidence!” You desperately say, trying to save yourself

In the end, 7 heads voted for you.

“...Y/N will remember this.” You state before being thrown off the ship, welcomed by Poki and Toast’s laughter

“Yeah. Yeah. Hmmpf.” you huffed at Poki and Toast

“My girlfriend just betrayed me. Rae betrayed me chat, she just, she pushed me off the plank. She just, watched as I burned in the lava. She kicks me out of her bed for Mika, and now she betrays me, then pushes me off the plank. Ohhh the pain” you dramatically say as you followed Rae, her returning to specimen

“Listen, chat, Y/N if you’re listening... That was payback for that one time you killed me behind reactor right after you asked me on a date! Okay!” You rolled your eyes and looked at your camera with an annoyed look in your face

But your smile slowly returns as Rae goes on a mass massacre making you both win without meetings, making you bounce in your seat, clapping

“Good Job Rae! That was so good! You successfully scared me, I might not sleep in your room now.” You teased her, making her gasp

-

“Here we go. Here we go. Here we go. Hello everyone and welcome to the streeaam! Part 2. We are starting the playthrough of little nightmares 2- Hold on, Y/N’s calling.”

“Love?” Your voice rings out through Rae’s phone

“Hiii Baby! You’re on speaker” Rae states while looking at the game settings

“Oh. Well Hi chat! Anyways, Mcdonalds? I’m 5 minutes away, don’t start little nightmares yet, come on.” You whined

“Oh you big baby, I wasn’t starting without you.” Rae laughs

“Liar, I was watching your stream.” You deadpanned

“Pshh. Pshh! But yeah, Mcdonald’s fine. And hurry up! I wanna play!”

“Okay, okay sheesh, I’ll be there with your chimkin nuggies” 

-

“Baby?” You knocked on her door, even after all the months that you have been together, you always knocked on her door before entering, incase she was doing something.

“Come in love! Perfect timing.” You open the door to see your girlfriend playing with Mika, Little Nightmares 2 plastered on the screen. You approached her and kissed her forehead

“Hi Babe. Hi chat! How are you guys doing? Hold on, let me set this down.” You say, arranging the food on Rae’s desk, careful not to spill anything

“Are we ready? Baby, grab your chair. Are we ready? Are we ready? I’m so excited!” The excitement in her eyes is making you smile

“Oh she’s excited alright, she wouldn’t shut up about it chat. Trust me” You chuckled.

“Will there be a lot of screaming? Rae?” You read chat

“Uhm. Hopefully not, I don’t know dude. Can’t control my screams.”

-

“A Shoe!” Rae gasps

“Baby, there’s literally hanging kids dangling in a net and the first thing you notice is the shoe?” You looked at her in disbelief

“Oh. What happened to you guys? Stinkyy. Oooooh. Physics!” You bit your lip and shook your head at your girlfriend’s antics

“Y/N, I feel comfort when I hold this shoe.”

“Ouch. Are you saying I’m not comforting you? Rude.”

“Stop trolling!” She says, turning to you as you held up a fry

She raises her eyebrows before biting the whole fry, along with your finger.

“Ouch! Damn it Rae! You’re like a chihuahua”

“Owa Owa.” 

-

“I’m sorry. OUWGHH?! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, PALAMPARAMPARAMPARAMPALAMPRAMPRAMPRAM! SHE’S COMING!”

“RAE! RUN! RAE! RAE! RAE! HOOOOLY SHIT! RAE! RAE! RACHEL RUN! RACHEL! RUUUN!” You panic, gripping her thigh as the teacher neck elongated, following your little character into the vents

“SHE DOESN’T CARE! SHE DOESN’T CARE! PLEASE?!” 

A moment of silence pass the both of you as the character Rae’s controlling gets to safety. Rae slowly turns to meet your eyes, and bursts out laughing.

“You should’ve seen your face!” You laugh at her

“OH OKAY? Like you weren’t screaming for me to run.” She says then proceeds to repeat what you said while in a panic, making you laugh harder

“Sorry for screaming, it’s just really gross and unexpected.” She says sheepishly to her chat, which was now spamming ‘HAHAHA’ and ‘Damn how long is that neck’

-

“So, this question is directed to Ms. Y/N.” The interviewer moves his body to face you.

“Yes?” You smiled, guessing that this must be about you and Rae

“How are you feeling about your pictures trending on Twitter worldwide?” he asks, a smile on his face as the pictures flashed on the large screen behind you

“Ahm, it’s really great. A lot of hard work was put into that photoshoot, mostly because my girlfriend, Rae refused to put on the dress and was attached to the suit she’s wearing right there. God, she looks so beautiful. Uhm, but anyways, it took a lot of effort to get her out of that suit. ” You grinned

“Ahh. I recognize that look, Makes me remember about my wife and I. You’re so smitten. Can I just say that I ship you guys so hard.” The interviewer says

“Ah- Thank you. Hehe.” You say, embarrassed but proud

“While were on this topic of trending pictures, Can you guys explain whatever these pictures are? I’m pretty sure your fans already know what these are. But an explanation would be nice” The interviewer now addressed your whole group

“Well, considering that Y/N is dating Rae, Luna is dating Sykkuno and Jace is dating Imane, or Poki,  Okay, so there’s this AU that’s around their community where they are mafia’s and we’re all members now. We all joked about being apart of their mafia, to which they agreed. So now Rae and Y/N are now the assassin duo, Poki and Jace are their supervisors and Luna, Sykkuno and Corpse are the deadly trio” Sebastian explains

“Their community is so creative I swear. And combined with our fandom, the fanarts and fanfictions are the best.” Luna says, a smile present on her face

“And yes, we all do read fanfiction, in multiple platforms.” You laughed, the live audience gasping in surprise

“None of you are safe.” Jace says in a playful intimidating voice

-

“Okay, I’m gonna get off. Thank you for watching. I’ll see you guys later, thanks for watching, I hope you guys enjoyed the stream. Uhmm. Appreciate you guys. Byeee!” you hear Rae end her stream from your spot in her bed.

“Hunter x Hunter? or AOT?” you ask her as you put your phone in silent and set it aside, opening your arms for her.

She crawls into your side, cuddling you while groaning lightly.

“Do you wanna take a bath first? Or do you wanna eat dinner? Maybe take a nap first? You’ve been streaming for 13 hours baby, your eyes are probably tired now.” You say, running your free hand through her hair

“Naps and cuddles please.” she mumbles, her head buried in the crook of your neck

“Okay baby, I’ll just put AOT on, oh wait. Hmm, Jujutsu Kaisen sounds great right now. No, wait even better, Ouran Highschool Host Club.” You go to turn your head to ask Rae, but you see her asleep. 

You chuckle quietly, knowing Rae, she can overwork herself, sit on a chair for 13 hours, playing various video games, while you really can’t see yourself play videogames for 13 hours straight, you admire that she has the patience and energy to do that.

Smiling, you lower the volume of the Anime that you’re watching, slowly pull the blankets up as Rae shifts closer to you, clinging like a koala. Mika jumps up and settles in between the two of you, Your smile widens at the feel of things, the calmness, the silence, the tranquility and the sense of home, something that only Rae can provide. Something that you have been looking for ever since your career took off. The constant trips to the studio, the paparazzi, the world tours, the concerts, the interviews, everything, everything was worth it when you know you’re coming home to her. 

You didn’t even know how you got to where you are now, cuddled into Rae, the comfort streamer you never thought you would meet, even when you mostly stayed where she stayed... Dating her was a dream, you didn’t believe it at first, she quickly proved that dream theory wrong when she kissed you, under the rain. As cliché as it seems, that was the day you both silently agreed to never let go of each other and take care of each other even if the other is half way across the world.

Even if dating her means also dating her room mates and her chat...

You would never trade it for anything. 

Even if you knew she would scream her ears off once she knows that you have a whole album that’s inspired and dedicated to her.

[infjsnightmare]

How You Met: Guild Style

A/N: Hello! This one was so much more difficult to write. I think maybe I just don't have as good a grip on the personalities of the guild so much. Lol. So, this might have a bit more OOC than the other two. Also, I flip-flopped for a while and decided not to include Francis since he is canonically married, but if anyone wants me to, I can probably include him on the same one that I include any other extraneous characters on. With that out of the way, I sincerely hope that you like this! Feedback of any kind is always welcomed and appreciated.

John: You were scanning the aisles of the convenience store, looking for any food that was on sale. Your eyes lit up when you found a tuna salad sandwich for only 99 cents. You should have enough change for this at least. All your money went to rent since being laid off and you actually hadn't eaten in two days. This was like a holy grail. Placing the sandwich in front of the large man at the register, you turned your change purse inside out. Meticulously counting each coin, you realized you only had 87 cents, which was 12 cents too short. The man scoffed taking the sandwich away as he chastised you and told you to "get a job". You were on the brink of tears when a hand came up from behind you and dropped the remaining needed change on the table. An angry looking young blond man glared menacingly at the employee as he spat at him, grabbing the sandwich and placing it in your hands.

"Why don't you get a life, jackass?"

Lovecraft: The sun was beaming hot as you lay back in the sand and let the warmth overtake you. The smell of the ocean and the distant cry of seagulls relaxed your body. You sighed, sitting up to watch the waves crash against the shore when you saw something dark begin emerging from the water. At first it looked like seaweed, but slowly a tall lanky man in a suit slowly walked up out of the water, absolutely drenched. Your eyes widened in fear as it looked like something straight out of a horror movie. You watched intently as the man walked up on to the beach aimlessly. Then he turned his head at an unnatural to look straight at you.

"Where can I get some ice cream?... It's too hot."

Lucy: You were at work, scrubbing the floors by the cash register even though your shift ended over an hour ago. You weren't going to get paid for this overtime either, but you knew you needed the job to make ends meet. Your boss also knew this, unfortunately, and took advantage of it. The manager lazily eyed you as they were laughing with a friend of theirs who had stopped by. "Put some more elbow grease into it!" You heard the teasing chirp from the idiot. You felt like a dog. Gritting your teeth, you scrubbed furiously, imagining the spot on the floor to be your manager's face. Until you were interrupted by a the voice of a young girl with a slight blush adorning her face, almost the same shade of red as her hair.

"It's really none of my business....and it's not like I care or anything...but, you shouldn't let your employer treat you like a slave."

Edgar: You were perusing the mystery section of the library and had finally settled on which book you would like to read next. Pulling it of the shelf, you tucked the book under your arm and made your way to the sitting area to give the first few chapters a quick read before deciding to borrow it for the week. When you got to the desk, you noticed that there was a printed manuscript left on the table. You set down the book you were holding in favor of the paper-clipped pages. You were delighted by the writing. It was a magnificent mystery. You were smiling from ear to ear as you read each page with fervor. You were slightly take aback at the light tugging at your clothes, looking down to see a raccoon. Followed closely behind him was an adorable man with tousled dark hair and a crimson blush over his whole face.

"Ah! My manuscript! I must have left it here, I'm so sorry!"

Mark: You were walking through your usual peaceful trail in the woods, following the path of a small creek. The crunch of dead leaves underfoot and the crisp autumn air made the atmosphere serene and enticing. You could've have lost yourself to the sounds of nature if it weren't for the the whooping and hollering that you heard further down the creek. As you drew closer, you could hear the shattering of glass breaking, followed by another victorious yell. You finally came to a small clearing, seeing a vivacious young man with bright orange hair shooting rocks at glass bottles with a sling-shot. He looked at your direction and aimed the sling shot towards you. You opened your mouth to protest when he released the stone. It whirred past your head, hitting a bottle strung up on a tree branch behind you. The man beamed with glee.

"Boom! Nailed it!"

Nathaniel: Looking out your window this morning, you felt giddy at the light dusting of snow you saw. Snow was a rarity in December and here it was, on Christmas no less. Placing your jacket on, you dashed out of your apartment to walk and see all the lights around town and the couples holding hands. It was a joyous atmosphere despite it being a minor holiday. You stopped in your tracks when you saw a tall man dressed in priestly garb, sitting and reading from a book that you could only assume was religious in nature. You'd never seen a priest before and were rather awestruck as you watched his silver hair fall in front of his glasses as he poured over his book. You didn't even look away when he stopped reading to stare back at you. Or when he cleared his throat with his brow lifted in irritation. Or even when he stood up and walked the few steps closing the distance between you. But, once he spoke, you finally felt embarrassment as your cheeks felt hot against the winter air.

"You do realize that it is particularly rude to stare, right?"

Margaret: The vending machine whirred as you selected your drink. It was sweltering out and you definitely needed the cool liquid to combat the heat during your break. You'd been moving containers off the ships all morning, so you were pretty beat by the time your break rolled around. You sat on the edge of the dock listening to the squabble between two passengers on a boat. One passenger was dressed in religious attire and seemed apathetic towards the argument. The other passenger was a tall woman dressed in a large frilly dress with a rather robust petticoat. Her honey-hair was pulled up under a sun-hat like a true southern american belle. In opposition to the man's apathy, she seemed quite fiery, eyes steeled and jaw clenched. In a huff, she marched down off the boat. The ramp led next to where you were sitting, eyeing the woman as you drank your beverage. Her eyes snapped towards you as she noticed your watchful gaze. She relaxed her her face ever so slightly meeting your eyes as she motioned towards the man on the ship.

"Bless his heart, but I swear some men just aren't raised proper."

Herman: The rain was was all you could hear as it pitter-pattered against your umbrella while you made your way back home. Your feet were walking along the slippery cobblestone sidewalk with a practiced gait. You always took this path home. The same scenes, the same faces- nothing to shake you from your daze. However, the faintest glow of white caught your attention. You rubbed your eyes with your free hand to confirm that you were, in fact, seeing a small white whale happily floating through the air and rain. You followed it in wonderment until you came across an older gentleman sitting on a bench smoking from a pipe, umbrella propped against the back of his seat. You watched as the whale twirled around. Compelled, you sat on the wet bench, next to the sun-tanned man drawing him out of his own thoughts. He gave you a wry smile as the whale danced between you.

"Care to sit and chat with a tired, old man?"

Louisa: It was a busy day. You were run ragged as you tried to complete all the errands you had scheduled for yourself today. You had already dropped off a few packages at the post office. Renewed your insurance for the year and now you were in a hurry to pick up your dry-cleaning before the store closed for lunch. You picked up your pace, reaching for the door. Only, when you opened it, an armful of bagged clothing came tumbling on top of you. With it, fell a small-framed young lady with round glasses and the cutest flustered expression you'd ever seen. Her eyes widened in shock as her face turned scarlett.

"Oh n-no! I'm so so so so sorry! Please do-don't be angry!"

[sweetestlamb]

You Can’t Just Leave Me

Summary: The Han family is a force to be reckoned with. 

Author’s Note: Writing this chapter made me smile, I hope reading it as the same affect on you all. Thank you to everyone who supports this story and leaves comments (or my silent readers). I appreciate you all and I am so thankful that you like this brainchild, I’ve just been winging it- never expecting to be on chapter 7 on something I initially planned on being a one shot. You all made it come this far, enjoy chapter 7!! Beautiful header by @ewolfwitchwisegirl text message created by Junjin fairy @prodmina

The apartment is eerily quiet following Su-ah's departure, he hadn't intentionally tried to eavesdrop but it was hard not to overhear their sniffles through the door. Then hours later the usually bubbly girl had exited the room with red rimmed eyes, he'd never seen her cry before in his many years of knowing her. He was awkward in the face of it, not used to comforting anyone besides Ju-Kyeong. 

Their conversation was clipped and it was clear that Sujin hadn't opened up about what happened. The Su-ah he knew would be making plans to sabotage her father, if she knew the full story.  She'd left with the final words, "Take care of her." He nodded without hesitation that was his intentions, he just needed to get her onboard with his plan to do that.

Taking a deep soothing breath he walks over to knock on the door.

"Sujin-ah, can we talk?" He asks, pressing his head against the door. Ready to plead if need be, she hadn't been answering him since being here. He never saw her come outside, but the food he brought would just disappear hours after he placed it. He waits patiently before reaching out his knuckles to knock again, but when the door suddenly opens he takes a quick step back surprised to see Sujin's face. It's clear she's been crying. He looks away, it's a bit unsettling to see her like this. Too raw.

"Let's talk in the living room." He suggests quietly, stepping back and walking towards the couch. Nerves easing minutely as he hears her soft footsteps behind him. He slides into one corner of the couch and watches as she sits on the opposite end. An awkward silence bellows around them as he stares at his hands and she stares at the ceiling. They have both never been the most talkative on a good day, but now it’s painful. 

He clears his throat stilling when he feels her eyes on him, waiting. He had this speech planned in his head for days but now that the moment is actually here, he's terrified. Too nervous to say the words he wants to, does he even have the right to apologize to her now? Does she even want his late apology or will she brush him off? He wouldn't blame her one bit, it had taken him too long and he still hasn't even forgiven himself, how could he expect her to forgive him? 

"Thank you."

He almost misses the quiet utterance because he's so lost in his own self deprecation. They are staring at each other now eyes locked, his own wide in bewilderment.

"What?" He responds caught off guard, he didn't expect Sujin to speak at all-much less for those to be her first words.

"You heard me. Thank you for letting me stay here and for not pressuring me to talk about it."  Sujin awkwardly squirms in her seat, glancing away from him before darting back and she gives him the courage to finally saw what he wanted- no needed to.

"I'm sorry." It's his turn to watch the shock form on her face but he presses on before she can question him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I knew what was happening but I didn't know how to help. I understand now that just being there would have been enough, you just needed a friend. I'm sorry I wasn't one."

A slight weight lifts off his shoulder and his heart, he's not free but he's one step closer. One step at a time.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We were just kids, what could you have done? It's okay, I never expected you to save me. How could you when you were dealing with your own pain?"

She's giving him an out, and logically she's right the pain of losing his mother crippled him for years. It was still weighing heavy on him to this day but he doesn't want an out, he wants to be accountable. He would rather her rage than her understanding.

"I know you didn't need a savior, but you needed a friend. Am I wrong? Were you okay dealing with everything on your own?" It's a low blow he's aware and the way her eyes narrow further confirm that his question isn't appreciated.

"Am I wrong?" He repeats and watches as the ice around her eyes melt away glacially, too many emotions flashing in her dark orbs- anger, sadness, disappointment, broken acceptance each emotion cutting at his heart.

Leaning forward he grabs at the folder on the table, he's already come this far might as well go all the way now.

"Here." He hands it to her, she raises an eyebrow taking the thick object. "Open it," he nods at the folder watching quietly as she breaks the seal and pulls out the documents, eyes scanning the papers before realization settles.

"Emancipation?" She whispers, now staring at him unblinking he can feel the heft of her undivided attention.

"Yes, we've been doing research and I think the best bet is for you to get emancipated." He winces at himself as she glares at the use of "we", he should have left that out with how distant they've been; she didn't even know that Seojun was the one providing the meals she seemed to love. She might stop eating them if she knew, she was so stubborn sometimes. 

She leaf's through the pages, carefully looking over the document and he sits silently awaiting her reaction.

"He would never allow this. You know that." It's said with certainty as if she's accepted her fate long ago, probably thought of this very option herself and then talked herself out of it.

"I'm going to ask her father to help, he's been supporting your father all these years. If he knew the truth..." He trails off letting her finish the rest and she barks out a humorless laugh, it sounds more like a sob.

"You want to tell your father? They have known each other for years, why would he believe me?"

"He's my dad. He'll believe me. We have to at least try." He pleads now desperate for her agreement. It wasn’t the right thing to say, he knows that instantly. 

Instantly she stands up, slamming the documents on the table the ice restoring around her eyes. "I was fine all those years you were wrong.  I'm not doing this, I don't need your dad's help." She spits the word "dad" like it's poison on her tongue, storming off to the room and slamming the door shut.

He sighs, defeated leaning back onto the couch. He sends a text to his father and Seojun. He failed. 

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Guilt eats at her following her outburst, she wasn't mad at Suho despite her harsh words. She can blame her anger on many things but she's self-aware enough to know that it's a defense mechanism; she was jealous. It was ugly and grotesque, but she cannot stop the way her blood boils when she sees others with parents that care. 

He's my father, he'll believe me.

That would never be her reality, Suho and his father had been able to reconcile and restart their broken relationship. That would never be her truth, her relationship with her father would never resemble something healthy and despite her efforts to repress her true feelings, it hurts. The little girl who desperately wanted to make her dad happy and proud still hadn't died.

She feels stupid, the biggest fool on the planet. How can she still be looking for love from someone who has never shown her anything but hatred? She’s the one with a problem here, she knows that. 

She shouldn't have lashed out especially after his apology, that must have taken true guts and she had thrown it all back in his face. She tries to make amends but every time they cross paths she freezes up and escapes to her borrowed room instead. It continues on for days with him still bringing food to her door and the combination of their kindness is too much for her. She doesn’t deserve it from either of them. 

Tugging on her jacket she leaves the apartment hastily with only a small note on her door. She needs some space to think without feeling suffocated.

Gone for a walk.

It's just her luck that it's raining outside, only a drizzle but it coats the world in a thick fog and it's hard to see. The biggest benefit is that nobody can see her, she just needs time alone to think. 

The idea of emancipation wasn't new to her, she had considered this option before but in the end she discarded it. Her father wasn't someone she would simply leave, he would drag her back kicking and screaming. He had instilled long ago that she was his, it was pointless to have dreams or aspirations, she just needed to follow his orders. That was her purpose. Being an obedient dog. 

Suho's plan also called for revealing her pitiful life, what if she went through this ordeal only to lose and not be given emancipation in the end? No. She couldn't make herself that vulnerable at least now she had her dignity, only two people knew about her secret. It might not be much to others, but her dignity was everything to her; it was all she had left.

Sighing loudly at the skies she mentally curses the weather, maybe it's poetic but all of her worst times have been bookmarked by the rain. It must be a metaphor for her life, damp and cold with no warmth in sight.

Stopping to sit on a bench she stares up at the gray skies before closing her eyes, accepting her fate. "Fine, rain on me. I probably deserve this." Cool raindrops roll down her cheeks imitating tears and she can feel the moisture seeping into her clothes and siphoning her heat.

"Unnie?" She jumps at the voice, sounding too close and she shifts away when she opens her eyes and is greeted by the large bespectacled eyes of Gowoon. The younger girl smiles sweetly, covering her with a pale blue umbrella with ice cream cones decorating it. It’s too innocent and too young the antithesis of everything in her life. 

"Unnie! What are you doing in the rain? You're getting wet!" Gowoon grabs her arm tugging her to her feet using her umbrella to shelter them both. She's shocked when she doesn't bristle at the unexpected and too familiar manhandling. She almost rolls her eyes, what was it with the Han family and finding her during rainstorms? 

"Come on, my house isn't far. I'll make you some soup so you don't catch a cold." The other girl doesn't wait for her reply before she starts pulling her down the sidewalk. She sputters but feels her feet following obediently.

"Oppa is working late, so he won't be there to bother us."

Her heart defiantly jumps at the mention of him, she hasn't seen him in a week. She has dozens of unsent messages to him, cowardice has rendered her fingers useless though. 

"That's good." She lies, "So it'll just be us two?" She's not quite ready to meet any other members of the Han family.

The other girl nods absently, easily easing them into a riveting conversation about a boy at school who won't leave her alone. She offers to beat him up if he keeps on bothering her to which Gowoon laughs gleefully before squealing, "You sound just like Seojun oppa!" She glares at the comparison watching entranced at the young girl's uncontrollable giggles. When was the last time she'd laughed so freely? She had no recollection.

Gowoon wasn't lying and within minutes she's staring at the apartment she's only seen once before. That feels like a lifetime ago.

She immediately regrets her inability to say no to persuasive girl later when they are greeted at the door.

"Gowoon, sweetie is that you?" A maternal voice calls out and she instantly recognizes it, stiffening in the doorway. Stepping back she starts thinking of excuses, but her tongue is too heavy in her mouth and she's too slow as the woman comes around the corner halting her escape. 

She blinks unhurried as the older woman gapes at her clearly not expecting to see anyone besides her daughter.

Gowoon breaks the silence, her voice nonchalant, "Hi mom! This is my unnie Sujin, she's the one who saved me the other day! Is it okay that I brought her here for dinner, I found her in the rain!" Gowoon makes it sound like she picked up a stray puppy outside, but she knows the other girl means no harm. 

Her skin prickles at the question, anxiety filling her stomach without her permission. She's waiting for rejection. For Gowoon’s mother to say that it is not okay and she would rather eat with her daughter without a stranger intruding. 

"Of course! I didn't realize it was the same Sujin." Gowoon looks confused by her mother's statement and she feels embarrassment swarming in her belly. Oh no. She has to stop her before she reveals too much, Gowoon knows nothing and she wants to keep it that way. 

"I didn't realize you knew Sujin too, isn't this Seojun's cru.."

"Classmate!" She suddenly interjects staring at the woman with pleading eyes, she's not ready for Gowoon to know about her brothers “feelings”. She's trying her best to forgot them too.

They both stare at her and she squirms under the scrutiny, before the older woman puts her out of her misery. "Yes, Seojun mentioned her before I didn't realize she was the same person that helped you. Thank you." She freezes as the woman embraces her hand, smiling at her warmly as she thanks her. She can only stare in response, nodding dumbly.

"Come on unnie! I'll get you some warm clothes, you'll catch a cold if you keep wearing those."

She lets herself be tugged into the younger girl’s room. Just like Gowoon the room is bright and vivacious, wall covered in posters and books littering her table. It looks completely normal and it makes her ache, her own room was militarily decorated with nothing out of place and no evidence of her personality. Since she was young her father would inspect it and punish her if anything was untoward. She had stopped trying to make the room look lived in after seeing poster after poster thrown down. 

"Here unnie. You can borrow this." Her eyes bulge at a familiar blue shirt with a puppy on the front. "I know it's so embarrassing but oppa got it for me, it's really warm though." In the end he'd gotten her to wear the ridiculous shirt, she reluctantly goes off to change into the top and leggings. They are the same baby blue hue, making the outfit look like a set. She's thankful the boy isn't here to see her.

"Well don't you look adorable?" Seojun's mom coos at her when she finally comes out of the bathroom, she desperately wants to disappear. The woman must notice her ruby cheeks because she turns with a smile calling out to her daughter, "Gowoon! Come help with dinner!"

Now changed too, into cactus pajamas the younger girl bounds out grabbing an apron and tying it behind her back.

"What are are we making?" She curiously peeks over her mom's shoulder. The air between the mother and daughter is comfortable, the two leaning into each other naturally as they discuss what to make for dinner. She observes with a heavy heart as Gowoon easily puts her head on her mom's shoulder and the woman strokes her cheek lovingly. Something inside her throbs in response.

"Do you want to help?"

Shaking her head to clear the longing she looks at their mom, who's looking back at her with soft eyes already holding out another apron.

She can't control herself her yearning is too large, she stands without hesitation walking to the woman, sucking in a breath when the apron is placed over her shoulders and then tightened snuggly.

"We're making wonton soup. Have you ever made dumplings before sweetie?"

She looks at Gowoon waiting for her reply but then realizes that both pair of eyes are on her and oh, she's talking to her. She called her sweetie. Swallowing thickly she shakes her head before replying, "No. I've never made them before." She waits to be berated or at least chastised for her lack of culinary skills, her father always said a woman's place was in the kitchen.

Nothing happens. The woman hums before smiling again, she's always smiling it's so pretty. She wishes she had the courage to say the words aloud. She doesn't.

"You can help Gowoon chop the vegetables for the filling. Then we can mix it with the ground pork and I'll show you how to make the dumplings." If the woman is disappointed at all at having to teach her she's doing an incredible job of concealing her frustrations.

She accepts the knife when Gowoon hands it to her, both of them working on a wooden cutting board. They've gotten into somewhat of a rhythm slicing the chives and carrots finely for the filling. She'd never chopped vegetables before but their mom had casually stood behind her shocking her so much she almost dropped the knife, but the older woman had easily caught the utensil before holding her hand and manually showing her how to tuck her fingers and mince the vegetables. She froze before imitating the woman, she was good at replicating acts.

"That looks great sweetie! You're a fast learner!" The woman praised her turning back to the broth and adding more seasoning liberally. She preened under the attention smiling shyly before Gowoon shouted out loudly, "What about me mom? How do mine look?" They both looked at the younger girl's unevenly chopped chives and carrots, next to Sujin's perfectly identical veggies all in an even row. The difference between the two is stark. 

"They look fine dear, they'll be hidden in the dumplings anyway." Her mother tries to soothe her ego, patting her shoulder before turning back to her soup dismissively and a burst of laughter explodes from her chest at the offended look on Gowoon's face, her cheeks are red and her mouth is turned down in an exaggerated frown. The younger girl looks positively livid that her mother is not similarly singing her praises and she starts to defiantly chop more vegetables, only to have them come out even worst; even more lopsided and haggard. 

She tries to tamper her laugh but when the younger girl starts whining, crying about how her veggies were “cousins not siblings” she loses it, clutching at the counter for balance. She feels the air bursting from her lungs as she clutches at her stomach, laughing harder when Gowoon glares at her pout on her lips. The older woman joins her rubbing her daughter's back as she cries about her dignity, and then Gowoon looks at them both laughing at her and a smile spreads on her face and soon they are all laughing in the kitchen, soup bubbling beside them as a delicious aroma permeates the room.

None of them hear the front door opening or a deep voice announcing its arrival.

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He's cold, tired and wet. Once again missing the forecast for rain, he really needed to start carrying an umbrella around all the time. What was up with the weather lately anyway? Why was it raining all the damn time?  He absently thinks of a certain someone and hopes she's somewhere warm out of the rain. They always seemed to meet when the sky was pouring and raging. 

It was hard not contacting her but he wanted to listen to her requests and respect her wishes no matter how hard it was for him, it was also getting pathetic being the only one fighting for this. She hadn't outright rejected him after his confession but her silence was an answer in itself and he wanted to respect that. He wasn't too manly to admit that he was hurt, and he was reeling from being pushed away so many times already.

So he followed his mother's advice, he'd given her something that he knew she needed and expected nothing in return.

All week he'd been waking up early to cook for the girl, reading recipes off his phone  fluffy cat headband on his head keeping his fringe out of his eyes. The easier recipes like soup and grilled meats had been simple enough to accomplish but when he ventured into more complicated bento boxes that's when frustrations had arose. They looked so easy but they were tedious and he wasn’t the most patient or detail oriented person. 

He struggled to recreate the detailed meals and almost gave up,  throwing his phone across the room.

That's how his mother had found him, fuming and tugging his hair on the kitchen table. Seconds away from bashing his head into the surface and screaming at the ceiling. 

"What are you doing up so early?" He jumped at her voice, looking around at the mess he'd made in the kitchen with wide guilty eyes.

"I-I can explain." He stuttered out but couldn't come up with a feasible answer once she looked at him expectantly, arms folded. The patented mom stare. 

She had calmly walked across the room picking up his discarded phone, peering at the screen before looking back at him.

"Is this for your friend?" She shook the phone at him knowingly and he pressed his lips tight together, nodding mutely while looking away.

"Okay let's see what you have so far." His mom walked over and assessed what he had already made, nodding with a proud smile. "You did good so far, let me show you how to make a hotdog into an octopus. I did this for you all the time when you were a kid."

He was grateful when she didn't ask him any questions and it became their morning ritual, until he no longer needed guidance and he was able to make the boxes on his own. The satisfaction he felt when Suho would return the containers, clean as a whistle not even a grain of rice remaining was incomparable. It wasn't much but at least she was eating, that was all he needed even if she didn't want to see him or know that he was the one making her meals.

He sighs at himself, he told himself not to think about her but that was proving easier said than done.

Shaking himself at the front door like a wet dog, he tugs his keys from the back pocket of his jeans slotting it on the doorknob and turning.

"I'm home!" He calls out instinctively announcing his arrival as he toes off his drenched boots, but then his eyebrow lifts as he hears peals of laughter coming from the kitchen. He chuckles without knowing the joke, instantly rejuvenated by his family's abundant joy. Slipping on his slippers after hesitating a second because he doesn't recognize the shoe at the front door. When did Gowoon get those and how the hell was his little sister affording Chanel sneakers?

Those thoughts are swarming in his mind when he stomps to the kitchen, all the air sucked from his lungs when he sees an unbelievable vision. His mother and sister are grasping at each other, lost in laughter completely unaware of his presence but the image that most shocks him is Sujin, holding her stomach as she spots something on the counter that sets her off into another bout of boisterous laughter.

He can't help it he starts to categorize her every move, the way her eyes are crinkled and a stray tear is leaking out the corner, the way her nose is scrunched up like a rabbit and the way her mouth is stretched wide, visible even behind the futile shield of her hand. All of his thoughts from earlier regarding not needing to see her dissipate, he wants to tattoo this image in his mind.

"Oh! You're here!" His mother suddenly turns to face him and that causes Sujin to freeze laughter fading off with a whine, regarding him with huge bright eyes. It's almost too much once he notices what she's wearing, he wasn't prepared to see her like this in his house. It's overwhelming in the best way.

"I'm home. I'll go change and come help." Both his mother and Gowoon nod easily no longer paying him any mind but he can feel eyes on him as he runs away, trying to regain his composure and his breath. He purposely avoids Sujin's eyes not ready to see if the walls are back up at his arrival.

When he comes back out the table is already set and they've all taken a seat, the only available chair is between his mom and Sujin, so he takes a calming breath before walking over with fake confidence. He’s used to faking it until he makes it. That could be the name of his biography. 

He answers his family's questions about work and school blowing on the soup before taking a bite of the slightly lopsided dumpling. What it's lacking in appearance it more than makes up for in flavor, he groans at the delicious flavor that dances on his taste buds looking up excitedly at his mom.

"These dumplings are delicious! Thank you for the meal!" He praises his mom, happily chewing at the soft delicacy in his mouth.

"Thank you Junnie, but I didn't make the dumplings. They worked on the filling together but Sujin-ah seasoned and filled the dumplings while I made the broth and your sister helped with the side dishes." His mother smiles proudly over at the two girls, Gowoon beaming with pride but Sujin, almost disappears into her soup her head so close to the steaming hot bowl.

They haven’t said anything to each other and he's nervous to be the one to break this stalemate but he also really wants to talk to her, has wanted to since he stepped through the door and saw her smiling face. Has wanted to since that night he stormed out and didn't look back. So finally he does, gathering all his bravery to finally look over at her.

"The dumplings are great." And when she doesn't look up or seemingly react at all, he tells himself he's fine and he expected that. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet, it was his own fault for hoping when she'd explicitly told him to stop doing that.

So he goes back to eating, more lethargic than before eyes locked on nothing but his food and his spoon. It was embarrassing. He knows his cheeks are pink and he hates it.

"Thank you. I just followed your mom's directions. It was nothing."

He pauses, peeking up at her and almost choking when she shoots him a small smile before filling her bowl with more rice.

His heart thumps in his chest. Fuck.

He doesn't hear anything else the rest of the meal, too lost in his thoughts and it's only familiarity that has him standing up when everyone is finished, collecting the plates and bringing them to the sink.

"It's almost time for Sunbae, don’t wear those high heels!!" Gowoon shouts, he cringes at the name of the new drama they've been obsessively watching, he'd only tuned in one time before flabbergasted by the exorbitant amount of times the female protagonist had fallen into the arms of various men but especially the male lead. She fell off a balcony into his arms that time, with neither of them needing to be admitted to the hospital somehow. His mother and Gowoon had both hushed him when he'd voiced that particular opinion and he had happily banished himself to his room.

"Oh no, I'm going to miss it because I'm washing the dishes." He replies deadpan as his sister rolls her eyes dramatically at him, "Whatever it's your loss. Let's go I want to see if she's going to choose the sweet bad boy or the cold cute guy!"

He scoffs at the cliché characterizations scrubbing harder at the plate.

"Come on unnie!" Sujin gasps as she's tugged to the living room too, glancing over he sees his little sister place her in the middle of the couch sandwiched between her and his mother. Sujin looks overwhelmed as Gowoon animatedly tries to catch her up on the series. He shakes his head, maybe the show wasn't that bad. He could watch a few minutes with them.

He strolls casually to the living room, easing onto the ground beside his mother's legs after all the dishes are clean and drying.

"What are you doing here? I thought you despised this "cringey" show?" He leans his head back, sighing when his mother eases her fingers into his hair scratching at his scalp and he sighs content in her lap.

"I do. But it's too early to sleep so I have no choice but to watch this crap."

"Mom! He said crap!"

"Watch your language."

His mother scolds him immediately and Gowoon sticks out her tongue at him vindicated because he got in trouble and immaturely he does it back, tugging off her sock much to her chagrin, dodging her when she tries to kick him.

Sujin looks back and forth between them both before discretely looking at their mother, she seems shocked when all the woman does is chuckle and say, "Children please. Do I need to remind you that we have a guest?" He looks away bashfully not wanting to look childish in front of Sujin, he hadn't thought about that. That makes them settle down and he finally looks at the TV, groaning loudly when low and behold the heroine is falling again, tripping over a candy wrapper on the ground.

"She falls a lot. She should probably wear protective gear." Sujin says breaking their new silence and he chuckles at her observation, happy that someone agrees with him, excitedly he turns to her "Right! Last time she fell off a balcony!" He shouts in disbelief and suddenly they're all arguing about the feasibility of someone surviving that. His mother shaking her head fondly at them, choosing to say out of it which makes Gowoon pout because she's outnumbered.

"Okay who would you choose Unnie, the tsundere type or the bad boy with a heart of gold?" Suddenly he's very invested in her answer, he tries not to react staring at the ceiling and breathing evenly but inside his heart is thundering ready to pound out of his chest.

A few seconds drag on and he wonders if she's not going to answer, he doesn't even know why he cares so much but curiously is gripping at him. He knows that this doesn't mean anything necessarily and he's not getting his hopes up but--

"The sweet guy. He just looks like a bad boy but he's sweet to her, he never says anything mean to her. That would be nice." She answers, trailing off at the end and he hears Gowoon instantly disagreeing saying the other guy is way better, but he can barely hear his sister over the thumping of his heart in his ears, he can't help the wide smile that spreads on his face. 

He turns to hide it in his mom's lap.

It doesn't leave his face the rest of the night.

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It's getting late, she knows that it's time for her to take her leave she's been imposing on them for too long but....she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to leave, they are so warm. She's never seen a family like this outside of television shows, how was it possible that this was their real life? How could they have a mother who was that loving? Everything they did was greeted with fond exasperation, where was the reprimanding or cold backhanded words that cut like a knife?

She'd even treated her kindly, calling her sweetie more than she said her name. And she got used to it similar to how she'd gotten used to Seojun calling her princess, she knew she should fight it but she didn't want to. She was ashamed to say she liked it. 

She tries to soak it up for as long as she can before she says reluctantly, "I should probably go. it's getting late." Then she watches in a daze as the woman races off before returning with containers stacked and tied in a bag.

Before she can argue or refuse their mom is already shaking her head, "You made this so it's only right that you take it home. I won't take no for an answer." At this point that should have been the Han family motto she thinks fondly. But she accepts the food, bowing in gratitude at the simple act of kindness.

"Unnie, can I have your number? I just realized I don't have it and we're so close!" Gowoon thrusts her phone out with two hands, giving her the biggest puppy eyes she's ever seen. Without a word she accepts the phone, punching in her number before handing it back. She hadn’t realized the girl considered them close, but she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. 

"Thank you! I'll text you so you can have my number too." The younger girl dances in celebration before grabbing her in a hug, she awkwardly pats her on the back once before she's finally set free. They're all so naturally affectionate and she's not the least bit accustomed to it, used to harsh words and slaps instead of praises and hugs.

"Get home safely sweetie. Junnie! Where did you go? Come walk her home!" She rushes to say it's okay she doesn't need an escort home, she's fine walking by herself it truly wasn't that far it turned out. But Seojun comes out of his room, changed again with a coat on and a beanie. Walking over to them he thrusts a sweater at her, when she looks blankly he replies sounding defensive, "It's probably colder now. Put this on too." He pushes it at her again firmer and she grabs it, gasping when their fingers brush.

It's a thick dark green sweater with fleece lining the interior and it smells just like his earthy cologne, she wants to give it back. Instead she puts it on over her borrowed long sleeve shirt from Suho and feels like a child playing dress up when it reaches the bottom of her knees. She knows what he's thinking when he smirks at her, she wasn't short he was just a damn giant.

She takes off the slippers and slides back into her sneakers, thankful that they're dry now. She's distracted by Seojun's heat, he's so close to her putting on his own boots. So much so she nearly misses what his mother says, "Get home safely. Please come again soon, I need more maturity in this house." Seojun and Gowoon both shout affronted but all she can see is the genuine smile on her face, she finds herself nodding throat too thick for words. When she's pulled into another hug, this time she has to blink away tears arms still by her side. She’s vibrating from keeping her emotions contained. 

They are walking side by side, the sounds of the city filling the silence that would be present. Every once in a while their arms brush but he moves away after the third time and she feels cold, more so than when the wind blows.

They're getting closer to Suho's apartment and she's wrecking her brain to find something to say to him, knowing that the ball is in her court; it always has been. She's just terrified to swing her racket. What if she misses? Or trips and embarrasses herself? It was usually better to just do nothing then you wouldn't be disappointed.

With each step she loses more courage until they are standing in front of the building and she still hasn't said anything.

Coward.

They stand awkwardly looking at the building pointedly avoiding each other and she finally speaks, "Oh your sweater! Here you go." She says stupidly, not at all what she wanted to say but she starts to pull the sweater off to commit to her exclamation. However he steps back shaking his head at her.

"It's cold. Just wear it upstairs. I'll get it later from Suho, you won't have to see me again. Go up." He sounds deflated, nothing like the animated jokester she'd seen just minutes at his apartment. It aches that she's the one making him act this way.

Then he turns around after looking at her, all of the light drained from his eyes.

He takes three large steps, putting immeasurable space between them in no time and she knows that if she lets him walk away right now he might not come back and that's a gut wrenching thought that makes her chase after him.

Thoughtlessly, she grabs his arm halting his exit from her life.

"Wait!" She shouts, but at the first touch of her hand on his forearm he's already frozen, still in her arms. He doesn't turn around. She shoots him a silent mental thank you, even if it's not his intention it's much easier to say what's on her mind like this without him facing her and her feeling too open and vulnerable. 

"I know you're the one making me food." There was supposed to be a thank you somewhere in there but instead she ends up sounding accusatory, and he tenses instantly his arm tight in her grasp.

"I'll stop. I know you told me to leave you alone. I--just. There's no excuse. I'll stop."

His voice is strained and this is going all wrong already, she's ruining everything.

Letting go of his arm, she sidesteps and brazenly moves directly in front of him. She can't keep hiding from this. She needed to be vulnerable, that was the only way he could understand.

His eyes are wet.

She gasps at the sight, not expecting it and so jealous at his ability to just feel and be seen. She was always hiding from everything. 

"Don't."

He doesn't give her a chance to finish.

"Sujin. Let me go. I know already, I know it all. I can't like you, I shouldn't get my hopes up, I need to mind my business. I know it all!" He shouts, pain marring his face but she notices how he still tugs his arm free gently, still careful about harming her even while he’s breaking down. 

She doesn’t deserve this. 

This is all her fault she knows that to be an objective truth, but the way he throws her own words back at her makes her realize how cruel she'd been while trying to spare him. She hadn't spared anything, the pain in his eyes and voice makes that abundantly clear.

"Don't stop. Don't give up on me." She finishes, staring at him with her own wet eyes, tears prickling at them.

His shoulders sink as he stares at her, lost and hesitant. 

"I'm sorry. I’m sorry for saying those things to you.  I can't promise I won't push you away again. I'm...I'm fucked up Seojun-ah. I'm a fucking mess. But I want to stop, I don't want to push people away."

I don't want to push you away. But she’s still too much of a coward to say that out loud. 

"Sujin, what-what are you trying to say?" He looks at her with guarded eyes, not yet ready to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"I want to be friends."

She watches him wrestle with her sentence, hurt being covered up by a façade and she's not obtuse, she knows that's not the answer he was hoping for. Knows he thinks she's friend zoning and clipping the wings of his feelings.

"That's all I can deal with right now. I have a lot to work on, I need to work on me." It may seem like a cop out, an excuse but it's the most honest she's ever been with herself, it's not that she doesn't like him she might- if the way her heart thumps when he’s around says anything- but more importantly she has realized that she doesn’t like herself.

"Right now." He repeats in awe, she blinks confused before realizing the implications of her words, she starts sputtering trying to backtrack but he's too quick beating her to the punch.

"I can do friends. For now." She blushes at the beaming smile on his face, his happiness over such a small acquiesce is too much. Why did he have to wear his heart so obviously on his sleeves?

They stand simply staring at each other. Locked in the moment.

She might need to remind her heart that they'd only agreed to be friends.

For now.

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I don't like onions.

She doesn't know what possesses her to text him first, or what compels her to send that particular message. She starts googling if there's a way to unsend messages, instead finding stories from others regaling their own embarrassing messages and finding solace that she isn't alone in this feeling. 

She jumps when her phone vibrates. Slowly turning it over like it's a ticking bomb.

Of course you'd be a picky eater. Onions are good for you.

She rolls her eyes at the message, he was such a nagger.

It's not good if I don't enjoy it.

Alright princess, noted. No more onions. Are you okay with chicken teriyaki tomorrow?

She recalls the delicious chicken teriyaki he'd made for her just days ago, it was succulent and juicy and she'd fought Suho over it, reminding him that this was her food and she replies quickly.

Yes! Do you have more kimchi?

I do. I'll pack some.

She stares at the phone, in disbelief at the how easy it is to talk to him again, like there was an empty spot in her life, a Seojun shaped gap that was now filled once more. She wasn't fixed, she had meant what she told him; she couldn't examine her feelings for him yet. But she needed him in her life, he was there when she needed someone and now no one else would do.

I missed you.

[hopeamarsu]

I Don’t Know

Clyde Logan x reader

Word count 1,1k

A/N: The third part of my angst train has arrived at its station. All maybe be not doomed yet. 

Part 1 can be read here and part 2 here

Clyde finds you on the bench in the park on Wednesday. It's where you’ve agreed to meet, a neutral but familiar place. It’s where you have sat with him for countless dates, watching the world turn and talking about everything between the sun and the moon. It usually brings Clyde some comfort, this place is special, but now you have called him there to receive his judgement. He can only hope that agreeing to this place means something good. 

You haven’t been home since Friday night and all you have communicated is two terse text messages earlier in the morning:

Can we talk?

Yes. Meet me at the park at 1 pm. The bench. 

He should be glad that you’ve given him this opportunity, this chance to see you face to face but when his amber eyes take you in it's clear that the past days haven’t been kind to you either. Your eyes, normally so vibrant and full of laughter, are dull and emotionless. He sees you have borrowed a shirt from your friend, wherever you have been the past days but your pants are the same ones that you left with. You look sad and it makes Clyde even sadder.  

“Thank ya fer meeting me.” He rumbles, but does not dare to sit next to you. Not yet anyway. You glance in his direction and something hardens in your eyes. 

“I guess it was time.” You tell Clyde, your voice void of emotion. It makes him want to curl up and hide, he can already feel this opportunity slipping past his fingers. Clyde takes a deep breath, straightens his spine and steps closer. You do not react to him apart from your eyes that track his movements as he slowly lowers himself on the bench next to you. But unlike before, when you have sat on this very same bench, you do not touch each other in any way. 

“I wanted to… I mean… ‘m... “ His voice is trembling and he cannot find the words. Clyde curses heavily inside his mind, he is certain he will mess this up. He takes a couple of seconds and centers himself, before beginning again. 

“I wanted to tell ya how sorry I am. I didn’t mean tha’ stuff I said t’ ya, none of it.”

You look at him for a moment, taking in the words he has said. He tries so hard not to react, not to give too much away. Clyde’s actually pretty happy with what has come out of his mouth; its not what he practised in his car but its close. He can feel his thoughts gear up inside, all jumbled up in his brains and he wills himself to stay silent. 

“This is not about what you said or didn’t say Clyde. I am a big girl and can understand that under pressure there isn’t always time to consider one's' words or how they came out.” You state, the words carrying over the storm in his mind. He looks down in shame, he knows the words he spoke were clipped and business-like, nothing like he usually speaks to you. 

“But…” He tries to start speaking, but you interrupt him with a flash in your eyes. It’s eerily similar to what happened on Friday night, the small flash of lightning behind your irises. 

“What I can’t understand is how you could forget that I was there. I was there for you. You asked me to help you out, you wanted me to be there and then to leave me in the bar, after closing and locking the place up, is something I cannot wrap my mind around. You left me Clyde. Like I was of nothing importance. We live together, we are partners, aren't we? Wasn’t I enough for a thought?” Your voice raises in anger, letting the hurt bleed out.  

He can’t help the shrinking of his body in a wince, he is too ashamed of himself and his actions. He did those things, he didn’t do enough and he let you down. And he’s beat himself up for it numerous times already but to hear the words fall from your lips, the very ones Clyde loves to kiss, is gutting him.

You look at him, expecting an answer. He gulps down his emotions and nods as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Yea, we are partners.”

“If I hadn’t called you, would you have realized that I was left behind? Would you have come for me? Or would you have thought I’d be out with my friends and just gone to bed?” You challenge him, knowing fully well that he would have thought that as it was not uncommon for the two of you to go and do your own thing from time to time. 

“I…. I don’t…” He can’t get the words out, he doesn’t want to disappoint you any further. Clyde knows that he probably wouldn’t have thought twice over you not being there. It was Friday after all and he had a shift at the bar, he cannot expect you to wait for him alone at home all the time. 

“Mmmm, guess that answers me.” You sigh softly, your eyes finally letting some emotion bleed into them. Sadness? Compassion maybe? Or resolution? Clyde cannot tell and he is afraid of the answer. But he must ask before all this eats him up from inside out.

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”

“I, ah, I want to make this right.” For that Clyde is certain, he wants to do everything in his power to repair this hurt that you are feeling. So he goes on, asking the one thing that he wants, he needs to know.

“Are we still…. Can I still... Can I call ya ma darlin’?”

A beat, then another. 

“I don’t know. You hurt me real bad Clyde. I felt abandoned, lost, left behind.”

He knows this, he’s heard you say it mere moments ago but it's still a knife in his stomach. It's twisting and turning, carving a hole too deep and too painful. He can feel his tears burning behind his eyes.

“‘m sorry Y/N. Truly.” He whispers and his hand twitches. 

“I love you darlin’. Please, please let me make this right. Can I? Is there a way fer me to make it up to ya?” Clyde is not above begging at this point, he knows he messed up badly. But you only shrug and the eye connection is once again lost as you turn your head down. The silence stretches on for minutes, maybe hours. But Clyde is willing to wait, he will give you all the time in the world if you need it. 

Suddenly, you hand reaches out to his and you place your dry, warm palm against his sweaty one. You squeeze it once and it's reassuring in its simplicity. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Your soft voice, almost a whisper reaches his ears and it takes only a moment for him to absorb the words. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him. It’s not a “no”. Clyde still has a chance and he will grasp at it, will make it count. And for that he is grateful.

Tagging as requested @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather​ @aloneandsleepless​ @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @iamasithprincess​ @historyandfandoms50​ @a-true-janian-reply​ @clydesducktape​ @morby​ @emeraldsiren19​ @bringbackkylosolo​ @mariesackler​ @sacklerscumrag​ @couldntfuckingtellya​

[b0n-chann]

I love your writing!! If you're still doing requests from that prompt list, maybe 200 for mando?

Okay, first of all, I’m so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for FOREVER. But also, I had moved this over into my drafts before I somehow lost all my asks and I’m so glad this one was saved!!

Also if you’re not following @spookyold-saintjm PLEASE DO IT NOW AND READ THROUGH HER MASTERLIST AND SEND HER THE LOVEEEE. 🥰

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.”

——————

Cara stares uncomfortably between the couple before her as they argued back and forth. Err....they were still a couple, right?

“If you think you can stop me from going, Mando, you are absolutely out of your mind,” you seethed. You could see Din flinch when you refused to call him by name, knowing he takes it as a sign of agitation at him. But while you know he’s gotten used to you calling him by his real name, you still wanted to respect his privacy with Cara around. Either way, it worked to your favor.

“I’m out of my mind....I’m out of MY mind?!” He scoffs. You were going to be the death of him. “Infuriating woman,” he says under his breath. Unfortunately, you hear him.

“The child is sick. I need to into the city go get supplies for him.” You repeat for what feels like the hundredth time today, tears biting at the edges of your eyes. “And between the three of us, I don’t see a Mandalorian or ex-shock trooper getting in and out of there without causing a scene.”

“You do realize you forgot to mention the part where it’s a city filled with Imps?”

You don’t respond, but give him a look of defiance. Din quickly flexes and unflexes his fist in irritation, a tick that you’ve noticed in your time with him. If Din was completely honest with himself, your fiery spirit is one of the many things that attracts you to him. Your personality complements his in almost the opposite sense but it attracts him like a moth to a flame.

Irritated cries come from the cockpit and the Mandalorian sighs. “We’re not done here,” he says before stepping up on the ladder to check on the child.

“Well, that was explosive. You guys always that...passionate?” Cara says, quirking here eyebrows at you suggestively.

You let out a sound somewhere between and snort and a scoff. Cara puts her hands up in mock defense. “I’m just saying...I can only imagine what you guys are like in the bedroom...”

“CARA!” You exclaim as she breaks down in laughter. You can help but let a smile crack your features. “He’s been getting worse lately,” you trail off thinking about how Din’s demeanor has changed over the last few weeks. “His protectiveness, I mean.” You add hastily before Cara can twist your words as she has been known to do. You drop down into one of the seats at the small table dramatically and sigh, suddenly exhausted.

“Hey,” Cara says, sitting across from you. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

You hesitate. You didn’t want to say anything until you had some sort of confirmation but Cara has always been a trusted friend. “I, uh...there’s another reason why I need to go into the city. Alone, preferably,” you drop your voice and shift your eyes to the ladder leading to the cockpit. “My cycle. It’s late.”

Cara’s eyes widen and she grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re pregnant?” She whispers hastily.

“I can’t be entirely sure, but the evidence is damning,” you say, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“Well that explains the screaming match earlier.” You whimper and put your head to the table. Cara places a comforting hand on your head, stroking your hair in a way that reminds you of how your mother used to comfort you as a child. Your heart clenches when you realize you could be doing the same to your own child soon. “Shh,” she soothes. “I know the tin can is infuriating, but he loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it. He’s never going to let you go though, especially if he finds out what you’re hiding.”

“What is it you’re hiding?” Din asks in a clipped tone, descending the ladder. He sees Cara tending to you and immediately worries. “What’s wrong?”

You squeeze Cara’s hand in worry. She gives yours a light squeeze back, trying to reassure you. “Ahh, your girl here isn’t feeling so hot either. I think she might have caught what the kid has. And stubborn as she always is, she was trying to get out of here to try and keep us from catching it, too.” Din sits down on his haunches in front of you and notices your glassy eyes. You had been crying. He places a hand gently on your knee.

“Tin can, you stay here and take care of your family. I’ll make the run.” You and Din both snap your heads to Cara’s direction and her emphasis on the word family is not lost on you. “I’ll be quick,” she says as she stands and begins to cover her tattoos. “I’ll be discreet too, I promise.”

“You sure?” Din asks her as he stands as well.

“Yeah, I might need to borrow some stuff though.” She says as she quirks her head towards his weapons cases. He nods and walks over to get her what she needs, but not before he gives your shoulder a light squeeze, telling you he’s not too mad.

You both wait for Din to be out of earshot. “Cara, you didn’t need to do that,” you tell her but she just waves you off.

“Don’t worry about it. Gives me a chance to walk around, and gives you guys a chance to talk,” she says pointedly. “Besides, you better remember this when my little niece or nephew is born and in need a godmother.” You both laugh as you make your way over to Din.

Cara picks what she needs before you and Din see her off the Crest. “Shouldn’t be too long,” she says as she walks down the ramp. “I’ll be back before nightfall.”

“Thanks again, Cara,” Din calls after her. She salutes him in response. Din then looks down at you. “You okay?” He asks as he takes your hand, playing with your fingers.

You look back up at him and smile, realizing just how okay you are.

Tag list:

@momc95 @electricprincess888 @maia-hocane @lamnothome @highonsoundwaves @tedpicklez @renreypoe @mabelleen @cryptkeepersoul @holamor @mando-vibes @lustriix @katialvi @spookyold-saintjm @sarcasm-n-insomnia @awesomefandomsunited @sentimental-ghost @mrsparknuts @oloreaa

[catharrington]

I'm so in love with your Catboy!Steve pieces! And now because of them I can't get out of my mind the idea of Billy teasing Steve by calling him 'Kitten' and Steve hissing and showing his teeth at him, demanding Billy to stop calling him 'that' so serious and offended that Billy, in fact, stops but. The problem is that. Secretly, Steve loves it. It just make him feel too vulnerable to admit it. But he misses it sooooo much that one day he climbs up Billy's lap, hides his face into the crook of his neck and whispers, so close it's barely audible, "Will you call me Kitten again?" and Billy will basically melt and pet at his ears "Of course I will, Kitten"

I just love so much the idea of Billy calling him all kinds of pet names and Steve secretly loving it 😻😻

Thank you so much for enjoying my cat boy content!!! And yes. Oh my gosh yes you are correct!! Billy so loves to tease:

Pretty cat, the words hang in the air gentle like soft pieces of lint floating through the windows of a sunny morning. Steve doesn’t hate them, lays in the sunlight of those words and lets it soak into his fur a little.

Billy said them with so much authority, so much fondness, that he can’t help but to believe him.

Steve loves those words. In that order. Some others he has mixed feelings about.

It’s been a week since the aforementioned kidnapping, and Steve has taken a habit of burrowing himself into Billy’s sheets and blankets as soon as he gets up to head into work.

Four days out of the week it’s early in the morning, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. And then late nights bring Billy home in heavy workboots stomping out dusty clouds. On fridays it’s a later start, and he comes home sooner. Just as dirty. Takes a shower, or sometimes a bath.

Steve curls his long fingers around Billy’s pillow. Brings it close to him, nuzzles his nose into the soft with time cotton so just his eyes and pointy ears follow Billy as he paces the room to get ready for work. Collecting his clothes before stepping into the bathroom, winking over his shoulder ain’t gonna expose myself to ya, don’t worry, kitten.

And Steve just thumps his tail with a thoughtful flick, rhythmically hitting onto the comforter. Thinking to himself he wouldn’t mind.

Doesn’t say anything like that, of course, the only words Steve ever mutters is a stilted bye. And this sunshine bright day, he mutters a soft don’t call me that.

Billy’s closing the door behind him, his words almost lost even to himself as he starts to head out. He pops the door back open with almost a perfectly timed three second delay. What did you say? He asks expectantly.

And Steve, who followed him to the living room. Followed him to the kitchen. Lingering by the now empty coffee pot as it had all been poured into Billy’s to go cup. Just smelling what Billy’s breath must taste like during all his rushed good mornings. Maybe his off to work kisses would be bitter as the black coffee.

He turns his head almost absentmindedly. Don’t call me kitten, he repeats quietly.

Billy scoffs, thinks it’s a joke. Says alright, sugar, before closing the door again.

He calls him it again as they are lounging around that Saturday. Billy’s work books parked at the doorway. And his hands busy stirring and stirring a wooden spoon around a tall pot of sauce. Steve flicks across the pages of one of Billy’s books he keeps on a small shelf by his bed. Well loved and broken spines. Steve doesn’t want to read them as much as he wants to see where Billy’s loved them.

He can barely hear the word over the noise of the album playing. Loud crooning of guitars and drums, even louder voices. But he hears that word again. Billy’s voice sounds like a song as he calls how spicy do you like it, kitten? And Steve would love the thoughtful question dearly if it weren’t for that word.

And repeats himself, a little louder, don’t call me kitten.

From the kitchen, Billy turns over his shoulder. Levels Steve with those crystal blue eyes and his half smirk. Says alright, sugar, then he’s back singing again.

Sounds terrible, sounds like music Steve wouldn’t listen to by himself, but he does enjoy the way Billy uses the red saucy wooden spoon as a microphone to sing into. Really enjoys the way his hips sway with the motions of his silly dancing. Steve flicks the page to the next and let’s it slide.

The thrid time Billy’s following him with those heavy boots, that thick cowboy stride, missing everything but the spurs jingling. Not missing his lips rolled over his white teeth in a warning snarl. This apartments not big enough for the both of us. He’s following Steve into the bedroom when he says that word through his snarl.

Steve matches one right back. A sharper one, a whiter one, one with teeth that come to cruel points. Repeats what he said before. Don’t call me kitten, this time seriously.

And Billy seems to finally get it. But he doesn’t stop. Waits at the doorway while Steve shrugs off his jacket. He just got back from walking home from work, the library in town he was lucky enough to get a job at. Some places have no intention of hiring a cat boy at all. Some places had laughed at his face.

And Steve’s tired of it. Throws his jacket with enough force it make it bounce off the soft comforter. His voice comes out a mean dragging hiss, don’t talk to me like that. I’m not some thing for you to order around. I’m here because I want to be. And he turns to glare right at Billy. Meaner even than the night he scratched up his biceps getting tugged into a bath.

Billy doesn’t get it this time, seems to get angrier about it. He throws his hands up and spins. Like he wants to grab at something. Like he wants to wrap his meaty fingers around and choke something. Instead he settles on pounding two angry fists into the doorframe.

You don’t get it, he shouts, pretty kitten like you is a target for guys, okay, they would love to just chew you up and spit you right back out. Take you home and chain you to a fuckin’ wall, do you get it? And he turns from the wall to jab a finger at Steve’s face. To make sure he gets it. To make sure he’s afraid of the men who can take advantage in the night. Like how Billy’s trained himself to be such a light sleeper— because he knows.

But he stops his next words in his throat. Swallows them back down into his gut and lets them burn themselves out.

Because Steve’s face is glossy with tears down his cheek bones. His brows almost touching in an angry, furrowed scowl. His ears pressed flat back across his limp hair. He looks angry, and afraid. All at the same time.

And Billy hates himself more feverishly than he’s ever hated himself before. He chokes out an I’m sorry, hey, I’m so fuckin sorry I didn’t— I’m just worried— but that gets caught too.

Because Steve’s pushing past him with his fists held at his sides, a strong shoulder shoved into Billy’s shoulder so he can get by, and then the bathroom door is slamming closed. Steve spends the whole night in the bathroom.

Spends the night curled in the cold tub with his tail wrapped around his ribs. Taking shallow, wet breaths.

Billy spends the whole night awake looking at the bathroom door. Remembering the way Steve’s old collar looked when he took it off that pretty skin. How it left a branding almost of its cruelty. It’s abuse and, and Billy’s stomach feels a lot like the mold on that old leather.

He doesn’t use the word again.

Presses a soft kiss to Steve’s head when he finally sees him one work shift later. The first thing he does when he gets home. Before he gives him a worn out bottle of pepper spray he had kept stashed in his glove box. Says, I know it ain’t as strong as your nails. Or your teeth. Or you damn bull-headedness. But could you carry this? If just for me?

So Steve takes it. Clips it to the inside of a zipper in his work bag. Tucks it behind the books he’s borrowed from Billy’s shelf to read in the break room.

It wouldn’t be until later, when Steve decides to try letting someone else in. Letting someone close enough to hurt him. To hit him. To love him. That he decides to try reclaiming that word.

There’s plastic gnarland flowing across the living room and right into the kitchen. There’s a vinyl album playing but it isn’t Billy’s. It’s his family’s, he says, surprised the old thing still works, but this is Christmas to me. And the needle scratches along old carols played on a piano. There’s a thin, sparse, half dead tree sitting by the window. Lit up with steady red and green lights. Some pretty ornaments hung with care. A handful of hand wrapped gifts collected under its low branches.

Steve crawls onto Billy’s lap. And his kiss might not taste like black coffee, but it does taste like hot chocolate. And his hands are soft snd clean as they pet through his hair. Pet across his sensitive ears so gently. Steve lays his head down on Billy’s shoulder just to hear the steadiness of his breath.

He gulps. Then he whispers you can call me kitten.

And Billy exhales shaky-like, like he couldn’t believe it. Laughs low in his chest that Steve can feel rumbled over into his own chest. Feels so good. Then Billy whispers back of course I will, kitten.

[l-u-v-d]

If you're still taking request/ideas, and since its been a topic lately, maybe Hordak having sleep problems/Insomnia and Entrapta tries to help? :3

I’m... distraught that this is what happened when I aimed for 500 words. (Headcanons and words I couldn’t remember were borrowed liberally fom cruelfeline, so the ultimate thanks to her and how organized her posts are)

“Unrest,” 1,090 words, my first time writing/posting a “finished” piece. Please be gentle.

   Hordak stared bleakly at the ceiling.

  He’d prefer to be staring bleakly at the clock, counting down the seconds until sunrise, but Entrapta had long since rendered him immobile with a formidable snare of hair and limbs. There would be no moving without disturbing her, but there were still plenty of ways to occupy his mind without doing so.

  Most of them, unfortunately, were involuntary.

  In lieu of the dreams he’d opted to avoid, Hordak had slowly begun to find himself lost amongst unpleasant spirals of his own thoughts, ideas creeping in that he’d be quick to replace if he were more alert. Some of them were moderately bothersome. Others nearly caused him to choke up.

  Although he didn’t dare move, arms dutifully wound around his partner, he kept cautious note of the way his breaths grew shallower as the thoughts swept over him in waves. Thoughts of himself, and his brothers, and his friends, and their collective pasts and futures. Thoughts of overthinking, and overthinking about overthinking, and whether or not one’s brain could be manually rewired. Thoughts of what others would think.

  It had all but consumed him by the time the spell broke. Entrapta shifted the slightest bit against him, brought the vaguest amount of attention to the fact that his arms had long since fallen asleep, and Hordak was snapped back to reality with an explosion of lancing pain.

  Entrapta was still tucked securely against him, holding him, being held by him, but the pain was enough to finally spur him on. With as much grace as his agonized limbs would allow, he began to shift away, delicately disentangling himself from her hair and grasp, biting back hisses of pain each time locks or limbs came into contact with his skin.

  Lord, he hoped this wouldn’t wake her.

  Once upright, Hordak shifted to the side of the bed and took stock of his current state. His arms still tingled uncomfortably, but so long as he maneuvered them with care, the flares of pain seemed generally avoidable. He let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding, glanced back at Entrapta, and stood.

  The clock confirmed that nearly an hour remained until sunrise, but the sky already seemed to be lightening on the horizon. There wasn’t terribly much he could do to kill the time, but hovering around while Entrapta slept felt a bit too risky for comfort.

  He carefully made his way towards the door, planning to wander the castle until he found something to put his mind to, when-

  “Hordak?”

  He whipped around, ears drawn back in an unpleasant mix of defensiveness and shame, and found himself struggling to meet Entrapta’s eyes. Thankfully, she seemed more interested in keeping them shut, for now.

  “Sorry if I woke you,” he murmured, already trying to prepare for whatever she could possibly have to say to him. She was already aware of his distaste for nightmares. There wasn’t much more he could think to defend himself with.

  Entrapta, for her part, hardly seemed inclined to attack him; rather, she managed a slight shake of her head, and a soft laugh.

  “I know you haven’t slept at all. I have it good, trust me.”

    Hordak merely sighed in response, an ear flicking involuntarily before a yawn overtook him. Before he could take another breath to speak, Entrapta cut him off.

  “Unless you were gonna go get something, at least come back and rest…?” She blinked up at him, knowing full well he’d already cracked, and grinned as he sighed again.

  He glanced once more at the clock over her shoulder, at the dim horizon outside, then at the ground. Another flick of his ears set Entrapta on edge, but then he spoke.

  “Would you mind staying up with me?” His voice came out a bit clipped, choppier than he intended, too accusatory, and she couldn’t possibly feel inclined to agree, but-

  “Sure!” Invigorated with a sudden burst of energy she seemed to lack entirely prior, Entrapta swung out of bed on a chaotic and slightly tangled wave of hair. “You make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back with some hot chocolates in a minute. No coffee,” she added promptly, catching the way Hordak had begun to raise a hand to interject. He lowered it with a good-natured roll of his eyes, and paused next to her on his way back to bed.

  “You don’t… have to do any of this, if you’d rather get back to sleep. I was just on my way to keep myself occupied before you woke up.” Hordak couldn’t stop himself from fiddling nervously with the hem of his nightgown as he spoke, the nerves in his arms slowly recovering as he used them, and his eyes once again wandering around the darkened room.

  “I mean, of course I don’t have to. But… I want to, so I’m gonna!!” As she spoke, she wound her way between Hordak and the door, pushing her hair between them to guide him closer to the bed. “Besides, you need some more rest.” She fumbled with the optimism to imagine he’d get any amount of sleep, but reigned it back in just as quickly. There were some nights when she didn’t want to sleep, too.

  Hordak nodded vaguely as he returned to the side of the bed, slowly reaching up to lay a hand on the tendril of hair that lingered on his shoulder. “If you’re sure. Thank you.”

  Entrapta beamed at him, outshining the imminent sunrise as she moved the tendril to cup behind his jaw and ear. “Sure I’m sure! Anything for you.~” With that, she pulled away, slipping out into the hall and shutting the door behind her. Hordak, for the nth time in his life, could only gape.

  He’d already reached for the crystal embedded in his sternal port without realizing it, gripping its smooth edges in an effort to remain grounded.

  Anything, she’d said. There was no possible way he could have misheard, and there was no possible way he could disagree; unless he wanted to make a hypocrite of himself. He felt the same.

  A deep, lingering breath was enough to steady him, finally. As he shifted to lay back down, Hordak took stock of himself once more. His arms no longer hurt, and were comfortable enough to use. He was exhausted, but he was in good company, and morning was quite literally just over the horizon.

  It was far from the worst night he could have had, and that was enough.

[nataliedanovelist]

Meet the Pines

When ten-year-old Stanford Pines accidentally stumbles across a time machine, he then finds himself in the middle of a forest and somewhere he finally feels ta home.

For @persimmonpollywog, who inspired me to bring an idea to life.

~~~~~~~~~~

January 1960-something

Stanford held his jacket a little tighter around himself. It was chilly here in the wintry late-afternoon, but it was better being cold on the Stan O’ War than being warm at home. Here, no one called him a wimp. Here, no one saw him as a freak or a loser. Here, he was free to be as upset as he wanted to be. He didn’t want to cry, but if he couldn’t hold it in any longer than at least no one was around to see it.

Yesterday had been a bad day. Crampelter had cornered Stanford after school, while Stanley was busy talking to some girl, and eventually had the ten-year-old pinned to the cold concrete with a knee to his back, pulling his arm back and almost dislocating his shoulder until Stanley came and shoved the bully off his brother. All of the boxing lessons were starting to pay off as Stanley walked away with less scrapes and bruises than normal, but he still had to serve after-school detention today. The twins tried to hide their injuries on the way to the bathroom, but Ma saw them and knelt to look them over. Before Stanley and Stanford could convince their mother they were okay, Pa showed up and snapped, demanding if the boys had lost another fight and when they were going to quit getting their butts handed to them. Ma then stood and shouted at Pa and the two screamed at each other for what felt like forever while they fixed each other up with their first aid kit and spent the rest of the night in their room to avoid the fighting. No kid likes hearing their parents yell.

Stanford’s shoulder didn’t hurt as much anymore and the bruise on his back was still big and purple and black, but at least he could hide it. As much as Stanford tried to ignore it, even reading a book he normally would have enjoyed, the voices in his head kept on shouting at him.

“Dorks and losers!”

“FREAK!”

“When are you gonna stand up for yourself like a man?!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

“Watch it, Six-Finger’s got the plague!”

“You’ll NEVER make any friends!”

Stanford closed his book, shut his eyes, took off his glasses, and scrubbed at his eyes with a fist and pinched the bridge of his button nose to try to compose himself. Stanford then used his blurry vision to look down at his birth defect. His vision became even worse when more tears formed, eventually making the boy buried his head in his arms and he quietly cried. Crampelter was right. Stanford was never going to make any friends. No one would ever want him around.

Okay, maybe Stanley did, but he wasn’t here right now, and how long it would be until Stanley decided he was tired of being made fun of? Stanford truly believed that Stanley was cool enough to make it on his own. He’d bet his chemistry set that if Stanley had never defended Stanford, never been his brother, he wouldn’t be made fun of as much as he was now. Sure, Stanley Pines messed up a bunch, but he was funny and smart in a way you can’t teach to somebody and girls seemed to like him. What was stopping him from getting any gal he wanted and being an all star boxer or a superhero? His freak of a twin. The mistake.

These thoughts plagued and poisoned Stanford, who let them flow and then leave him. While he didn’t disbelieve these bad thoughts anymore, they were no longer screaming at him, so he had the strength to go home. Maybe he’d feel better in his warm bed instead of the cold unfinished ship.

Stanford stood and smiled hopefully at the Stan O’ War. Last summer, right after the boys had turned ten, they had found the shipwreck sailboat in a cave and took it as their anchor for a better future.

“One of these days, you and me are gonna sail away from this dumb town. We’ll hunt for treasure, get all the girls, and be an unstoppable team of adventurers.”

Stanford carried that message with him nearly every day, and he doubted the day would come when he stopped. He picked up his backpack and started on the walk for home. The wind howled, making Stanford shiver, and he picked up the pace. He wished summer would get here, he didn’t like the cold. Something on the sidewalk in town nearly made Stanford trip, but he caught himself in time and turned to see what it was.

The boy raised an eyebrow to find a tape measure. It was black and yellow and had two weird triangles on it. “Huh. I don’t recognize that company.” He muttered to himself as he picked up the measurer. He pulled on the tape, as children will with these types of tape measures, and he realized too late that it didn’t read inches and centimetres; it read years, but Stanford had already released the tape and then he was gone with a flash.

~~~~~~~~~~

May 2016

After the flash was gone, one of the first things Stanford noticed was that he was warm. Really warm. And something was crackling behind him and smelled like burning fabric. Stanford threw off his backpack and stomped on it until the little fire went out. Once that panic was gone, new panic came as he realized he was in the middle of some woods. He had never been in the forest before, except for the little patches by the ravine, but the ravine was dangerous and only for stupid teenagers, so Stanford didn’t go there if he could help it.

Once he knew he was safe, he looked down at the tape measure. “What the heck is this thing?” He asked himself as he cautiously pulled out the tape. It read measurements of time instead of measurements of space. He slowly let the tape back in the machine and put it in his jacket’s pocket, deciding it would be best to try to figure this weird tape measure out later. More importantly, when was he?

Stanford looked around the fellow pines he was surrounded by and he smiled at the peaceful smell. It reminded him of the holidays and when Christmas trees would be up for sale at the park. Stanford understood his family didn’t celebrate Christmas, and he was fine with instead celebrating a holiday that lasted seven days, but he wished just once they would bring a pinetree into their house just to make all the rooms smell nice. Stanford could hear birds, for once not choking on glass or honking. They either tweeted or knocked on wood. Here, in the quiet and in the warmth, Stanford felt much better than he did five minutes ago, despite being in a strange setting and far away from home.

Stanford thought he could hear the vague sound of a car, and so the boy hurriedly followed him to it. Where there was a vehicle there was probably a town. Stanford saw a dirt road and watched as a car drove one way. He could follow it, but when he looked toward where the car had come from, he could have sworn he saw a wooden structure of some sort through the trees. Stanford emerged from the woods and walked alongside the road.

“Okay, the tape measure had been set to forward.” Stanford thought out-loud to himself to try to think clearly. “And if there’s cars, I’m definitely in the future, but how far? I didn’t see how many years ahead it sent me. Maybe I’ll finally meet a robot!”

As Stanford walked along the old road, it became clear to him that either he hadn’t time traveled that far into the future or he was somewhere considered “old” by this time’s standards. Stanford awed happily at an old cabin with a triangular roof with a big sign that read “Mystery Shack”, but the S was on the grass. There was a goat munching on a tin can and it looked at Stanford with it’s weird yellow eyes, but Stanford grinned at the goat and carried on his way.

“What is this place?” He asked himself. “Some kind of haunted house?” The word “Mystery” was enough to lure him towards the building and he saw a door with a sign that read “gift shop,” so Stanford decided to check that place out first.

A bell greeted him and Stanford smiled at the little shop. A pretty lady with a hat and a green question-mark t-shirt was at the cash register, helping an old lady buy a keychain with a spaceship on it. Stanford grinned as more and more things were his taste. There were baseball caps with pinetrees, question marks everywhere, some kind of Aztec wheel in the back, a monkey-fish - no! A Mer-key! - in a tank, and newspapers and magazines full of supernatural evidence. Stanford grinned and took a newspaper with a UFO on the front and opened it.

Before Stanford was too sucked into the story of the alien-sighting in Wyoming, he could hear the lady at the cash register groan and say to the old woman, “I’m sorry, ma’am, this drawer is always getting stuck. Here, let’s see if my husband has any change for you.” And they walked through a door with red curtains.

Stanford looked at the register. It looks pretty close to the one at Pa’s shop. Curious, Stanford sat the paper down and went over to the drawer. There was a toolbox open by the vending machine, so he borrowed a red screwdriver and pulled a flashlight out from his jacket and got to work to try to fix the cash register.

He found the clip that wasn’t releasing and managed to temporarily open the drawer, but the issue was, for the time being, you needed the screwdriver every time you wanted to open the drawer, so Stanford unscrewed some screws to look at the drawer’s workings and he patiently fixed the clip so it was hooked the way it should be. Stanford smiled proudly at himself, happy to help that lady, and he put the drawer back together and closed it with a little ding.

“Whatcha doin’, dawg?”

Stanford jumped a foot in the air and looked up to find the lady back with a big man beside her, the big man standing in Stanford’s way of leaving the counter. He was a chubby guy and reminded Ford of a gopher. He had a red fez with a golden crescent (kinda like Pa’s if Stanford was being honest) and he wore a suit and an eyepatch. 

Stanford was shaking as he realized how bad it looked to have some kid standing by the cash; if this was Pa’s store he would have called the police. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I just wanted to fix your drawer, I’m sorry!” Stanford yelped and sat the screwdriver down on the counter and shoved his hands in his pockets; he didn’t want this big man to think he was stealing anything, cash or tools.

“Whoa, whoa,” The big guy said and with his hands up to stop him. He was smiling nicely at Stanford and he slowly began to calm down. “It’s okay, dude, I get it. You’re not in trouble. Now let’s see if you fixed this old girl.”

The big guy reached over to the register and pressed a button. The drawer slid open gracefully, making the lady and the big guy grin. “Wow. I’ve never seen that thing work so well.” The lady said.

“Me neither, and I’ve been here for fifteen years!” The big guy patted Stanford’s shoulder. “You did a good job, dude. I’m impressed.”

Stanford’s face suddenly felt really hot, like the kind of hot it gets when someone points out his six fingers, but his gut wasn’t squirming around in the usual bad way. And Stanford found it hard not to smile. “Th-Thank you.”

“Thank you,” The big guy said with a grin. “What do I owe you for a job well done?”

Stanford stared at the big guy, wondering if he was joking, but the big guy and the lady just smiled at him and suddenly he noticed how empty his stomach felt. “Can I have a snack?” And he pointed to the vending machine.

The big guy grinned and nodded. “Sure, dude! Hungry?” Right on cue, Stanford’s stomach growled. He held his jacket tighter around himself and blushed, but the big guy and lady just chucked.

“No wonder, it’s almost lunchtime.” The lady pointed out as her watch told her it was almost one.

“Well, hey, Abuelita would love some more mouths to feed.” The big guy said and asked Stanford, “Why don’t you ask your folks if you can join us for lunch?”

“My parents aren’t here.” Stanford said, unable to believe what was happening in front of him. “It’s just me.”

“Oh. Well, wanna stay for lunch?” The big guy offered nicely. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we’d love to have you…”

“Yes, please!” Stanford answered happily. “Sounds like fun!”

“Sweet!” The big guy dipped his fez to the boy and said, “Mr. Mystery at your service, little dude! But you can call me Soos! This here my wife, Melody. Want a tour of the Mystery Shack before lunch?”

“Sure!” Stanford even pulled out his notepad and pencil from his jacket and held it ready for note taking.

Soos laughed, grabbed an eight-ball cane, and led the way through the doorway with red curtains. Stanford was amazed to find a little museum full of odd stuff! Left and right there were strange anomalies and attractions that were just the coolest! Stanford had only seen stuff like this in his dreams, and now it was all here in front of him.

Soos cleared his throat and declared, “Dear gentleman! Looking around my Mystery Shack, you’ll see many wondrous befuddlement, unlike anything you have ever seen before! Feast your eyes, on the dangerously adorable Unicat!” And he gestured to a fluffy orange tabby with a unicorn’s corn tied to it’s head. The kitty was sleeping on a fluffy cat’s bed and Stanford grinned and began to sketch it.

“Now beware, tourist, not only could this guy make you sneeze, Mr. Wiggles is so adorable he can literally bend you to his will.” Mr. Mystery warned with wiggling fingers. “One minute he’s purring in your hand and the next he’s biting your hand, but don’t worry, just give him a treat and he’ll be putty in your hands, dawg.” Soos pulled out a bag from his suit and asked, “Wanna give the Unicat a treat?”

Stanford grinned and happily let Soos shake a treat onto his palm. Mr. Wiggles woke up and sat patiently on the bed. Stanford gave it to him and scratched Mr. Wiggles under his chin while the kitty munch on his treat and purred. Then he was ready for his nap again.

“Up next, I give you a rare picture of a horse riding another horse!”

The whole thirty-minute tour Soos amazed Stanford with the Rock That Looks Like a Face, London Bridge made out of popsicle sticks, other strange photos and articles framed on the walls, and finally the good ole Sascrotch. Stanford attentively asked questions and Soos happily answered all of them. 

This little guy was reminding Soos of a younger version of himself more and more. He was helpful and nice and kinda shy and quiet, but Soos could tell this dude was special. Soos wondered if Mr. Pines felt this way about him when he first came to the Mystery Shack.

Melody eventually called Soos and Stanford in for lunch and Stanford let Soos put a hand on his shoulder and led him through the “Employees Only” door. Stanford was surprised to find what appeared to be a house. Not that he was too surprised, Stanford’s family lived above their shop, but still. It looked like a really nice place to live. He had always wanted to live in a cabin! “Wow, you have a really nice house.”

“Thanks, dawg.” Soos patted his shoulder and pointed towards the kitchen. “Mm. Smells like Abuelita made tamales!”

Melody was fixing glasses of water while Abuelita stirred a pot. Stanford smiled at the old lady in an apron with soft old-lady skin. She smiled and shuffled over to the boy. “Aye! ¡Qué niño tan dulce! Hola, niño! Look at you! So thin! You must be hungry.” She cooed and made Stanford sit at the table so she could pile his plate high with rice, beans, and tamales. “Here, eat up.”

Stanford didn’t know much Spanish, but he did know one phrase. “Muchas gracias, señora!”

Ma was a great cook, but she didn’t look much Mexican. There was a taco place that was okay, but this was real Mexican food and it tasted so good! Stanford, who hadn’t eaten since lunch, was starving and happily cleaned his plate while he listened to Melody and Soos talk about work and their plan for the day. They occasionally asked Stanford something and let him talk, but Stanford was happy to quietly eat and the grown-ups respected that.

“Oh, you’re a twig, niño,” Abuelita commented as she carried the plate full of tamales over to him and gave him another. “Here, have some more.”

“No, gracias.” Stanford said politely, making sure to say thank you.

“I asked if you would like more tamales.” Abuelita said with a bit of a scary voice and a stern look. One glance at Soos and Stanford saw him smile and nod his head, advising to accept the food.

“Uh… si?”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Abuelita said happily and gladly piled four more tamales on poor Stanford’s plate.

A few minutes later, a door opened in the distance and a voice called teasingly, “‘Sup, Mr. Ramierez!”

“In the kitchen, Wendy!” Soos called back.

“Aw man, Dipper and Mabel not here yet?”

“No, bus doesn’t get here for a few more hours.”

“Dang it.”

Stanford looked at the doorway and his jaw dropped. A very pretty red-headed girl with freckles, a blue flannel, and one of those pinetree hats, stood with jeans and hiking boots. Stanford was kinda reminded of Stanley; they both gave off an atmosphere of confidence and bigger-than-what-you-expect attitude. Wendy looked at the new guy and smiled. “Great, did you two kidnap some kid?”

Soos laughed and ruffled his fluffy brown hair. “Nope! This little dude helped fix the cash register.”

“Oh, new handyman, huh?” Wendy asked as she stole a tamale off his plate and leaned against his chair.

“Well,” Soos shrugged and smiled at Stanford. “If he wants the job, sure.”

“Wait, really?” Stanford asked. “You want me as a handyman?”

“Sure! Why not? You know how to fix a golf cart?”

“Well, I don’t know if I…”

“Boom!” Soos threw a random question-mark staff t-shirt at his face and announced happily, “You’re hired! One size fits all, dawg! The golf cart’s okay for the most part, but it’s not quite charging right. Think you can look at the battery or the charger?”

“Oh,” Stanford was having a hard time taking this in. First these guys actually liked him, and now they wanted him to stay and work?! He grinned from ear-to-ear with shiny brown eyes, hopped off his chair, slipped off his jacket, and changed shirts as quickly as possible so he could put his jacket back on over his staff t-shirt. “Okay!”

“What’s your name, anyway?” Wendy asked as he patted his hard enough on the back that he went “oof.”

Stanford opened his mouth, but hesitated. If he was going to stay here, some time-cops might come looking for him. Or he might mess up the time-space continuum more than he has. But what if it was always supposed to be this way? What if Stanford Pines went missing and was never found again? What if somewhere there was an unsolved report of a missing boy that no one missed? What if Stanford had found that tape measure for a reason? Deciding to play it safe and making up his mind to start over and stay, Stanford quickly answered with, “Phil.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The golf cart was easy to find. Stanford popped the hood and saw the battery. It was a bit too advanced, not because of the technology, but because Stanford is only ten and had never fiddled with a car battery before, but he knew enough about batteries as a whole to teach himself what to do. It turned out the goat had chewed on the cord so sometimes the battery would receive charge, sometimes it wouldn’t, so all Stanford had to do was fix it with special black tape.

After that, Stanford went inside to see if anything needed to be fixed or to ask Soos what he wanted him to do, when he caught a glimpse of someone climbing up a ladder. Curious, Stanford climbed up and opened a little door to find Wendy up on the roof and sitting in a lawn chair.

“Whoa, what is this place?” He asked.

Wendy smiled with a soda in her hand and said, “Just my hang-out. Great place to come to hide from work. Wanna a soda, bud?”

“Sure, thanks.” Stanford smiled to see that familiar Pitt soda now in a can. Really weird, considering he was used to bottles, but he knew how to open a can and found he didn’t mind the change in containers for his drink.

“So, Phil,” Wendy said casually. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where and why?”

Stanford sat on the roof with his feet dangling off the edge. “I don’t know. I want to travel the world. I want to see it all.”

“An adventurer, I like your moxie, kid.” Wendy said. “Gravity Falls is alright, but I wanna go see a big city, like New York or even just San Francisco.”

“I’ve been to New York.” Stanford shared. It was true; the Big Apple was only an hour drive (two if there was bad traffic) from Glass Shard. “I wouldn’t want to live there, but it’s a nice place to visit. Lots of museums and historical records…”

Wendy laughed and shook her head. “You’d like my friend Dipper. He’s a nerd, too.”

Stanford’s cheeks turned red, happy that this pretty girl seemed to like him. Not that he ever had a chance with her! She was eighteen and he was ten. “Who’s Dipper?”

“My best friend.” Wendy said proudly. “He might be a nerd, but he’s also, like, the coolest guy I’ve ever met. A good friend, too. Hey, you’ll actually get to meet him today! He and his sister Mabel are coming to spend the summer and they’re supposed to get here some point today.”

“Cool! I’m excited to meet them. I don’t have any friends back home.” Stanford let slip.

“Well, you’ve got some now.” Wendy reassured the kid and lightly punched his shoulder.

Stanford punched back as he laughed and he then asked, “So, what’s your favorite type of snack food?”

“Oh man, I can’t just pick one. Popcorn’s a big one. Really, anything salty. You?”

“Does jelly beans count or is that a candy?”

“Naw, man, that’s a snack food.”

“Jelly beans it is, then!”

“Phil! The portable toilets are clogged!” Soos called from inside the shack.

Stanford took a minute to register who his new boss was talking to and then sighed and stood up. “Back to work.”

“Later, dork.” Wendy said with a wink and Stanford climbed down with a dorky smile.

The red head sighed happily as a breeze drifted by, free from having to make-up an excuse as to why she can’t attend to the bathrooms, and she sipped her soda and watched the sun slowly sink. A little while after Phil left, Wendy heard the familiar roar of a bus and saw it pull up to the tourist trap, but instead of a small group of tourists spilling out, two teenagers walked out with their arms full of luggage and a pig at their feet.

“YES!” Wendy stomped her boots on the roof and yelled, “THEY’RE HERE! DIPPER! MABEL!” Using her trusty pinetrees, Wendy climbed down and ran to her favorite pair of twins and hugged them. “I’ve missed you, you weirdos!”

“Aw, Wendy!” Mabel cooed.

“We’ve missed you, too.” Dipper assured her and the hug ended so they could look at each other properly.

Dipper had hit a growth spurt since last summer and was now an inch or two taller than Mabel. He wore an opened blue flannel over his orange t-shirt with his jeans and Wendy’s borrowed hat. As tradition, Wendy swapped Dipper’s pinetree hat for her fur cap back and they high-fived when Dipper fixed his cap so it didn’t cover his eyes. Mabel still wore her sweaters and skirts, but now her hair was only shoulder-length and her braces were long-gone. Today she wore her yellow “Hug Me” sweater with a pink skirt and headband to match.

“Wow, you guys look great!” Wendy complimented. She noticed Waddles making his way to Gompers and them falling asleep on the porch with the goat.

“Thanks,” Dipper said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you believe we’re the same age as you when we met?”

“I know, right?! It’s so weird!”

“DUDES!” Mabel and Dipper braced themselves as a heavy man swept them up into his arms and squeezed so hard their faces turned blue. “I missed you two so much! I’ve got a bunch of new attractions to show you and fun stuff to do this summer! This’ll be the best one yet!”

“Soos, can’t breathe.” Dipper wheezed.

“Who cares?” Mabel said hoarsely. “Anything for a Soos-hug.”

Soos finally managed to let them go and he grabbed their suitcases for them. “Here, let me help you dawgs get settled in your room. You’re still cool with sharing with your grunkles, right?”

“Always are.” Mabel reassured him. With Melody and Soos in Ford’s old room and Abuelita in Stan’s old room, that only left the attic for guests, so every summer when the Pines family came home they had to share, but with two pairs of bunk beds and plants of woods for some alone time during the day, it was comfortable enough for the summer. Besides, it was a good way to make up for lost time during the fall, winter, and spring.

As Soos, Wendy, Dipper and Mabel went into the house by the back door, Mr. Mystery called out, “Hey, Phil! C’mere, there’s some dudes I want you to meet!”

“Who’s Phil?” Dipper asked.

“My new handyman!” Soos said proudly as he sat the suitcases on the stairs for a few minutes. “Really smart dude, fixed the cash register and the golf cart already!”

“Aw, you have your own wittle Soos!” Mabel exclaimed with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. “Well I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a nerd like you, Dip-Dip.” Wendy added as she elbowed him. 

“Well how long has he been working here?” Dipper asked.

“Just today.” Soos answered. “I really like him. I think he’ll end up being a member of the family soon enough.”

“Sorry, Mr. Mystery,” A voice called from outside. “I only got one toilet unclogged, but I’ll clean the others!”

“It’s okay, dawg,” Soos hollered back.

The door opened and the ten-year-old looked around. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Dipper and Mabel dumbfounded. It was like seeing a cartoon character come to life. That little sunburnt boy in all those childhood photos Ma Pines and their grunkles had shown them was now right here in front of them in a Mystery Shack staff t-shirt and brown jacket, smiling at the little gang. He cocked his head and looked curiously at the teenagers, who were looking at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. Embarrassed, Stanford’s face turned red and he hid his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, Phil, this here is Dipper and Mabel!” Soos introduced, writing off the twins’ reaction as shocked by the boy’s cuteness and Phil’s quietness as shyness from meeting new people. “Dudes, this here Phil! If you need something that needs fixin’, just go to this guy right here.” And Soos ruffled his hair playfully, making Stanford feel better and smile with his blush still intact.

“Uh… nice to meet you.” Dipper muttered.

“OH MY GOSH!” Mabel ran up to Stanford and scooped him up into a hug. “You’re SO CUTE! Who’s a wittle guy, who’s a wittle guy?! Is it you, is it you?” She cooed and hugged him tightly and combed his hair with her fingers.

“Whoa, hey!” Stanford squirmed a little bit but slowly stopped fighting. He had never been swallowed with so much hugs before and kinda liked it. “N-Nice to meet you. I like you. You’re weird.”

“Great,” Dipper said slowly and moved towards his sister to grab her arm. “So why don’t we get to know Phil somewhere else.” And he dragged them off somewhere else.

Wendy looked at Soos curiously and asked, “What was that all about?”

Soos shrugged and picked up the suitcases to take them upstairs. “Teens are crazy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Stanford was engulfed in darkness until a bright light was turned on by a pull of a metal string. The boy blinked his eyes to adjust to the light and found he was in some sort of small, dark, cramped space with the two teenagers in front of him, side by side. The girl, Mabel, was grinning really big, but the boy, Dipper, had his arms crossed over his chest and looked both stern and worried. They both somewhat looked familiar to Stanford, but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Alright, what are you doing?!” Dipper hissed at Stanford. “How did you even get here? And where’s the time machine?!”

The idea of playing dumb wasn’t going to work, Stanford realized, as he paled a sheet and swallowed nervously. “You… You know I’m from the past?”

“Yes, we do, Stanford Pines.” Dipper said firmly, making Stanford shiver.

Mabel noticed this and thought her brother was being too harsh, so she slipped in, “But we’re really happy to see you, Ford!”

“But what you’re doing is really dangerous.” Dipper warned in a calmer tone. “By missing in the past you’re jeopardizing the future.”

“You don’t understand.” Stanford insisted. “No one back home will miss me. I’m a nobody in the past, but here people actually like me. Why can’t I stay?”

“Now wait a minute,” Mabel said gently and put a hand on one of his shoulders. “You really think Stan won’t miss you?”

Stanford froze at that. The idea of Stanley all alone made his chest ache, but he shook his head and looked away from the teenagers before him. “He’s better off without me.” He mumbled.

“No he’s not.”

“Yes…”

“No, he’s not.” Dipper insisted and sat on a box to be eye-level with Stanford. “Listen to me, I don’t know if you noticed this or not, kid, but we’re twins, too. We understand more than you think we do. Sometimes you think you’re not good enough and sometimes you think it’ll be better for both of you if you went your separate ways, but… but family sticks together, no matter what. It doesn’t matter if it’s a twin or a parent or just a really good friend, one day you’re gonna realize how much you need your family and I really really hope for you it’s not before it’s too late.”

Stanford, frustrated that he didn’t have a good comeback, decided to turn the tables. “Now, wait a minute, how did you even know I was from the past? And how did you know about Stanley?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged uneasy facial expressions and Mabel then said to Stanford, “Look, Ford, please. You have to trust us. I know things are hard for you right now, but things will get better…”

Stanford scowled at that. They weren’t listening! They just didn’t understand! “You don’t know that! You don’t know what I’ve been through! I’m a nobody in the past, I’m a freak in the past!” And he even held a hand out to their faces so they could see his six fingers. With tears in his eyes, the boy yelled, “This is the one place I feel at home, and I won’t let you take that away from me!” And with that, Stanford pulled the time machine out of his pocket, threw it on the floor, and smashed it with his sneakered foot.

“Stanford!” Mabel scolded.

“What did you do?!” Dipper yelled as he got on his knees and began to scoop up the broken pieces.

Stanford spun around, opened the closet, and left without another word.

“We should’ve told him we were family.” Mabel said quietly.

“No,” Dipper snapped as he stood up and exited the closest with his sister. “If he found out it could mess up our present. We need to try to get him to go back to Glass Shard.”

“All while keeping it a secret that we’re Pines, too, and also keeping it a secret that Phil is baby Ford?” Mabel clarified and rubbed her forehead. “And you do realize we’ve got until tonight when Grunkle Stan and Ford come home and will definitely recognize him?”

“I know.” Dipper sighed. “I’ll work on fixing the time machine. You’re better with people, you try to convince Ford to go back to his own time.”

“You got it, Dippin’ Sauce.” Mabel said and went off to try to find her wittle uncle.

Stanford was true to his word and went straight to finish unclogging the toilets, so that kept Mabel away from the most part and she got distracted catching up with Wendy. As the sun got lower into the sky, Dipper sat on his bottom bunk and fixed the time machine, meanwhile Mabel had to try to earn Stanford’s trust, but the little guy was doing a good job of avoiding her.

Time was running out, and after Stanford raked the yard, cleaned the gutters, washed Soos’ truck, and a bunch of probably unnecessary chores just to keep him busy, Soos proudly patted Stanford’s back and said, “Good job, little dude! You can go home now.”

“Oh,” Stanford rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Uh, are you sure there’s nothing else I can do, sir. M-Maybe I can sweep or…”

Soos raised an eyebrow, picking up how sweaty and nervous the kid was about going home, and he smiled gently. “Hey, I get it. I’m not kicking you out or anything. If you wanna stay, stay as long as you want. Heck, you can spend the night if you want to. The couch is always here.”

Stanford smiled up at his new boss. “Thank you so much, Mr. Mystery.”

“Hey, you can just call me Soos.” He offered. “And if you need to talk, I’m here for you, dude.”

Stanford nodded. “Okay.”

Mabel pulled out all the stops. She laid a bunch of arts n’ crafts stuff laid out on the card table and she stopped Stanford as he passed the living room. “Hey, S-Phil! Wanna make some puppets with me?”

“Oh boy, you’re not hungover some puppet-boy again, are you?” Wendy asked as she entered the room, oblivious to Stanford’s scowl.

“Haha! Nope!” Mabel said as Wendy sat with her. “Just felt like setting the arts n’ crafts master free tonight! Whaddya say, Phil? Wanna get in on this? We could make hand-turkeys, or finger-puppets, or paint our nails?”

“No, thanks.” The boy said coldly.

“Aw, come on.” Wendy teased and laid her hands out on the table. “Here, Mabel, I’ve been meaning to do my nails, mind fixing me up?”

“You bet, sister!”

Stanford stomped off angrily, but Mabel somehow managed to stay focused and she left Wendy, confused and alone at the table, so she could go after him. “St… Phil, wait! Let’s just talk.”

“Talk about what?” Stanford snapped and turned back to look at her angrily. “You’re trying to get rid of me! Why would you wanna talk to me if you don’t like me?”

Mabel gasped and covered her mouth. Stanford was so confused, having no idea why she suddenly looked so sad and hurt, and she sunk to her knees and put a hand on each of his shoulders. “That’s not true, Ford.” She whispered quietly. “Not only do I like you, but I love you. We all do. Which is why you have to go back to the past.”

Stanford blinked with surprise at finding Mabel looking so sad. It hurt more than he thought it would. And there it was again, that feeling like they had met before. She just looked so familiar… “But I don’t wanna go back.” Ford tried to explain yet again. “Why should I go back?”

“Cuz if you don’t the entire timeline could change.” Mabel stressed as calmly as she could, but she was failing, her arms trembling. “I can’t tell you too much, but… but by being here instead of your own time, you’re not doing things that’ll shape today. You have no idea what could happen, none of us do, but that’s what’s so scary.”

“Oh, come on, what could I do that’s so important it messes with time?” Stanford dared to ask.

Mabel opened her mouth and closed a few times, like a fish out of water, but with no explanation, Stanford shrugged her hands off of him and turned to the door. He tried to slam it to make it clear to Mabel he wanted to be alone, but in his fury he had stupidly closed the door with his right hand still on it, crushing his fingers.

“OW!”

It was a painful door jam, the kind that made your eyes water and made you wonder for a second if your hand was broken. Stanford held his hand by the wrist as his hand immediately swelled and looked red. Mabel covered her mouth again and got on one knee in front of him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Let me see…”

“Whao, what happened?” Soos asked as he and Melody emerged from the kitchen and Wendy came out of the living room.

“S-Phil closed the door on his hand.” Mabel said as Stanford held his hand close to his chest and hid it with his uninjured hand.

“Aw, poor dude.” Soos went up to him and held out a sweet hand. “Here, lemme see it.”

“N-No!” Stanford stuttered. And took a step back, now being on the porch with everyone else inside. “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Don’t be afraid, Phil, just lemme take a look at it.” Soos said as he fixed his eyes, trying to see past the uninjured hand at the hurt hand, but then his eyes widened. No, he must have miss counted. No, he didn’t have… “Phil, lemme see.” He said firmly.

“No!” But Stanford was too slow and Soos had grabbed his hands as gently as he could and held the hurt hand, not only to check if it was broken, but to count his fingers. Suddenly a lot of things were clicking in Soos’ head and he felt like a big dummy dumb for not noticing who this little dude was sooner.

Soos, Melody, and Wendy gasped, making Stanford’s eyes sting. He blinked to make the stinging go away; he should be used to that kind of reaction. He yanked his hand out of Soos’ grasp and shoved both hands in his pockets.

“Dude!” Soos gasped, looking horrified. “Wh-Why didn’t you tell me?! I can’t believe…”

“Who cares?” Stanford asked, not looking at any of them. “It’s just a stupid birth defect.”

“No, I mean why didn’t you tell me you were Stanford Pines?!”

That got him to look up, terrified, and he saw the three shocked faces and the sad one Mabel wore. “But… But…”

“Sweet Paul Bunyan.” Wendy gasped. “It’s really him…”

“I thought you seemed familiar, but I just thought you were a lot like me!” Soos yelled in shock as he held his head. “But it turns out you were a lot like Dr. Pines?! MY MIND! It’S EXPLODED!”

It was slowly sinking in that these guys didn’t care that he had polydactyly; they cared that he was from the past, and apparently his older-self knew everyone here. Was that why Mabel and Dipper freaked out so much? “Wait, you… do you know me?”

Soos stared at Stanford in complete shock. “Of course we know you, dude! You’re…”

“Our friend!” Mabel interrupted. “A really good friend!”

“Yeah, man.” Wendy backed up. “Look, you’re a really great kid, but…”

“But you need to go back home.” Melody finished for her.

Stanford’s whole world was shaking. “Wh-What?! But you…”

“I know,” Soos said and got on one knee to be closer to his eye-level. “But… Dr… F-F-Ford, you’re… you’re a great kid, and we’d never do anything to hurt you, but you have to go back.”

The poor boy’s chest was suddenly feeling really heavy. His eyes were stinging again. He scowled angrily. He desperately didn’t want to go back home, but what was the point of staying here if no one wanted him around? “I thought you guys were my friends.” He croaked, unable to keep his emotions out of his voice.

“Stanford,” Mabel took a step forward, desperately wanting to hug him but she was treating him like a scared animal who would run off at the sight of too much movement. “We are your friends, but you have to trust us…”

Stanford squeezed his eyes shut and darted around for the woods, planning to just run and run until no one could find him, but something he didn’t see stood in his way and made Stanford fall flat on the grass, barely a foot away from the porch. Mabel, Wendy, Melody and Soos all hurried onto the porch and simultaneously gasped. Dipper came out with the fixed tape measure in hand and announced proudly, “Okay, I’ve fixed the time machine and - what the HECK is going on here?!”

Stanford had bumped into whatever he had hit so hard his glasses were skewed, but when he fixed them he marveled at who stood before him. A tall guy with a round gut, a brown coat over a t-shirt and worn jeans with boots, and a red beanie looked down at him. His gray hair passed his shoulders by an inch and he looked so much like Pa, but the sparkle in his brown eyes and the way he looked completely confused but took everything with a grain of salt was something Stanford could recognize anywhere. He didn’t even question it.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed his twin until he was standing right in front of him. Who cares if he was old? With a trembling lip and wet matching eyes, Stanford lunged into Stan’s legs and hugged him tightly, burying his face in his jeans, the top of his head just barely reaching his hip.

“Whoa there,” Stan’s gravelly voice was strange to Stanford, but his strong hands still hugged him in return and rubbed circles into his back. “It’s alright there, Sixer. You’re okay. You care to explain what’s going on here, Poindexter?”

It sounded like Stan was no longer talking to Stanford. He wiped his button nose and eyes and barely let Stan go, just enough to look up at someone who was standing next to Stan. Stanford almost screamed, but he bit his lip in time. He didn’t need to look at this man’s hand to know who he was. He had Stanford’s fluffy hair, though gray with a light streak around it, he had Stanford’s cleft chin, and while this man also looked like Pa, there was only one person who could resemble Stan that much.

“Incredible,” Ford awed and pulled out a green journal from his blue coat and opened it. Like Stan, he also wore blue jeans and boots, but he had a red turtleneck under his blue coat from the looks of it. “I thought I had another year or two…”

“Did you clone yourself, you weirdo?” Stan asked.

“What, no! Of course not!” Ford laughed.

“Oh, this is that shapeshifter dude you were telling me about.”

“No, Stanley, it’s really me.” Ford knelt as he looked at Stanford, who still clung onto Stan’s leg tightly like it was a life preserver in the middle of an ocean. “Over fifty years ago I came across a tape measure while you were serving detention that transported me from Glass Shard to this place. Is that what happened to you?” He asked his younger self.

Stanford nodded. Ford smiled at him kindly and Stanford managed to smile back. He looked up at Stan and squeaked as timid as a mouse, “Is… Is that really you, Stanley?”

Stan chuckled and patted his shoulder. Did his brother always used to be so cute? “Yeah, kid, it’s me. Holy Moses, would you look at this little guy. You look just as I remember you, Stanford. Except not nearly as puny.”

“Hey, I’m not that small!” Stanford defended.

“Yup, that’s the stubborn brainiac I know!” Stan laughed.

Stanford smiled at him and then got an idea. Stanley would always have his back! He’ll help him! “Stanley, they’re gonna make me go away! Tell them I don’t have to go!”

“Make you go away?” Stan repeated and then looked up at the crowd and saw the time machine in Dipper’s hand. “Oh, don’t wanna go back to New Jersey, huh?”

“But G…” But Wendy covered Mabel’s hand before she could say anything else.

Stanford ignored the meanies behind him and gave Stan the saddest puppy-dog eyes he could muster. He could practically see his brother crumble. “I mean, I could never tell you no, Sixer…”

“Stanley,” Ford said as he put a hand on his shoulder. “I would like to speak to myself in private.”

Stanford didn’t know how to feel about that. His little fingers tightened ever so slightly on Stan’s jeans.

“Oh, sure.” Stan then snorted and added, “If you can let go of my leg.”

Ford chuckled and held out a hand to his younger self. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

Stanford still wasn’t sure. He looked into those deep brown eyes that matched his own, the same brown eyes he saw when he looked in the mirror. Or looked at his brother. Or his mother. Or Dipper or Mabel. Stanford glanced back at the other pair of twins, having a hunch, but he knew that there was only one person that was going to tell him what he needed to hear and wanted to hear in a certain way, so Stanford slowly let his brother go and took his own polydactyl hand.

Ford smiled and walked with the ten-year-old into the house alone. Stanford looked up at his older self and smiled. Ford caught this and chuckled. “Do I look as you had hoped?” He asked.

Stanford felt his cheeks get warm again, but he ignored it to talk to himself. Who else gets a chance to talk to themselves like this? “Did you get better at boxing?”

Ford laughed, knowing why Stanford asked that; the child was clearly happy he would grow up to be somewhat fit. “I did, actually. I’m still not as good as Stanley, but that’s okay. I actually kept fit from field research and travelling.”

“You’re an explorer?!” Stanford gasped.

“We’re an explorer.” Ford corrected. “We are with Stanley.”

“So,” Stanford felt more comfortable with Ford as they entered the gift shop, so he asked, “Where exactly are we?”

“This is our home. We built this place when we first moved here.” Ford explained as he stood in front of the vending machine. “It’s changed a lot, but so have we. Excuse me.” He let go of Stanford’s hand to click a button on his watch, making the vending machine open. Stanford gasped and Ford took his hand again.

“So robots don’t take over the world?”

“Not yet, anyways.”

“Do we ever get better at talking to girls?”

“Better? Yes. As good as we want to be? No.”

Stanford giggled at that. Maybe there was hope for him, after all. The odd pair went to the elevator, Ford typed in the code, and then they travelled down to the third floor. 

Stanford gasped to find a bright, colorful lab. What used to be dark and dingy and dusty was now loud and bright and full of projects ready to be resumed now that Ford was home for the summer. Twinkle lights hung from the ceiling, pictures and books littered the desk, and a big window displayed a big work-room full of projects. The Electron Carpet was rolled up and on a wooden shelf, a motorcycle in the works was in the work-room, and the big machines were fizzing and blinking on either side of Stanford.

“This place is amazing!” He cheered with pure delight.

“Yeah, beats working in a boring office every day.” Ford chuckled. “The lights were Mabel’s idea. Says a workspace needs to be fun. Do you want to see what I’m most proud of?”

“Yes!” Stanford took off for the work-room, thinking Ford was going to show him a microprocessor, or a machine that would benefit all of man-kind, but inside the giant room he could hear Ford chuckling and he found his older self still in the lab.

“No no,” Ford patted his ribs. “It’s right here.”

Stanford raised an eyebrow, confused and hoping it wasn’t going to be a stupid metaphore (he never enjoyed poetry), but Ford pulled out a photograph and Stanford gently took it, thinking it was going to be an award ceremony or a monster or an invention that wasn’t in the lab anymore.

The boy was beyond surprised to find himself in the picture, standing on the broken Stan O’ War with Stanley. Stanford could remember when this picture was taken, it had only been last summer, and from what the boy could tell, this copy was very old and worn. Stanford looked up at Ford to find him smiling peacefully.

“It was our first real achievement, our first big project, and it will always be the one I’m most proud of because we did it with our brother.” Ford explained.

Stanford smiled at himself, but then it went away as he thought about it. He was really willing to leave Stanley behind for all of this. Sure, mostly because he believed Stanley would be better off without him, but how much of it really was just Stanford trying to hide the guilt of leaving his twin alone. “Is… Is Stanley mad at me?”

“Oh, no.” Ford quickly reassured. “When we send you back, it’ll be like you never left.”

Stanford looked back up at himself and saw the picture of someone who looked really similar by his shoulder. Ford noticed Stanford’s averted eyes and he moved to the side so Stanford could look at the picture on the desk. A boy that looked a lot like Stanford had two fingers up by a girl who also looked like him with braces and long hair. The boy was wearing Dipper’s hat.

Stanford took the framed photo and Ford chuckled. “Stanley’s right. The resemblance is uncanny.”

With the pictures of ten and twelve-year-old Dipper, Mabel, Stan and Ford all in front of Stanford, he swallowed and asked, “Dipper and Mabel aren’t just friends, huh?”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No. All those people upstairs are your family.”

“So… if I go back now, then all of this will be my future?” Stanford asked, his eyes moving around the room and staying up at the ceiling for a few moments.

“Well,” Ford put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder and said, “That depends on you, you got to make the right choices. But I know you will. Remember, I’m you. I was once a ten-year-old kid looking up at an older version of myself, being told the same thing. Time travel is confusing, but you’ll find what goes around comes around, so if I experienced this,” And Ford gestured to the boy in front of him. ”Then it’s extremely plausible you will experience this,” And Ford gestured to the old man he was.

Stanford grinned and gave himself the picture back and sat the framed photo on the desk. There was still one last thing on his mind. Stanford hesitated, took in a deep breath, and dared to ask, “Does that mean Stanley and I will always be best friends?”

Ford held his cleft chin, hummed to himself, and then said slowly to himself, “I think you better get back to your own time and find out for yourself.”

Stanford sinked in stature and admitted, “I knew you were gonna say that.”

Ford chuckled and offered his hand again. “That’s because we are one smart kid, Sixer.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When back up to face the family, Dipper gave Stanford the time machine and said, “Now, it’s already set to backwards, so just go back fifty-two years and you should land right at the second you came from.”

“Thanks.” Stanford accepted the tape measure and looked at Dipper and Mabel. “I’m… I’m really sorry I got mad…”

“Hey, that’s what family’s all about.” Mabel said, waving the apology away.

Stanford smiled and nodded, then figured he owed them a hug and gave them one. Dipper was surprised, but hugged back, meanwhile Mabel was tearing up and sniffing as she hugged Stanford back tightly.

“Are you crying, pumpkin?” Stan asked.

“I’m… I’m gonna miss him…”

“I’m right here!”

Everyone laughed as Stanford let the teenagers go. Wendy ruffled his hair and said, “Had fun with you today, Stan Two. Feel free to get yourself a pet dinosaur on the way home.”

Stanford snorted and saw Wendy hold out a hand to him, wanting a high-five. He hesitated, then smiled and gave her a well-earned high-six. He then turned to Soos and Melody and said, “Thanks for hiring me, Soos, and giving me a tour.”

“Aw, you’re welcome, Little Dr. Pines.” Soos said.

“Just be careful going home.” Melody advised. “Don’t let the time-cops catch you, don’t go anywhere else, don’t do anything you wouldn’t do…”

“Yeesh, you’re worse than Ma.” Stan teased.

“Yeah, about that…” But Soos was interrupted by his adoptive father.

“Now move it, you knucklehead.” Stan said as it was almost dark outside. “Quit moping around too, it’s not like you're never gonna see us again. We’re your family!”

Stanford smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Stanley. See you earlier.”

“Love you, little brother.” And Stan punched Ford’s shoulder as he laughed.

“Yes, yes, enjoy it while you can.” Ford commented as he rolled his eyes, and Stanford pulled back the tape and released.

The second his ten-year-old self was gone, Ford held out a hand to Stan and clenched it a few times until his twin grumpily forked over some cash.

~~~~~~~~~~

January 1960-something

Just like Dipper said, Stanford was right where he was before he disappeared. He checked the clock in the window of a bakery and saw that no time had passed. He sat the time machine down for the owner to find and raced home, excited to tell Stanley everything.

But when bedtime came and Stanford was above Stanley and sharing his adventure, Stanley only said, “Wow, great story, Sixer!”

“It’s not just a story, Stanley, it’s real!” Stanford insisted. “It actually happened! Don’t you believe me?”

“A future in which you’re more fit than me?” Stanley clarified and blew a raspberry. “I bet you five bucks it never happens.”

Stanford grinned, knowing he was destined to win. “You’re on.”