#not personally my cup of tea but if you guys want to submit go ahead

[vodkassassin]

🥒✈ doing fuck marry kill using whoever. Obviously they will be overheard, by mqf, mbj, or both. Also can have sqh state his sexuality which is nothing. Ace rep baby.

Yesss danci I can always count on you! Thanks for slipping my hc ace!SQH in there. Ily @dancibayo

—

“I’m bored,” Shang Qinghua grandly announces.

“Yes, so you’ve said, fifteen times already,” Shen Qingqiu states dryly, but his friend steamrolls right over him.

“I am so bored, so,” Shang Qinghua says, “Shen-ge. Fuck, marry, kill.”

Shen Qingqiu startles, nearly dropping his fan. He whips around to stare at the other with wide eyes. Shang Qinghua props himself up onto his elbow and the grin that’s on his face is mischievous and evil.

“Wh—Airplane?” He nearly squawks, and then returns the grin. “No, stop—!”

Shang Qinghua’s grin nearly splits his face. “Fuck, marry, kill! Tianlang-jun—”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu laughs, reaching for the nearby cushion to chuck it at his cackling friend.

Shang Qinghua ducks the projectile and continues. “Tianlang-jun, Zhuzhi Lang—”

“Airplane!”

“And Sha Hualing!”

“Her?” Shen Qingqiu shrieks, diving for another pillow. His fan tumbles to the floor. “Out of everyone you could have picked for the choices, it had to be her?!”

Shang Qinghua, nimble bastard that he is, managed to avoid this cushion too. “First round will be easy! I definitely didn't have a brain blank and totally forgot anyone else existed. Plus! Shen-ge, I have to cater to the player! Bi-represent!”

“If it’s catering to the player, then this isn’t the game to play when it comes to you,” the Qing Jing peak lord grumbles.

He grabs his tea up from the table he sits at and down the entire cup in one go as if it’s a shot.

“You gotta choose!” Shang Qinghua needles, and Shen Qingqiu casts him a glare.

“Goddammit, fine,” he groans. “Um…. Fuck Tianlang-jun—”

Shang Qinghua bursts into laughter.

Shen Qingqiu scowls, but it directly contrasts the grin that is unwillingly stretching across his face. “What? At least I know he’s got experience!”

“Oh my god,” Shang Qinghua gasps, and then waves a hand. “Okay, go on, go on.”

He narrows his eyes at him, and then slowly continues. “Marry Zhuzhi-lang, and kill Sha Hualing.”

“Do you really hate her that much?” Shang Qinghua asks curiously.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu shrugs. “I mean, she’s practically a teenager, and I hate teenagers on principal, but no. She was just the only one left.”

“Fair enough,” Shang Qinghua bobs his head in acquiescence. “Why marry Zhuzhi-lang, though?”

“Well, I can’t fuck him—”

“I mean, you could, you monsterfucker—“

“You’re so goddamn rude, you know that?” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “He’s just way too…. too baby. I can’t fuck him, so marry it is.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shang Qinghua finally agrees, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “He is just baby, isn’t he? Okay, good choices, I agree.”

“Your turn,” Shen Qingqiu says dangerously. Immediately, Shang Qinghua raises his hands into the air in surrender.

“I can’t play this game!” He whines. “I can’t fuck anybody! That drastically tilts the answer results!”

“Just change fuck to something else!” Shen Qingqiu demands. “You don’t get to just be the one who asks the question every time, that’s boring as fuck. Listen — kiss, marry, kill?”

“Kissing is like, the same as marrying though,” Shang Qinghua squints at the ceiling. He’s lying on his back now, feet dangling off the side of the bed. He gives them tiny, little kicks as he thinks. “Maybe, like, cuddle?”

“Isn’t that the same as kissing?” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Just use kiss, moron.”

“Fine, okay, fine. So! Kiss, marry, kill… who?”

“Kiss, marry, kill… Liu Qingge, Mu Qingfang —”

“Oh my god, bro, please—”

“Listen, this is my revenge — and Mobei Jun.”

Shang Qinghua turns his head away from the so very fascinating ceiling just to glare at him. Shen Qingqiu feels so special, very loved. “You totally suck.”

Shen Qingqiu stoops down to grab his fan off the floor and flips it open just to smirk over the top of it at his friend. “You gotta choose.” He quotes.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I mean, you could go back to being bored, it’s all the same to me.”

Shang Qinghua scoffs, lifting his legs up and pressing the heels of his feet into the bed. “God, okay! Umm… kiss… uhh…”

Shen Qingqiu presses a hand against his mouth to smother his laughter. “I’ll wait.”

“Why the hell did you make this so hard for me?” His friend grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “You totally hate me don’t you? Um, kiss Mobei Jun—”

“Called it.”

“Shut up, monsterfucker. Kiss Mobei Jun, marry Mu Qingfang, and— oh fuck,” Shang Qinghua sits up and turns toward him, pout out at full force. “There’s only kill left! Shen-ge! I can’t kill Qingge!”

“You gotta,” Shen Qingqiu shakes his head sympathetically. “That’s the game.”

“This isn’t fair! I gave you an easy out on your first go with Sha Hualing, you have to return the favor!”

“You already started choosing!” Shen Qingqiu argues. “Anyone else I give you now is just me choosing a random person for you to kill!”

“I totally forgot kill was a choice after you gave me the names! Shen-geeeee!”

“Goddammit, fine! You can kill Yue Qingyuan, for me, okay?”

Shang Qinghua pauses his wailing to shoot him an amused look, pout vanishing into nothing. What a brat. “You really have it out for that guy, don’t you? Um, alright, sure, I’ll kill the sect leader for you, but only because we’re bros.”

“Don’t turn this back on me! You’re the one who begged me to give you someone else to kill! Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“Haha! Fuck, marry, kill — Rong Qingsheng, Ju Qingsong, and Qi Qingqi.”

“Easy,” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Fuck Rong Qingsheng, marry Qi Qingqi, and kill Ju Qingsong. At least try and make this hard for me, Shang-ge, c’mon.”

“Wow,” Shang Qinghua sits up again to look at him, tugging one of the thrown cushions into his lap to hold. “No hesitation at all! You decided that so fast… what’s the thought process?”

“Rong Qingsheng is pretty, and not a douche at all, so I’d rate him pretty up there on the fuckable scale just for that. Qi Qingqi is a scary lesbian Amazonian warrior, and if I wasn’t male I’d definitely go for her, but if she ever needed to marry a man as, like, a cover for her true lesbian activities while under the thumb a homophobic dystopian government or something, then I wouldn’t mind submitting my application for that.”

“She can be pretty, uh…” Shang Qinghua makes a face. “I mean—”

“Purposefully provocative because she likes watching macho men squirm when she takes them down a peg and also has bigger muscles than them?” Shen Qingqiu sighs dreamily. “Yes, it’s boss as fuck.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to word it exactly like that, but yeah,” Shang Qinghua admits. “And Ju Qingsong?”

“He’s an annoying pest. Kill.”

“Bro!”

“What? Please, You cannot tell me that you haven’t daydreamed about wringing his neck even once?”

“I mean. He can be kinda—”

“Irritating? Aggravating? Drive-one-to-murder?”

“—But! Under all that he’s a good guy! He can be really sweet, actually! He’s only really like that because he’s got a useless gay crush on—!”

The door is kicked in. Shen Qingqiu startles, dropping his tea straight into his lap while Shang Qinghua gives a loud yelp and falls completely off the bed with a resounding thump.

They both whip around to stare in uneasy and slightly-guilty silence at the group of people standing outside the door.

“Oh my gods,” Ju Qingsong says, face pale and arm still outstretched. “It was so amusing at first, but please don’t kill me, I promise I’ll be better!”

Rong Qingsheng leans around the man and stares at them for a moment, before casting Shen Qingqiu a wink.

“I wouldn’t mind,” the mild-mannered man says, and Shen Qingqiu brings a hand up to rub over his face.

“Not that I’m not incredibly interested to hear what this was all about,” Mu Qingfang says, from behind them, and Shang Qinghua squeaks. “But, it’s time for Shen-shixiong to take his medicine.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Shang Qinghua pleads, holding his hands up to cover his beet-red face.

“I’ll do you one better,” Shen Qingqiu says calmly, pulling off the tea-drenched outer robe. “If any of you eavesdroppers have loose lips about what you heard here, to anyone, then I will kill you. Understand?”

Ju Qingsong makes an odd sound in his throat, one that sounds both terrified and furious, and the way that the man glances between him and the smirking Rong Qingsheng leads Shen Qingqiu to believe he knows exactly who Shang Qinghua was going to say his ‘crush’ was. How adorable. Too bad for him, then, that Rong Qingsheng seems to find him just as annoying as Shen Qingqiu does.

“There will be no murdering of martial family,” Mu Qingfang says mildly, stepping into the room. “Is that water boiled? I thought I’d try the tea blend, since the capsule form doesn’t agree with you, shixiong.”

“Many thanks,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“Oh, it’s never a problem. Shang-shixiong, Qingge was looking for you. I believe he has the location of one of those flying thunder beasts the two of you were discussing the other day?”

“I don’t wanna go monster hunting again,” Shang Qinghua wails. “Why can’t he just play go with me and call it a day?”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome, Shang-ge,” Shen Qingqiu tells him, smiling politely at the betrayed look his friend shoots him. “Would you mind escorting these two out?”

“See if I ever bring you the newest tea leaf export again,” the An Ding lord huffs, climbing to his feet. “Rong-shidi, Ju-shidi, lets go.”

“Qingsheng, Qingsheng, let's play that game too—!”

“I’m not doing this with you, Qingsong. Shang-shixiong, let's go. I wanted to talk to you about next month's produce quota.”

“Sure thing, Rong-shidi!”

“But, Qingsheng—!”

“Bye, Shen-ge, see you later!” Shang Qinghua chines cheerfully as he tugs the moping man after him. Rong Qingsheng walks out ahead of them. “I had a lot of fun today!”

“Sure,” Shen Qingqiu says, fan fluttering before his face.

He’d enjoyed it too, of course, but he’d never say that out loud. Besides, Airplane already knows, right? There’s no need.

[hyucks-archive]

september 19.

word count: 7,342

genre: fluff

member(s): the one and only lee donghyuck

warning(s): it’s a sort of feel good fic, so unrealism™

author’s note: @haeloce has spoken - ask & you shall be given! this post is dedicated to you my love, thank you for always supporting my works

September 19, 2017.

You look up at the azure sky, the gentle autumn breeze causing your baby hairs to tickle at your face. You close your eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of what you imagine to be of wilting leaves and fresh pumpkins. You shove your hands into the pockets of your block-coloured cardigan; while most prefer to stick to the monochromatic nude colour scheme in the autumn, you like to do the exact opposite. Summer is your season for monochromes, while autumn is your season for colour. There’s just something about contrasting the seasons that you’ve always loved to do.

Pulling out the ticket from your jean pocket, you hold it up against the backdrop �� you smile, tilting your head to the side, eyes going back and forth between the photograph printed on the ticket, and the actual, three-dimensional scene in front of you.

“Looks even better than in the picture,” you murmur to yourself, shoulders dropping in satisfaction. You bring your hand down, allowing yourself to really take in the entirety of the one place you’ve hoped to visit for more than half of your life – the Nami Island. It first became popular because it was the filming site for Winter Sonata, but that’s not the reason you’ve always wanted to come. It’s the actual view that you’ve always been drawn to; the tree-lined roads, and the maple and gingko trees that would turn golden red and bright yellow in the fall. Autumn has always been your favourite season, but you’ve never really been able to really drown yourself in the things that are said to define autumn as a season.

You’ve always wanted to visit. But you’ve always only wanted to visit on a September 19th.

Why?

Because you first discovered the existence of Nami Island back in 2008, on September 19. You’re usually not one to care for such things, but when you have close to nothing to really look forward to in life, visiting Nami Island on a future September 19 became the only thing you looked forward to. Yet, it took you a good nine years to get here, because every September 19, you were never able to take an off day from your job at the café.

This year, however, you finally managed to. Granted, you only managed to, because you decided to stop being a beta, and start being an alpha. In other words, you submitted your application for an off day back in January, at the start of the year. It’s only because autumn is the busiest season for the café though. Autumn is the time where everyone rushes in for the pumpkin-flavoured drinks and treats. Autumn is also somehow the season that’s the most associated with coffee.

Placing the ticket in your wallet, you slide your wallet back into your bag, finally ready to begin your exploration of the beautiful island.

As you walk, you’re warmed by the site of numerous families and lovers, who scramble about, trying to get the most scenic shots of the island. There are two toddlers who are fascinated by the squirrel that dashed across the pathway, and another three toddlers who are busy picking at the fallen, dead leaves, while their parents attempt to buy steamed buns as a treat. Further in, there’s a waft of coffee, a scent that is all too familiar to you. You look towards the somewhat populated, hanok-looking café.

The atmosphere is so different from the café you work at. Here, it’s tranquil, there’s beautiful scenery to motivate you, and there’s zero signs of the hustle and bustle of city life (which is something you seriously detest). There aren’t business people who rush in for an americano before zooming out of the door, and there aren’t students who hog the seats to mug for their exams (although, you’ve been guilty of that at some point in your life). It’s just people who are here to really take in the flavour of the coffee, and to appreciate everything about the island.

You decide to buy a cup of tea to-go, just to support the business.

With the warm beverage in hand, you continue to venture further into the island, eventually arriving at a water body at the end of the trail. You look around, scanning the area. It’s even more peaceful here than it was back at the heart of the island; there’s barely anyone here.

You spot a boulder under the tree, so you decide that it’s a sign for you to take a seat, to enjoy your off day, sipping on your cup of tea, while listening to the soft, gentle sounds from the water. You really like this. For more than half of your life, you’ve spent it being overwhelmed by crowds, working ‘till your arms and legs go sore, trying to “get ahead” of everyone else. You’ve always quite liked the feeling of sinking in work, especially labour work, because it takes your mind off of every other thing that went on in your life.

Now that you’re older, and your body isn’t as lively and healthy as it used to be, you’re beginning to learn the importance of taking breaks. Sadly, it’s a little too late. The reputation that you’ve established in the café that you’ve been working at all along, is one of the ‘perfect-worker-who-never-ever-takes-a-day-off-even-when-sick”. You have this whole thing about not disappointing people that’s going on as well.

Sometimes you really hate yourself for it. You scoff – who are you kidding? You always hate yourself for it.

Even the thought of it makes your nose sting and your lips quiver. You blink fast; it’s a technique you’ve come to master, and it works absolutely amazingly when you’re trying to hold back your tears. Not everybody can do this, so you consider it a pretty big talent.

You hear the sound of dead leaves cracking, so you turn your head to the side, where the sound had come from, only to be greeted by a gigantic brown bear, that’s holding a tray of tiny cups, that you assume to be samples from whatever store this bear’s a mascot of. You notice the sunflower that’s pinned to the bear’s chest, reading the text out loud, “Smile! It’s a beary sunny day!”

You break out into a smile, murmuring, “Not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

The bear holds out a tiny cup, allowing you to take a peek at the brown liquid that fills it. “Is this coffee?” you ask, looking up at the face of the bear. It shakes its head, pulling out a card that he had hidden beneath the tray. He passes it to you.

“Try our brand new bear liquid! Contains everything bear-friendly.” You raise a brow, looking back up at the bear, “You know that doesn’t sound very appetising, right? No one’s going to want to drink,” you hold up both hands, gesturing inverted commas as you say, “bear liquid.”

There’s a hint of a shrug from the bear, before it reaches behind itself, bringing out a mini sunflower badge. It holds the sunflower badge out in front of you, gesturing for you to take it. “You guys give sunflower badges for free?” you ask, bringing the badge up close to inspect it. “That’s kind of a good marketing idea, actually,” you say, spotting the name of the café printed at the bottom of the badge. “But it doesn’t seem very cost-efficient,” you continue, poking the needle of the pin through your cardigan, hooking it back in, securing the pin on your left chest.

“Thank you,” you say, patting the bear on its shoulder, “You’re doing a beary good job.”

The bear holds out a thumbs up, turning around to take its leave.

You watch the retreating figure of the bear, wondering how tiring it must be for the person that’s inside the gigantic bear suit. Luckily, it’s autumn, which means cool weather, but it also makes you think about how tiring it must be for the bear in the summer. Getting up onto your two feet, you smile to yourself, “Well, I have nothing to do,” you whisper, allowing the curiosity to take over you as you leap forward, taking hurried footsteps until you spot the bear a short distance ahead of you. “I guess you’ll be my entertainment for the day,” you conclude, grinning widely.

You continue to follow behind the bear, taking cover behind trees whenever it gets stopped by a bunch of kids and their parents who wants a photo with it. It continues to give out the bear liquid, but you also notice that even though it has interacted with more than 50 different people, it hasn’t given out another sunflower badge. You wonder if it’s because it isn’t allowed to give out too many of those, which, obviously, would make sense. Then again, what makes you legible for the sunflower badge, and not the rest?

The thought swims around in your head as you continue to trail behind the brown mascot, the tiny cups of bear liquid slowly reducing in quantity.

You stare at the teddy bear sunflowers that decorate the exterior of the café. “Oh, that makes sense,” you think aloud, finally understanding why the mascot of the café is a big brown bear, along with the sunflower. You take a seat on a wooden bench, crossing a leg over the other, sipping on the tea that’s now cold.

Finally, the bear finishes giving out the samples of bear liquid. You watch as it poses with different children who are so amazed by the big, live-sized, animate bear. You take another big gulp of tea; it must be tiring, not only does it have to wear that heavy, stuffy bear suit, it also has to continuously entertain the tourists that come by every day. Because you’re so engrossed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice that the bear has spotted you. It wonders why you’re here.

“Oh, gosh,” you gasp, body tensing up for a split second. The bear is now suddenly in front of you.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling. The bear bows its head. There’s a pause, then you decide to break the silence with, “Do you talk?”

The bear gestures at its wrist, before folding an arm, resting its chin in its paw, tilting its head to the side questioningly. “You want to know the time?” you gather from its gestures. It nods its head, so you check your watch. “It’s seven thirty-two PM,” you inform. The bear claps its paws excitedly, and you react with a confused smile.

“I can talk now,” he speaks, sitting himself down beside you. “Don’t you have to work?” you ask.

“It’s two minutes past my shift,” he replies.

“Cool,” you say. You lick your lips, pursing them, then deciding that you should ask the question that would get you the answer you’ve been wanting to know. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you start. The bear turns to look at you, “You followed me all the way here just to ask me something?”

“Well, kind of,” you say, “Technically, I derived the question after following you.”

“So you admit you were following me?”

“I didn’t deny it to begin with,” you state nonchalantly. You can hear the bear smirk under his bear head. “You’re honest, I like that,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“Go ahead,” he cues.

“Why’d you give me a sunflower badge, but not anyone else? I thought this was part of your café’s marketing.” You point at the sunflower that’s still pinned to your cardigan. You hear the bear chuckle under its mask, its body folding forwards as he does so, a sign of amusement. “I gave it to you because I thought you might need it,” he explains, almost matter-of-factly.

You’re slightly stunned by his reply. You think back to the situation earlier – you were busy dwelling in the thoughts that make you feel sad, that by the end of it, you were blinking away tears. Just how much of that did the bear see? You’re uncomfortable just by the thought of it; it doesn’t feel right at all knowing that someone might’ve caught a glimpse of your weakness. You don’t want that. You don’t think you can live knowing that someone potentially saw you struggling.

“But don’t worry,” he begins, as though reading your mind, “I’ve already forgotten everything.”

“That doesn’t really reassure me,” you say, eyeline falling to the ground. The bear leans his body forward, mirroring your position. “It’s human,” he says. Your eyes travel up to look at his bear face. “I get really frustrated sometimes, too. But I don’t go all the way to an offshore island to release the stress,” he pokes, eliciting a small smile from you.

“I didn’t come here specifically to destress,” you share, “I came because I’ve been meaning to come for nine years already. I just only found the chance to now,” you finish.

The bear looks at you through its mesh eyes. When he first spotted you back by the water body, he saw the way your brows knitted, the way your lips quivered, and the way you were quick to blink away your tears. He felt bad for imposing on a moment that seemed so private, but he would feel twice as bad if he had just walked away, pretending like he didn’t see what happened. So he decided to build up the courage to go up to you – it worked out really well that he’s in the bear suit. In fact, it’s working out even better now, because he can stare at you, and you wouldn’t even know. He can sit beside you, talk to you like it’s nothing to him, because all you see, is a big, brown bear.

Still, he can’t deny the slight fluttering in his heart. It’s cliché, and it’s definitely not right. But he can’t deny, that he’s attracted to you. It’s superficial, he knows. But he’s also only going to be able to see you today, and today only. After which, you’d return to the mainland, while he’d remain here, continuing his job as a mascot of the café.

He likes the way you’re smiling fondly, just at the thought of being able to finally visit the island you’ve been longing to visit.

“Do you like the island?” he asks, mentally slapping himself for not being able to come up with a better question.

“Of course,” you say, beaming. “It’s everything I imagined. And,” you pause, “I got to meet a really friendly bear, too.”

His heart does another thing at your declaration. It’s foolish, he’s well aware. But again, tonight’s his only chance to experience this. Then, you’d be gone, and he’d be back to his regular daily routine.

“Do you live on Nami island?” you ask.

“I don’t. I take the first ferry here every morning, and the last ferry back every night. The pay is good, so I don’t mind the tedious travelling,” he shares. “Wouldn’t you rather just live on this island?” you question. “Do you know how expensive that is?” he replies.

You shrug, “Wouldn’t your total expenses spent on travelling equate to renting a place here?”

“I travel for free,” he says, “The boss pays for that. I bring in customers by wagging my bear butt, so it’s a fair exchange.”

You laugh, amused by the way the bear phrases its words.

“Must be nice,” you say.

“What about you? You look like a student, so I’m assuming you work part-time?”

The bear notes the smile you force out. He can see the slight bitterness peeking from your eyes. He mentally slaps himself a second time – he must’ve said something wrong.

“I’m actually taking a gap year right now,” you share, “So I’m working full time, to save up for school.”

He understands now. It’s odd, to say the least. He feels a form of connection with you, even though he knows this’ll never come to fruition. Still, even if it’s just for tonight, he’d like to be able to just talk about what he’s been bottling up for the last few years with someone. Even better, that this someone is someone he mildly feels attracted to, and whom will go back to being a stranger after the conversation.

“Somehow, you’ll feel that whatever you make, it’s never enough,” he begins, turning his bear face away. You wait for him to continue.

“No matter how much I earn, it’s not enough. I was once naïve enough to think that I’d be able to eventually fund myself to do the things I want to do, but as I’m ageing, I’m starting to understand that that’s not possible. It’s all fiction. Fantasy. It’s all what I conjure up in my head.”

Your shoulders sink upon hearing what he has to say. Why does it seem to hit the exact points? Why do you seem to be able to relate to his plight? In other words, there are other people out there, dealing with the exact same things as you?

“Don’t say that,” you manage out, trying to think as positively as possible for the both of you. “Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

The bear turns to face you, tone serious as he says, “Yeah, money doesn’t buy happiness. But money buys you the things that make you happy.”

You feel a sting in your heart. You’ve always tried to psycho yourself into believing that what you’re going through isn’t so bad. That you’d still be able to be happy, because money doesn’t buy anyone happiness. Because of that, you’d always feel guilty for not being able to find contentment in your situation. You thought it just meant you’re greedy.

You realise now, it doesn’t.

You try your best to paint on a smile. But the bear knows well enough that it’s all pretence. He wishes you didn’t have to try so hard to be okay. At least, not in front of him.

“Who knows where we’d be a year from now? We might even be doing the things we like,” you say, feigning a tone of excitement.

“We wouldn’t know where each other is a year from now,” the bear says.

“Will you still be working here, a year from now?” you ask.

“I’ve been here for six years now.”

“It must’ve been cute, to be able to see a bear mascot getting taller every year,” you comment, lightening the mood. You can hear the bear smile, which makes you smile in return. The bear’s heart does another flip.

“Anyway,” you say, “How about I see you, a year from now, right here?”

The bear’s breath stops for a moment – are you for real?

“Really?” he asks. You nod your head. “Really.”

“Okay,” he agrees, though you can’t see the goofy grin on his face.

“What’s your name?” you ask, only realising now that you’ve basically revealed just about everything about yourself to him, excluding your name, yet you don’t even know what he looks like under that bear mask.

“Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” you repeat after him, smiling, “Nice name,” you say, telling him your name in exchange. “So Donghyuck,” you say, getting up from the bench. “A year from now, I hope I can walk away with my memory of you, not being a bear.”

Donghyuck chuckles, agreeing.

“See you in a year, y/n.”

September 19, 2018.

You hold the bag of carp bread to your chest, your heart filled with excitement. You’ve practically anticipated for the entire of 2018, for the 19th of September to come. It’s interesting how just one conversation, of course, filled with mutual understanding and relatability, had created such a connection between you and Donghyuck.

There hasn’t been a day where you didn’t find yourself thinking about Donghyuck. You’d wonder if he had earned enough to do something he likes. You’d wonder if he’s staying adequately hydrated despite the scorching sun. You’d even wonder, if he still remembers his promise with you. A part of you is obviously afraid that after making a trip down to Nami island, that the boy in the bear suit would’ve completely forgotten about you. A part of you is afraid that when you greet him with a smile, he’d look at you with confused eyes, questioning how you know of him.

Then again, an even bigger part of you is simply hopping around in absolute joy at the mere thought of being able to reunite with a friend. You’ve never been able to meet anyone that could relate to you, the way Donghyuck can.

Upon arrival on the island, you rush off the ferry, immediately heading towards the café he works at. It’s close to 5PM in the evening. You were held up at work, because your boss had insisted that you at least take the morning shift, which made you jittery the whole day because you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it. Luckily, it wasn’t that busy today, so you were even let off ten minutes prior to the end of your shift.

Just as the café comes into view, you spot the giant bear hobbling about, playing around with the group of kids. You immediately break out into a bright smile, a sense of relief washing over you. At the very least, he’s still here, like he said he’d be.

You bring up the bag of carp bread – will Donghyuck like this?

Donghyuck smiles at the adorable children who are rushing to cuddle him. He isn’t sure of the exact time, but he can tell that more than half of the day has gone by, and there is still no sign of you. He’s beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so naïve in the first place, gullible enough to think that a random stranger would actually come all the way back to the island just to meet with him again.

Heck, he’s in a bear suit. Nobody’s ever going to like a person that’s in a bear suit.

“Look here,” a mother coos, holding up her camera. Donghyuck bends down beside the child, holding him close as the mother begins to snap numerous shots of her baby son. “Thank you,” the mother says, reaching for her child as she presses a loving kiss to his forehead, gushing as she whispers praises to her little boy. Donghyuck has a pursed smile on his face; must be nice for that kid.

Donghyuck isn’t given the chance to dwell on the topic because a rush of kids come by, screaming and yelling excitedly at the sight of the bear. He joins in, chasing the kids around, and that is when he spots the one person he’s been waiting for (a whole year).

You’re standing there, a bag in hand. He isn’t even able to control the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey!” a child shouts, tugging at Donghyuck’s bear leg.

You bring the bag of carp bread back to your side, smiling widely as you make your way towards the bear. As though working in your favour, the kids begin to clear just as you approach your friend. You give a small wave, your heartbeat picking pace in fear that he might not remember you. Just as quickly, though, your heartbeat slows when he returns the wave. He points at the wooden bench that you were seated on a year ago, and you get what he’s trying to say immediately.

You head over to the bench first, taking a seat as Donghyuck poses for a few more pictures with different children.

Once he’s done, he jogs over, stopping a small distance in front of you.

“Look what I brought!” you say excitedly, waving the bag in the air. “It’s carp bread, because bears eat fish,” you giggle. You thought you were really witty to have thought of such an idea.

Donghyuck chuckles. Now it’s his turn to feel nervous, because he’s going to have to remove his bear suit to reveal himself, like he promised.

“Are you going to change out of that?” you ask, looking on with anticipation.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You wait patiently for the boy to return. He does, within five minutes. He tries to soothe his hair down as he approaches you, moistening his lips with his saliva, tugging at the end of his hoodie to make sure he looks decently presentable.

You look up, meeting eyes with a tanned skin, lean-looking boy, who is making his way towards you. You raise both brows – is that Donghyuck?

Sure enough, the boy stops just in front of you, scratching the back of his head in an attempt to let out his nerves. He smiles shyly, formally introducing, “Hi. I’m the boy in the bear suit.”

Your encouraging smile calms Donghyuck’s active nerves. He looks at you in the eyes, the same feeling of attraction he had felt a year ago, still evidently present a year later. He wonders if you feel it too.

“You know, you kind of look like a bear,” you comment, eyeing Donghyuck up and down. He rolls his eyes in response, scrunching his nose, “I don’t.”

“Here,” you say, holding out the bag of carp bread. “Eat your fish.”

Donghyuck scoffs, feigning offence, before taking the bag from you, and taking a seat on the bench, gesturing for you to sit beside him. He brings out a carp bread, splitting it down the middle. He hands you a half, and you take it graciously, biting a chunk off. “So how has your year been?” you start off, still in a little bit of disbelief that this is how Lee Donghyuck looks like.

For a whole year, the only image you’ve had of him, was the brown bear suit, with the sunflower badge. Even when you tried to imagine what he looks like under the mask; you’ve never came to the visual image of the being before you. He’s good looking, obviously, and by that, you mean that he’s way better looking than you had imagined him to be. There’s something that’s just really cute about his small little button nose, his doe eyes, and his round face.

“What you said was true,” he says, swallowing. “2017-me would’ve never been able to guess where I’d be a year later,” he continues, “I’m learning how to dance.”

You smile in pleasure, “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Donghyuck returns the smile. “What did you do for the past year?”

“I saved,” you say, smiling proudly. “I saved enough for now, so if I keep the momentum going, I’d have enough for university, too.”

“Then I guess it’s mandatory for me to tell you that you’re doing a great job,” he commends.

You feel something stirring in your heart. You’ve never been told that before. It feels funny, now that you’ve heard it. Donghyuck notices the change in your expression, and somehow, he knows the reason why.

“You can always come to me to brag and show off,” he says, tone gentle and encouraging. “I’ll always tell you how you’re doing a good job.”

You look at Donghyuck, meeting his eyes. He’s sending you signals of comfort through his gaze, and you’re receiving them well. Somehow, it’s only the second time you’re having a conversation with him, and it’s the first where you’re looking at the actual him. Yet, it feels as though he’s impacted your life even more than the people who’ve been in it for way more than he has.

“Want to know a secret?” you ask. Donghyuck nods his head.

“Back when I was younger, I was walking beside a classmate in school. We were about to go down the stairs, but she tripped on her own shoelace. She rolled down the stairs, and laid unconscious,” you recall, letting out a deep sigh at the end. Donghyuck looks at you with a brow raised, “And?” he prompts, urging you to continue.

“You’d think my first reaction would be pure concern for that classmate,” you say, focusing on the dead leaves that decorate the ground. You kick at a maple leaf, “But it wasn’t. When I saw the way everyone rushed forward, all attention on her, I thought to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one who rolled down the stairs?’,” you take a pause, turning to read Donghyuck’s expression. He doesn’t seem to have any real thoughts about what you said.

“Twisted, right?” you end off with a pursed smile.

“No,” he states, taking another bite of his carp bread, completely unfazed.

“No?” you repeat.

“No,” he reiterates.

“Why not?” you question.

“Because,” he says, “It’s not abnormal to think that way.”

“You don’t have to side with me just because we are friends, you know?”

“I’m not. I just think that it isn’t crazy weird why you thought that way.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s kind of like how it is in my dance class. There’s this guy, his name is Jisung. He’s younger by two years, but his talent is more than double of mine. He gets a lot of love and attention for being the youngest of the team, and for being the talent that he is. Sometimes, when I see the way he gets praised for executing a move really well, I’d think to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one being praised? I thought I did the move pretty well’.”

You chuckle at his kind attempt to try to make it seem as though what you had thought at the time was normal, though the circumstances are obviously far from being similar. Donghyuck is sweet, to say the least.

“I’m sure you dance well,” you say, eyeing his long legs, “You look like you’d dance well,” you correct.

“I’m serious about what I said though,” he says, reverting the topic, referring to how he’d be willing to listen to you brag any time.

“I might just take you up on the offer,” you reply, “As long as it remains valid, for a long, long time.”

“Are you trying to tell me to stay in contact with you?” he questions.

“You mean you didn’t intend to?” you raise a brow.

“You’d know where to find me when you need me, but I can’t say the same for myself for when I want to see you,” Donghyuck says, looking at you expectantly. Can you take that as a confession? Did he just say that he wants to see you?

Then again, so what if it is a confession?

You’re well aware of how you feel about the boy. You know that there’s a connection. You know that sparks are flying. You know. You know it all too well. But how can you be sure that Donghyuck is meant to be something more? You met him under circumstances that most wouldn’t even consider normal, and it’s barely the second time you’re talking to him. How can you be so sure, that he’s supposed to mean something more to you? How can you be sure that you’re only feeling this way, that you’re only feeling the butterflies and the somersaults inside you, because you’re truly attracted to him, and not because of how he makes you feel?

He makes you feel understood. That’s unfamiliar to you.

“Please,” you begin, in an attempt to try to brush off what he had said. “I kind of like that we see each other once a year.”

Donghyuck feels a light sting in his heart. “Why?” he asks.

“It makes our friendship special. How many people can say that they know of someone, who becomes their friend, on only one day out of the entire year?”

Donghyuck fakes a smile, “So you’ll be back in a year?”

“Yes.”

Donghyuck nods his head. Maybe he should just be happy that this means he’ll get to see you, at least another time, a year from now.

He shouldn’t be too greedy, right?

September 19, 2019.

It’s the third time that you’re going to be meeting Donghyuck. You’re starting to kind of understand what people mean by ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. Oddly enough, in the past year, Donghyuck wasn’t just a passing thought like he was in 2018. This year, he was quite a prominent thought. Sometimes, you’d even have sleepless nights, spent tossing and turning, just thinking about him. You’ve even gotten the urge to just go online to search for him, but there are so many Lee Donghyucks in the world, that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the exact one. It would also be a breach of your friendship terms, since the both of you are supposed to only rekindle every September 19th.

Today, you managed to take the full day off. You check your watch – it’s 10:47AM. Why have you arrived at Nami island at such an early hour? Knowing fully well that Donghyuck has a shift to fulfil?

Simple.

You miss him. A lot more than you’d like to admit.

Sounds silly, you’re obviously aware. How can you develop feelings for someone that you only see once a year, and that you barely know?

You’d like to think it’s just because of how curious you are as a person, which results in constantly being curious about Donghyuck. But again, that’s just you trying to talk yourself into denial. No matter what you say, you can’t deny that you’ve debated over fifty times about coming to Nami island before the 19th of September, knowing fully well, that he’d be here.

But every time you were about to purchase the ferry ticket, you’d stop yourself.

A year may have gone by, but the same worry still remains.

How can you be sure, that his presence in your life, is meant to be something more?

“Hey!”

Your attention snaps up to the familiar voice, the voice you’ve only been able to think of for the past year.

“Donghyuck?” you murmur. He isn’t in his bear suit today.

He dons a bright smile, jogging over towards you. “We must have more telepathy than we’re aware of,” he comments, chuckling to himself. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you ask, “You’re not working today?”

“I took the day off,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this early, though.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

“I would’ve sat at that wooden bench until you showed up.”

His non-hesitance as he said that elicits a feeling of warmth to spread through your entire body. Donghyuck really makes you feel things, huh?

“You’d do that?” you ask, just so you can hear it loud and clear. Donghyuck smiles, nodding his head. “You would’ve done the same. Otherwise, what did you intend to do while waiting for me to end my shift if I were working today?”

Your smile only widens.

“What do you have planned for the day?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit and eat then?” you suggest.

So five hours later, you’re seated opposite Donghyuck, empty plates and half-empty cups between the both of you. He has his arms propped on the table, listening intently to whatever you had to say. Conversation is easy when it comes to Donghyuck. He shows you that he’s listening. He makes sure to pay attention to what you say.

You feel the connection growing by the minute.

“That doesn’t justify why you’ve never dated anyone before,” he says, shaking his head disapprovingly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Says you,” you retort, “But I’m sure if I showed my co-worker a picture of you, she’d go crazy.”

Donghyuck chuckles, “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” you defend, trying to put on the most serious expression you can possibly make. “She’s cute too. Come to think of it, she’s totally your type.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows. “What makes you think I’m into cute?”

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Okay, then what is your type?”

“Shouldn’t you know best?”

Silence.

Donghyuck’s just staring into your eyes.

Your heart is thumping so hard, so fast, you’re starting to lose feeling in your hands and legs.

You let out an awkward laugh – there’s no denying it this time. It’s definitely a confession.

“Very funny,” you say, trying to change the topic. “I have to leave already, I’m working a full-day shift tomorrow and I’m in charge of opening,” you say, getting up from your seat. Donghyuck follows after, allowing you to lead the way out of the eatery.

“Hey,” Donghyuck calls, taking your wrist in his warm hold, turning you around to face him. “Don’t you think it’s about time to tell me where you work? Or where I can locate you? Or your number, at the very least?”

You’re looking into Donghyuck’s eyes, and you can see the sincerity. Like him, you want this to be something more. But you can’t just turn a blind eye and rid the fact that you’re just not sure of what might happen in the future, and that’s what scares you. You don’t want to commit to something, at the expense of knowing all too well, that you might get hurt. What if Donghyuck was never meant to be a part of your life? You’ve seen it in the movies – when you let someone in, and they weren’t supposed to be in to begin with, it only ends in tears and sorrow.

“Look, Donghyuck,” you begin, trying your best to think of a way to get your point across accurately.

“What makes you so sure that we’re meant to be something more?” you ask.

Donghyuck’s brow twitches, a sign that he’s taken aback by your question.

“See? You don’t know it yourself. What if we commit, and it just bites us in the back?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, “How would you know that?” he counters, “What if it doesn’t?”

The both of you just stand there, looking into each other’s eyes, trying to find the answer you’re both looking for.

“I believe in fate,” you say, breaking the eye contact. “On September 19, a year from now, I’ll be working at the café,” you continue, eyes finding its way to meet Donghyuck’s once more. “It’s located in Seoul. If, on that day, on the 19th of September, 2020, you’re able to somehow find me, I’ll take it as the sign that you and I are meant to be something more.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows at your proposition, “But Seoul is so big, how am I supposed to-”

“If you can’t find me, it just means that’s the end of our connection,” you cut in. “And you can’t cheat. You can only start looking on September 19.”

Donghyuck thinks it’s the end. He doesn’t think it’s possible. But if he wants this enough, he’s going to have to try.

“Promise?” you ask, putting out your pinkie finger.

“I promise,” he says, hooking his finger with yours, pressing your thumbs together.

What’s going to happen a year from now?

September 19, 2020.

“Here you go, enjoy your drink,” you greet, passing the iced americano to the man in the suit. He tilts his head in gratitude, before scurrying out the door. You take a moment to stare at the door, it’s going to be afternoon soon, and there’s still no sign of Donghyuck. You wonder if he’s even taken up the challenge, and is actually going about Seoul right now.

“Why do you keep staring at the door today? Are you waiting for someone?” Eunha, your co-worker, asks. You shake your head, shrugging, “I just can’t wait to knock off, that’s all,” you lie. Eunha furrows her brows teasingly, leaning in close as she says, “Please, I’ve worked with you for years now. That isn’t your ‘I-can’t-wait-to-knock-off’ look,” she says, pulling back.

You roll your eyes, hitting her on the arm lightly, before re-busying yourself with preparing the orders of the customers.

Another few hours go by, and now, the sun is beginning to set.

“You’re staring at the door again,” Eunha lilts, a teasing smile on her face as she sips at her coffee. “Stop, I’m really just excited to knock off soon,” you say.

“If you want to knock off so bad, you can knock off now,” she says, placing her coffee down on the counter. “I’m cool with closing on my own tonight.” She blinks her big eyes a few times, smiling teasingly, knowing that you’d deny her offer.

“I can’t do that to you,” you say, laughing awkwardly, “Think about all the times you sacrificed your nights staying with me for closing. I ought to return the favour.”

“Ought?” Eunha repeats, giggling to herself. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, moving on to do the dishes to avoid slipping up any further.

Donghyuck sighs, coming out of the eighth café he’s looked into today. As expected, this is basically mission impossible. How is he supposed to be able to find you, when you didn’t even bother with giving him any clue aside from that it’s located in Seoul?

He looks around, trying to spot any other cafés that might be in the area, before he’d move on to the next.

There’s still a good few hours before the end of September 19.

He might still have a chance.

You bite down on your lip. It’s five minutes to closing.

“I guess we weren’t meant to be,” you murmur, eyes refusing to leave the doors.

“Whoever it is you’re waiting for, they’ll show up,” Eunha chimes in, continuing to wipe down the counter.

“What makes you so sure?” you ask.

“Because it’s my first time seeing you anticipate something like that,” she says. Eunha might not be someone you contact outside of work, so it’s easy to forget how well she knows you. But Eunha is right. You've never anticipated anything this much.

“I hope you’re right,” you say, pursing your lips.

You didn’t know it a year ago when you made the proposition, but you know it now.

You really want to see Lee Donghyuck walking through those doors.

But as the time slowly dwindles away, you can’t be sure that it isn’t just your own wishful thinking.

Donghyuck kicks at the pavement, running a hand through his hair. The day is almost over, and still, no luck. He has been to eighteen different cafés already, and there’s just no sign of you.

If only he didn’t have to work the morning shift, then he’d have more time to actually look in more cafés.

He stops a short distance in front of the nineteenth café. He isn’t usually one to believe in anything like fate, but he’s desperate at this point. He looks to the sky, clasping his hands together, “Please. Make 19 our special number. Please let y/n be in this café.”

Taking in a deep breath, Donghyuck walks forward, towards the café.

Eunha checks the time, then looks over at you. You're sitting there, dazed, expression blank. She purses her lips in sympathy, calling out, “Do you want me to lock the doors or wait another f-”

Eunha is cut off when the bell chimes. You immediately turn towards the entrance of the café.

It's Donghyuck.

Oh gosh, it's actually Donghyuck.

Donghyuck makes eye contact with you. A sense of accomplishment and warmth overwhelms him. You feel your nose stinging, and your heart swelling.

“Sorry, we’re cl-”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you run forward. You throw yourself into Donghyuck’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Okay then, I’ll be over there,” Eunha says, excusing herself.

You pull away.

“You found me,” you sniff, grinning wide.

“I promised I would,” Donghyuck replies, reflecting your expression.

“I guess we are really meant for something more,” you mumble, taking in the moment.

“So,” Donghyuck says, holding out his phone. “Can I finally have your number?”

[wisherbysharlight]

I Wanna Get It, I Didn't Get It, Til Now

Word Count: 4084

Pairing: Analogical

The second in a series of different pairings being capital O Oblivious because that’s a trope I will never ever get tired of.

Virgil sits at the same library table every single day, alone, until one day, Logan needs a seat.

They are both kind of idiots.

Warnings: none that I can think of

AO3 Link

Virgil loved his library table. He would get there after his work study shift in the registrar’s office, around 7pm on weekdays and 1pm on weekends, and the section on the second floor would be mostly clear. Second floor was quiet but not silent, so it didn’t feel oppressive, and he didn’t feel insecure about whether his headphones were too loud or not. His favorite table was just to the left of the water fountain, had an outlet built into it, and the chairs were adjustable enough that he could lean back and press his knees against the side of the table while he typed. He loved his table so much that he’d come even if he didn’t have homework to do, just to scroll through endless Tumblr pages or work on his personal writing. He’d had his table for 3 months with no problem at all, which was why he was baffled when someone came up to him while he was reading and stood expectantly next to the table, overly full backpack hanging off his shoulder.

 He recognized the other man immediately, he was another library regular who usually sat two tables away, always messing with his hair and adjusting his tie pushing his glasses up his nose and drawing Virgil’s eye with movement. He took his headphones down and put them around his neck, though he could still faintly hear his music, “Hi? Can I help you?”

 “The outlet is broken on my table, and I was wondering if I could join you and utilize the other half of yours?” mystery-man asked, gesturing to where Virgil was only using two of the four outlets.

 “Oh sure, of course, go ahead. Sorry about your table,” Virgil offered, brandishing his hand vaguely at the chair across from him.

 “You have nothing to apologize for, of course. I appreciate your amenity. I submitted a work order request, hopefully it will be repaired soon,” the other man took the seat and set his things down before extending a hand across the table, “Logan Perry. I believe I’ve seen you here frequently so this is at least a good opportunity to get acquainted.”

 Virgil blinked a bit, trying to process, then hurriedly pulled his hand out of the makeshift paw he’d made out of his sweatshirt sleeve and shook Logan’s hand so he wouldn’t think that Virgil didn’t want to, “Um. Yeah. I’ve seen you around too, I think. Virgil Storme. Nice to meet you.”

 Logan tipped his head to the side curiously when Virgil leaned over, as though he was listening hard, then adjusted his glasses, “Hmm. Interesting melody. I appreciate the solid bass rhythm. Who is the artist, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 “The... Artist? Oh, you mean the band I’m listening to?” he picked his headphones up but only put one ear on, “It’s Arctic Monkeys. They’re like, known, for solid bass lines, which is probably what you could hear.”

 Logan hummed like he was intrigued, then began pulling books out of his bag and… wow. That was a lot of books, each one thicker than the last. Chemistry I, Physics II, Theory of Numbers, Discrete Mathematics… Virgil had a headache just looking at the titles, “Uh… Wow. That’s some collection you’ve got there. What year are you?”

 “I am a first semester sophomore. I struggled choosing a major, so I opted to dual major in Math and Physics and minor in Philosophy and Conservation Studies. Also a minor in Astronomy, but that came with no extra courseload, just strategic choices in electives. I enjoy learning quite a bit, so I opt to stay during break semesters, and I am on track to graduate on schedule with no more than 18 credits a semester,” Logan rattled off, like he’d gone through the spiel before and was expecting certain questions and wanted to head them off, “And yes, before you ask, I do take breaks, I am not a hermit with no friends, and as far as I know I am not a robot.”

 Virgil blinked dazedly again, trying to absorb the bucketful of information being thrown at him, “Cool. Sounds like you’ve got it under control then. I’m dual-major too, but creative writing and interactive media design have a bunch of overlap.”

 Logan nodded, pulling out what must have been the notebook he was looking for with a triumphant noise, “You want to be a game designer then? Very lucrative career to choose, especially with the current market for such employs.”

“I wanna write books, actually, but like you said, markets good for game writers and I wanna have a fall back in case everything sucks, ya know?” Virgil admitted. He’d been told his stories were good, sure, but there was always a chance it would all go to shit, and the only way to account for that was to put 110% in and have a backup plan for his backup plan’s backup plan.

 Logan gave him an indecipherable look that passed in a moment before he went back to his neutral expression, “Understandable, I suppose. If you would ever like a second opinion on a piece, please allow me to offer my aid. I may not be as fluent in creative ventures, but I am a fan of such works, and my roommate often uses me as a sounding board for his own ideas.”

 Virgil tried not to let his surprise show, he didn’t want to offend his new… desk-mate? Acquaintance? Study partner? Whatever Logan was to him now. “Sure, uh, that’d be great. I don’t know if I can offer the same, since, ya know, science is really not my strong suit, but I can try?”

 Logan pushed his hand through his hair and pulled a hairtie off his wrist to pull it up into a slightly messy bun that kept his hair out of his eyes. Virgil noticed it actually looked more red than brown as the light hit it, and was so distracted he almost didn’t notice Logan offer a genuine smile, green eyes sparkling and catching Virgil off guard yet again with just how attractive he actually was, and flipped his laptop open, “That would be much appreciated Virgil. Thank you.”

 They worked together in silence for the next hour and a half, then both headed back to their dorms. Virgil felt even more productive with just Logan’s presence and aura of concentration, and he found himself hoping the work order took a while to be completed.

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The next day, Virgil arrived at his table to find Logan already there, two coffee cups in front of him, studying a tome of a textbook raptly. Still, he looked up when Virgil took his seat across from him and pushed one of the coffee cups his way, “I made myself a tea downstairs and figured I’d make a second in case you wanted one. It’s a vanilla flavored English black tea, not the garbage they serve in the dining halls.”

 Virgil grabbed the cup greedily, “Oh shit this is perfect, I had an 8am and desperately needed caffeine.” He took an experimental sip and groaned a bit as it hit his tongue, closing his eyes as the warmth passed through him like a calming fire, “Thank you, Logan, it’s delicious.” He thought he heard a choking sound, but when he looked up, Logan was looking back down at his notebook. He thought he saw a slight flush to his face, “Hey, you alright?”

 “Oh yes, I’m fine. I just needed to clear my throat,” Logan insisted, though he did not look up from his book and his cheeks got even brighter. Virgil supposed he was probably a little embarrassed since he was normally so poised and put together.

 “Ok, if you’re sure!” He opened his laptop and checked his to-do list, and was thrilled to realize he didn’t have anything urgent in terms of schoolwork. He opened his novel document instead, and immediately remembered why he’d left off where he did as the frustration resurfaced. Well, he thought, now was as good a time as ever to see if Logan meant it when he said he was willing to help. “Hey, Lo, could you help me find a word for what I’m trying to say here?”

 Logan finally looked up from his book, sticking a bookmark in and closing it before adjusting his glasses and giving Virgil his full attention, “Absolutely, I could do with a break from formulae. Go ahead.”

 Virgil felt a little off balance with the full weight of Logan’s stare, and his brain suddenly chose this moment to remind him that he was very, very gay. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his laptop so he wouldn’t be distracted, “Oh. Um. Thanks. So this guy is looking at his friend who he hadn’t really noticed in a romantic sense before, but i need a word for ‘‘momentary gay panic at how pretty he is’ without saying it like that. Like more poetic? Or just less casual.”

 Logan cleared his throat, face flushing again, and Virgil had a moment of alarm when he realized he didn’t even know if Logan was ok with LGBT stuff, and oh god, what if he was a homophobe and yelled at him or he just made him super uncomfortable or - “While romantic language is typically much more my roommate’s forte, I can certainly, er, relate, to the situation you are describing, and attempt to describe it as Roman would.”

 Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, relaxing once he realized the source of Logan’s hesitation was not derived from intolerance but instead from hitting a little too close to home. Then, in a moment of emotional whiplash, his breath caught again as he realized it hit a little too close to home and that meant Logan was likely attracted to men and that was nerve-wracking in an entirely different way. He forced himself to relax, knowing that Logan was likely waiting for an answer, and stammered out, “Y-Yeah, that would be good. Anything would help.”

 “I believe a good way to phrase it would be ‘Suddenly caught unaware by the realization that he may be attracted to this man’. You could also describe side effects of the feeling itself, such as flushed skin or quickened heartbeat or what I believe my friend Patton calls butterflies?, rather than spelling it out explicitly.”

 Virgil couldn’t hold back a grin as the inspiration hit him, “Oh! Duh! Show don’t tell would work perfect here, thank you Logan you rock!”

 He didn’t miss the way Logan looked momentarily shell-shocked and made a mental note to be sure to give him more compliments in the future, if he was that maladjusted to them.

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 Virgil hissed as his pencil broke again, clicking the end to get more lead a bit more aggressively than he probably needed to. Calculus was the devil, he’d decided. He was in hell and series and sequences were his instrument of torture.

 Logan cleared his throat and Virgil’s head shot up in surprise. When had Logan gotten there? Oh good, tea, that was always welcome. He grabbed the cup Logan extended towards him and started chugging before Logan could even give him the usual background on what kind it was like he had every day for the past month. The other table was definitely fixed by now, but the two of them had gotten so used to the company that they’d just kept sitting together. “Virgil, are you… alright?” Logan asked tentatively, and Virgil looked up again, guilty and a bit crazy eyed.

 “Fuck that was so rude. Yes. Yes, I’m fine, sorry, thanks for the tea Lo, I’m just stressed about this godforsaken calc II exam I have Monday. I don’t understand any of this stuff,” he gestured to the packets and notebook and textbook spread out on the table.

 “That’s quite alright, I’m familiar with the stress of midterms. Though I may be able to help alleviate some of yours? I am a junior TA for Calc II, I could potentially provide assistance,” Logan offered.

 Virgil let out a breath of relief, twisting one of his rings in an attempt to quell some of his nervous energy, “Oh that would be incredible. My Grad TA’s office hours are during when I have work, and he’s kinda a dick anyway.”

 Logan exhaled heavily like he was trying not to laugh. “Chad, I assume?” he asked and Virgil nodded, “Well I can definitely be more helpful than that glorified orangutan.” It was Virgil’s turn to be startled into laughing, “Here, let me see what you’re working on....”

 An hour and a half later, Logan was watching him work carefully and when he tentatively circled his final answer he gave him an encouraging nod and a smile, “You’ve got it now. See, it’s all about the rules and the patterns.”

 “Oh Logan I could kiss you,” Virgil enthused, still looking in amazement at his own work, “You just saved my entire life, thank you.”

 Logan cleared his throat and turned away, though when Virgil looked up he could see that the tips of his ears were red. Ugh, you’d think after a month he’d be used to being complimented by now. “Well, if that was all, I, er, I need to work on some of my own assignments.”

 “Yeah, yeah, of course, I can do more practice myself,” Virgil told him, waving him away with a smile, “You’ve absolutely helped enough,  I’ll get you that jam you like so much or something. I owe you so much.” 

 Logan mumbled something in return but when Virgil asked him to repeat it he stammered, “I’ll be right back!” and ran off to the bathroom. Virgil shrugged and went back to puzzling through the rest of his study guide.

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“-so, theoretically, there could in fact be another planet in this solar system, but it would need to be far enough away or small enough to not affect the gravitational pull of Pluto’s moons in a significant way or just in a way which is balanced by another gravitational pull which forced our equations to not identify any irregularity.”

 “Well shit,” Virgil breathed, “So, theoretically, how possible are aliens?”

 “Damn close to guaranteed,” Logan told him with a grin, “Intelligent life, that’s another story, but I still believe they are highly likely-”

 Virgil set his head in his hands, pushing his work to the side so he could simply listen.

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“I’m going to head down to the cafeteria to make another cup of tea, would you like to join me?”

 “Sure thing, Lo, I desperately need to not look at this anymore.” Virgil felt a teeny bit of pride when Logan choked on nothing in what Virgil assumed was shock as he stood up to stretch and revealed his outfit, his heels giving him the extra three inches he needed to be what Remy called scary tall, which was actually enough to effectively tower over Logan, and the confidence to leave his sweatshirt unzipped over a mesh crop top and ripped jeans that he knew looked good, as he had been assured so around 100 times before he agreed to go to the library in it in the first place, “Sorry, forgot you got here after me, my friend’s playing a show tonight after this and I told him I’d hang with his boyfriend and make sure no one gets obnoxious. So I got a little dressed up, cuz I didn’t wanna have to go back to my apartment in between. Besides, when I’m this tall no one fucks with me in general, not just in the mosh pit.”

 “That is… certainly an outfit,” Logan wheezed, then took a sip of his water in an attempt to wash it down.

 “You ok L? You’re all red, I don’t need you dying on me,” Virgil asked, concerned his friend was actually drowning on his own water bottle.

 Logan waved him off, gulping water down like he’d been stuck in the desert for days. “Yes, yes, just a little, erm, parched. Got a bit too focused and forgot to drink and you startled me.”

 “Whatever you say, Professor,” Virgil teased, stretching his arms up to try to roll his shoulders, “Just don’t get too enthusiastic there. Last thing we need is you to choke to death cuz you were thirsty.”

 Logan seemed to make a concentrated effort not to choke again, adjusting his tie and turning on his heel quickly to head down to the cafe, and Virgil considered it a win.

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There was someone else at their table. The new man was broad shouldered, with dirty blonde hair that had just a bit of a beachy wave to it, skin tanned perfectly like he’d never spent a day out of the sun. How was that even possible? They went to school in Massachusetts and it was January. He was gesturing wildly while he spoke and Logan was doing that half-laugh he did when he thought something was funny but didn’t want to admit it and Virgil felt… something… pang deep in his stomach. Of course, Logan was ridiculously hot, Virgil had no chance at all, even if he’d been starting to feel like there was something between them. He definitely didn’t have a chance if Logan wanted someone that looked like that. He couldn’t help but be a little vindictive though as he plastered a smile onto his face and headed over, setting his bag down with a resounding thump, “Wow, this quiet corner just keeps getting more crowded, huh?”

 Logan startled a bit, and Virgil could have been imagining it but he thought he saw a flash of hurt at Virgil’s tone, “I-I suppose. This is Roman, he needed some assistance with his screenplay and I suggested he come here, but we can go back to our apartment if it will be too much of a nuisance for you.”

 Virgil would have eaten his own shoe to take back his original words, but he couldn’t, so he covered up as best he could, “R-Roman. Your roommate. Of course. Hi, I’m Virgil, you can definitely stay. Sorry, just had a long day at work, I’m a little - er- cranky, or whatever.”

 Roman gave him a smirk that was just a tad too knowing for Virgil’s taste, “Don’t worry, Mr. Prince of Darkness. I’ll be out of your hair soon and you two can get back to doing whatever the hell it is you do every day. Just need the human thesaurus here to help me out a bit, and it’s not like he’s ever home anymore with how often he hangs around here for your little study-”

 “Roman,” Logan hissed quickly, and Virgil saw Roman shoot him an unimpressed look.

 “Study sessions.” Roman finished, “Now come on Pocket Protector, what’s another word for pining. I’ve already used it twice, and longing and yearning are both not quite a right fit.” Virgil had a momentary thought that Roman should be very glad looks couldn’t kill, with how Logan was glaring him down. “Nothing? How about some flowery language for black hair or blue eyes, hmm? Think you can help me there?”

“Roman Michaels.” Logan bit out, and Roman gave him a bright, shit-eating grin.

 “No? How about helping me with a sweatshirt sharing scene, how about that? I mean, it’s a cliche, sure, but I’m sure we can put a spin on it, like make it clearly well used and important...”

 “I will dye your hair fluorescent orange in your sleep Roman, I swear,” Logan seethed, and Virgil was stock still, eyes wide as they darted between the two roommates.

 ”Maybe some music recommendations then? Those are slightly less cliche…”

 “Destroy your conditioner and hide your blow dryer, add cheap hair gel to all your shampoo,” Logan continued, attempting to speak over him.

 “I know you’ll suggest a height difference, I believe I can fit that in,” Roman’s voice was rising too, and the new occupants of Logan’s old table were firing dirty looks at them.

 “Guys?” Virgil asked quietly and both of the roommates stopped immediately, turning to him with fire in their eyes, “Um. I guess this is like... a touchy subject? But people are staring cuz you guys are sorta… loud.”

 Roman and Logan both flushed brightly, turning to give awkward waves to the other table while Virgil tried to comprehend what had just happened, “So like… Logan you’re pretty passionate about Roman’s screenplay, huh?”

 Roman groaned dramatically and shoved his laptop in his bag, standing abruptly. “I can’t believe there’s two people as oblivious as you,” he muttered like a curse, then almost literally flounced off with a clearly meaningful look shot at Logan that Virgil couldn’t quite figure out but made Logan flush brighter.

 It was silent for a couple minutes, just the taptaptap of Virgil’s pen against his notebook sounding out through the space between them, before Virgil couldn’t take it and spoke up, “You wanna talk about why that was a thing for you or nah?”

 “Y-You don’t know? Seriously?” Logan looked incredulous, then laughed a little to himself, “Virgil. He was teasing me.”

 “Teasing you? About what?” Virgil asked, trying to think through what it could possibly be, “You that against, like, cheesy romcom cliches?”

 Logan shook his head, still looking like Virgil had amazed him in some way, “Virgil. Please. Think about it. Black hair, blue eyes, height difference, well-worn sweatshirts and music recommendations. You don’t have any idea what he could possibly be mocking me for?”

 Virgil’s brow creased in thought, and suddenly it hit him and he audibly gasped, making Logan swallow nervously, and the word pining soared to the front of his mind, “Y-You. You mean?”

 “I am… Interested in you Virgil. Romantically. I have been since far before I ever sat at your table, the broken outlet just provided a good excuse for me to finally attempt to talk to you. Roman was… blunt but he had informed me that he was, and I quote, ‘Coming to see what the fuss was about’ after I got, I admit, a bit too in depth in lamenting my inability to ask you out on a date. I had no idea he would be so infuriatingly obtuse about it, I hope he did not make you uncomfortable. Obviously, you do not share the sentiment-”

 “Whoa whoa. Hold on there. Who said I didn’t?” Virgil cut in quickly before Logan could keep babbling, recognizing social anxiety when he saw it, “Cuz I sure didn’t.”

 “...I’m sorry?”

 “You should be. Can’t go assuming stuff about people, L. Now why don’t you ask me, straightforward, if I am interested. Because I can guarantee you will like the answer.”

 Logan cleared his throat, then swallowed thickly, his cheeks lightly pink, “Well then, Virgil, I like you very much and would like to know if you would like to accompany me to dinner this Friday night? As a date?”

 “I’ll do you one better, since I also very much like you back, and I don’t think my anxiety could take waiting that long. Let’s go get some food right now. I’m starving and I would very much like to kiss you and I want to get at least one date in before I totally ruin your opinion of me and do that right here in this library, and Friday can be our second date, deal?” Virgil offered, extending his hand across the table to Logan.

 Logan grasped his hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a heady glance up through his glasses, “V, I think you will find that there is not much that you could do which I would not fully endorse at this moment. But I absolutely accept this proposal. Let’s go.”

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 5 years later, almost exactly to the day, Roman is insufferable during his best man speech about the fact that he is the reason they even got together in the first place, and insists that if left to their own devices they would still be meeting at 7pm on weeknights and 1pm on weekends at a table in the corner of the library with the good chairs and never, ever confessing their love. Logan and Virgil are too busy clinging to each others’ hands and staring into each others’ eyes to dispute it at all.

[mychemicalimagines]

Girl Almighty-Emmett Cullen-Chapter 4

Summary: When Bella Swan wrote her book about her life, she deleted two characters and put their significant others together. Jade Stanley, Jessica’s Identical Twin Sister, has been with Emmett Cullen for a year and a half before she even showed up. When Bella starts dating Edward, her life gets switched 180. Will she live by the end or will death do you part happen before they even get married?

Warnings: Cussing, Paranormal, Supernatural, Angst, Love, Bella-Bashing, Possible Smut

Words: 3940

Tag List: @jayrart @elskinner45 @buckysforeverprincess @diyunho @negans-womam @deepobservationcherryblossom @fangirl1029 @thelostallycat @scarletmeii @fandomsstolemylife00 @brithedemonspawn @sinofbisexuality @chuckbass-love @jasperschillvibe @jai-lynne-unknown @kyky9103 @awesomebooklover17 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @marvelofwitch @kawaiikpoplover268 @justfangirliing @sfnari @jgtfvhsg @oi-itsemily @queenofchaos99 @nj01 @whattheheckisevengoingon @bannerbubble​ @vxidnik​ @vampiregirl1797​ @aknerdchick​ @booksalwaysandforever​

A/N: I have finally been in the mood for Twilight!! I hope you enjoy this chapter! It took me all day to write it and get it perfect! XD Leave some love in the comments and maybe even give me some ideas so I can continue to write this more!!

To be tagged: Comment, message me, submit an ask or tag yourself in my bio!

Divider created by @writeyourmindaway​

Emmett and I are standing in the parking lot of the school. Today Mr. Molina is having his junior classes go on a field trip to a Community College Greenhouse nearby. I didn’t want to go but my mom already signed Jessica and my permission slips. Emmett is skipping his first class of the day to spend a few more minutes with me since he won’t see me all day.

I play with his hand as he tells me about his fight with Ian yesterday. It wasn’t an actual fight. Emmett was winning at some video game they were playing when Ian smacked the controller out of his hand...breaking it. 

“Esme was so…” Emmett pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” I whisper.

“Bella just got asked to prom by Mike Newton.” He whispers with a small smirk.

I giggle and shake my head. “Of course she did.”

“Apparently, she’s going on a trip to Jacksonville. Non-refundable ticket.” He continues.

I roll my eyes. “Such a liar.” 

“She told him to ask Jessica.” 

“Oh, thank God.” I sigh, happily. “Hopefully he will. I’m tired of hearing about him so much.”

“Alright, come on everyone! I need your slips and you need to get on a bus!” Mr. Molina calls out.

I sigh and look up at Emmett. He smirks slightly and cups my neck, leaning down toward me. I lean up on my tip toes to meet him in the middle. The kiss would have lasted longer if my sister didn’t call for me.

“Jade, come on! I’m saving you a seat!” 

I pull away and sigh. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting.” He kisses my forehead before patting my hip.

I shake my head and walk away from him, feeling my cheeks getting warm. I hand Mr. Molina my permission slip before getting on the bus. I see my sister in the back so I walk down the aisle toward her. I sit in the seat with her, us both knowing that Mike will sit with Eric. I’m not excited about this ride.

I watch as Mr. Molina is demonstrating the compost machine and I start laughing as Tyler gets yelled at for trying to drink the compost tea. I yelp as I’m pulled backward by the hood of my jacket. I lose my footing because of it and almost fall backward...until the person lets go of my hood and puts their COLD hands on my back, causing me to shiver.  

“What, Edward?” I ask, turning around, knowing it was him.

“Come with me.” 

He then grabs my wrist and pulls me forward so I’m walking ahead of the compost table, towards the rest of the kids. I pull on my wrist but he just tightens his grip. I clench my jaw at the small amount of pain. There’s going to be a bruise if he doesn’t snap my wrist first. Emmett is going to be pissed! He finally lets go of my arm when he slows his steps.

“What’s in Jacksonville?” I hear Edward ask from in front of me.

I raise an eyebrow and look around him to see Bella looking at some of the plants.

“How did you know about that?” She asks, glancing at him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Edward tilts his head.

“You haven’t answered any of mine. You won’t even say hello.” She comments.

“Hello.” He smartly says.

“And how did you stop that van?” She finally turns around to look at him, not noticing me.

“Adrenaline rush. Very comment. Google it.” He shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Do I have to be here?” I ask, walking around him.

“Yes.” He says while Bella says, “No.”

“Great.” I turn around but he grabs my arm and pulls me back. 

Bella rolls her eyes and looks up at Edward. “Floridians. That’s what’s in Jacksonville.”

She turns around to storm off but she stumbles over the irrigation hose. Edward lets go of my arm to steady her and clenches his jaw. 

“It helps if you actually watch where you’re going.” He growls softly.

She shrugs him off her and starts walking while Edward and I follow, keeping her pace. 

“I know I’ve been rude, but it’s for the best.” He says.

Before she can comment, he turns and walks past me as my sister runs up. Him leaving causes me to be standing right next to her. 

“Guess who just asked me to prom!” She says excitedly, causing Bella to smile.

“Seriously?” I ask, squealing slightly.

She nods fast and I pull her in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you!”

She happily hugs back and giggles. 

“Thanks!” She pulls from the hug and looks at Bella as we all continue to walk. “I totally thought Mike was going to ask you, Bella. Is it gonna be weird?”

“No way.” Bella shakes her head. “Zero weirdness. You guys are great together.”

“I know, right?” Jessica says, smiling so wide her face might split in half. 

She then turns and runs toward Angela. Bella looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I ask.

“Why are you…” She stops when Edward walks up behind us. 

“Bella, it would be better if we weren’t friends.” He says, looking down at her as we walk out of the greenhouse.

“Too bad you didn’t figure that out earlier.” She says, snapping slightly. “You could have let the van crush us and saved yourself all this regret.”

“You think I regret saving you?” He snaps, leaving me out of it.

“I know you do.” She says, stopping beside the bus. 

“You don’t know anything!” He says, furiously. 

“Edward…” I try to speak up but his head snaps toward me.

I bite my lip and look down, clenching my fists angrily, not wanting to start a fight. I suddenly feel super calm a few seconds before a hand rests on my lower back. I glance to my right to see Alice is standing beside me, meaning Jasper is standing behind us. The only reason he probably put his hand on my back was to let me know he was there. He doesn’t have to touch me for his powers to work.

Discreetly, I reach back and pat his hand, meaning thank you. He opens and closes his hand before removing it. Alice looks at Edward before she speaks. 

“The bus is leaving.” Alice then smiles softly at Bella. “Hi! Will you be riding with us?”

“No.” Edward shakes his head. “Our bus is full.” 

He then smacks the bus window and walks up the stairs when the door opens. Alice sighs and follows him up. Taking a step around me, Jasper looks at me. 

“Are you…”

Before he can finish, Bella grabs my arm and pulls me toward her bus. What’s with everyone pulling me places?! I glance back at Jasper with my bottom lip pushed out in a small pout. He smirks slightly before shrugging as if saying, ‘what can I do?’

I glare at him playfully before walking around the front of the bus to get on with Bella.

I get off the bus and glance around the parking lot for my vampire. He’s leaning against his Jeep, talking with Rosalie. I slip my bag over my shoulders and take off in his direction. When I get a few steps away, he quickly turns and catches me in his large arms as I jump lightly. I laugh and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you.” He whispers in my ear, holding me close.

“I missed you! I was so bored.” I whine slightly.

He chuckles and kisses my cheek before putting me down. I put my hands on his chest when I get lowered causing Rosalie to raise an eyebrow.

“What happened to your wrist?” She points.

Looking down, I see my jacket had slipped up my arm a little. I roll my eyes and sigh.

“Edward.” I state.

“What did he do?” Emmett growls slightly.

He gently picks up my hand to take a look at the damage. I explain the whole story causing Emmett to shake his head.

“He needs to stop.” Ian speaks up. “Just because you’re hum...you’re you, doesn’t mean he can push and pull you around.”

“It’s getting on my damn nerves.” Emmett agrees. “His singer is Bella. He needs to leave you alone. I thought I told him to back off. Guess I’ll have to talk to him again.”

“I’ll join you.” Ian says, cracking his neck slightly. 

“Speaking of the devil, she’s coming over.” Rosalie whispers. 

I glance to the side to see Bella walking over toward us with a smile on her face. Stopping beside Emmett, she fixes her jacket slightly.

“Hey, Emmett. Can I talk to you privately?” She asks as sweetly as she can. 

“We’re out.” Ian says, wrapping an arm around Rosalie’s waist. 

They both glance at me before getting into Ian’s Chevy Camaro. Sighing, I look back at Bella as they pull out of the parking spot. She stares at me with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I ask.

“I asked to talk to him privately.” She says as if it was so obvious.

“You’re point?” I ask with a blank face.

“Whatever you want to say to me, you can say to her.” Emmett says, slightly quoting himself from when we were at the hospital.

She shrugs slightly before looking at him again.

“Have you been working out?” She asks innocently, feeling his bicep.

“No?” He raises an eyebrow, removing his arm from her grasp.

“You look extra buff today.” She smiles softly, not caring about his movement.

“Thank you?” He says, glancing at me.

“Your hair also looks super soft today.” She reaches up to touch it.

He quickly moves his head out of the way as if her hand was on fire and steps backward with me still in his arms. 

“Don’t touch him. Just get to the point.” I say, wanting to go home.

“What are you doing this weekend?” She asks, ignoring me. 

“Jade and I are going to…” He starts.

“Nothing? Great. Um, I need help with my biology and I was wondering if you would tutor me?” She bites her lip. “Since you’ve already taken the class.”

“Did you hear him?” I move from his arms. “We’re going to…”

“I heard him. He said he wasn’t busy.” She looks at me.

“No, that’s what you wanted to hear.” I say, biting my cheek.

“Emmett, isn’t that what you said?” She looks back at him.

“No, Bella. It’s not.” He shakes his head, leaning against his Jeep again.

“Listen, Isabella, this sorry excuse for flirting you’re doing? It’s gonna stop.” I cross my arms.

“Or what?” She steps toward me, trying to seem tough.

“I’ll kick your ass. Emmett is my boyfriend, not yours.” 

“Really? It seems like you're dating Edward more than Emmett.” She smirks slightly. 

“Because Edward doesn’t want to be alone when he’s talking to your bitchy ass doesn’t mean shit. Leave Emmett alone, alright?” I say, not backing down.

“I can talk to whoever I want.” She shrugs.

“Except him.” I state. “You’re just trying to make Edward jealous. It’s not going to work.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” She shakes her head.

“Yeah you are. He said it would be better if you weren’t friends, remember? So now you’re trying to hang around Emmett.” 

“I just thought he and I could be friends. He seems cool.” She tries to say.

“He is but you know nothing about him to come to that conclusion.” I watch her.

She stutters for a second. “I know he...umm…”

“Exactly. Now back up and go home before we have a confrontation.” I step toward her. “I don’t give a shit that your dad is the Chief of Police.”

“You wouldn’t hit me.” She says, shocked.

“I’d leave if I were you, Bella.” Emmett smirks. 

Bella’s eyes widen before looking at me again. “You’re a very controlling girlfriend.”

“I don’t care.” I shrug. “But it’s only when girls, like yourself, are throwing themselves at him. Especially ones that are trying to get into one of his brother's pants and try to be friends with him to get the chance.”

“I don’t want to get into Edward’s pants.” She says, offended.

“I didn’t say which brother this time, did I?” I smirk. “Go.”

She swallows her spit before turning around and walking to her car. I don’t move from my spot until I see her pull out of the parking lot. I look over my shoulder when I feel arms wrap around my waist.

“That was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” Emmett whispers in my ear.

I blush slightly with a smile and put my hands on his, which are laced at my stomach. 

“She needs to learn not to touch what’s mine.” I comment.

“I am yours. The world will know it one day.” He says, kissing the back of my head. “Come on. Ian texted saying he wanted to hang out with us while Alice and Rosalie do something.”

“Sounds good to me!” I turn around.

“Wait.” He says, stopping me from walking.

I look at him as he takes my arm again and inspects my wrist. He shakes his head before letting me go. He then loosens his Cullen Crest bracelet taking it off his wrist. I watch him as he slides it over my own and tightens it slightly, making sure it doesn’t fall off. It covers the whole bruise. Looking into my eyes, he begins to speak.

“I don’t want your mom to see it. She might kill me.”

“But Emm, this is your Cullen Crest. I can find…” He kisses my lips to stop me from talking.

I blush as we pull away and look at him.

“You are a part of this family too. You deserve one before we get married.” He smirks slightly before walking me around his Jeep.

“Are you…”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He chuckles. “Just get your sexy ass in the car.”

I roll my eyes playfully before listening to him for once.

I take a sip of my Capri Sun that Esme bought me before sitting down on the couch. Ian begins talking about different movies we can watch.

“Jade here doesn’t watch movies.” Emmett says, sitting down.

Ian’s head snaps toward me with an offended look on his face. 

“How can you not like movies? Not liking movies is not liking…” He thinks before pointing to Pip who is laying on the floor. “Not liking puppies.”

“It’s not that I don’t like them. I just get bored before I get to the end and turn them off.” I shrug. 

“Endings are the best part!” Ian throws his hands out as if it was obvious.

“They’re so predictable. The guy gets the girl. The kid sees dead people and Darth Vader is Luke’s father…” I start but Ian cuts me off.

“Oh, right like you just so happened to guess the biggest cinematic reveal in history?” Ian raises an eyebrow.

“Vader in German means father. His name is literally Darth Father.” I nod, taking another sip of my drink.

“Huh.” He bites his lip. “So, you know German. Now I know why you don’t like fun things.”

“I like Emmett.” I smirk. 

“Damn right she does.” Emmett chuckles, pulling me closer to him.

“I don’t need to know about your sexual escapades." Ian playfully shivers in disgust. 

“Remember that time you were telling me about Rose…”

I start but Ian jumps toward me and covers my mouth.

“Shhh….She doesn’t…”

“IAN! WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?” Rosalie yells from upstairs. “Get your ass upstairs!”

Ian drops his head in defeat causing me to laugh.

“I hate you.” Ian teases slightly before rushing upstairs.

“Anyway!” I giggle and look at Emmett. “So my sister and our friends want to go to La Push tomorrow. I told them I’d go since I haven’t hung out with them in a while. That okay?”

I know I don’t have to ask his permission but it’s still polite to ask since he can’t come. After a few second pause, he nods. 

“Sure baby. Just...Be careful.” 

“I know you can’t go there so you’re going to have to find something to do without me.” I tease.

“Oh no! Whatever shall I do without my girlfriend?” He says in a mono-tone voice, putting his hand on his chest.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Die?”

“Probably.” He laughs. “At least I’ll have Pipsqueak.”

“Who said I was leaving him with you?” I raise an eyebrow playfully.

“Me. I need some part of you to keep me occupied.” He pats his lap, causing Pip to jump up and run over.

I shake my head, giggling. “He likes you more than he likes me.”

“Nah, I’m just the cool dad.” He picks him up.

“Dad, huh?”

“Yep and you’re his mom.” He smiles, kissing my cheek.

I blush and pet Pip whose tail wags happily.

It’s the next day and it’s freezing outside. I tried to get my sister and the others to reschedule but they really wanted to go today. I finish helping my sister get into her surfing suit before walking back over to Bella and Angela who are trying to stay warm inside of the van. Bella has on a heavy jacket while sharing a blanket with Angela. 

“I keep thinking Eric’s going to ask me to prom, then he just...doesn’t.” Angela says, holding her camera close to her chest.

“You could ask him.” Bella says, causing Angela to shake her head. “Take control. You’re a strong independent woman.”

“I am?” She asks, softly.

“For once, I agree with Bella. You are.” I nod, stopping to lean next to the passenger door.

“Bella!” We hear.

I look over my shoulder to see three Quileute boys approaching. Bella smiles widely at one of them as he leans against the van next to her. The other two stand beside me, watching their friend. The one closest to me has shoulder length hair while the other one’s hair is longer than mine. 

“Guys, this is Jacob Black.” She introduces us before looking at him again. “Are you stalking me?”

“You’re on my rez, remember?” Jacob chuckles. “You surfing?”

“Definitely not.” She shakes her head.

My sister walks over and grabs something from the van with a smirk. 

“Keep her company. Her date bailed.” She teases.

“Woah...There’s two of you.” The one closest to me glances at me then at Jessica.

“Twins.” Jessica and I say at the same time, causing us to laugh.

Before he can speak again, Eric pops up out of nowhere.

“What date?”

“She invited Edward.” My sister teases.

“To be polite.” Bella shrugs, embarrassed.

I roll my eyes. Since I threatened her yesterday, she went back to bothering Edward.

“I think it’s nice she invited him. No one ever does.” Angela shrugs. “Even with Jade dating Emmett, they don’t ever hang out with us.”

“Because the Cullen’s are freaks.” Mike says, walking up.

My head snaps toward him causing him to back up.

“Sorry.” He swallows deeply. “Forgot you were here.”

“He’s right.” The boy farther away from me speaks up.

“You know them?” Bella asks.

“The Cullens don’t come here.” He says sharply.

“That doesn’t make them freaks.” I say, turning toward him.

“They are, though. They don’t ever hang out with anyone besides each other and you.” Mike shrugs, sticking up for the boy.

“You don’t hang out with anyone but us, does that make you a freak, Michael?” I say, stepping toward him.

“No but…”

“Then leave the Cullen’s name out of your mouth.” I snap, causing the boy next to me to wrap an arm around my waist.

He pulls me a few feet away from the group. 

“Come on, let’s take a walk.” He whispers.

I let the boy pull me away but my glare doesn’t leave Mike until he looks away. I turn around and follow the boy down the beach for a few minutes. We both don’t know what to say. We’re walking in silence until he breaks it.

“I’m Embry, by the way.” He says, glancing at me. “I’m guessing you’re Jade?”

“I am. How could you tell?” I joke slightly.

“Well, they said Jade was dating a Cullen then you stuck up for them so…” He trails off.

I nod at his words. “That’s me.” 

“You been dating him long?” He asks, stepping over a log before putting his hand out to me.

“Almost two years.” I say, taking his hand to step over the log as well.

“Gotcha.” He nods, letting my hand go. 

“Who was that kid anyway?” I ask, putting my hands back in my pockets. 

“That was Sam.” He informs me. “We have legends in our tribe and he takes them way too seriously.” 

“Legends? What are they?” I raise an eyebrow.

“It’s just an old story Jacob’s dad tells everyone.” He shrugs. “Our tribe apparently descends from wolves.”

“Like ‘Full Moon Wolves’?” I ask.

“No.” He chuckles. “‘Shift at any time wolves’.”

“Oh. Gotcha.” I nod.

“The legend about the Cullens are...Well apparently they descend from this ‘enemy clan’ but they claimed to be different so we made a treaty with them.” He explains.

“But they just moved here.” 

“Or just moved back.” Embry teases me. 

I roll my eyes and giggle slightly. Fuck! Jacob is probably telling Bella the same story and I’m guessing from the way he was looking at her before...He’ll tell her everything she wants to know.

“And the treaty?” I continue the conversation as we walk.

“If they promised to stay off Quileute lands, we wouldn’t expose what they really were to the…” He gestures to me. “Pale-faces.”

I roll my eyes. “And Sam really believes this?”

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. Almost everyone in our tribe does.”

“What a way to spread rumors.” I shake my head, stopping my footsteps. “Come on. Let’s get back before they think we ran away.”

Later that night, I’m sitting in the Cullen’s living room after revealing what Embry told me.

“And he just told you all of this?” Ian asks, raising an eyebrow.

I nod. “A kid named Sam was saying how you guys are freaks and don’t come onto their lands. So Embry told me the reason behind it…”

Carlisle sighs and nods. “It’s true…”

“Wait, Carlisle, we can’t tell her.” Esme says, speaking up. 

“He already told her the legends, sweetheart. It’s different now.” Carlisle says before looking at me again. “We made a treaty with Ephraim Black that if we stick to being vegetarians and never harm a human or step on their lands, they will leave us alone.”

I nod at his words. “Wait, you said Black?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“That’s Jacob’s last name...The one that went on a walk with Bella. He was probably telling her the same story.” I glance around at everyone.

“Which means she’ll find out about us a lot sooner than we thought.” Emmett says, turning to look at his adopted father. 

“Alice.” Carlisle turns to her. 

She looks to the side and her eyes get a little glossy. “She didn’t find out from him. But she’s going to try another way. She just hasn’t picked it yet.”

“Great!” Rosalie snaps. “Just what we need. Bella snooping into our business even more.”

“There’s nothing we can do now...but wait…” Carlisle sighs.

Emmett and I glance at each other with straight faces. What are we going to do now?

[randomguywithwords]

Thanks For The Assist: Chapter 2 (Itsuka X Neito Story)

AO3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1

Chapter 2: Acceptance

––––––––

“How was the test?” Father asked as the three of them sat at the dinner table eating. 

“Ok, I think I did fine,” Monoma said as he picked up a slice of meat.

“How were you graded?” Mother said. 

“Fought some robots. You get points the more you destroy. The harder the robot, the more points you get. The field was massive, pretty much a life-size city, and I think they had at least 3.” Monoma explained with patience, though he suspected this expositioning was boring the other audience with information they already knew. 

Mother hummed her assent. “I’m not surprised. U.A has a ton of money. More money than they need, really…” She ended her statement in a mutter. It sounded like constrained resentment to Neito. It probably was, but understandable. 

“Isn’t the ministry diverting more money towards your school, dear?” Father said. 

“Yes, I suppose. After years of appeals by the school committee. Hopefully I can obtain better equipment to teach those kids.” Mrs Monoma sighed, looking back towards Neito. “But I hope you get in, Neito. I have to admit, it’s really once-in-a-lifetime, and U.A will make you a fine hero.”

“Thanks, mother.” Neito smiled. A fine hero. The phrase did not apply to him, not in the societal nor linguistic sense of the word. A hero relied on himself to get the job done, at the end of the day. With what he had, that was an impossibility. 

“None of the other kids gave you trouble, did they?” Father asked, and Monoma winced on the inside, thinking about the events transpiring just after the test. 

“No, they were nice people,” He said. It was no lie, by technicalities. There was that girl, after all. Kendo, was it? She was nice. 

Father seemed to perk up at his answer, gladdened. “That’s good,” He gave an approving nod. “I’m glad they weren’t like your schoolmates.”

Neito waved his hand like an aristocrat at a banquet. “Nah, I think maybe those guys were just ––” He struggled for the proper word. “Lame.” He ended, and grinned internally at the apt description of his dialogue. But that smile died in the next instant when he thought about what he had wanted to say. 

Flat characters. A character with one dimension, owning a singular character trait to serve a purpose in a story. That’s what he called them, but not Mother. 

“About time kids your age learned some maturity,” She said, her ‘teacher’ side emerging. “Not you, Neito – of course. You’re a sensible boy. Apart from your silly theatrics, but you’ll grow out of it.”

There it is, He sighed, on the inside – or, aside. That was how the plays would state inner actions on the script. But Mother doesn’t like plays, does she now? 

“Neito, tell us about the fighting,” Father interjected with a smile that was a bit too wide, “What quirks did you use?” 

Neito gave a response, but his heart was no longer in the conversation, having been chilled by Mother’s own lovely warmth that she had no idea she was radiating. 

–––––

The letter came a week later when his parents were at work. Neito opened it up in his room. After all, where else would he? Only in his room could he find solace. And on his bed, comfort, so he plopped himself down and opened the envelope. 

The contents contained a disc. A holographic. Taking it out and laying it on his bed, he pressed the blue button in the centre, producing a video on the wall.

It was the scene of an office, with a mouse sitting on a chair and a cup of tea on the glass table. He recognised the principal of U.A himself.

“Neito Monoma! Very good afternoon, or morning, or night, to you – depending when you see this, of course. On the off chance you are unaware of me, I am Nezu, principal of U.A High. This video is approximately 5 minutes long, but I will save you the suspense. You got in. Congratulations.”

His heart soared, and he pumped a fist in the air, breathing a sigh in much-desired catharsis. Had he been holding that in since the beginning? 

“You are, both celebrating – I would hope, and also wondering what the remaining 4 and a half minutes are about. Please do not ignore the rest of this video, because I want to review two things: your performance at the entrance exam, and your quirk. Take a look at this.” 

The video showed clips of Monoma from a birds’ eye view, running around and using his borrowed quirks, as well as him tapping random strangers. He noted how a lot of them turned their heads in evident surprise and puzzlement at him patting them on the shoulder or arm. And then the clip played of him taking a couple of points away from those guys. 

Nezu clucked his tongue. “Many in society would deem that as ‘un-hero-like’ behaviour, as it can be interpreted as stealing, or taking what does not belong to you. Criminal acts indeed, if the deed is severe and the stolen thing valuable. But, your quirk acts on that very principle of taking what does not belong to you.”

The (overwhelmingly intelligent, Monoma realised) mouse continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of reviewing your application and academics. You boast admirable grades in your middle school, and your form teacher commented that you were a highly observant, smart and mature student. I could go on, but you know what you’ve submitted. I will continue with that presumed knowledge.”

“You must have realised by now, or very early on in your career as a hero aspirant, that your quirk is unorthodox, having no use on its own. You require allies, or foes who you can lay a finger on, to fight. And even then, you must hastily adapt to whatever quirk you have under your control, for a period of time. Lots of limitations, Mr Monoma. A lot of challenges you have faced, are facing, and will face. And when you are initiated into my school, expect more.” Nezu took a sip of his tea.

“That’s not to say you will face difficulties many would describe as ‘hell’ at U.A. And neither does my previous statement imply U.A is not ‘hell’.” He paused. “Do excuse my roundabout mannerisms of speech. It is a bad habit of mine.” Nezu chuckled.

“Simply put, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr Monoma, for your cunning, your intellect, and your quirk. Report to me after your first day of school. We will talk more then. Congratulations once more. Another letter will arrive tomorrow to inform you of the minutiae regarding your inception into U.A. Good day, Neito Monoma.”

The holographic faded out, and Neito was staring at a blank wall for a few seconds trying to process whatever Nezu had said.  

A buzz from his phone pulled him out of his hazy thoughts. He is...really smart. 

It was from Kendo. “Hi, Monoma, It’s Kendo! The girl with big hands. Wanted to ask you whether you received the letter from U.A.” 

He typed a response. “Yeah, I got a letter. What’s your verdict?” 

Fingers crossed. 

She responded, “I got in. >< You?” 

A smile spread across his face. “Same, that’s awesome. Congratulations.”

“YAY! :D We both did it! Congrats too! And I was so shocked that All Might was in the video! I nearly cried. Or maybe I did, idk. Sorry, I’m babbling at this point, but I don’t have anyone else to tell this to until my parents get home and I’m so hypeddd”

Huh? All Might? So Nezu specifically…

He typed, “It’s ok, I’m excited too. Though I don’t express it over text that much.” 

“Haha it’s ok. Can’t wait for the letter tomorrow. There’s so much to do! Hero costume, uniforms, books, all that. And term starts a month from now. Can’t wait!” 

“Wow, how’d you know all this?”

“Mainly from the internet. I was that hyped, y’know?”

He cracked another smile from her enthusiasm. It was oddly contagious, and he found himself more zealous to go to school. That was a statement he’d never think he could formulate in his mind. “I see. That’s cool.”

“Btw, if you wanna go celebrate with your family or friends, go ahead! I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“Nah, my parents are at work and I’m basically alone at home. Same boat as you. So, fire away.”

“Ah, ok!” 

The conversation continued with Kendo gushing about their new life, and Monoma passively followed along, inserting a few comments here and there. But he didn’t feel like he was stuck at a family reunion forced to endure his grandfather’s stories with a placating smile and affirming nods peppered in occasionally. She was actually interesting, and amusing, in a good way. 

The topic was centered around school and academics, with little butting into personal lives, and Monoma didn’t pry. She was still a stranger, somewhat, albeit she would be his new schoolmate – and perhaps classmate. He crossed his fingers again, hoping that Fate would tap him lightly on the head once more with her providence. 

He smiled when Kendo typed, “Hope we become classmates :D. Apparently there are always 2 first-year classes. So it’s basically a coin flip.”

“Heads.” 

“Rly? Do you always choose heads?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m more of a switcher.”

“How do you decide when to choose heads or tails then?”

“Coin flip.”

“That made me laugh, thank you.”

“Why do you need to thank people for making you laugh? It’s a spontaneous thing.”

“That’s...oddly profound.”

“Or just a dumb statement made to sound fancy. Ah, sorry, I have to go now. But thank you for your time. It was great chatting :)” 

“Why do you need to thank people for chatting with you? It’s a spontaneous thing. Joking aside, thank you too.”

“Nice haha” Was her last message. Neito turned his phone off and lied down on his bed. A moment passed, and Neito took a coin from his study desk. It was a silly thing to do, but his room was his stage. He was performing for himself. 

He gave it a toss and caught it. 

Seeing the result, he grinned.

–––––––

Yeek, this took longer than it should have, sorry. Had a bit of writer’s block when it came to planning this thing and I wasn’t sure how to move on. Also the tone of this is especially terrifying for me because it’s definitely going to be (ironically) more light-hearted, with Monoma’s dramatic language and (side thoughts) occasionally inserted, but that brings the challenge of need. When to do that, when not to. This story is a personal challenge to change my narrative style just slightly. 

Anyway, I hoped you MonoKendo ppl liked it. A lot of people have told me it’s unfortunate the ship lacks content and I couldn’t agree more. But then again, that’s about 75% of the ships out there. (Fk it, 90%). So, here’s my contribution, alongside some other one-shots. 

Feedback’s appreciated :D

[missbrightsky]

Please Blow Your Nose

Rhys was miserable. He hadn’t been able to breath out of his nose for three days. Which was just perfect because he had four finals all within the next week and was currently buried in his sweater in the middle of the campus library.

His eyes drifted from his computer screen where a dense manuscript had gone blurry to glance around the study space. There was a mixture of groups murmuring quietly to each other and solo students hunched over their various papers and laptops. He sniffled, wincing at how the loud sound cut through the quiet air but there was no other choice. He ran out of tissues hours ago and didn’t have the energy to make the walk to the campus store.

Resolving himself to a slow death, Rhys turned back to the dense text on his screen and sniffed again to stop the slow stream that threatened to creep out of his nose. One hand was tucked across his chest while the other scrolled through the pages he was supposed to be reviewing and editing. Another torturous half hour passed where he alternated trying to sniff quietly, failing and giving up. He promised himself a hot tea from the downstairs café once he finished the manuscript and submitted it to his professor for review.

He tried to hide a particularly loud sniff by ducking his head, but it did little to muffle the annoyance. He contemplated putting his head down on the table for a brief respite from the text on his screen and the possibility to ease the building pressure in his head.

“Please blow your nose, I can hear you from across the library,” a soft voice came from over his shoulder.

Rhys startled, nearly falling out of his chair while he looked over his shoulder to find the source of his heart attack. A girl with golden brown hair wearing an oversized cream sweater was offering him a pack of tissues.

She looked about the same age as him, and just as sleep deprived. Another college student in the midst of preparing for the long finals’ week ahead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, reaching out to take the packet. “I’m sorry.” He did his best to look the part of pitiful student.

Her gray-blue eyes softened at his apology. “Don’t worry, that was me last week but I didn’t have someone come save me from all the glares I was getting.”

“People were glaring at me?” Rhys asked, his ears going red at the thought of the entire floor looking at him in his miserable state.

“Only a few, I don’t think anyone could glare at you for too long,” the girl said with a smirk, a spark flaring in her eyes.

Rhys’s blush worsened, realizing that he was wearing a sweater that looks like it hadn’t been washed in a week (it had been longer than that since he had last done laundry but didn’t want to linger on that thought). He winced at his disheveled clothes, wishing his had changed into something less wrinkled before venturing out of his apartment today.

The girl gave him one more once over causing Rhys to be more warmed than a cup of tea could do to him. “Good luck and I hope you feel better,” she said, giving him one more smile and walked away.

Through his cold addled mind, Rhys was able to whisper thank you one more time and turned back to his laptop, slumping in his chair slightly, hoping to make himself smaller in a visual apology to the other students that had been disturbed by his sniffling. He forced himself to focus on finishing his edits so that his could escape to the warm café.

After an hour of painstakingly going over the manuscript, he was satisfied enough to send it to his professor, confident that he would only need one more round of edits before it was ready for the final submission.

He packed up his laptop and papers, hand pausing over the packet of tissues. Is she still here? Rhys slung his bag over his shoulder and began to scan the remaining students. It was a fairly open room with no places to hide, and he couldn’t spot her golden hair. He frowned and tucked the tissues into his jacket pocket.

Rhys began to weave his way through the tables to the main stairway. As he was turning the corner, a flash of cream topped with gold ran into him. He instinctively reached out to steady the offending body.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the person said, looking up to Rhys. He realized with a jolt that it was the girl. She seemed to realize at the same time that it was the guy who caused her to walk across the library to stop his sniffling.

He attempted to recover from the shock of running into her, loosening his shoulders and trying to work an easy grin onto his face to cover up his embarrassment.

“It’s fine, I was actually looking for you,” he managed to get out, reaching into his pocket for the tissues.

“Oh really?” she smirked, “Do you need me to save you from a mob of glaring students again?”.

“N-no, I wanted to return these to you,” he stuttered, extending out the packet.

She looked at them and flicked her eyes back to him. “Keep them, I think you need them more than me at this point.”

“Oh, well, at least let me buy you a coffee downstairs then,” Rhys said, pocketing the tissues, grateful for the small gift. He had a feeling this cold wasn’t going to let up.

“Make it a hot chocolate and you’ve got a deal,” she countered, giving him a small grin.

“You’ve got it…” he trailed off, realized that he never got her name.

“Feyre,” she finished for him. ‘I’d shake your hand but I’m not ready to get sick again quite yet.”

He chuckled, “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, much less a beautiful lady.”

It was her turn to blush this time. He reveled in his ability to cause her to change colors and wanted to do it again. “Shall we, darling?” he murmured, offering his elbow.

“A name for a name,” Feyre managed to counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Rhysand, but all my friends call me Rhys,” he said, offering his elbow again.

“Prick it is then,” she laughed, finally relenting and looping her arm through his.

He echoed her laugh and lead the way down the hallway to the stairs. This was going to be fun.

[wewillwriteyou]

Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 1

Prologue

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 1: Introduction of some of the main characters (Melissa, Roger). We don’t wanna give away to much, just read it lol

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: mention of alcohol, a little bit of swearing and angst (blink and you won’t see it)

A/N: We’re sooo excited to share with you the first chapter of our story. Please feel free to comment below and let us know what you think. If you need more information, click on the link at the beginning of this post. If you want to be tagged, our tag list is always open 💕

Giggles. That’s the thing that woke Mel that Saturday. Well, that and almost every other Saturday morning of the year, actually.  She slowly got up from the bed, rubbing her eyes and walked towards the source of the noise, which she already knew it to be some floozy girl sitting on the kitchen counter. And there she was, in fact, legs dangling on the counter and sitting on a stool right in front of her, Mel’s brother, Roger, the reason for the girl’s presence.

She was all giggly and flirty, while not so subtly caressing Roger’s arm and thanking him for the previous night and for the impromptu breakfast he had so kindly made for her. Meanwhile, Roger was literally on another planet: he was nodding along with what the girl was saying, barely paying attention and writing something on a scrambled piece of paper.

They were too busy to notice that Mel had made her way into the room and was now standing on the other side of the counter, preparing some coffee to go. She gazed at her brother, giving him a look that said I wish I woke up one Saturday not feeling like we live in a bed and breakfast for one-night-stands. He scrolled his shoulders and kept on writing. That was their way of saying ‘Good morning’.

They performed that same routine since Mel had started uni and moved in with him and his roommate. They grew up in a small city in Cornwall and since Roger moved to London to study biology, it seemed a logical decision for Mel to attend university in London as well. She was into Physics so her high school professor encouraged her to submit for a scholarship at the Imperial and that’s exactly where she ended up.

From where she was standing, Mel noticed a mass of wavy brown hair lying on the couch, feet on the coffee table and book on the lap, trying his best to concentrate on his reading. That was Brian, the third roomer of the apartment. He studied Physics as well but was almost four years ahead of her. He was one of Roger’s best friends and co-founder of a band named Smile, which the two of them had formed a few years before: Roger played the drums, while Brian was on the guitar. They had struggled for a while to find a new singer since their former one left, but eventually another friend of Roger’s, Freddie, joined and things started to work out okay again. The only thing missing was a bass player, but they were working on that.

“I think I should go, thanks again for last night Rog” the girl smirked at Roger “Give me a call sometime”

He smirked back at her as she went toward the door, but Mel knew he would not have called her. That’s just how Roger was like different girl every weekend, sometimes two, one incredible night of passion and then they would never hear from him again. Mel could not understand how those girls put up with him being such a jerk. Although she might have understood why they fell for him at first: he was actually handsome and he was in a band, so that did half of the work.

“Just when I think you could have changed and actually cared about that girl enough to make her breakfast, you ruthlessly shrug her off like that” she teased him.

Roger ruffled her hair passing behind her “There’s no hope for me, little sister” he said jokingly “and also, Brian made breakfast. Thanks mate, by the way”

Brian flipped him off without even lifting his eyes from the book, then added “What time do you get off work tonight Mel?”

“I have a shift from 9 am to 1 pm and then from 2 pm to 7 pm. As usual. Why you ask?” she said, already picturing the answer.

“Do you have any plans after that?” Brian said casually.

“Why. Do. You. Ask?” she repeated more forcefully.

“Well,” he said cautiously “we’re playing at the Riz tonight and you know it’s always kinda… well, it’s not popular, we were wondering if you wanted to come see us. You know, so that we have at least one person in the audience”

Mel snorted “No Bri, you know I hate that place: there are only middle-aged men that make unflattering comments to every young girl who enters the bar”

She didn’t have to look at him, she knew he was making puppy eyes at her, so she sighed “Fine! If – and I say if – my afternoon shift doesn’t kill me, I’ll try to stop by…”

Brian joyfully thanked her, and she excused herself to go get ready for her job.

She worked on Fridays, Saturdays and basically anytime she could at a local shop called Biba: they stored famous and expensive clothing, which she could only admire the beauty of, not being an expert on the subject. It was just a small job to make some extra money and help out Roger with the rent.

As she walked through the doors she was welcomed by her co-workers Mary and Chelsea: all three of them were hired on the same day and had been working there since summer. They often chitchatted during breaks but weren’t properly friends, well Mary and Chelsea were, but Mel never hung out with them outside of work, which was why she was surprised when Mary asked her

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I kinda promised a friend I would quickly stop by the bar where they’re playing, before heading home. But I have all the intention to blow them off in favor of sitting in front of the telly, watching Coronation Street” she answered, already picturing the warmth of the blanket and cup of tea in her hands. “You doing anything special?”

The two girls exchanged a look and Chelsea said:

“Well… a friend of ours is throwing a party near Ealing’s main building and he asked everyone to spread the buzz. Apparently, someone challenged him to gather the biggest number of people he could. There will be music and, hopefully, a lot of alcohol. You interested?”

She almost denied the offer, but she had to admit she was actually pretty tempted and then realized she hadn’t been to a party in a bit.

“I’m in” she finally said with a smile.

The three of them worked peacefully till closing hour and then headed to the party together. She had to admit they were quite good company and they seemed to get along pretty well.

The party was held in the exhibitions area in the Design department of Ealing College, which was unused at that time; Mary and Chelsea knew their way around since they both studied design there. The place was not that crowded but there must have been at least three hundred people, mostly students and half of them was already tipsy due to the pints of beer that were being distributed at the entrance. The girls grabbed one each and dove into the crowd, making their way towards the dance platform.

They chatted for a bit, laughing and starting to feel the alcohol inebriating their mind as they begin to feel the rhythm of the music. While they were dancing Mel felt someone passing behind her to reach Chelsea, grabbing her by the waist and almost making her spill her drink.

“Oh my God Tom I almost spilled all of this on the girls” Chelsea screamed.

He apologized quickly, gave her a kiss and offered to get rid of their empty glasses.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, seeing the annoyed look on her face.

“No… Yeah… I’m sorry about Tom, he’s – well he’s my boyfriend but we’ve been through a rough time and I didn’t expect him to be here.” she said and thought I hoped he wouldn’t be here.

Chelsea didn’t exactly know how or when it had started but for the last couple of weeks, things between her and Tom had been… different. They had been together for almost three years and known each other since grade school, but all of a sudden, they were unable to communicate with each other without fighting. That’s why she had hoped to have fun that night, trying not to think about the fact that she was considering the idea of breaking up.

“Don’t worry doll, we’re gonna make sure you have fun tonight.” Mary said “C’mon, let’s dance” and she dragged both of them on the dancing floor.

They danced a couple of songs, then the band announced the end of their set, so the girls decided to go for another drink.

“Go find a place we can sit, I’ll go get the drinks” Mel offered, and she made her way to the counter and ordered three more pints. She thanked the bartender and fumbled to keep all of them in her hands when suddenly someone bumped into her back and she lost grip of one of the glasses, pouring the drink on the floor and on the shirt of a guy next to her at the counter.

“Hey would you mind looking where you’re going?” she furiously said. But the person who hit her was already mixed with the crowd.

“What a jackass”

Mel turned around to meet the eyes of the person who just spoke and realized that was the guy she had spilled the beer on.

Her eyes widened as she said “I am so sorry for your shirt”

She grabbed some towels from the counter and added “Here let me help you”

“Don’t worry I was headed home anyway. My band just finished the set so that’s a wrap for tonight” he said jokingly

She grinned “Wait you were playing just now? You guys were good! What do you play?”

“I’m the bassist” he said smiling “It’s very kind of you, but I know we’re not that good” he chuckled.

“Well my brother’s in a band and they replace the bassist almost every two months because they’re all shitty and I was there every time… So trust me when I say that you are actually pretty good”

He flushed and quickly answered “Well in this case, thank you”

They were standing really close, while she was dabbing the towel on his shirt and when she looked up he was looking at her.

He smiled at her and she could feel her cheeks flush bright red, as she smiled back, thinking he had the most handsome smile she had ever seen.

She was brought back to reality by the new band coming up on stage and making the crowd cheer.

“I should go find my friends” she said picking up the pints

His smile vanished and he tried to hide the disappointment “Sure, I think I’ll head home anyway”

She saw him smiling slightly before she turned on her heels and headed towards the tables. She was still smiling when she sat beside Mary.

“How come you only have two?” she asked.

“Oh, well I didn’t feel like drinking another one all by myself” she shrugged her shoulders, restraining a smile.

“What are you all smiley about?” Chelsea asked smirking.

Mel couldn’t help but picture his smile again and chuckled “It’s nothing, I think a drank too much of that stuff, I feel all tipsy” before realizing she hadn’t even asked him what his name was.

Chelsea was not at all convinced, but she decided not to investigate.

She was startled by hand over her shoulder and when she looked up she saw Tom, who said: “We need to talk”

She got up, already knowing how this would have ended up, but decided to confront him once and for all.

“I’m all ears” she said when they distanced themselves enough from the crowd

“What’s going on Chel? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks”

“I’m not avoiding you… I just – I just need a bit of time”

“What for? Don’t you trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you?”

It was always like that with Tom. Everything was about him. She was so sick of that.

“No, Tom, it’s not you” she snorted “I just think I need a bit of time to sort things out”

“What does that even mean? Are you telling me you want to break up?”

“NO! I didn’t say that! Christ Tom, you are always pushing my buttons!” she yelled, scoffing and rubbing her forehead. She continued calmer “Look, I love you, but you can’t deny we’ve been fighting a lot recently and seem to have lost the ability to communicate properly.”

He looked her dead serious in the eyes and she cautiously carried on “Don’t you think we need a break? I don’t mean breaking up.” She quickly added seeing the look on his face “I just think – carrying on with our lives trying to sort things on our own and then maybe-”

“Maybe what Chelsea?” he blurted out “Are you suggesting we see other people? Oh fuck, is there someone else?” he said running his hands in his hair “Please tell me it’s not John” he added pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“What? No Tom no! We are roommates but he’s my best friend and yours too by the way.” She replied, hurt by his insinuation.

“Tom there is no-one okay? I just want to be by myself for a while, God why can’t you understand that!”

“Well maybe you should stay on your own forever” he spat out “I’m done with this shit. Call me when you’re back being yourself Chel”

He said that with a poisonous tone however she couldn’t help but think he was right. He left, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She had to get out of there: she bolted through the crowd excused herself with the girls and rushed out in the hallway before they could catch her.

All she wanted to do was scream from the top of her lungs she had had enough. As she walked rapidly towards the apartment where she hoped to find John’s comforting arms, tears started to stream down her face.

Chapters: | next ⤑

[rowdy-revenant]

The Beauty of a Beast - part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Becky Rosen (briefly), Y/N Singer, Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Chuck, Jack, Charlie, Crowley - future pairing of Gabriel x reader

Words: 1500+

Beta-reader: @nobodys-baby-now

Warnings: Bi!Dean (if you consider that a warning), arguing

Chapter summary: Sam tries to cheer up his rejected brother. Planning dinner doesn’t work out very well at the castle.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[General masterlist] [Gabriel masterlist]

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Part 5 - Taverns and Tea

Business at the Roadhouse tavern was like it always was; busy. Dean Winchester sat in his usual fur covered chair, facing the fireplace. His brother brought another round of drinks for the both of them and set them on a table before Dean.

Dean downed another pint. “What’s the point.” He muttered. “I keep pursuing Y/N and every time they shoot me down.”

“So maybe stop pursuing them?” Sam offered.

The older Winchester glared at his brother.

“Look, Dean, it’s not the end of the world. You can get any girl- or guy, for that matter- in town you want!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want anyone else!” Dean huffed. The hunter was too stubborn to let the one that got away go.

“Dean, please. Come on, Benny Lafitte’s single, right?” Sam said.

“I’m not dating someone taller than me.” Dean grumbled.

“What about Jo Harvelle?” Sam offered.

“Talks too much.” Dean scoffed.

“Gadreel? The librarian?”

“He’s a nerd.”

“Becky Rosen?”

“More like clingy.”

“Garth Fitzgerald’s a nice guy.”

“He’s always too happy.”

“Rowena?”

“You’re joking. Why can’t Y/N just like me?” Dean whined.

Sam sighed. “Don’t put yourself down like this, Dean.”

“If I’m not good enough for them, I’m not good enough at all.” Dean concluded, turning his green eyes to the ground and pouting like a child.

Sam sat next to Dean. He looked up at the mantle and the wall behind it. Countless animal heads decorated the tavern but this section? This was all the Winchesters’. Scratch that, it was all Dean’s. All Sam did during hunts was chase the prey for Dean to wear it out before his brother got the final shot, and all the credit. Sam always felt proud of his brother, though there was always a hint of jealousy.

“Everyone here wishes they were you. Your skills, your good looks…” Sam would add ‘your brains’ but his brother wasn’t exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver. “Your reputation…” He added. “Everybody in town either wants to be with you or to be you.”

Dean just grunted as a reply.

“Tell me again how you got that one.” Sam said, pointing to the stuffed head of a bear.

A faint smile crept across Dean’s face. “Took me three whole days. I sprained my ankle in the process, but still managed to catch it.”

A couple people grouped around Dean as he told the tale.

“It got caught in a trap I had laid out by the river, so I caught up to it and BANG!” Dean shouted. “Killed it in one shot.”

Becky, a blonde who was arguably Dean’s biggest fan clapped as he finished the story. Dean gestured for her to come closer, so she did, sitting on the arm of the armchair, leaning towards her crush.

“Oh Dean,” Becky sighed. “You’re sooo manly.”

The elder brother grinned and flexed. “I work out, you know. I bet I could lift Sam.”

“Really?” She gasped.

Sam grimaced. “Please don’t. We’ll take your word for it.”

Dean laughed. “Scared I’m right, Sammy?”

Dean went on telling hunting stories about his prowess. He was skilled, that was true, but his ego and stubbornness often got him in trouble, so Sam was the one who had to pull him out of it. Of course, the favour was never returned.

Sam was always there for his brother. He supported him and helped him with hunts or picking up flings. The thing was, he didn’t have the courage to get in Dean’s way when things got out of hand.

If Sam had Dean’s courage, or Dean had Sam’s intellect, things would probably turn out different for the brothers.

A loud knock at your door woke you. You sat up and yawned, surprised for a second by the unfamiliar surroundings. You weren’t home, you remembered.

Your room in this castle had to be the size of your house in the village. The four poster bed was soft and big. The walls were painted elegantly, rather than plain brick. Everything was so much bigger, so much more expensive. Not to mention the wardrobe was alive too.

There was another knock. “Dinner. Now. Join me.” The Beast growled from outside.

“Ask nicely.” Castiel chided.

“And smile!” Balthazar added.

The Beast bared his fangs in what vaguely resembled a smile.

Balthazar winced. “We’ll work on that.”

“Now ask again,” Chuck said. “Nicely.”

The Beast huffed and faced the door again. “Would you join me for dinner?” He asked in a softer, but still demanding voice.

You wanted to scream. “Join you? You treat me like garbage and you want me to eat dinner with you?!” You yelled.

The feathers of the Beast wings bristled, and his chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing quickened.

The servants picked up quickly on his anger. Castiel was the first to try and calm him down. “Easy now-”

The Beast raised his fist and slammed it against the door. “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER AND THAT’S NOT A REQUEST!” He roared.

“NO!” You yelled back, twisting the lock on the door handle and dragging a chair in front of it. You didn’t want to see his ugly face again if you could help it.

“Fine!” The Beast sneered. “GO AHEAD AND STARVE! If you don’t eat with me, you don’t eat at all!”

“Fine!” You replied.

The Beast turned and stormed off down the hall, slashing a wall in anger as he went.

Balthazar looked at his friends. “Staff meeting.”

Balthazar stood on the round table, tapping his arm against a glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Hello, everyone.” Balthazar started. “Well, everyone who could be here.”

“I can tell dad!” A teacup piped up.

“Hush, Jack. Later.” Castiel replied.

“So, we have a guest. Someone from the village named Y/N.” Balthazar continued. “As you know, we don’t have a lot of time left. If things work out, Y/N could be the one. We’ll all return to normal.”

“That’s a great plan and all, but what if it doesn’t work?” Charlie, a former maid turned cardinal-shaped feather-duster asked.

“We have to try.” Chuck said.

The group murmured in agreement.

“So, the master has forbidden Y/N to eat dinner with him after his temper tantrum. Of course, we can’t have that.” Balthazar retold. “Gabriel will be asleep in his quarters soon enough. We’ll make a second dinner.”

“Castiel, Jack, bring some tea upstairs for our guest. Tell Y/N and Crowley of the plan. Charlie, tell Lucifer to wait in the dining room. The rest of us will cook and set up.” Chuck gave the orders.

Cas nodded as best as a teapot could nod. “Come along, Jack.”

Jack skipped across the table to join his uncle. “Charlie, tell dad I say hi!”

Charlie smiled. “Will do, kiddo.”

“So, can I ask why you’re a wardrobe?” You inquired.

Crowley hummed, thinking. “Suppose the one who cursed us had a sense of humour. I was a tailor.”

“Huh. Interesting.” You replied.

“And you?” Crowley asked. “What do you do?”

“I help- or helped my father with his work.” You explained. “He makes things like clocks and music boxes.”

A tap at the door ended your quiet conversation.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “Go away.”

“It’s Castiel.” Was the muffled reply.

“The master doesn’t knock that softly.” Crowley chuckled. “Let him in.”

You moved the chair away from your door and unlocked it. When you opened the door, a trolley with a tea set was before you.

“You must be Castiel.” You said, wheeling the cart in.

“I am.” The teapot replied. “This,” He gestured to the teacup beside him “Is Jack.”

“Nice to meet you!” The little cup replied, its painted face grinning. He sounded young. You felt pity for this poor kid. He was probably the only one of his age in this palace.

You smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”

“We’re making you something to eat.” Castiel said.

You frowned. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat.”

“What the great big lummock doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Crowley huffed. “You need to eat, love.”

“You’re not afraid of him?”

The room fell silent.

“No,” Castiel finally spoke. “He has outbursts but he’ll never hurt anyone.”

“I think the person who fears him most is himself.” Crowley mused. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You replied. “He doesn’t scare me. He’s big and he’s cruel, but there’s… something about him. Like an animal lashing out in pain…”

You fell quiet. Could this beast have any emotion apart from anger? Why would these cursed people stand up for him? How did this happen?

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

All fics: @a-r-c-h-a-n-g-e-l @ashiewesker @ashtheironbat @authoressskr @baritonechick @blessedbebucky @crowleysprincess159 @cynda-kiwi @d4rzill4 @fayepummeluff @feelmyroarrrr @gabriels-depressed-angel @hunters-hiraeth @impatient-witch @kristaparadowski @lenawiinchester @like-gabriel-and-castiel @madelineannmolder @negansgrimes @oldpaperfan @sdavid09 @shrimpdrake @sumara62 @tangle-of-ivy @team-barry @thehowling1234 @thewhiterabbit42 @treitike @tenderlybeautifulbarbarian @tyrex15 @unsink-the-titanic

All Supernatural: @gabriels-trix​

Gabriel: @elven-leaf​ @hiddles-and-skittles​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @im-gabriels-bitch​ @jannalionheart​ @elenawrit​ @trollhunter94​

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[barberjourney-blog]

Let’s start from the beginning...

     Well here goes. My first attempt at blogging. That is, unless you count the occasional snarky comment on Facebook or that week in college I tried to do Xanga. Why a blog you might ask? Well, I’ve always considered myself a better communicator through the written word. I come from a family of writers. My sister is an editor for a publishing company. My mom’s list of published works include short stories, magazine articles, and children’s Sunday School curriculum. Even my dad has been known to pen a witty sonnet (usually on the topic of what he cooked for dinner or an embellished fishing trip story). So I guess writing is a family tradition. And although I haven’t practiced the skill in quite a while, it’s always been something I’ve rather enjoyed. I think it’s the organization that I like. Sometimes when I speak, my words get ahead of my thoughts, but not so with writing. Writing is more controlled. I’m able to key a thought, then read it and process it. If I don’t like what I’ve said, that backspace click is just a few finger strokes up. 

      I’m one paragraph in and already rambling. Forgive me. Let’s get to the point of this thing.

     If you’ve followed my Instagram over the last couple of years, you may have noticed a trend in my posts. I’ve visited a lot of barbershops over the last 2 years. A LOT. I‘ve lost count of the exact number a while back, but I’d estimate I’ve seen 20+ shops over the last 12 months. I’ve visited shops in New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Nashville, Birmingham, Huntsville, Tuscaloosa, and Gulf Shores just to name a few. Now, I’m not talking about the salon where your mom goes. Or Sports Clips. I’m talking about the good old fashioned men’s barbershop. The kind of shop maybe you’ve only seen in movies. Men sitting around the shop discussing sports, politics, family, and life. Maybe some good tunes on the radio and the aroma of a hot cup of joe wafting through the air. And a skilled, seasoned barber honing his craft at the chair. His hands are surgical and his gift with the clippers, comb, and shears are a unique combination of skill and art.

     These shops fascinate me! I love the freedom men feel at these places. The freedom to unwind, be themselves, and speak their minds. I I love the way a good hair cut makes me feel. Confident and put together. I love the nostalgia I feel while I’m there. Reminiscent of a different time when the world was smaller, things moved slower, and people cared about each other. I guess you could say I love everything about them.

     A few shops I’ve visited, researched, and loved over the last 2 years...

Greasy Hands Barbershop - Florence, AL 

The Commodore Tonsorial Parlor - Atlanta, GA 

Scout’s Barbershop - Nashville, TN 

Shed Barber & Supply - Austin, TX 

     Let’s hit pause here and rewind the tape a little (for those of you 18 and under reading this, ask your parents what rewind the tape means).  In 2008, Shannon and I moved from Tuscaloosa to Birmingham and almost immediately began attending The Church at Brookhills. We knew after the first week the Lord was moving in this church and He was going to move within us as well if we got onboard. We joined the church, got plugged into a small group (more on that later), and began “doing life” with the faith family there. The pastor was a skinny, jeans wearing, shirt untucked, blonde guy who looked more like a fraternity brother we’d seen in Tuscaloosa than a pastor of a “mega church”. His name was David Platt and he would change my life forever.

     I hope at some point on this blog to dive deeper into my own faith story, but for the purposes of this post, I’ll be succinct. Christ became my Savior at the age of 16, but there was very little spiritual growth until my early 20’s. That is, until we joined The Church at Brookhills. The Lord used this church, my small group, and David Platt to completely transform what I knew, or thought I knew, about surrendering my life to Christ.

     Let me preach a second here.

     Every day, I am made more and more aware of the “cultural Christianity” that surrounds me. Especially here in the deep south, asking someone if they’re a Christian is like asking them if they drink sweet tea. Well, yes of course. So many of our churches have preached the easiness of salvation and that all you have to do is “say this prayer, ask Jesus into your heart, and believe.” And that’s true. Sort of. The Bible is very clear that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13). However, where I think many have dropped the ball is on the aftermath. I’ve “accepted” Christ. Now what? Pastor David now famously quoted this in one of his sermons during our time at Brookhills:

      “Accept Him? Do we really think Jesus needs our acceptance? Don’t we need Him? Jesus is no longer one to be accepted or invited in but one who is infinitely worthy of our immediate and total surrender.”

     Surrender? What does that mean? David would say “giving the Lord a blank check with your life.” My new beloved pastor, Jamey Pruett, calls it “putting your yes on the table.” I like both analogies, but what do they really mean? This is where I feel many of us have missed the mark. This point, this crucial element for salvation is not being explained and driven home through discipleship in many churches. If Christ is your Savior, the Bible says you are a new creation. The old is gone and the new has come (1 Corinthians 5:17). And this “new creation” now has a new responsibility. Jesus cannot only be a “personal Lord and Savior”, but rather He is a Savior to whom we must completely submit and surrender control of our lives. “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). Or as we sing from the old Baptist Hymnal, “Wherever He leads, I’ll go.” And He asks us to do something very specific with that surrendering: make His name known among the nations. The Great Commission. Spread the Gospel. He’s not just your personal savior. He’s a savior worth living for. And if necessary, dying for.

     At this point you may be asking yourself “what in the name of Paul Mitchell does this all have to do with barbershops?” If you’ve read this far, stay with me. I promise I’m getting there.

     In 2010, Pastor David began preaching through a sermon series at Brookhills entitled “Radical”. He would also publish a New York Times best seller similarly themed and titled “Radical: Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream.” This series and book ruined me. For the better. Let me just give you a few quotes from the book and I think you’ll get the gist:

     “Radical obedience to Christ is not easy. It’s not comfort, not health, not wealth, and not prosperity in this world. Radical obedience to Christ risks losing all these things. But in the end, such risk finds its reward in Christ. And he is more than enough for us.”

     “We are settling for a Christianity that revolves around catering to ourselves when the central message of Christianity is actually about abandoning ourselves.”

     “But then I realized there is never going to be a day when I stand before God and He looks at me and says, ‘I wish you would have kept more for yourself.’ I’m confident that God will take care of me.”

     I read this book back to back with another book from a teacher and author who has also had an enormous impact on my life: John Piper. His book was called “Don’t Waste Your Life”. Let me also give you a quote from this book that has both challenged me and haunted me all at the same time:

     “Three weeks ago, we got word at our church that Ruby Eliason and Laura Edwards had both been killed in Cameroon. Ruby was over eighty. Single all her life, she poured it out for one great thing: to make Jesus Christ known among the unreached, the poor, and the sick. Laura was a widow, a medical doctor, pushing eighty years old, and serving at Ruby’s side in Cameroon.

The brakes give way, over the cliff they go, and they’re gone — killed instantly.

And I asked my people: was that a tragedy? Two lives, driven by one great vision, spent in unheralded service to the perishing poor for the glory of Jesus Christ — two decades after almost all their American counterparts have retired to throw their lives away on trifles in Florida or New Mexico. No. That is not a tragedy. That is a glory.

I tell you what a tragedy is. I’ll read to you from Reader’s Digest what a tragedy is. “Bob and Penny . . . took early retirement from their jobs in the Northeast five years ago when he was 59 and she was 51. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida, where they cruise on their thirty foot trawler, playing softball and collecting shells.”

That’s a tragedy. And people today are spending billions of dollars to persuade you to embrace that tragic dream. And I get forty minutes to plead with you: don’t buy it. With all my heart I plead with you: don’t buy that dream. The American Dream: a nice house, a nice car, a nice job, a nice family, a nice retirement, collecting shells as the last chapter before you stand before the Creator of the universe to give an account of what you did: “Here it is Lord — my shell collection! And I’ve got a nice swing, and look at my boat!”

 Don’t waste your life; don’t waste it.”

      I have spent countless hours and sleepless nights pondering that thought: How do I keep from wasting my life?

           The Lord used my pastor, my small group, and these books to help me process and understand something I somehow had missed over the course of my “church kid” life. I was not saved from my sin to live a selfish, care free life filled with comforts, trivial pursuits, and “stuff”. I was saved because the Father loved me infinitely and perfectly. And He wanted to me share this good news, this Gospel: that He loved the world enough to send His only Son as a ransom for sinners. Plain and simple. That was my purpose in life. That was my purpose for being created. To make the name of Jesus known far and wide.

           I’ve struggled over the years to know exactly what that’s supposed to look like. I’m a big believer in the Lord’s sovereignty and that He calls us to different jobs, different cities, different friends, etc for seasons where He expects us to do His work. But I’ve found myself questioning over the years, should I be doing more? If my life is truly being lived in complete submission to Christ, should I be working in vocational ministry? Should I go to seminary? Should I be on staff at a church? Should I work for a nonprofit ministry? Let me share with you what I believe the Lord has been teaching me through this season of questioning and searching.

           The Lord certainly uses vocational ministers to do His work. They are “called”, gifted, and uniquely led by the Holy Spirit to spread the Gospel. But God also uses “regular people” to do His work. Vocational ministry is not the calling for every believer. The gospel of Jesus Christ is spread every day by doctors, policemen, receptionists, construction workers, school teachers, and business professionals. It’s part of the beauty of this Christian life. The Lord in His goodness equips and uses all of His children to advance the kingdom.

      We’ve certainly taken the scenic route in this post, but we’re almost home. 

           The Lord has given me a vision for how I can serve Him and advance the Gospel in my community. Before you go and get Pentecostal on me, not that kind of vision. I was not struck with a blinding light, nor did I hear a voice from Heaven. Rather, He gave me comprehension. An understanding of who I am, what I’m passionate about, how He has gifted me, how He has equipped me, and how He wants me to use these things to serve Him:

I believe the Lord is calling me to open a business. Specifically, a barbershop.

           I could write another lengthy post on how the Lord has affirmed this to me over the last several months and I certainly plan to dive deeper into that at another time.  For now, I’ll give you just a couple of insights on how I’ve come to this conclusion:

1.)    Me: Who am I? Who has the Lord created me to be? How has He gifted me? I can answer that in a few sentences. I have been created as an extremely relational person. Relationships and people matter to me. A lot. I thrive on being around other people. I “come to life” you might say. I need meaningful friendships and conversation. When I go through seasons where my relationships are strained or stale, it changes me. I am at my best – my truest self – when I am in the fellowship and community of people I love.

Additionally, the Lord has given me the spiritual gifts of mercy and hospitality. Mercy – the ability to empathize with others. To be a listening ear. To care for and about people. Hospitality – hosting others in your space and creating a welcoming environment. Opening your home (or place of business) to others and shepherding them.

Practically, I have nearly 15 years’ experience in customer service and managing businesses. I understand the logistics that factor into running a successful business. And I love it. The job just suits me. Engaging customers and employees in conversations, listening to them, helping them solve a problem: the basic job description embodies who I am.

2.)    Community: Shannon and I moved to Arab for the purpose of living close to family and raising our children in the same kind of small town environment in which we were raised. The Lord had greater plans. We have fallen deeply in love with our church and our community. We feel like we belong here. And because we are certain this is where the Lord has planted us, I want to serve my community well. This business will be my base of operations from where I can invest in our community.

I heard a friend from college, Tim Milner, speak at a missions conference at our church last year. Tim is now a pastor in Huntsville and I though I can’t recall the entirety of his sermon, one point from his message spoke to me. Screamed at me might be a better way of putting it: As Christians, let’s not be so focused on reaching the Nations that we forget about our brothers and sisters down the street who need Christ. My Brookhills background had saturated me with an urgency for international missions, but the Lord spoke to me that night during Tim’s message and began softening my heart to the spiritual needs of the people of Arab. I love them and I want to create a business that attends to both their physical and spiritual needs.

      This post has gone much longer than I intended and I fear I may already lost some future readers, but I wanted to thoroughly explain my vision and my heart as best I could. I promise I will try to be more concise with future posts. So let me wrap it up. The goal of this blog, for those of you who care to follow, is to create a space where you can come alongside me in this journey. I am confident that the Lord has set me on this path, but that doesn’t mean I have all the answers. I desperately covet your prayers and wisdom as I strive to be faithful and obedient in this. Here are a few specific areas I would ask for your prayers:

-          Pray that the Lord would give me great wisdom as I explore the best avenue for barber training.

-          Pray that the Lord’s timing would be clear and that all logistics would fall into place according to His plan, not mine.

-          Pray the Lord would begin working in the heart of someone or multiple someones to serve alongside me in this venture.

-          Pray that I would continue to pray and cling to Proverbs 19:1. “Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”

-          Pray that I would love my wife and children well and show them Jesus through this season of change.

-          Pray that ultimately Christ would receive all the glory and His name be exalted in all of this. 

Thankful for each of you. More to come soon…

Drew

[valiantlybitchyobject-blog]

The 35 Most Memorable Hollywood Bodies

It's the worry of being away from your smartphone or not having network coverage. And it is on the rise. Did you fuck anybody else? I mentioned No, you're the solely women with whom I had sex. She stated as it's larger than earlier than, it will likely be very painful for me this time. She started with a mild kiss on my purple head Then she put her saliva on my cock and began taking in my cock inside her mouth. It was an absolute heaven. My cock was shining when she took it out of her mouth. She was licking my cock along with her tongue. Ahhhh wat a feeling.. Then she was sucking my balls in her mouth and making some sexy sounds. I got aroused. My dick bought stiffer than earlier than. Then I squeezed her milky white boobs. She did not mind and I was so close in smooching her in ardour however abruptly recollected the mom sentiment and stopped but Radha Bhabhi was so innocent she was still hugging and searching in my eyes and said how was your journey I mentioned it was positive then she requested me where have been my buddies I stated they left. She mentioned I ought to have invited them inside for juice. Me- Ab to ek ki upaay hai. Aap yeh kapde utaar do aur mai chuchaap ja ke aapke ghar se dusri gown le aata hun. Me: There are only 3 ladies in the village who has the best belongings to attract people of any age. letmewatchthisunblocked However it's ok, with some photoshop not less than your exterior can change!!! Virtually!

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