#off topic but my fingers are so cold....... how am i supposed to edit anything with fingers this cold

[stinkrascal]

oh! i also finished the first batch of sims remade in my style challenge thingy, i'll do a 2nd batch eventually bc i had a lot of fun remaking sims yeahhh!! so hopefully that will be posted eventually :3

[niksfics]

↬ FATE

↬ PAIRINGS: kenma x f!reader (side aka rebound mention) miya atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: a whole lotta angst, breakup, it’s an online relationship, kenma is cold and hurts ur feelings

↬ SUMMARY: your relationship with kenma really had felt like the last one. He was it, turns out he didn’t have similar feelings.

↬ A/N: alright loves!! This isn’t proofread at all it’s 2 in the morning I’ll edit when I wake up, butttt Thanks to my lovely ex girlfriend you are now being graced with this steaming pile of trash. (Lovely was not meant sarcastically at all she is in fact very lovely.) Ngl almost, if not all of this story is about my relationship with my ex gf. This is how I cope people. ￫ It’s taken me awhile to actually be able to right something that’s why things kinda stopped. Tbh after she broke up with me it’s been very hard for me to write so hopefully this helps! And I hope you enjoy!! I would also just like to say if it feels a lil weird it’s cause these are things I’ve actually written in my notes I tweaked it a little to fit the story but it’s straight from the source 😩

WC | 2.5K

You sighed as you opened your notes app. Your eyes scanning over all of the little facts and quirks he had told you about himself. All the stuff you’d wanted to remember. The stuff that had seemed so important to you before. Now it was meaningless, almost like facts about a stranger. Almost as if you hadn’t spent four months learning about and growing with eachother.

You scrolled down a little bit right under, how his favorite marvel character is Spider-Man and you chewed on your lip. Your fingers hovering above the keyboard on your phone. You looked over the facts again. The things he dislikes and the stuff he adores, the things he likes to collect to the way he feels passionately about a certain topic. You begin to type.

Friday June 25th 2022 12:22 Am

I cried again tonight, because I still love you. It’s been a month and six days since we broke up. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest. You seem to be doing fine though, so I’m happy for you! This is the second time since we’ve broken up that I’ve felt actual physical emotional pain in my chest. Remember when I told you how bad it hurt after we broke up? Remember how you didn’t even ask if I was ok? Didn’t even bother to answer. Do you remember that? I remember. I’ve thought about it every day since. I remember it being so bad I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. Wasn’t until I’d called tetsu crying that he’d told me it was just emotional and I should probably try to relax.

I read through our old messages. I’ve never wanted something back so bad. Never wanted to beg anyone to stay till now. I wish you loved me like I love you. I wish I hadn’t grown so attached, wish I hadn’t fallen so deeply into love with you. I wish it wasn’t my fault that we broke up. I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I was fearless. Wish I could rise into love bravely. I wish I was brave when it came to you. I keep telling myself it was me. It was me not you. You didn’t love me anymore. You don’t love me anymore and you’re just too nice to say that. So you told me in the only way I could handle. Except you hadn’t used the words you should have. You got bored. We both know it’s true. You were bored of it, and I don’t blame you. I know we’ll never talk again, and part of me is so glad. Another part of me forces myself to read through all our messages though. I wish I could just tell you one last time. I love you.

You sighed saving it before closing out of it. Tears you hadn’t known were falling finally became known to you as they streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes puffy as you wet your lips, the salt of them coating your tongue. You were bitter and so were your tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right now. Probably playing a video game. You knew his schedule all to well by now. Probably testing out a new game for his stream.

A new set of fresh tears fell as you remembered how you used to call him right before he went on. Being lulled to sleep by his occasionally curses and the clicking oh his controller or his keyboard.

You never expected things to end this way. You really thought he was the last one. Yes it had only been four months, but the way he made you feel. The way that it had felt. It had felt final, and you’d been friends before you even started dating.

You sniffle moving yourself to the kitchen to poor yourself a glass of water as you remembered how nervous you were when you first texted him. You had acumulated quite the crush on him back in high school. As Inarazaki’s manager you were required to go to the games, and even after your team lost you had stuck around. Watched him play and cheered him on. Two weeks later you had begun to text, as friends of course. It wasn’t until four months ago that you’d gotten together.

Your anniversary was only two days prior to your break up. You both had never been one to even care about that stuff. You had agreed early on in the relationship that we wouldn’t do anything due to the distance, and the business of our schedules. You were never one for remembering things like anniversaries anyways.

He really did feel like the one. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes you can just feel it. Like, you know that feeling you get when you know something is off or you know for sure something is about to happen even without being told it’s going to. That’s what it felt like to be with kozume kenma.

You thought you knew, you thought this time, this time its for real. You thought it was finally safe to say, that he was the one. You both had even admitted to looking for each others initials in those stupid soulmate tik tok videos.

You were finally in a mature relationship with someone you could talk about anything to. You had gotten so caught up in it, that you didn’t even see the end creeping up on you.

↝

You’d finally gained the courage to text him again. Unfortunately it was in a drunken daze. Your hands shaking as you fumbled with your phone typing things you’d come to regret in the morning. You’d sent him a series of texts telling him how much you missed him, how you didn’t understand how he was so okay. You had been a wreck that night. One of your friends puking in her toilet as you cried. You were happy of course that he was doing so well, but you’d been a wreck for so long and he hadn’t even changed. You told him you wished you could be okay.

When you’d awoken the next morning hair knotted in a complete mess and wiping drool from your chin your heart had sunk even lower. His response was cold. You knew that kenma could be cold. You knew that it was just who he was, but this particular text had felt so unfeeling and unfamiliar, it was as if he hadn’t even sent it himself. He had only ever talked like this to you once and that was when you first became friends all those years ago.

Kozume ❤️

Hey, it’s okay. And yeah you see what I choose to put up. I could be better. But I choose to stay optimistic and busy. Sorry that things are this way.

You had never seen so many periods in a text before. He only used grammar like that when he was peeved, and maybe you were wrong, maybe he’d done that on purpose, but it had hurt so bad. It had caused an ache so deep in your chest that you weren’t sure if you’d ever even dated him at all.

Yeah.

It was the only thing you could bring yourself to respond back with. How were you supposed to respond to that? You’d stared at it for so long and after you’d sent it you wished you had said more. Wished you would’ve said something more insightful than a simple, heartbroken, “yeah.”

Not too long later there was another ping and you held your breath. His name briefly appearing across your screen.

Yeah. I could be better. But I hope you do well soon. I’m sorry that I can’t really do much to help out

And of course you did the only thing you could do. Deflect. Pretend like you hadn’t said what you’d said not even fourteen hours ago.

No it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry that you could be doing better.

He left you on seen. You knew you sounded like an asshole. At least to you, you felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t you have come up with something else. Why couldn’t you tell him the truth. Tell him how you felt. Tell him that you didn’t think you should be broken up anymore. That the month long cruel joke was over and you were ready to spend your nights falling asleep to him playing video games again. You didn’t though, and you never would. You’re not brave enough, too prideful to even try.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat as you realized even if you did beg him. Begged him to take you back. Tell him that you still love him. You were too late, and you just couldn’t be selfish when it comes to him. He is over you and it was so plainly obvious. You know that deep down. Know that he’s moved on, and it kills you inside. So you did the only thing you could do. Try and put it into words.

So as you lay in bed the warm body you let occupy your space sound asleep beside you, his toned blonde hair tousled slightly and you sighed. Finally away from the shenanigans of your friends you took a deep breath before you closed your eyes.

You opened up your notes app again and scrolled past the last entry. You swallowed again as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. Your thumbs beginning to move before you even gave them permission.

Wednesday June 30th 2022 1:39 Am

Here I am again. Stuck. Stuck in the same place I’ve been for so long. You know, I write so beautifully when I’m broken. I’m most of my best work is written when I’m being torn apart. But I just, I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t seem to put it into a document and turn out little story into a different story to cope. Can’t seem to write it out. Can’t seem to move on.

I hovered over the unfollow button on your page today, to keep myself from scrolling through your things again. To keep myself from getting hurt. So I don’t have to be reminded. I want to delete it. Delete where we officially met. On a chat through my screen. I wanna wipe the messages clean. And I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. But I can’t.

I want to delete our conversations. The hours long talks we had, but then, what happens afterwards? What keeps the memories alive. I’d never been so in love with someone before. I’ve never actually…. Been in love before. I thought I’d been in love, but it didn’t feel like that, and losing them never hurt like this. Losing someone has never hurt this bad before.

I’ve never felt the emptiness you left so deep in my very being with anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t seem to pull myself together. And it’s pathetic I know. It’s pathetic that I’m still here. In the same place I was a month ago. It’s about to be two months we’ve haven’t been together. I’m hurting. Hurting so bad. It’s painful to look at you.

I haven’t deleted the photos even though I probably should. They’re still tucked away in an album in my camera roll labeled “us <3” the one one I made specially just for you. The way I’d been so excited when I was finally ready to tell my friends. I even have this stupid notes folder from when we were dating where I wrote all the little things about you that I never wanted to forget. I find you so endearing. Everything you do. I just couldn’t help but right it down to keep it safe so it never leaves my mind. So that I never forget. But now, forgetting is all I want to do.

I never thought there’d be a time in my life where I was more emotionally stunted that I normally. So stunted I can’t even put this, our split up, into words. Make it something entertaining for somebody else to read. Write a book about it. My publicist keeps asking when the sequel for my book will be done. I don’t know if it’ll ever be finished. I can’t do the one thing I’ve always been good at. I’m crying as I write this.

And I wish it would just end here in this little notes app. Wish the love would die in here. I always think I’m over you and then I see you again, and nowadays your everywhere. A very big hit and I’m happy for you and your success, but seeing you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

I think I’m over you until I play that stupid fucking game that causes me to scream at my phone, or my laptop in frustration, but I just can’t seem to delete it because I know it’s something that you love. That show we used to talk about. I know you know which one, I can’t seem to watch it without thinking of what was. You’ve ruined it forever cause now it only reminds me of you. I know you’ll never see this, but I like to imagine you can. That my time for closure has somehow come.

When you told me you were sorry that things were this way, it was a real slap in the face. It stopped my false hope. My wishing. It all came to a halt. I’m glad. Glad that you’re happier. That you’re better without me. But god, now I’m so fucked up and I can’t even talk to you.

You were the only person I had left. The only one who understood me. And now you’re gone. You took a part of me with you that night. A part that I’ll never get back. I should’ve known that you would leave. I’ve never been able to get someone to stay for longer than three to four months.

I thought I could let my guard down though. I thought we were in the clear. I’d thought finally. Finally someone is gonna stay. I thought you were my person. I still think that to this day. I thought we were gonna make it. And now I’m with this guy I don’t even like. He’s not you, he doesn’t act like you. He doesn’t like video games like you do.

He doesn’t talk to me like you do. Like you did. But you know how it ended I don’t need to put it here. Unfortunately I’ll always love you even if you don’t love me. This is so scattered, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.

With that you closed the app and put down your phone. Plugging in it and as it dinged miya atsumu rolled over in his sleep. He reached for you his hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his strong body.

His gravely voice whispering through sleep, “mmm finally decided to come to bed?” You hum moving an arm under on of his to wrap around his thin waist. “Mhm, thought you might need the company.” You began to draw little shapes and letters against his back as he chuckled, “oh yea? How thoughtful of you princess.”

Suddenly it was quiet and your closed eyes opened to his wide brown ones, his eyebrows furrowing .

“Did you just spell kozume on my back?”

[memoirsofanerdygirl]

The Gold in the Abyss - Chapter One: Going Over His Head

Summary: 

London, 1991. 

Katherine Clarke -- Auror, Slytherin, and in desperate need of Severus Snape’s help. A mysterious shadow has poisoned two victims with an unknown substance, slowly decomposing their stomachs from within. When more bodies turn up in cramped London alleys, she has no choice but to ask her former professor for assistance. 

As Britain is plunged into war, Kate and Severus are forced to confront their demons of guilt and fear. Caught between two sides of a hopeless conflict, can they learn to respect one another, and, in time, perhaps even care for the other? 

Warnings: Language, implied attempted rape, mild graphic depictions of violence/gore. 

Notes: (feel free to skip this, it’s just to cover my ass) The Harry Potter Universe, all its characters and places are owned by J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended, nor am I making any profit from this story. All original characters, I own. This story does contain adult situations, language, violence, and sexual situations. If any of these offend you, please do not read.

Okay, now for the real notes. So, this idea has been floating around for quite a while now, and I’m super, super excited to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy! And remember, comments, reblogs and general reactions are ALWAYS appreciated :)

~~~

The bookshop was tucked away in a corner of Diagon Alley, hidden around the bend of a back road that branched off the main shopping street.Small, but stuffed from floor to ceiling with old and new volumes alike, topics ranging from Guide to De-Ghouling to the latest editions of The Dark Arts Outsmarted. 

A sign with a bubbling cauldron and the words ‘The Melting Plot’ dangled above the entrance. Kate pulled open the door and entered. It smelled of old books and the unmistakable scent of a cooling charm -- artificial freshness, like the crisp air in the frozen aisle of a grocery store. All the same, she was glad for the rush of cold air that dispelled the muggy mid-August heat. 

She slipped her wand out of the sleeve of her lightweight jacket and stuck it in her belt loop. Her armpits were damp with sweat. At least there would be no stains in the loose blouse underneath. She shrugged off the jacket and draped the olive material over her arm. 

The bookkeeper was a spindly old man with a knotted hulihee beard, two bushels of coarse grey hair broadening his jaw to three times its size, but leaving his chin bare. He gave off whiffs of tobacco when one stepped too near, but he did, at the very least, know the store like the back of his hand. He looked up at her through thin rimmed spectacles.

“Research,” said Kate. “Poisons.”

He jerked his head toward the back right corner of the shop. 

She nodded. It suddenly occurred to her that in all the times she’d been to The Melting Plot, she had never asked the man’s name. Hadn’t been able to stand the stench long enough. 

The Melting Plot wasn’t large at all; perhaps, if she had to guess, half the size of Flourish and Blotts. Besides Kate, there was only one other patron present at the moment: a rather beefy man clad in deep violet robes. He barely glanced up at her as she breezed past his aisle. 

Secluded from the busy areas of Diagon Alley as it was, the shop’s customers were a medley of sporadic regulars who forwent the noisy din of Flourish and Blotts for the empty silence of The Melting Plot. Kate, however, came for the prices. Two-for-a-Galleon days were simply too tempting. 

Coming upon the aisle in the back, she sighed. She didn’t have the faintest idea what she was looking for; she had only the patients’ symptoms to go off of, and even those weren’t much. Vomiting. Bloody urine. Comatose state. How in the world was she supposed to find the poisonous culprit?

Encyclopedia, she answered herself. That had always been a good place to start.

She proceeded down the aisle, her finger brushing over the spines of the books as she quickly scanned the titles. Dark Arts Discovered by Eglantine Pickering… Vampires and Bats by Garrett Puckett… She was halfway down the aisle before she found a relevant title and plucked it off the shelf. She rested her foot on a bottom shelf, balancing on one leg, and propped the heavy book on her knee. She began to read.  

Barely five minutes in, and already it was hopeless. Like finding a Knut in a pile of dragon dung. She flipped idly through the pages, and when she heard the front door creak open again, she peered through the aisles for a glimpse of the newcomer. 

A flash of black between the stacks. Clacks of a forceful stride on the wooden floor. There was a low murmur, and Kate heard the bookkeeper wheeze, “ ‘Course,” and then the squeak of the backroom door opening and closing. Likely some customer picking up an order. She returned to the book in her hand. 

A Compendium of Magical Poisons, it was called. An antique, too; the textured leather spine gilded and ridged. She snapped the book shut to inspect the front and back covers. It would make a fine addition to her collection. 

Might as well. 

She exited the aisle for the till. If it didn’t prove useful, it could always be used as a coaster for her tea. Or given to Tristan; Tristan knew all sorts of muggle markets that sold old items for a vastly inflated price. One of the advantages of being a muggleborn, she supposed. 

The bookkeeper reentered from the backroom, carrying a small stack of books. “Four Galleons,” he said. “You want wrapping?”

The clink of coins hitting the counter. “Yes.” 

But… she knew that voice. Deep, deliberate. Always the hint of a sneer. She snapped her gaze up from the item in her hands. “Professor Snape?”

He was exactly as she remembered him. A tall, sharp frame draped in black robes buttoned up to his neck. Lank black hair lay limp against his pallid face, upon which a sharp brow was quickly rising. “Miss Clarke. What a surprise.”

“Yes. Yes, indeed.” As his critical gaze swept over her, Kate was suddenly very conscious of her flushed face, slightly oily with sweat. And Lord, her hair -- she hadn’t washed the dark brown mess in three days, too busy stressing over the new case. She instinctively raised a hand to sweep her hair over one shoulder. It was surprising, him having recognised her without her signature schoolgirl fringe. 

“It’s been six years, hasn’t it?” he said. 

It… had. Six years since she’d left the confines of Hogwarts. “Yes. Yes, indeed,” she said. 

The bookkeeper eyed them both with a twitching eye as he finished wrapping the books in brown paper and tied the package with a string of twine. 

Snape whisked his purchase off the counter. He gave her a curt nod and turned for the door. 

But -- he -- “How are the students?” she called. The least he could do was to finish their bloody conversation. 

He turned around. “Simply charming,” he sneered. 

“Wonderful.” He had never liked teaching, much less his students. Kate knew that. For four years, she had watched him stalk the dungeons. She’d watched him smirk in glee when a student answered a question wrong, watched him dock points by the bucketful when they made a racket in the halls. She, for some miraculous reason, had been on the receiving end of his withering stares only a handful of times. Owing to her Slytherin status, perhaps. Merlin knew she had never been a Potions Extraordinaire like Snape. 

Potions… Could she… 

“My cousin” -- she fished for something to say -- “my cousin is a first year student this year.”

“Your cousin.” 

“Ron Weasley.”

“Splendid.” His nostrils flared. “Another shabby Weasley to add to my excessive collection.”

She bit back a retort. They were a little shabby, and she admitted as much. But when Snape said it like that, sarcasm dripping from each word, it made her stomach twist. Regrettably, defending them would have to wait. For now, she needed Snape to tolerate her. 

Which, judging by the fleeting glance he cast toward the door, was going none too well. 

“Perhaps,” he tucked the package under his arm, “we shall meet again in another six years.” 

She smiled. “I doubt you’ll have to wait that long.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, I was wondering whether I might… consult your expertise.”

His brow arched up high on his pale forehead. “My expertise being…”

“Potions.” Kate made her way toward him, past the till and the bookkeeper. “You see, I’ve been assigned a case involving an unknown poison -- I’m an Auror -- and, well, unfortunately it seems that an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ N.E.W.T in Potions is not quite enough to find the antidote.”

“I can’t imagine it would be,” he said coldly. 

It was her turn to lift a brow. 

“Haven’t you contacted the St. Mungo’s Healers? They’re always eager to offer their services to the desperate.”

Kate forced a wry smile to her lips. “I have. A team has already begun to look into it. But, according to my father, we’ll all be dead in our graves before they find a cure.”

“And anything your father says must be true.”

Her smile was difficult to maintain. “He works at St. Mungo’s. Claims a horde of pixies could get it done faster. So, frankly, I am desperate. Two lives hinge-- ”

“So I’ve heard,” he interrupted. “I do read the Daily Prophet, Miss Clarke. ‘HIT Witch Janice Bulwark mysteriously discovered unconscious, admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries’, no?” He recited the headline. 

Kate averted her eyes, muttering under her breath. She thought Kingsley had managed to get the reporter to keep the whole thing under wraps. “Yes, that’s the one.” She glanced at the bookkeeper, who was still eyeing them grittily. She caught a strong whiff of tobacco and resisted the urge to scowl. “Listen,” she said, “it’s rather sensitive information I’m about to share with you-- ”

“I’d much rather you didn’t,” said Snape. “I have no intention of involving myself in Ministry matters, much less a murder investigation.”

“Yes, but we have never seen anything like this before, and I’ve already exhausted every other option. I’m doing research in a bloody bookshop, for Merlin’s sake.”

He smirked. “Then I hope you are still a swift reader.” 

Git. Kate lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Their stomachs are being decomposed from within, Professor.”

His ink black eyes studied her woody brown ones.  “I’m afraid I must disappoint you,” he said smoothly. “Term begins in a few short weeks, as you may well know, and I must prepare for the students.”

Prepare for the students? That was a load of dragon shit, and they both knew it. Snape’s gaze glinted, challenging her. 

So, this was how he wanted to play things. 

“Of course.” She smiled. “I understand.” She held up the thick encyclopedia in her hands. “Well, I had better go pay for this before the man suspects me of theft. Wonderful to see you again, really.” 

The slightest twitch of his brows was the only sign she had surprised him. Abruptly, he turned and departed the store, leaving a very amused Katherine Clarke to watch the door swing shut behind him. 

“You’re right about the stealin’,” the old bookkeeper grumbled. She caught another whiff of tobacco. “You going to buy it or not?”

“No,” said Kate firmly. “I don’t think I will.” She had too many books as it was. Besides, if she was right, she would soon possess a resource far more useful than a tatty reference book. 

***

In the end, Kate did purchase the book. She had a terrible soft spot for beautiful books that left an even more terrible dent in her Gringotts account. She strode a little ways toward the main street before she stopped, shifted her paper-wrapped package more securely under her arm, and turned on her heel. 

A swift pop, and she appeared once again in a back alley. Blaring honks and the rumble of traffic sounded from up ahead. 

Exiting onto Whitehall, she wove among the pedestrians until she came to a row of black spiky railings that flanked two flights of descending stairs labelled ‘LADIES’ and ‘GENTLEMEN’. She took the stairs to the right and quickly emerged into the underground public toilets. Dim lighting concealed most of the grime on the black and white tiles, and the mirrors that were supposed to have hung above the three sinks were respectively cracked, nonexistent and spattered with a brown substance that looked suspiciously like spit and chewed tobacco. 

Merlin, did everyone enjoy tobacco? 

Despite being the main entrance to the Ministry, the Whitehall public toilets were quite disgusting, and the only reason Kate could think why they wouldn’t perform a few simple cleaning charms on the place was that it kept Muggles at bay. In all the years she had used the toilets, she had only ever seen four, perhaps five Muggles wander in. They had been chased out by the unsavoury sight, or else quickly Confounded and sent back overground. Today was no different. Of the dozen or so people queued up by the stalls, all bore some sign of being a Ministry employee. 

Dawlish nodded at her from the next queue over. “Alright there, Clarke?” 

“Just popping in for a quick chat with Scrimgeour,” she returned. 

“Thought you were out on assignment.”

“I was.” She stepped forward in the queue. “Quite productive, actually. Lunch break?” she asked him. 

He nodded and patted his stomach beneath his beige suit. “Genevive came ‘round.”

“What about the baby?”

“Helen’s with Gen’s parents.” His wiry brown hair looked grey under the flickering fluorescent lights. “I’ve got a holiday next weekend, so they decided to come down for a fortnight.” 

“Excellent.”

Dawlish stepped into a stall. “It will be, as long as my mother-in-law quits smoking,” he called. “Terrible for Helen’s lungs, I told her.” There was a flushing noise and he was gone. 

Again, she thought. Again with the tobacco. 

It wasn’t long before Kate joined the throng of Ministry workers ambling toward the golden gates at the far end of the Atrium. The crowd was much thinner than the morning rush, however, and within minutes she was striding into the Auror Headquarters on Level Two. 

Dawlish had gotten there before her and was already settling in his cubicle, a small mountain of paperwork before him. He adjusted the framed picture lovingly placed in the corner of the cubicle -- a smiling brunette cradled a pig-tailed toddler, both perched atop a broomstick -- then set about dipping his quill in ink to begin the first page. 

“Oi, Clarke -- ” Gawain Robard twisted around in his chair, “ -- look at this.” He gestured at a chubby faced witch with cropped pink hair. 

The girl grinned cheekily and squeezed her eyes shut as Kate turned to watch. The enormous mane seemed to sprout out of her very neck; bushels of tawny hair laced with grey grew and grew until they framed the girl’s face like a lion’s mane. The girl brought her hands up to her eyes and formed two circles, like glasses, and set her lips into a deep frown. 

Kate snorted, then broke into a laugh as the girl growled in a spot-on imitation of the Head Auror. 

“Brilliant, eh?” Robard gazed at the girl proudly. One half of his face was gnarled with raised white scars. 

“Stunning,” she laughed. “Though I’m not sure Scrimgeour would appreciate the comedy.” She wracked her brain for the girl’s name… Tina… Tink… Tory, was it? 

The girl flushed and brought her hands down. The mane retreated. “Bloody terrifying, he is.”

“Who -- Scrimgeour?” Kate asked. 

She nodded, her hair turning to an apple red. “You know, I was getting myself some tea from the break room the other day -- adding my milk and sugar and everything -- and he appears next to me and he says -- ” the girl deepened her voice, imitating him, “ -- ‘Ought to use less milk. Have a mind to save the budget.’” She leaned against Robard’s desk. “I wasn’t quite sure what to say. He seems to hate me most out of all the A.T.s.”

Robard propped an arm on the back of his chair. “Well, there are only two of you. The man’s got to pick one, hasn’t he?”

Kate frowned. “Only two Trainees? I thought he hadn’t finished sorting through applications. Didn’t he have seventy some odd left?” 

“Dunno.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped black hair. “Anyway, I’ve got a pair of missing twins to find.” He spun back around in his seat. 

“Godspeed.” The Auror Trainee’s hair bloomed back to an offensive pink. 

Kate could distinctly remember meeting the girl not a week ago when the two A.T.s had first stepped foot in the Headquarters. After all, it was difficult to forget meeting a metamorphmagus, especially one with hair that rivaled the most garish of Valentine’s cards. But she could not, for the life of her, recall the girl’s name. 

“Can I get you anything, Ms Clarke?” the girl asked, stepping out of Robard’s cubicle. 

Kate had the sudden, fleeting image of a hook nosed, sharp faced man sneering at her over a cauldron. She hadn’t been addressed as ‘Miss Clarke’ for six years, and now… twice in one day. “Just Kate,” she said. “Er -- actually -- could you… ” She gave a small laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Tonks,” said the girl brightly, offering a hand to shake. 

Kate took it gratefully. “Welcome to the Auror Headquarters.” She smiled. “Where we discuss murders over tea.”

Tonks grinned, and her hair turned yellow. 

Merlin’s pants. The girl was like one of those Muggle mood rings. 

“Is Kingsley in?” Kate asked. 

“Don’t think so. I saw him dragged out by a group of Obliviators ‘bout an hour ago. A little irritated by the looks of it.”

Then he’d have to wait, she decided. Time was of the essence. She bid Tonks a quick goodbye and wove to her own cubicle to set her package down. 

Kate’s cubicle, directly across from Kingsley’s, was cluttered. Very cluttered. A pair of reading spectacles rested lens-side down atop various open books. An unopened Chocolate Frog sat beside a red case folder labelled ‘BULWARK/GOLDHORN’, from which various photographs and documents threatened to burst. A marked map of London’s warehouse district was pinned to her cubicle wall, and next to that a rather crude drawing of a gnome Ginny had recently gifted her. Kate bent to pick up the scraps of parchment that had fluttered to the floor, set adrift by colleagues sweeping past her desk. 

Someday she would find time to tidy everything up. Someday, when this whole decomposing stomach debacle was sorted. 

She made her way to the back corner of the room where the Head Auror’s Office was located. Kate knocked softly on the door. The blinds looking out toward the cubicles were drawn. 

“Enter,” grumbled a voice on the other side. 

Scrimgeour’s office was rather dark; grey storm clouds twisted and gathered in the windows behind his desk, pregnant with heavy rain. He scribbled a few last words on a lavender coloured memo before it folded itself into a neat paper aeroplane and zoomed out the door just as Kate closed it behind her. 

“Clarke.” Scrimgeour fixed her with a steadfast gaze, his mouth turned down in a deep frown. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles sat low on his ridged nose.  “What’s the matter? Something gone wrong with one of them victims?” 

“No, no,” she said. “Conditions unchanged, last I heard.”

“Comatose.”

She nodded. “Fortunately. Or they’d be in quite some pain.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“The St Mungo’s task force isn’t working fast enough to save them -- Bulwark and Goldhorn.” It was the truth, plain and simple. 

“Aren’t they?”

Kate approached his desk but did not sit down; she rested her hands on the back of the chair before the table. “It’s been made very clear that they’ve only got a list of three possible poisons. Three, sir. It’s been a week and a half. Therefore,” she steeled herself, “it is my hope that, with your permission, I may bring the Potions Master Severus Snape in as a consultant on this case and work on an antidote myself.”

“Severus Snape? What -- the Death Eater?” His tone was incredulous. 

“Former Death Eater, sir.”

Scrimgeour huffed a laugh, shaking his tawny head. His maned head looked too large for his rangy frame. When he saw that Kate’s expression was quite unchanged, he stilled. 

She took the chance. “He is a brilliant Potioneer. A specialist in his field. In fact, I believe his knowledge of poisons and antidotes surpasses even that of the task force’s.”

“With all due respect, Clarke, you can’t expect me to believe that you and Severus Snape can produce an antidote faster than the task force. They’re a group of highly skilled Healers. They’ve studied poisons for years.”

“And with all due respect to you, sir, you have never been taught by Severus Snape.” Her straight, stubborn brows drew together. 

He opened his mouth as if to say something, revealing small rows of snaggled teeth. He let out a suppressed sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if you weren’t sorted into Gryffindor instead.” 

She ignored the comment. Her feelings regarding her house were muddled, and it was much easier to ignore them instead. Besides, no use crying over spilt potions. “Please, sir. It can only help the investigation.”

“Your job is to catch the wizard, not to cure the patients.”

“And the antidote will help us to do just that. You know it will. The sooner we find the antidote, the sooner we catch the wizard.” Kate released the chair back and slid her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “If you require it, I can have a copy of his professional record owled to you, but that will take time. Precious time I’m afraid the victims don’t have.” 

Lie. She was quite sure she would not be able to obtain a copy of Snape’s record at all. The man certainly wouldn’t provide it willingly. 

Scrimgeour narrowed his yellowish eyes behind his spectacles. “And if, in the end, you find you’ve spent too much time mixing cocktails in the dungeons and the case goes cold -- what happens then? What happens when you find you’ve lost?”

“I won’t -- ”

“Shacklebolt is an excellent Auror, top of the line. But no wizard shy of Merlin himself could conduct interviews, formulate theories, inspect crime scenes, subdue the Prophet, investigate suspects and catch the perpetrator singlehandedly.” 

“But he won’t be, sir. I am in no way deserting him. I’m merely pursuing an alternate method of investigation in addition to the established method.” Kate took her hands out of her trouser pockets. She hastily swept her dark hair over one shoulder. “I’ve had a chat with Kingsley already. He agrees that it would be extremely helpful to have Snape on standby.” Her mouth dried slightly. She tried not to swallow. 

Scrimgeour pulled his frown deeper and inspected Kate for a few quiet  moments. Then his spectacles shifted as his ridged nose twitched in resignation. “Shall I inform him, or shall you?”

Warm satisfaction spread through her chest. “Oh, no, it had much better come from you.”

“Very well.” He pulled a blank sheet of parchment from behind his desk. 

“Thank you, sir.” Kate returned to the door and pulled it open. 

His rumbling voice called her back. “Remind me what grade you received on your Potions N.E.W.T.?”

This she couldn’t lie about. Scrimgeour had her records. “‘Exceeds Expectations’, sir.” 

Scrimegour’s busheled brows lowered. “I see.” The doubt in his tone was unmistakable. “I don’t need to remind you that two lives rest in your hands. However you decide to proceed with the case, whether through investigation or experimentation, will determine whether they and their families receive justice. If you fail, it will reflect poorly on our department.” His yellowish eyes blinked at her in the dim office. “Be careful, Katherine.”

She dipped her head. “Of course.” 

***

Kate had been right about Kingsley. Admittedly, he’d been rightfully irritated at her not having waited until after he’d got back to ask Scrimgeour, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d even gotten him to confess that having Snape on hand would be useful. At least he hadn’t given her one of his ‘honestly, Kate’ looks. The last time she had gotten one of those was three years ago when she’d still been his trainee. 

The keys jangled as she inserted one into the lock and opened the door to her flat. The bloody things were a nuisance, but living squarely in the middle of Westminster, it was a necessary sacrifice.

It was dark and quiet inside her flat. Street lamps outside cast a small pool of light by the window. Late night traffic grumbled past; Trafalgar Square never slept. Kate dropped her briefcase by the door and hung the keys on the coat stand. As she passed into the small kitchen, she dropped her linen jacket on the granite counter. 

She had already eaten dinner with Kingsley, working on the case while nibbling on Ministry canteen sandwiches. Four empty wrappers lay crumpled on the table before they had looked up and realised it was nearly ten. But the brain burned nearly twenty percent of one’s daily calories, which meant an extra supper for her after a long day’s work. 

And so it was that Kate rooted around the fridge, the white light casting an eerie glow on her pale face. She spooned down a bit of leftover curry from the Thai place down the street. A quick wave of her wand and the dishes were washed. She crept down the creaky hall to the bedroom. 

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, but all was dark inside. White noise rumbled in the chambers. Kate eased herself through the crack in the door, then shut it behind her. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before creeping to the dresser across from the large bed. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled the drawer out, inch by inch. The ancient wood squeaked, loud enough to be heard over the white noise. 

A groan from the rumpled sheets on the bed. “Kate?”

Damn. She gave up and yanked the drawer open the rest of the way. “Sorry to wake you,” she whispered. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“It’s fine. Just got back from work?” His American accent was slightly slurred with sleep. 

“Yes. Kingsley and I had some business to discuss.” She pulled her nightclothes from the drawer and pushed it shut again. 

Mark grunted. Kate could just make out his lean form struggling to sit up. 

She shushed him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right there.” 

“No, no, it’s okay, baby. I’ll wait up for you.” But he fell back against the pillows and tried to conceal a yawn. 

Kate shimmied out of her work clothes, carefully folding the white shirt and trousers and draping them on top of the dresser. 

“What was the business with Kingsley about?” 

“The new case.” She slipped into her nightshirt. “We brought in a new consultant today.” 

Mark hummed sleepily and dragged a hand up to scratch his beard. She climbed into bed next to him. 

“Come here,” he said. He opened his arms and waited until she settled in to continue. “Who’s the consultant?”

His chest was too high for her head; her neck scrunched uncomfortably when she laid against him. “My former Potions Master.” Kate shifted her arm under her shoulder, then changed her mind and wriggled it out. 

“The mean one or the fat one?”

“Mean one. I actually haven’t heard from the fat one in a while.” She grunted as she shifted positions. “But Tristan says he keeps getting letters from him.”

“Really?”

“Apparently Slughorn wants a special invitation to one of his concerts.”

His beard scratched the top of her head as he looked down at her. “You okay?” 

She removed her arm from under her shoulder for the third time and stilled. “Sorry.” 

“So, what’s the plan with him? Your Potions Master?”

“Not sure yet.” Well, she did have a general idea, but the specifics would ultimately come down to how difficult Snape was set on being.  “How was your day?”

“Good.” He rubbed her back, up and down. “Went to the Leaky Cauldron to get some writing done. Five thousand words and half a chapter finished.”

“Excellent. Has what’s-his-name found the killer yet?”

“Not yet. That’s in Chapter Thirteen.”

Kate laughed softly. “Thirteen, you say?”

“Yeah.” His fingers wove into her dark hair. 

For a few minutes they were silent, white noise thundering over the sound of their breathing and the traffic outside. His chest rose and fell; Kate’s neck cricked awkwardly. 

“I kept staring at our spot at the bar,” he said suddenly. “At the Leaky Cauldron.”

She thought he’d fallen back asleep. “Our spot?” 

“Remember -- the day we met? You were sitting on the third seat from the left end of the bar -- ”

“You remember which seat I was sitting in?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

Kate huffed in amusement. 

“You wore those robes -- I think they were blue, yeah, navy blue -- and you were reading that ratty copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“And the ring too. Don’t forget the wedding ring.”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “Didn’t stop me from asking you out, did it?”

“Not sure what that says about you, Mark.”

“But I knew it was a fake.”

“Did you now?”

He hummed. “I was people-watching that night. There was no way I would’ve missed something as obvious as that.”

“And yet,” Kate propped her chin on his chest to look up at him, “I distinctly remember you ordering two bottles of firewhiskey, throwing me the worst pickup line, and proceeding to get me exceedingly sloshed.”

“You weren’t that drunk,” he protested. “You were still sober enough to help me with my novel.”

“Well, we both know it only sold so well because of me.”

“Really?”

“Most definitely. The murder mystery wouldn’t’ve been half so believeable if I hadn’t mixed in a dash of first-hand experience.”

He chuckled. “Of course, baby. All because of you.” His arms tightened around her back. His voice was husky when he spoke again. “My life is perfect because of you. So, so perfect.”

She could almost feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She didn’t know how to respond. 

“Sleep, sleep, baby,” he murmured. “I love you.” He kissed the top of her head. “My soon-to-be wife.”

And suddenly the ring on her left hand felt cold as ice. She could think of nothing to say without sounding like a lovesick chit, so she settled for sliding an arm around his stomach. “Goodnight, Mark.” 

He merely hummed in contentment. 

It took less than five minutes for him to drift off again. Kate’s head rose and fell in time with his chest. A powerful snore escaped his mouth. Wrapped in rumbling white noise, she let her thoughts race. 

She’d been wrong before, when she’d thought Snape looked the same. Their exchange had lasted mere minutes, his words, tone, attitude all as she’d expected, but his posture, his body language… Taut, shallow breaths through the nose, fingers gripping his package so tightly they turned white… 

Of course, noticing such details was part of her training, but even without it, she would’ve recognised the signs for what they were -- silent, creeping fear. 

The fear of the unknown. The knowledge that something, at any time, could attack her from anywhere. Like stumbling down a pitch black corridor and feeling a hand latch onto her ankle. 

Merlin. 

Kate slid from the bed. For a moment, she teetered on the edge; she was being ridiculous and dramatic. Crawling back into bed was the right choice, the reasonable choice. Kate watched the sleeping man in the bed, his golden brown hair nearly black in the darkness, his beard freshly trimmed, his chest bare. Her left thumb reached for the ring around her finger. 

Perhaps a cup of tea would do her good. 

The warm beverage didn’t take long to make. Soon, she was cradling the mug in her hands, though not daring to drink for fear of burning her tongue. Waiting a few minutes would do the trick. 

Out in the sitting room, there was no white noise. A siren wined in the distance. Kate leaned against the window frame, looking out over Trafalgar Square. Despite the late hour, pedestrians still dotted the brightly lit square; some gathered around the colourful fountains, while others stopped to admire Nelson’s Column, an imposing Corinthian column upon which sat the Admiral of the same name. He hopped the twig ages ago, but his mark was long since made. 

Kate blew on her tea. The warm steam tickled her nose. Some marks, she knew, never faded. The sight of her former Head of House had only reminded her of the fact. 

Even now, bundled in her soft cotton nightshirt and her hair cascading around her shoulders, she could still feel his hand on her breast. Gripping. Pinching. 

Hyatt Travers. 

Her stomach turned over. She set her mug on the window sill. 

The Death Eaters swallowed Slytherin house like a riptide. She knew, because fighting the current had come with a steep price she’d paid in full. 

Her hands itched in restlessness. Kate picked up her mug again, scraping the rim with a nail. She looked at her knuckles. It was too easy to picture his blood and hers, drops flying from her fist as she’d drawn back to strike him again. The blinding frenzy. His spit in her face, a mouthful of saliva and blood from his broken teeth. 

The scars from that night were still there, faint but clearly visible between her knuckle ridges. 

Mark asked about them once. A rough encounter with an illegal dealer a couple years ago, she told him. He hadn’t suspected anything then, but since then… Her random bursts of resentment were impossible to overlook. 

From the window, Kate watched a couple amble across the Square, arm in arm. The woman turned her face up to his, and the man gave her a chaste kiss. Kate smiled, but it soon disappeared.

When her moods came -- as they inevitably would -- Mark would sit her down on their bed, poking and prodding with this tranquil voice. He was trying to avoid a row, but it was like a bloody piece of plastic wrap smothering her. She tried to contain herself, really, but her voice raised of its own accord, the tears came unbidden, the swell of anger unwelcome. And when he shushed her or pulled her to his chest, she just … she couldn’t. She didn’t want to be quiet. She didn’t need a hug. 

Kate took a large sip of her tea. The hot liquid prickled her tongue. 

Oh, Mark… He would never look at her the same way. 

That night -- her violence -- was a secret to keep. 

***

Loud beeping woke Kate in the morning. She felt better after a quick face wash, but last night’s sleeplessness lingered as she plodded into the kitchen. Mark was seated at the small square table, dressed in only a shirt and boxers. He sipped a mug, transfixed by the glowing picture box pushed against the corner counter. A blonde woman chattered on screen as images of rubble flashed behind her. 

Kate gazed at the box for a long moment; it was called a telephone, wasn’t it? Well, tele-something, that much she knew. “You’re up early,” she said. 

Mark glanced up. His brown gaze swept over her nightshirt clad form. A blush rose in her cheeks.  “I’m meeting Steven and Wilson for some ball at nine. Told you last week, remember?”

She did not. “Football?”

He pushed his floppy brown hair back from his eyes. “They’re muggles. Can’t play Quidditch.”

“Shame.” She spotted a covered plate on the table. “Oh, what’s this? Breakfast?”

“Toast and eggs. There’s coffee in the pot, if you want it.”

Kate pouted playfully. “No baked beans?”

He grimaced. “I will never understand you Brits.”

“No matter. I’m sure I’ll survive.” She gave him a quick peck and settled down to eat. Mark turned back to his tele-box, downing the rest of his coffee. 

She had just finished her toast when Mark interrupted. 

“Incoming.” He was looking out the window. 

With the way the table was pushed against the wall and window, Kate had to stand and move behind Mark to get a look outside. In the distance, above the narrow alley the window faced, two spots flapped toward them. 

“Two owls?” She settled back into her seat. “You know, we’re much too popular to be living in such a busy muggle area.”

“I’m the one paying the rent -- ”

“Just having you on, Mark,” she smiled. “The concealment charms’ll hold up.”

And though Mark’s gaze followed the sweeping path of the owls as they swooped into the alley, to the Muggle passerbys down below, they were nothing more than thin air. Mark pushed the window open. A beastly eagle owl fluttered in, followed by a rather plain barn owl. 

Tied onto the first owl’s leg was a bundled copy of the Daily Prophet. Kate reached over her eggs and untied the string. It took a few tries; several of her nails had broken during a nasty tumble in a duelling simulation a week ago. 

“It’s for you.” Mark slid the letter from the barn owl across to her. 

She hummed in acknowledgement, but opened the newspaper instead. She hoped Kingsley had taken care of the stray reporter. A quick scan of the paper confirmed her hopes: there was nothing about the case. In fact, the only interesting headline read, ‘GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION’, but she gave it no mind. That was Moody’s case. 

“Here.” She handed the Prophet to Mark, then took up the letter on the table. 

The letter was merely a small square of folded parchment sealed with flimsy black wax. Katherine Clarke was written in sharp lettering, as if the author had tried to stab through the paper as they wrote. She broke open the seal. There was no greeting, no signature, but she didn’t need them to know exactly who had sent the letter. 

She couldn’t help it; she snorted. 

Mark looked up at her. “What?”

Kate set the paper next to her plate. “Seems I’ll be visiting Hogwarts soon.”

For, written on the yellowed parchment in a cramped, spidery scrawl: 

Potions classroom. 25th August. 4pm. 

Without Rufus Scrimgeour, if you please.

~~~

Notes: Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. No promises on when the next update will be, but I’m working on it :)

~~~

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations

Part 26 here!<-

Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.

“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”

“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”

“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”

A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”

“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”

“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”

“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”

“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”

“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”

Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.

“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”

“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.

“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”

“Nick told you to do that!?”

“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”

The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”

Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”

Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”

“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.

“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”

“So talented!”

“Can you sing for my birthday!?”

All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.

As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.

“Hey soldier.”

“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”

“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”

“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”

“Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.

“Hold on…”

“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”

“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.

Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”

“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”

“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”

“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”

“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.

“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”

“I could call you that while you teach me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”

“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”

Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”

All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”

“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”

“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”

“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”

The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.

“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.

“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”

“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.

“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”

“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though…you look a little red? Are you sick?”

“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”

“Out back with Jaune.”

“Really?”

“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”

“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.

“Think I’ll get lost or something?”

“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”

“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”

With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”

Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”

“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”

“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”

xxxxx

In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”

“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.

“How’s your father?”

“Oh you know him, always up to something.”

Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”

“Heh, push myself? Me?”

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”

“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”

Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”

“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”

“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”

Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.

“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”

He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”

“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.

“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”

“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”

That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”

She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.

Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”

“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.

Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.

“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”

“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”

“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”

“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.

“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.

“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”

Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”

Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”

Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”

“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”

“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”

“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”

Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.

“Okay? I’m following you so far.”

“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”

Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!

“Ummm…”

“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”

“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”

“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”

“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.

“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”

“What’s next?”

“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”

Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.

“Woohoo!”

“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”

“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.

“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”

Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”

“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”

“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”

“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”

“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”

Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.

“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.

“And how do we manage that exactly?”

“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”

“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.

Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”

Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”

“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”

“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”

“You made a safety net for third”

“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”

The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”

“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”

“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”

“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”

“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”

He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”

“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”

He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.

“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”

Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.

Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”

“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”

“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”

“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”

Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?

[ohayohimawari]

30 Minutes to gift!! KAGUMO EDITION

I had too much fun creating a 30-minute-gift for an exchange in @sloaners server! Here is my giftee’s prompt list:

List three colors: purple, blue, pink List two household or outer space items: desk, mug List/Link one favorite mood song: Rocket Man (cover) by Ninja Sex Party  How about a favorite AU??? (‘Canon’ is also acceptable): im a normie,i genuinely love the coffee shop AU or anything wholesome Why you love/hate Zetsu in 5 words or less: how people see weed dealers A favorite character or two outside of KAGUMO: obito

The overall theme is: KAGUMO! The Moon Mom content we all adore

I hope you enjoy!

Obito set his messenger bag down on his desk and double-checked the contents to confirm that he had everything he needed. His passion for political science led him to volunteer to be a pollster, and today was the first day of his new extracurricular gig. He noticed a mug that he’d left there the night before and carried it to his kitchen sink with the intention of washing it, when he checked the clock and realized he had enough time to treat himself to coffee from a shop rather than brew it.

He stepped out into the first autumn chill and decided that he’d indulge in a hot white mocha pumpkin spice latte-his favorite fall drink, even if most didn’t understand why.

He breezed past the resident oddball that lurked around the corner from his neighborhood. Whether it was the shock of green hair on his head or the fact that half of his face was darkened by the shadows he kept to, he’d earned a reputation for being any number of unfortunate things, the best of which being a dealer. “Hey kid,” he rasped out, but Obito ignored him and quickened his pace.

Pumpkin spice madness had taken hold of more than himself that morning, and the crowded coffee shop proved it. Obito studied the people around him as he waited for his turn to order, and his gaze was drawn to a man that would stand out in any crowd, anywhere.

The man’s most prominent feature was his wild mane of silver hair, which was barely contained in a ponytail. Obito studied his face and thought the man appeared younger than his hair would lead one to believe, though he did notice lines around the man’s eyes that seemed to be caused by decades of laughter. Even now, amusement was plain on the man’s face, almost as if it was permanently fixed upon it.

However, that wasn’t what drew Obito’s attention to him.

The man wore an impossible combination of blue, purple, and pink shimmering attire. He wondered if the man couldn’t wait for Halloween, or if he was on his way to a very early costume party. Either way, Obito had never seen that many sequins all at once in his life.

Obito couldn’t tear his eyes from the man, not even after he was caught staring at him. He had to know what made this man tick and decided that he’d found his first subject for his political survey.

The sparkling man eagerly agreed to participate, and once Obito heard his name mispronounced loudly as the signal that his coffee was ready, they sat together at a table.

“Okay,” Obito began as he turned on his tablet, “these questions pertain to the upcoming primary election, and I thank you for your participation, Sir.”

“Call me Sakumo.”

“Uh, well, the survey is supposed to be anonymous.”

“Okay, then don’t,” Sakumo smiled.

Obito swallowed a snicker and asked the first question. “Are you registered to vote at the current address you reside at?”

“You betcha, that was one of the first things I did when I returned.”

Obito checked off the box that fit Sakumo’s answer and moved on to the next question. “How likely are you to vote in the upcoming elections?”

“Nothing will keep me from the polls,” Sakumo winked.

“Who did you vote for in the last election?” Obito continued, gaining confidence that he presented himself as an experienced pollster.

“Mondale.”

“M-Mondale? Walter Mondale, from the 1984 election?” Obito stuttered his surprise.

“I’ve been away for a while.”

“I see, well, welcome back,” Obito tried to pick up his jaw and his professionalism at the same time and carried on to the next question. “What do you look for in a candidate?”

“Their dedication to the space program,” was Sakumo’s prompt reply.

“Oh, you have a particular fascination with the universe?” Obito strayed from his script out of curiosity before he could stop himself.

“I miss my wife.”

Obito blinked while he processed Sakumo’s answer. “Okay, well, um, moving on,” he checked off ‘other’ as the answer that best fit on his survey. “How important is the issue of school funding to you?”

“Very important,” Sakumo nodded his earnestness, “I’m relying on the fact that schools here will help me to convince Kagu—oh, right, anonymous, I mean, my wife to bring our son here.”

“That’s an understandable reason,” Obito selected the appropriate answer from the list.

“I mean, Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids,” Sakumo elaborated.

Obito’s gaze shot up from his tablet and focused on Sakumo. “Mars,” he repeated, incredulous.

“It’s cold as hell.”

“I-I can imagine it would be.” Obito scanned the list of questions for the most harmless that remained so he could end their interview quickly, but politely. When his screen only offered options on sensitive subjects like national security, he decided to make one up. “I just have one final question, Sir,” he said as his mind raced through mundane topics that he considered safe, “what is your…occupation?”

Sakumo eyed him, and his smile suddenly turned serious. He assessed Obito a moment before asking, “This is anonymous?”

Obito nodded, already regretting his question.

Sakumo leaned across the table to answer in a hushed voice. “Ninja.”

Obito couldn’t hide his surprise if he tried and so he didn’t. He gaped at Sakumo as the other man stood up from the table and laughed at him. “What did you think I was, an accountant?”

“I admit, that wasn’t an answer I expected,” Obito tried to recover his composure and reached for his latte with one hand while he discreetly deleted the survey with the other. He silently wondered if the suspicious man with green hair was still lurking nearby, and if that survey would be any easier.

Sakumo laughed again and threw his empty coffee cup in the recycling bin. “I’m not the man they think I am at home,” he said as he gestured finger guns at Obito and exited the coffee shop.

[openheartchoices]

Five Times He Didn’t, One Time He Did (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Five Times He Didn’t, One Time He Did

Open Heart: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Olivia Summers)

Words: 4.3k

Summary: Five times that Ethan Ramsey didn’t kiss the girl and the one time he did.

A/N: I actually really loved writing this, and the idea has been in my head for a hot minute now. also this was written at like 3 am last night, so i haven’t edited yet. lots of love & happy reading!

**also, I don’t know if I’ve ever brought up a taglist, but I did (finally) start one, and it’s below. A few of you have asked to be tagged, so you’re below if you’ve asked! I started my tumblr about a month ago, and I am ready to start building onto my masterlist and taglist. Let me know if you want to be added now that I officially have one! **

aglist: @kaavyaethanramsey @nooruleman @missmiimiie @bellcat2010 @junehiratas @perriewinklenerdie @openheart12 @ethandaddyramsey

It was in the on-call room the first time.

Ethan found her bundled up, still in her scrubs and white coat, in a corner where she slept peacefully. The room was always cold, but it was even more so with the frigid winter weather outside. Olivia had been working a long shift that had truly exhausted her.

As he moved closer to her sleeping form, he realized he didn’t want to wake her up. He laughed lightly upon seeing her frizzy ponytail, strands of her blonde hair framing her sleeping face. Her mouth was slightly open, deep breaths coming out of it.

He felt guilty about waking her up, but he needed her for a case, and she hadn’t been answering her pager. Ethan knew why once he saw it laying on the table beside her. A nurse had informed him at the nurses’ station that she had seen Olivia go into the room, but she didn’t recall seeing her come back out.

He hesitantly started to reach down to wake her before moving his hand multiple times back and forth as he contemplated on if it was really necessary to wake her. Ethan bit his lip while trying to decide what to do.

Letting out a sigh, Ethan finally shook her gently, knowing she was going to have to get up eventually. “Olivia, hey. Wake up.”

She rolled over onto her back, her eyes still shut as she stretched. Sleepily, Olivia opened her eyes. Once realizing who had just woken her up, she darted straight up as rubbed her eyes frantically. “Hey, Dr. Ramsey! What do you need?”

“I needed to borrow you. We have a case I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Okay, sounds good,” she replied back, fake enthusiasm and pep in her voice in an attempt to act like she hadn’t just been in a deep sleep.

As she pulled her hair out of the mess it was in and threw it back up to look nicer, Ethan turned to her again. “I’ve been paging you.”

Her cheeks went red and her eyes opened wide. Olivia looked everywhere but at Ethan as she grabbed her pager that sat on the table. She sheepishly looked back up at him. “I must’ve really been out.”

“You lucked up that it wasn’t an emergency. You have to be more careful than that.” However, upon seeing the bags under her eyes, he sighed. “Just… try to get some sleep at home. Have you been sleeping?”

Olivia shrugged as she played with the sleeves of her white coat. “Somewhat.”

Ethan frowned. “Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“I have a lot going on. My head runs a million miles a night.” Was all she said.

Ethan had a feeling as to why she hadn’t been sleeping. He had an even bigger feeling that it most definitely involved his recent decision to erase everything they’d ever had. He could feel the guilt coming from a mile away.

“Well,” he cleared his throat as sat beside her, “if you, uh, ever need to talk, you know I’m here to listen.”

“I can’t talk about my problems to you when you are my problem,” she whispered softly, looking into his eyes for the first time since he had come into the room.

Ethan could feel all the air leaving his lungs as he made eye contact with Olivia. The distance between their hands was only a few centimeters as Ethan slowly moved it over, their pinky fingers barely touching.

They didn’t have to say anything. The small, weightless touch of their hands together and the look they gave each other said everything. It screamed the three unsaid words Olivia wanted to tell him, and it was a clear definition of Ethan’s longing for the blonde doctor beside him.

He noticed Olivia’s eyes darting down to his lips as he found himself doing the same thing. They both wanted it; that much was obvious. However, Ethan knew he couldn’t.

Ethan broke the gaze, awkwardly staring at the floor and quickly stood up. “We, um, need to go to my office to discuss the case.”

Without looking back at her, Ethan went out of the on-call room before he could do anything he considered stupid and reckless. On the journey back to his office, it took all he had in him to not kick himself for what he was doing to her.

—

They were in the parking lot of Donahue’s the second time.

Olivia was pacing back and forth like a maniac when he found her. She was completely oblivious to him as her eyes focused on her phone as she frantically dialed a number.

Ethan watched her for a moment. She was wringing her hands together, something she only did when she was nervous, as the phone sat wedged between her cheek and her shoulder. Whoever was on the phone finally answered.

“It’s about time you answered the phone!” Olivia exclaimed. “I’ve been a nervous wreck since I got your text. What’s wrong?”

Ethan didn’t want to eavesdrop, but he was curious who was on the phone. Could it be a boyfriend? Was it Dr. Trinh? Was it a family member? He really didn’t know.

Olivia suddenly gasped. “Really? I’m so happy for you! But I really freaked out at your text. It sounded like you were being kidnapped.”

Ethan listened further as Olivia kept talking. “Send me pictures. I can’t wait to see her! I’ll be in to visit as soon as I can get time off. Give her lots of hugs from me when she’s here. Love you, Octavia. You’ve got this!”

Olivia continued her conversation until she finally said her goodbyes. Before Ethan could move from the place he’d been standing and eavesdropping, Olivia turned around and caught him.

“Were you listening to me on the phone?”

Ethan sheepishly shrugged. “You sounded worried. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were wringing your hands which is something you only do when you’re nervous.”

Olivia laughed. “Well, since you’re being nosy, my sister is in labor with my niece. She sent me a very urgent text, and I got worried something was wrong.”

“She’s doing good?”

“Yes. She said she should be here soon,” Olivia said with a smile. “I can’t wait. Octavia is going to be an incredible mom. She’s younger than me, but she was always the mom of us all.”

They sat on the bench outside of the bar, the music echoing from inside. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”

Olivia grinned. “I have a brother and a sister. I’m the oldest, Octavia is in the middle, and Oliver is the youngest. We’re all extremely close. Mom and Dad… it’s complicated with them. We had each other growing up, and that was all we needed.”

Ethan wanted to press further about Olivia’s parents, but he decided not to. Judging from the tone of her voice when she brought them up, he knew that probably wasn’t a topic he needed to bring up.

They sat in silence for a few moment, neither one of them saying anything until Olivia spoke up. “I should get back inside. Sienna will send out a search party for me if I’m not back soon.”

Ethan didn’t want her to go. He could sit there all night, but he knew he should get going, too. However, he was going home to Jenner, not back inside the bar. “I should be getting home. I hope your sister has a safe delivery.”

Olivia threw Ethan a smile that lit up the dark around them. The lights from the streets illuminated her complexion, making Ethan even more crazy about her. “Thanks. Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Olivia.”

She lingered for a minute, giving Ethan time to back out of kissing her, before finally standing up and giving him one last smile before starting her way back inside.

He wanted to call out her name, tell her to come back, and express how he really felt, but he didn’t. Instead of kissing her, he was watching her open the doors to Donahue’s as she disappeared inside.

“You are an idiot,” he mumbled to himself.

—

The third time was in his office when Olivia had brought him a muffin at the end of her shift.

“Knock, knock,” Olivia had said when she entered the room.

Ethan looked up from his pile of paperwork to see Olivia looking… not like the usual Olivia.

Her blonde hair had been neatly curled. She wore a long-sleeved, flared out red dress that ended mid-thigh with a pair of wedges and matching red earrings to go along with the outfit. She clutched a red purse in her hand with a muffin in the other.

Ethan knew she must had just gotten ready because he knew for a fact that her hair had been in a low ponytail all day, she had worn her scrubs, and there hadn’t been an ounce of makeup on her last time he had seen her which had only been around two hours again on the fourth floor.

However, he wasn’t denying that she looked stunning.

“I brought you a muffin,” she said as Ethan looked up at her in confusion from his desk. She was awfully cheery.

“Thanks?” He questioned. “Not that I don’t appreciate the muffin, but why did you bring me a muffin, Rookie?”

“One of the oncology nurses, Sarah, made some last night for her son’s bake sale today at school. She brought the leftovers with her and was kind enough to give me two. I ate one. This is the other. I thought you might be a little hungry. I know you’ve been busy today,” she replied.

His heart warmed at Olivia making a point to bring him something to snack on. He had, indeed, been extremely busy. Ethan wasn’t starving, but he was secretly thankful for the blueberry muffin wrapped in a napkin that she sat on his desk.

“I’d love to stay and talk, but I’ve got to get going,” Olivia said. “I’m supposed to be at dinner at seven thirty.” She glanced down to check the time on her phone.

That got his attention.

“Dinner?”

Olivia stuttered. “Yeah. I, uh, have a date tonight.”

Ethan bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from saying anything. He couldn’t help but feel the jealousy running rampantly through him. That explained why she was so dressed up. “Have a nice time.”

If Ethan had been paying attention, he would’ve caught the way Olivia’s face dropped at his nonchalance. He would’ve seen how the whole muffin thing was just an act to come see him. He would’ve seen that she still cared, and she wanted him to care, too.

She rocked back and forth on her wedges. “I will. See you tomorrow?”

Olivia’s hand was on the door knob, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it because she wanted him to know that if he didn’t want her to go, she wouldn’t. If he didn’t want her to move on, then she wouldn’t. All he had to do was say the words.

However, all Ethan said as finally looked back up at her was, “See you tomorrow.”

He noticed how she hovered at the door. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to jump out of his seat and tell her how he felt, yet he couldn’t. Their relationship would cost them both too much.

Ethan couldn’t risk that.

So he let her go out the door as she stopped in the doorway, looking at him a final time. Ethan couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He was completely absorbed in the moment. He didn’t say anything as she finally nodded to herself and shut the door.

He had screwed up.

What he didn’t know was that as soon she got into the parking lot, Olivia called off the date because she, too, was feeling like she had screwed up.

—

It happened a fourth time when Grey’s Anatomy got to Olivia a little too much.

It was a Thursday on the night shift when Ethan was violently pulled into a supply closet by a certain blonde.

“Jesus Christ, Rookie! You can’t just drag people into closets whenever you feel like- what’s wrong?” He immediately asked upon catching a glimpse of her face.

Olivia wore a sad expression on her face. Her hair was up in a bun as she crossed her arms over her light blue scrubs. She was looking everywhere but at Ethan. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have kidnapped you into the closet.

Ethan frowned, trying to read into what was going on. “Did something happen?”

“No,” she mumbled. Then, although Ethan couldn’t quite hear her, Olivia mumbled a few more words.

“What? You’re going to have to speak up.”

She sighed, her face turning red. “I was watching Grey’s Anatomy last night, and there was a shooting episode. I… I sobbed for a good hour after it was over. I just- if something like that ever happens here, then just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

Ethan thought she was joking for a minute, but looking into her eyes and seeing the worry in them, he decided she must have been completely serious. “Of course I would stay safe, Liv. I wouldn’t do anything to-“

Ethan didn’t get to finish his sentence before Olivia pulled him into a big hug. He wrapped his arms around her just as tight. “It’s just a television show. Don’t let it scare you.”

“It’s just different when you’re an actual doctor, y’know? I know a lot of it isn’t like what we do every day, but still. It hits different when this is your life. We don’t ever think that today might be the last day we ever walk into Edenbrook. I just can’t help but to replay that in my head,” Olivia mumbled into his white coat as she gripped it. “I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you.”

She pulled back to look at him. Ethan noted she still didn’t look satisfied, so he continued to talk to her. “Don’t put those thoughts into your head. Yes, anything could happen, but we just have to live life as it is and not dwell on that.”

The two suddenly became aware of the close proximity to one another. They were so close that Ethan could spot the tiny freckles that darted along Olivia’s cheeks and nose. Both of their hearts were racing, each feeling dizzy from the other’s presence.

Ethan was so close this time to leaning down and closing the gap. It took everything in him to not give into her. It physically pained him to take back his arms and drop them by his side. It hurt him even more to see the disappointed look on Olivia’s face.

He cleared his throat. “You okay now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I should get back to my rounds.”

As Olivia left the supply closet, not looking back once, Ethan couldn’t help but feel like yanking his own hair out.

Once again, he had let his pride become bigger than his feelings.

—

It happened for the fifth time when he found Olivia splurging in vending machine food.

He found her in cafeteria off to the side where no one was sitting at three in the morning. Ethan had to do a double take when he first noticed the hunched over form that held a book in hand with a Hershey bar in the other.

“What exactly are you doing?” He asked her once he got to where she was sitting, eyeing the various snacks in her lap that she had obviously gotten from the vending machine.

She looked up from her book and patted the cushioned seat next to her. He, of course, sat down and looked over at her.

“Reading.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. Olivia always had a tendency to have sassy remarks. “No, what I meant was what are you doing at three in the morning with a bunch of sugary snacks and whatever that is you’re reading.”

Olivia flashed him the cover. “I’m reading The Selection series. I’m on the third book, and I just bought the series a week ago. The sugary snacks are to keep me awake so I don’t fall asleep before I finally finish my shift at seven.”

“What is The Selection?”

“Kind of like a royal version of The Bachelor, but Maxon is far better than any of the bachelors on that show,” Olivia answered, popping a chip into her mouth from the opened bag on the opposite seat of where Ethan was sitting. “America obviously belongs with Maxon. I don’t know why there was ever consideration about Aspen.”

“I have no idea who those people are.”

Olivia and Ethan sat on the uncomfortable chairs in the cafeteria for a good ten minutes as Olivia explained every aspect of the series. She went into depth on the characters, their traits, the storyline, and her own personal opinions.

Ethan found himself even more interested in Olivia as he watched her eyes light up as she discussed the book and ate chocolate. His heart fluttered even more when Olivia announced she had started the series in the first place because of a fourteen-year-old patient that loved it.

Olivia told him how the patient, Jade, was a cancer patient on the pediatrics floor whose favorite hobby was reading. This was her favorite series, and all she did when Olivia came in was talk about it, so Olivia bought the books and had fallen in love with it just like Jade.

She explained that Jade was terrified of the hospital, and she was even more terrified at the fact she had cancer. Olivia was reading the series so that she had something to talk to Jade about to take her mind off of everything going on.

That was the moment Ethan knew she wasn’t going to be great at her job one day like he always thought because she was already an incredible doctor.

“That’s… really good of you, Olivia,” Ethan softly said.

She smiled. “If I can take her mind off the bad stuff for just a minute, it’s worth reading this entire series.”

Ethan noticed a smudge of chocolate stuck to the corner of her mouth. Silently, he cupped his hand around her cheek, his thumb coming down to slowly wipe away the tiny bit of chocolate.

“Sorry. You had chocolate on your mouth,” he mumbled.

Ethan didn’t remove his hand. Instead, it continued to rest on her cheek. Olivia didn’t bother to remove it, the open book still sitting in her lap. He could hear her nervously gulp from where he was at.

She had slowly moved closer on instinct, her hand coming up to rest against his that was on her cheek. They were close again, much like many other times that they both recalled. However, unlike the other times, Ethan was about to give in this time.

He didn’t get the chance to when his pager went off, startling both of the doctors. Ethan didn’t say anything as he stood up, removing his hand from her cheek. He gave her one last look before walking out of the cafeteria on his way to a whole other floor.

He knew it would only be a matter of time before he finally did give in to the blonde doctor that read her patients’ favorite books.

And Ethan wanted to give in.

—

The one time he did give in was when Olivia brought a fruit tray to his apartment.

A thump on his apartment door interrupted Ethan late at night. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, prying them away from his laptop where he was doing research work before he went to the door only to see Olivia standing outside.

He looked at her to see her standing in black, lint-covered leggings, a large sweater, and a whole fruit tray in her hand. Her blonde hair was braided, probably by Sienna, into a side braid that very much suited her.

“What are you doing at my apartment in the middle of the night with a fruit tray?” He questioned her.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you if you’ll let me in. It’s November, Ethan. I’m freezing out here.”

He opened the door wider and motioned for her to come in. She took off her shoes at the door before turning to Ethan. “Do you want to share this fruit tray with me?”

Ethan looked at her incredulously. “Olivia, it’s two in the morning. What are you doing with a fruit tray?”

Olivia shrugged. “it’s been sitting in our refrigerator at the apartment, and no one will eat it. I didn’t want it to go to waste, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to share it with me. I don’t like pineapple, and I’m just not crazy about watermelon, so you’re welcome to eat all of those sections. We have to share the grapes, strawberries, and blueberries.”

“Did it occur to you that I might have been asleep?”

“No because you’ve been working on some research. I had a feeling you’d be up working, and I was right.” Olivia sat on the couch, motioning Ethan to come sit next to her.

Jenner sat beside of Olivia, happy to see her to which she sat the fruit tray down on the coffee table in front of her to scratch behind Jenner’s ears and tell him what a “good boy” he was.

Ethan liked the sight in front of him. Olivia on his couch in the middle of the night with Jenner. The fruit tray was something that he hadn’t seen coming, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy her company no matter how many headaches she gave him sometimes.

“So,” Ethan drawled as Olivia held the fruit tray out to him. He grabbed a piece of pineapple and took a bite out of it. “How did your sister do when she had the baby.”

Olivia grinned. “She said she did good, and it didn’t hurt as bad as she thought it would. I’d show you pictures, but I left my phone back at the apartment. She’s precious. I can’t wait to meet her when I go home for Thanksgiving in two weeks.”

Ethan popped a grape into his mouth at the same time as Olivia bit into a strawberry. “That’s good to hear. How did your date go that night? I never got to ask.”

Olivia hesitated to answer, and Ethan clearly noticed her hesitation. He couldn’t help but worry that maybe it had gone great, and Olivia was about to tell him she had met the person she thought she was going to marry or something else extreme.

“I didn’t go,” she admitted, plucking at the strawberry she held in her hand, suddenly becoming very interested in it. “I, uh, called him when I got in the parking lot and told him I didn’t think a date was a good idea.”

“Why did you do that?” Ethan asked even though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“Because he’s a doctor, but he’s not the doctor I want. He’s not the one that lets me into his apartment in the middle of the night with a fruit tray in my hand because I wanted an excuse just to come talk to him. He isn’t the one that listens me to talk about books when I’m on a sugar rush. He isn’t the one who always reassures me.”

Olivia paused for a moment before she said, “He’s a nice guy, but he just isn’t you.”

She took the last bite of her strawberry to try and ease some of the tension. Ethan noticed her eyes looking everywhere except for at him.

With no warning, his hand came around to the back of her neck, pulling her in to finally close the distance in the way he had wanted to for weeks now. Ethan didn’t allow himself to talk him out of doing it. This was Olivia, and she was worth everything.

He could taste the strawberries on her breath as he moved his lips against her, capturing everything Ethan had wanted to tell her for so long. The kiss screamed that he was wrong. The kiss conveyed the message that he wanted her.

Olivia pulled back and smiled. “You taste like grapes.”

Ethan laughed. “You taste like strawberries.”

She suddenly got serious as she intertwined their hands. “What are we doing? Because I don’t want to play games, Ethan. I’m telling you that I want you, but I need you to be upfront with me.”

“I want you, too.”

This time, Olivia pulled him into the kiss, mustering up every ounce of love she held for him and pouring it into the kiss. Ethan reciprocated, letting his worrying mind finally leave him alone for once.

For the first time in weeks, Ethan hadn’t felt like he screwed up.

[udunie]

Okay, you guys, here’s the part of the Gerard fic that I love (it goes on to a sex scene that I don’t like, cause it doesn’t seem to fit the tone of this part)

Warning for: prostitution, drug abuse, addiction, generally heavy themes

Also, this is basically not edited or betaed at this point, I just want to pick your brains about how to go on with this, cause I feel like ‘monster cock and fake tits’ isn’t the way to go... Please let me know what you think :D

ETA: wow love it when tumblr fucks shit up, anyway, fixed now lol

***

Stiles was just a month or two over eighteen when his dad died. He didn’t like to think about it. Or all the things that happened after. It was like whatever self control he ever had was buried with his dad, leaving him destined to make one bad decision after the other.

Stiles just wanted to forget. Preferably everything; not going to college, not being able to pay his dad’s medical bills, being forced to sell the house, living in his jeep and turning tricks on occasion to survive… He just wanted to escape it all.

First there was the drinking and the weed, and when those were not enough anymore to get him through the day, he tried other things… ecstasy, cocaine, whatever. With his ADHD, drugs didn’t always work as they were supposed to. Sometimes a little too well, sometimes not at all, or in ways he didn’t enjoy. Nothing really stuck.

It was exactly on his nineteenth birthday when he met Kate. 

“Want to try something new?” she asked, slithering up to him in the club. Stiles saw her around before, he knew she was selling something, though never really checked to see what. Lately he didn’t have the cash to get anything serious. “You look like you could use a little pick-me-up. You’re cute, so I’ll let you have one on the house.”

Stiles was a bit drunk and a bit high and very stupid.

“Wha’s it?” he asked, voice slurring a bit. 

“Silver Bullet,” she said, holding up a pill. It reflected the strobe lights weirdly. “It will shoot all your troubles dead, baby. That’s a guarantee.”

Stiles popped it into his mouth without hesitation, chasing the bitter taste down with the vodka tonic he managed to flirt out of someone.

And the rest was history.

***

Silver Bullet wasn’t like anything he ever tried before. For one, it worked; getting him high and happy and horny every fucking time. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t tired or cold or lonely when he took it. Everything was fun and easy and sexy. It felt like being in love with every single person around him. 

At first, it was easy. Almost too easy. He took a pill and felt like he wanted to make love to the world. He picked up a few johns, had sex that felt way better than it had any right to be and by the time he crashed, he had the money for the next few pills. 

Even when he was sleeping, he dreamed about them, about having a whole palmful of those pretty, white pills. Even in his dreams, he could see the tiny, metallic looking particles in them. When he asked about it, Kate said that was the magic and he believed her. Stiles couldn’t imagine going for a day without.

Then Kate raised the price. Then she raised it again. And again. ‘Welcome to the free market, where demand sets the price’ she told him, laughing. He tried to look around for another dealer, but nobody was selling Silver Bullet, they all told him to fuck off if he even just asked about it.

It only took a month for him to start begging her. He sold the jeep, he sold his parents’ wedding rings, he had nothing more to give.

“I will do anything, Kate, please,” Stiles told her. The music was too loud in the club, and the lights too blinding and the shadows too deep. For a second, he thought about just… taking the little tin box of pills he knew she had on her with force, but it was a struggle to even hold himself upright. He was always so tired when he went too long without it.

She leaned back against the wall. Stiles wondered if her smile was always that cruel.

“Hm… Anything?”

“Anything, whatever you want, I will do it,” he said, the words rushing out of him. 

“Tell me I’m beautiful,” she said, fluttering her lashes. 

Stiles remembered seeing her through the haze of the drug. She’d looked like an ethereal being, like an honest-to-god angel.

“You… you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, I’ve never se-”

“Am I prettier than your mommy was?” she cut in.

She was standing so close, Stiles could almost taste the pill burning his tongue.

“Yes. Yes, you are, so much prettier,” he croaked, mouth dry.

She laughed, loud and harsh.

“Unfortunately, baby, flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said. Stiles wanted to cry. “This is a family business, you know? What sort of a girl would cut her father’s profits?”

Stiles felt shaky and like he was about to throw up. He must have looked miserable, because Kate gave him a long, calculating look.

“But you know what? I can take you to meet him. Maybe you can dazzle him with your… talents.”

Kate was really the most beautiful woman in the world.

***

He was shaking during the whole car ride. He hadn’t had a high in three days, and he felt like he was about to die. Kate made him lie down, his head on her lap, and she stroked his hair, nails too sharp as they scratched against his scalp. The man driving the car - her brother, Stiles thought - gave him a few disgusted looks in the rearview mirror, but Stiles couldn’t care less.

He was going to meet Kate’s dad and fuck him and get high and everything would be fine.

Kate’s father lived in a huge house surrounded by a park and iron gates. It was like something out of a movie, but he was way too anxious to really appretiate it even as Kate led him inside. There was a double staircase in the entrance hall, and Stiles was told to wait there.

The place was big enough that he thought there should be an army of servants around, but everything was strangely silent. Stiles tried not to stare too much. All he could think about was getting his pills. Or maybe stealing something and pawning it off so he could get cash. But… Kate probably wouldn’t sell to him if he did that, right? It was hard to think with his whole body numb with need.

He spaced out instead, staring into mid distance, imagining how good it will be to get his pill and feel alive again. Stiles had no idea how long he just stood there until he finally heard Kate calling him from the top of the stairs. She sounded annoyed.

“Get your ass up here,” she bit out when she finally had his attention. “You don’t want to get him in a bad mood.”

Stiles didn’t. He ran up to her, not daring to touch the polished railing.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, but she already turned her back, leading him to a set of tall double-doors. 

“Daddy,” she said, pushing them open. She sounded very different than when she was talking to Stiles. “Here he is.”

Kate’s father was an old, old man with short, white hair and a stern face that had Stiles shifting from foot to foot with nerves. He was lounging on a sofa in pajamas and a brocade house coat. His eyes were cold enough to make him shiver where he stood.

“Stiles, this is my father, Gerard. Daddy, this is the boy I’ve told you so much about.”

Stiles doubted that random junkies were a regular topic at the family dinner, but he didn’t say anything. He had a goal in mind, and Gerard didn’t look like he enjoyed people mouthing off.

The old man looked him over, like he was a piece of gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

“Strip.”

Stiles swallowed, glancing quickly at Kate. She nodded her head at him, smiling in a way that made him second guess himself.

“Go on, baby, try to make a good impression.”

Stiles licked his lips, and got to it. He felt stupid and weird with her watching him undress for her father. Without the warmth of drugs in him, he was acutely aware of how boney and pale and… ugly he was.

When he was finished, he just stood there, eyes glued to a spot over Gerard’s shoulder, wanting to cover himself but knowing that he shouldn’t. 

“Don’t you like him, daddy?” Kate asked, sounding like she was pouting, but Stiles didn’t dare look at her again.

“I would have preferred a girl. You know that,” Gerard said. Stiles would have pissed himself if that much disdain was directed at him, but Kate just laughed, her voice sweet and light.

“But I don’t want to have a little sister or brother,” she said, teasing. “Chris is enough of a headache.”

Gerard barked out a laugh, sitting up straight.

“Damned right he is. Fine.” He picked up a shiny, darkwood box from the side table, opening it in his lap. It was lined with dark green velvet and there was an injection needle in it. It looked like it was antique, with little rings at the end of the crossbars. Beside it was a corked vial, filled with something that glittered like mercury, though lighter in color.

“Come here and get on your knees,” Gerard told him, not even glancing at Stiles. He clearly expected to be obeyed.

“I… What… what is that?” Stiles asked, watching him stab the needle through the cork and pulling some of the liquid into the syringe.

Gerard looked at him.

Stiles made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

Suddenly Kate was behind him, her breasts pressing into his naked back. 

“That’s the good stuff, baby. That’s the real Silver Bullet right there, the same one you love so much, just a thousand times better,” she whispered in his ear. “And if you want it, you better be a good boy.”

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off the syringe. Just the mention of the drug made all his cravings rush back tenfold. He wanted it. He wanted to feel it so bad.

He dropped on his knees in front of Gerard without any more hesitation. He didn’t like needles, and he didn’t like him, but he wanted… He needed the high.

Stiles didn’t expect to be backhanded hard enough to make his ears start ringing. There was a dizzying moment when he forgot where he was or why. Gerard grabbed his jaw, his fingers biting into him.

“When I give an order, I expect you to follow, is that understood?” he asked, sneering into his face from up close. 

Stiles whined. His right cheek was burning. It would probably bruise… But it wasn’t even close to being the worst thing he ever got just to get high.

The man stared into his eyes for a long moment, maybe waiting for him to put up a fight, but all Stiles wanted was the Silver Bullet. 

“Good,” he said finally, patting his face where it hurt. “Open your mouth.”

Stiles did.

Gerard trapped his tongue between his knuckles and pulled it outward and to the side. His fingers tasted salty and a bit bitter.

“This way, it will get right to your head,” he commented, Stiles closed his eyes as he saw the syringe getting closer. He just wanted to be alive again. “Don’t move.”

Gerard injected him at the base of his tongue. There was a sharp bite of pain that made him suck in a breath. He could feel his mouth flood with saliva.

And then…

Stiles remembered how happy he was back when he was just a kid and his mom bought him exploding candy. It was sweet and sour and like he had a little firework going off in his mouth. This was like that, but he could feel it in his head, his skull was filled with exploding candy, popping and popping and throwing sparks of flavors and colors and shapes and smells in every direction, every nerve in his body sizzling and popping and popping… The world was suddenly and inexplicably beautiful. 

Everything was so pretty and bright and pleasurable that it almost hurt. 

He could feel his hips pumping into the air, body convulsing like it was caught in an orgasm that just didn’t want to end. There were still fingers in his mouth and he moaned, licking and sucking at them eagerly. He felt like he was a flame, radiating pleasure and everything around him reflected it back, just amplifying it even more until he was drowning in light.

***

“What a nasty little slut,” Gerard said, letting the boy kneeling in front of him suckle on his fingers, slurping around his knuckles like he was trying to give the blowjob of his life. His eyes were glazed over and he was twitching almost alarmingly. “It’s been… what? Forty seconds? And he already came twice.”

Kate laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Gerard did, but he didn’t want Kate to know. The girl had to learn to do better, even if she managed to do an adequate job with this one.

“Should have been a girl,” Gerard reminded her, pushing his fingers in as deep as they could go, nudging the boy’s tonsils. He didn’t gag, but his eyes did roll back. Ah, and he was coming. Again. “But I will take it.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 02

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, light angst

; Word Count: 14.1k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: I hope you enjoy :3 it’s been a joy to write him! Please reblog if you enjoyed to increase visibility and comment/send me asks with what you thought. Peppermint Hobi has been possibly the sweetest character I’ve ever written and I hope you all enjoy him too. Also, the links are still broken so you’ll need to go to my masterlist :)

01 ; 02

-

“Hey, I need you and Hoseok to go over the videos for the next week please? And also review your video so far. Let me know if everything else looks good to go and we’ll get everything scheduled for upload. You good with that?” Seokjin asks as he hands you a file full of the printed scripts and outlines of each video that was planned for this week across all the channels.

You’d question why you were being given it, but he’d begun to lean on you heavily in terms of the video uploading schedule for YouTube recently. Probably because you liked to run the film video ship tightly and whipped Taehyung’s lazy ass into shape more than a few times along with also calling out other departments for running behind schedule.

It had meant that you’d just de facto become the YouTube lead over the last few months. Something you hadn’t expected, but also not something you were going to complain about. It did let you spent more time with Hoseok after all, and you hardly needed an excuse to want that.

You liked to think that he enjoyed the time you spent together too, as he never complained about being pulled into random meetings with you or being given more work to do. Nor did he tell you to get lost when you wheeled your chair around to look at his screen to see what he was doing.

Not that he actually did that to anyone else either, but he seemed to enjoy your company more. At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself. Maybe you’re projecting, who knows?

Hoseok is currently away from his desk though and so once Seokjin departs, you leave a Post-it note on his computer screen before telling Jimin to let Hoseok know where to come in case he doesn’t see it. He nods slowly with no sarcastic comment for once, letting his glasses slip down his nose before he’s chewing on his lip once more as he focuses back on his own screen.

You take the file into an open meeting room and close the door, sitting down in the silent room and spreading everything out in front of you. A Pusheen notebook sits open on the table as you start to make a couple of quick notes from the information you read in the file. There’s three gaming along with one television themed video to go up this week. And then the film video that you’d filmed the voiceover with Yoongi last week.

The door opening quietly distracts you, causing you turn immediately and smile at the sight of Hoseok. He’s got a Breakfast Club shirt on today and some plain jeans, looking just as casual as he always does. It suits him though, and you eye the MacBook he’s keeping close to his body while holding a cup of peppermint tea in his other hand.

When he sits down, his eyes scan the desk and he frowns before pointing. “D-do you want me to get you a d-drink too?”

You shake your head and tell him it’s okay as he sets everything up, angling the MacBook in between you both so that you can watch the videos he and his team have created over the last week. Hoseok is hands down one of the busiest people in the office, and yet you never see him complain about the workload he’s given.

That’s probably a combination of him not being willing to complain but also the fact that he genuinely enjoys his job. And it shows, with the tender love and care that he puts into every video, no matter how dumb the topic is.

It takes a good hour to run through everything he’s fully completed already until you’re finally happy with all the videos and sign them off. You know that Hoseok will let Seokjin know now, who will in turn upload them all onto YouTube with the relevant tags and whatever else he does with them before they’re released into the wild.

The only thing left to do is look over what he’s done of your own video so far. This isn’t actually supposed to be going out till the very end of the week, so he has a little bit more leeway with it. But you’re surprised with just how much he’s done already, and as per usual it’s top calibre work.

And you’re not just saying that because you have a crush on the man, but because he’s genuinely very good at his job.

Watching him carefully, you take note without even meaning to of the way his delicate fingers glide across the keyboard of his MacBook with ease. The tiniest frown lines mar his smooth forehead and you have the strongest urge to reach over and gently move some of his hair out of eyes.

It’s looking particularly soft today, and your fingers itch to see whether it feels as you think it does. The strands are actually very straight today, with his hair parted almost exactly in the middle and it’s almost fluffy in how much volume it has, causing you to sigh quietly as you let your chin rest in your hand.

The deep brown of his eyes are focused firmly on his laptop, a sheen of light from his screen distorting them slightly behind his lenses and your lips tilt into the smallest smile. You’ve noticed over the last nine months that when he starts to work, he gets lost in it for hours.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even remember to take his lunch and you either have to Skype him to remind him or go get whatever lunch he’s brought in and give it to him. Or you buy him something at the deli nearby when you go when Jimin or Taehyung.

He likes a prosciutto, turkey and salami salad with mayo on wholemeal bread. It had taken a few different sandwiches before you discovered the one that made his cheeks round and his dimples appear while his eyes creased in food related happiness.

“Okay, so...I had to get a bit creative here because I couldn’t find any artwork that wasn’t copyrighted. So, there’s a little bit of the trailer in here along with the small snippets that I could find of actual footage.” Hoseok slides the MacBook towards you and gives you an expectant look as he presses the play button.

You pull your gaze from him to focus back on the screen, on your job, and watch the video as the sound of your voice flows out of the tiny speakers. He’s done a good job with this video, and given it’s only a list video then you’d only needed to record a simple voiceover for it.

There’s no music yet, but you know that Yoongi is working on that currently and there’s a few scenes that are obviously missing graphics that Jungkook’s team hasn’t finished. But it looks pretty good and the editing is slick as usual.

Grinning brightly at him, you smile and push the laptop back to him. “Great as always Hoseok.” You praise him firmly, voice light and high as the apples of his cheeks immediately turn a pretty rose gold. Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you watch as his eyes flick to you repeatedly before looking back at the screen.

He goes to take his laptop back and you suddenly decide to make a move, hoping that you’re doing the right thing. Your own hand lays over the top of his, the pads of your fingertips feeling the smooth, soft skin of his hand. Without even meaning to, you find yourself tracing over a prominent tendon there and Hoseok’s breath hitches immediately.

“You’re really good at this, you know that? I hope Seokjin and Namjoon tell you that, because you really are.” Hoseok doesn’t respond to your words, instead his eyes are focused on your hand behind his lenses. The slightest glimpse of a pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips has you biting your own before he slowly pulls his hand out from under yours and closes the lid of his laptop.

“Thanks. They do, b-b-but I’ll tell them y-y-you said so.” He’s stuttering again suddenly and you practically see the way he’s tensed and is breathing harder already. Frowning deeply, you take your hand back and clench it into a fist on your thigh before clearing your throat.

“I’m sorry, I just...am I reading these signals wrong? Because I think you like me but...I don’t know. I can’t tell.” You blurt out honestly, confusion evident in every tone of each word that falls from your lips and you cringe slightly. Honestly, you feel like a teenager again and it’s not fun.

Hoseok’s head dips even lower until you can barely see his face, though you do see the way his throat works as he swallows thickly. For a moment, there’s nothing but awkward silence between you both and your heart beats rapidly as cold panic begins to move through your veins sluggishly.

You had a really, really bad feeling that you’d completely misread the entire scene.

“S-s-signals? I-I-I didn’t k-know that I was g-giving any. I-I’m sorry if y-you thought that. I just…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, his voice cracking and quivering as he stumbles his way through his words but that’s nothing compared to the mortifying heat you feel running through you. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean...I’m sorry.”

The distress on his face makes your heart clench, despite how tumultuous your emotions are right now and you feel compelled to put him at ease.

Reaching forward, you take his hand and simply encase it in both of your own. Shaking it slightly, you give him a bright smile that completely covers up the hurt and embarrassment you feel and let your fingers stroke over his skin comfortingly.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I obviously got it wrong. It’s fine, honestly. Just...forget I said anything. I’m really sorry. That put you in an uncomfortable position and I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought more and you’re fine to say what you did. I won’t mention it again.” You’re babbling a little at him, probably to try and cover your bruised pride but despite that, you can’t stand to see the discomfort in him.

You should have just let him say something if he felt anything. Instead, you’d tried to hurry the situation along by being bold and while it normally worked, you’d forgotten for a moment that Hoseok was not like the other men you had dated before. Those guys would have loved you being bold like that, but it quite evidently sent Hoseok crawling back into shell.

Sighing heavily, you let your head drop as you pat his hand before lowering it back to the table and gathering your notebook and pen. “I’m sorry, again. Really. I hope you’re okay.”

He says nothing for a moment, staring hard at the closed shell of his MacBook with a clenched jaw and an oddly intense look. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed at you, or maybe annoyed at himself but he suddenly shakes his head in turn and looks at you.

“I’m okay. Honestly. Y-you don’t have to apologise anymore. It’s fine.” Hoseok’s voice sounds stronger as he gives you a tight lipped smile. Watching him carefully, you keep an eye on him as you rise from your seat and head over to the door.

He’s silent as you go, only nodding at you once as you leave with a careful expression. Outside the door, you lean against the wall for a second once out of sight of anyone else and let your head drop back against it, a deep sigh of regret leaving you.

You’d really thought you’d read the signs right and that he liked you in the same way you liked him. But apparently you were wrong, completely wrong. He was very quiet and introverted after all, maybe what you thought were signs of romantic interest were signs of just friendship instead.

It doesn’t stop the squeeze of pain around your heart as you swallow the rejection you’d just received. How humiliating; and with someone you work with too. If you knew Hoseok like you thought you did, then he would likely pretend this never happened. Which meant that you would have to as well.

But your hesitant and exploratory flirtations with him were going to have to end for definite. From now on, your interactions were going to have to be just purely as a friend with Hoseok. As painful and numbing as that is to your heart, it’s what you’ll just have to accept

While you’re coming to your own conclusions outside  about how to interact with Hoseok in the future, Hoseok himself was still sat in the meeting room staring at the wall with a carefully blank face. Until it suddenly falls and he whisper shouts out a curse before clenching his fists in anger at himself, letting his head fall forward in despair.

-

It’s perhaps an understatement to say that the atmosphere between Hoseok and you is tense in the next few weeks. You keep him at arm’s length in the office, including him in conversations like you always had but the little inside jokes between you both had vanished, along with the exchanging of food and drink.

The rest of the office certainly notices the sudden cooling of your budding friendship with Hoseok and reacts in confusion, though silently thankfully. You rebuff Jimin and Taehyung’s questions, and you try to ignore the sad looks Hoseok gives you from time to time.

It was your last intention to make things uncomfortable between you both, but you were being a little selfish and nursing a bruised heart right now. There had already been copious amounts of Cookie Dough ice cream eaten as you’d tried to deny your feelings had been anything more than the flutter of something new to Sunmi.

She would have probably believed you if you weren’t trying to create a whole new salty version of the famous ice cream with your tears. In fact, you were kind of surprised at the depth of how hard you’d fallen for your timid colleague.

Which was why it hurt all the more to have to look him in the eye every day and know damn well that he likely knows you obviously felt something for him. Otherwise, why would you have reacted with such embarrassment and humiliation if you hadn’t?

But above it all, you felt an overriding sense of shame that you were pushing Hoseok away when you’d tried so hard to pull him in. He must be so confused as to why you carefully avoided social situations with him except for when work demanded it.

You just needed a little bit of time. Most people got to recover from a rejection like that in peace and quiet, far away from the object of their desires. But you had to work with him every day, so close that shifting your chair to the side slightly would let you see his beautiful visage that made your chest tighten.

Dammit! Damn everything to hell.

Taehyung must see the way that you clench your fist in frustration at your desk, jaw tightening as you let out a strained breath between gritted teeth. Before you even realise it, he’s rolling over to bump against your desk lightly, causing your monitor to rock as you let out a noise of alarm as you steady it.

Looking over at him, you take in the black colour of his newly dyed hair with vague interest before meeting his mahogany eyes with a raised brow. “Yes?”

He snorts before rolling his eyes and reaching over, lightly pushing at your arm in response to your snide comment. “Calm down Snape. I’m just going to ask what you’re working on right now as it sure doesn’t look like the review you said were going to do.”

Eyes flickering back at your screen, you sigh deeply as you lazily re-read over a few details of the new work you’d started. “I finished that and already submitted it to Seokjin. This is just a video idea I had for the top animated films in recent years.”

Taehyung makes a soft noise of interest before spinning around until he’s shuffling his legs under your desk with yours, eyes scanning the screen as he reads over what you’ve written. His lashes are unfairly long, and you pout as you point it out and cause him to laugh.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure to show them off more to you to get you jealous.” He grins and winks. Jimin on the other side of the room, hair mint green, scowls at you both before pointing his finger at you.

“I’m watching you. I’m already green, don’t make me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry.” You chuckle and roll your eyes, well aware that he’d made Taehyung have a Marvel marathon at the weekend. Including the terrible Hulk film, which you’d begged them both to ignore.

“Fear not, your man is safe from me. His lashes? Maybe not.” Taehyung flutters them at you with a kissy pout before looking back to read over what you’ve done for the script.

“The LEGO Movie over Coco? A bold move.” He murmurs before scrolling down and continuing to read. Placing your elbow on the edge of your desk, you sigh deeply as you nod your head.

“I know, but I just...I thought Coco was wonderful and beautiful and emotional. But I watched it once and never had an interest to watch it again. Whereas The LEGO Movie made me laugh so hard and I think I’ve seen it 20 times. Moana is higher though, I really love that film.” He laughs and nods, pointing to your little Funko figure of Moana on your desk in acknowledgement.

Finally he finishes and moves back with pursed lips, nodding slowly before running his fingertips along his jaw. “Interesting. But in the interest of fairness, I think you really need to do a poll of the entire office to get a general feel of what Poppin’ Culture’s Top 10 is. I mean, Inside Out was great but I doubt it’s in most people’s top ten of the 2010s.”

Sighing, you nod and begin to write out an email of every animated film of the 2010s, including popular anime films such as Your Name because you just know there’s lots of people here that love those too. It’s a long list, and Taehyung whistles with raised brows as you fill it out. Once it’s done though, you email it out to the office and ask them to only pick ten and rank those ten in order.

“You know, this list could just be ten completely different films and then we have no list at all?” Taehyung chuckles and nods in response to your sarcastic comment, tapping your nose before making a Yoda noise.

“Yeah, but then you just collate what you do get and ask everyone to pick out of those and so forth until you have a top ten. It’s fine, it’s what we do. Good idea though, run it by Hoseok to make sure he’ll have time to film and edit next week as he’s got a two week vacation afterwards so we’ll be running thin on the video department.

He rolls back to his own desk at that and you swallow, sadly reluctant to talk to Hoseok once more. It’s only when you lean back in your seat, crossing your legs while poking your tongue in your cheek when you realise how childish you’re being.

So he turned you down, so what? He’s a grown man, an adult who is more than capable of making his own decisions in regards to what he wants and who he wants. You were just being a baby because it wasn’t the decision you’d wanted, and you needed to understand this and let it go.

It was affecting your work now which is something you definitely didn’t want. But also, it was affecting your relationship with Hoseok. Even if he didn’t want to make things romantic between the two of you, he was evidently opening himself up for a potential friendship between you both.

And you knew damn well that for people like Hoseok, who struggled so hard in social situations, that gesture of friendship like that probably meant a lot to him.

Which probably meant he was hurting more than you right now given how you’d cut him off so coldly and harshly. Licking your lips, you reach forward and slick on some lip balm before opening up your Skype and bringing a new chat with him up.

You hadn’t talked to him via Skype since the incident, and it made your cheeks burn in shame to think how terribly you’d acted. Honestly, he didn’t deserve this and you sure as hell didn’t deserve his friendship.

[10:21] Y/N: Hey Hoseok. I don’t know if you heard but I’ve got an idea for a video, Tae got me to email it out to everyone so you’ve probably seen that. He said that you were going on holiday soon so...if you could let me know if you think it might work next week?

There’s nothing for a moment, and you stare at the screen with narrowed eyes as you take in the conversation box. Then you finally see the ‘Jung Hoseok is typing a message…” along the bottom and your heart jumps into your throat. Which is dumb, because of course he’d respond.

You’d messaged him about work. And unlike you, he’s not an asshole.

[10:22] Jung Hoseok: That’s fine. I’ll respond to your email. Send me the script over whenever you’ve finished it and I’ll look into it. If I can’t do it, Lisa can.

It’s almost painful how polite he is being, and you get the desperate urge to resolve the issue between you both. To smooth over the cracks you’d caused when you’d taken a sledgehammer of hormones to your relationship and caused hurt to you both.

Which is why your fingers are typing already, uncaring that the messages are monitored and could be viewed by Seokjin or Namjoon. Honestly though, the crap you’ve seen Jimin and Taehyung message each other - it’d be a surprise if they ever bothered to read Skype conversations ever again.

[10:23] Y/N: I’m sorry btw.

[10:23] Jung Hoseok: What for?

[10:24] Y/N: The other week. I got the wrong end of the stick and I’ve been a little selfish since then. I’m sorry for pushing you away. Again, I didn’t think about you and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you or anything.

He doesn’t respond for a few minutes at that, and you wonder if perhaps you’d entirely misread the situation. What if he only wanted to be work colleagues and that was it? Man, you didn’t think that you were that bad at social situations.

[10:30] Jung Hoseok: It’s okay, I understood. I was giving you space too. You looked hurt and I didn’t want to make things worse for you. Thanks for apologising though. And I need to apologise to you. I...was rude that day. I didn’t mean to be.

[10:33] Y/N: You weren’t rude! You had every right. I was too forward and it was awkward and stupid. I think you’re pretty great, and I’d very much like to be your friend if you’d let me? I thought we were doing well before.

[10:33] Jung Hoseok: You weren’t too for

The message ends up abruptly and you frown in confusion before you see him typing again.

[10:34] Jung Hoseok: Friends sounds good. I’d like that.

You have to mash your lips together to stop the smile that so desperately wants to creep out at his kind words and you chastise yourself once again for pushing away this beautiful soul. As you respond to him again, happy that the two of you seem to be slipping back into the comfortable friendship you’d been engineering weeks ago, you can’t help but be thankful that Hoseok is the kind of person who forgives as easily as he does.

And also be thankful that you were willing to swallow that stupid pride and hurt that had been festering in you.

Huh, guess you had finally grown up in some ways.

-

Four months pass by after you finally reached out and sealed up the fractures in your relationship with Hoseok, and you were pretty pleased with the results if you were being honest. If anything, you were wondering if maybe the friction that had been caused had been a good thing bizarrely enough.

Like when you fracture a bone and it heals back stronger than before. That’s what your friendship felt like with Hoseok now, with the two of you becoming the closest friends in the office.

Mainly through text and Skype obviously, but he had whole conversations with you now without a single stutter and you’d been blessed by his blindingly brilliant smile more than once. It made you happy to know that he was content with everything when it came to you, and you’d even begun to take your lunch breaks with each other at the deli or diner down the street.

Just as you’d always thought, Hoseok was funny and sweet and everything you could ever want in a friend. Which was great, as it obviously meant that he made the most wonderful friend for you. But you’d also found that he was everything you could ever want in a man overall and that was where it got awkward.

You’d been so determined to squash your feelings towards him, but all that had happened was that he’d proven himself to be even more perfect for you and you’d fallen even harder. He liked a good portion of the films and music you did, with enough differences to make it interesting between you both.

Hoseok was an avid dancer apparently, which had blown your mind away, but he’d been put into dance when he was younger to try and get him out of his shell. It hadn’t worked in terms of his relationships with people, but he used dance to come to terms with his own emotions and feelings apparently.

The way he’d explained it was that if he felt upset or angry, he’d go rent a studio room for an hour or two and get the feelings out with his body. He’d told you that one lunch time as you’d both sat at a table, the bustle of the shop around you as he’d played a packet of sauce quietly. You’d commented on how tired he looked and he’d admitted to spending a large portion of the night dancing to try and get rid of some frustration.

Though he wouldn’t emphasise what the frustration he’d had was to you, even if you’d been curious as to why his cheeks had tinged that lovely rose they always went when he got embarrassed or shy.

That knowledge of his love of dance was a secret, something that only you knew in the whole office. Even Namjoon and Seokjin didn’t know apparently, the two of them classmates in college and later roommates with Hoseok.

Hoseok had told you that he didn’t like to tell people, as they either laughed at the idea of him dancing or demanded he perform for them like a show dog. You had done neither thankfully, instead just taking his hand in your own and giving him an encouraging smile. It was something deeply personal to him, and you’d just felt pride and happiness that he’d felt comfortable enough to tell you that.

And god, there were times when you thought you hadn’t read the signs wrong at all. Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you with an intense expression, eyes dark behind his glasses. Like all he wanted to do is reach over and grab you or something. You’d seen the same expression on his face when Seokjin had brought in pizza’s one day and none of you had eaten so far.

You were...surprisingly more than okay with the idea of Hoseok being hungry for you.

But you’d tried your hardest to push that thought away, tell yourself that he’d just spaced out for a few moments and you were just the thing he happened to be staring at unfocused. Because you were already struggling with him, with your attraction to him and your need to just be the friend he needs.

You couldn’t project your feelings onto him, not like last time. This friendship was too important to you to ruin like that.

Which was why you had been both happy and surprised when he’d finally agreed to come on the monthly work night out. As usual, it was just for dinner at some restaurant in the city that everyone decided on and then drinks afterwards.

What normally happened was that everyone got food drunk before then getting actual drunk. Blind drunk actually. Jimin, surprisingly, had an exceptionally high tolerance when it came to alcohol and usually drank everyone except Yoongi and Seokjin under the table.

You usually just sipped on a Southern Comfort and lemonade sedately while everyone else got progressively more wasted around you. For you, your days of not remembering the night before had ended in the early years after college. Now you liked to actually wake up and not feel like you looked like the human version of Gollum.

But this time, you’d spent the night with Hoseok sat next to you meekly. Taehyung had asked to go to the new Thai restaurant that had opened up and everyone else had been eager to go. You’d gone along because you always go, but Thai food wasn’t your favourite unfortunately so you’d not eaten too much.

It meant that you’d got to watch everyone else more though, and you’d made sure that Hoseok was comfortable and okay. Turns out he really liked seafood and he’d eaten a prawn green curry eagerly. Perhaps too eagerly, as the noises that had come out of his throat along with the faces he’d pulled had been more delicious than the food you were eating.

He’d even shyly offered you a forkful and you’d eaten it, unwilling to push him away when he being open with you. Plus, he’d had an endearing smile on his face that just lit him up and you couldn’t say no. It’d be rude to make that adorable expression vanish.

That hadn’t stopped him from laughing heartily at the face you pulled at not only the curry but the prawns too. It just wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed unfortunately, and his loud and gleeful laughs had caught the attention of everyone else too.

Jimin and Taehyung had been beyond shocked when you’d told them that Hoseok had agreed to your request to come with this time. Even Seokjin’s eyes had gone a little wide and he’d repeated Hoseok’s name twice, as you’d suddenly got amnesia or something.

Apparently, Hoseok had never attended a night out with everyone else. It was a running joke amongst the office, and you hadn’t realised until he’d agreed just how big of a deal it was. Sure, he’d never come even while you’d been here but you didn’t see the big deal that he didn’t want to spend his free time with the people he had to spend most of his days with to get paid.

The fluttering of butterflies in your stomach at the knowledge you’d finally got Hoseok to agree to come out with everyone had erupted into a hurricane of them when you’d picked him up outside his apartment. For once, there was no nerdy outfit that was ever so slightly ill fitting.

Instead, he had on a white button up shirt that was tucked into a pair of dark, skinny jeans and his hair parted and carefully styled. You hadn’t even known Hoseok knew how to style his hair like that, and the watch on his wrist looked bizarrely expensive for someone who probably wasn’t making a huge amount of money.

His job was good, but it wasn’t the rose gold watch on his wrist good.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he’d flushed at your intense staring of the expensive jewellery before shrugging on his black pea coat and buttoning it up, shuddering in the cold as he’d climbed into your car.

“Graduation present from my parents.” Was all he’d muttered and you’d simply nodded your head in acknowledgement, wondering if maybe they’d be interested in giving you a graduation present too. Even if you had been graduated for years now.

Either way, everyone else had been equally impressed with how smart and handsome he looked with Jimin giving you the sleazy brow wiggle. The man had weedled it out of you a while ago about your unreciprocated feelings for the beautiful guy next to you, and he’d made it like a mission to try and get you both together.

Despite you telling him about the rejection you’d experienced. He was beyond convinced that Hoseok liked you just as much, but was just in denial or something. It had taken the threat of you destroying his treasured iPod Classic, of all things, to get him to agree to not push anything.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make clear insinuations the whole night and subtle gestures to you when Hoseok wasn’t looking. You half felt like choking him, but knowing Jimin he’d probably have a choking kink and just moan at you to go harder.

Instead, he’d opted to plying Hoseok with alcohol once you’d reached the bar.

Which wouldn’t be a big deal, if it wasn’t for the fact that Hoseok was quite clearly a lightweight. Whether he was just genetically a lightweight, or it was just that he didn’t go out drinking very often you didn’t know.

But either way, Hoseok had gone red faced after one beer before he’d started to sweat profusely after two. His third had resulted in a glazed look to his eyes and he’d finally sat quietly for the last hour, staring vacantly across the room as he swayed ever so slightly.

It was simultaneously adorable and worrying, because you wanted to kiss all over his face with how obviously wasted he was yet you also didn’t want him to pass out or something horrific. Because right now, he looked like he could go either way. And despite what you’d told Jimin, you really did like his face far too much to watch him face plant the table.

At this very moment though, Jimin was trying to incite a shots contest with Taehyung and Yugyeom while Jungkook and Lisa are sat with their heads only centimetres apart. You’d think that something was going on there, but you knew full well that neither of them liked each other like that. Must just be a really intense conversation.

Sipping your drink slowly, you place it back down before taking hold of the long neck beer that Hoseok is trying to grab. You’re sure that if he was sober then he would have had a firm grasp within seconds. Unfortunately, he’s spent 30 seconds trying to grab it while muttering to himself under his breath.

Dipping your head to catch his eyes, you look him over while biting your lip slowly. His pupils are a little unfocused and he lifts his head suddenly, losing control immediately and having it roll on his shoulders before he manages to get himself back together.

Chuckling to yourself, you take hold of his hand and direct him to a glass of water. Guiding it back to his mouth, his takes a greedy gulp before grimacing at the liquid.

“S’not good.” It’s perhaps beyond endearing how childish and sweet his voice sounds, but you’re having to battle exasperation as he goes for the beer once more. Placing it on your other side and in front of Yoongi, you turn back to Hoseok and cup his face in your hands.

Peering at him closely, you try to take in the sight and establish whether he should probably go home. Not that you’ve even been here long though.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” You ask sweetly, giving him an encouraging smile as he blinks rapidly in an attempt to focus his eyes. A low hum leaves him, the only way you can tell he’s even done that is from the vibration in his jaw.

His head is heavy now, as he’s leaning into your touch with a dopey looking smile that when combined with his now closing eyelids makes him look beyond drunk. Hoseok has a pretty smile, and you can’t help but be amused that he’s pretty even when inebriated like this. A confounding mix of angles and softness.

“Is he alright?” Taehyung asks from across the table, nodding to Hoseok with a frown of concern on his brow. The others nearby all look over and eye Hoseok closely before looking at you with raised brows, and you feel a little proud that no one was trying to encourage Hoseok to drink even more.

If anything, people had been bemused by his presence tonight before slipping into roles that made him feel comfortable out of his comfort zone. And while it was amusing for everyone to see that their quiet colleague was a complete lightweight, it also inspired the caretaker spirit in practically everyone.

No one wanted Hoseok to get hurt or be sad.

“I think he is. Just...a little bit gone right now. I’ve been trying to ply him with water but...I don’t think drunk Hobi likes the taste.” A bright peal of laughter leaves you as Taehyung snorts in response, and you don’t see the way Hoseok smiles happily and loosely at the sound.

You do however, see the way his eyes go soft and become filled with a strong emotion you don’t quite understand as he looks at you. As you watch him in turn, he pushes his face back into your hands forcefully like a dog that’s been neglected. You can’t help but squeeze his cheeks and laugh as he pouts his lips like a fish for you before making bubble noises through those pursed lips.

“He’s pretty cute drunk.”

“You’re cute.” Hoseok blurts out, a hand coming up to cup your own face. Or at least, he probably intended that but the smarting of your skin tells you that he doesn’t quite realise his strength right now. You can’t find it in you to be mad though when he’s giving you that sweet smile once more. “I like you.”

“He’s more vocal when wasted, that’s for sure.” Taehyung observes, lifting his own bottle to his lips before taking a long swig and averting his eyes back to you. “Maybe he’ll tell us something interesting. Drunken minds speak sober words and all that.”

You roll your eyes in response as you let go of Hoseok’s face, patting his surprisingly firm thigh in consolation. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just mad that Jimin made him go to an Elton John concert.”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with Elton. Do not insult my man like that!” Jimin is pretty loud when he’s been drinking, though he is normally so his current decibel level is probably approaching airplane level. He’s pointing at you from his position directly opposite you, eyes squinting beneath his blonde fringe and glasses.

“There’s nothing wrong with Elton...but it’s just not Tae’s music at all. And you’ve made him listen to the man all week since the concert. Don’t complain if he goes all red rum on you tonight.” Tae is smirking at that, looking at his partner with a cocky look that has you snorting as you take a drink.

Your decision about whether to take Hoseok home is made though when he suddenly swings an arm over your chest, knocking you back into your seat with a cringing face to avoid being whacked while he points at Jimin. Or rather...he’s pointing past Jimin but you get his point.

“Hey! Lea...Leaff her aloooone. She’s...she’s...perfect.” He’s slurring his words and you can’t help but laugh quietly at the way he ends his sentence abruptly with a satisfied nod and tiny smile. Looking back at Jimin and Taehyung, you watch as they both bite on their lips as they try their hardest to hold in their laughs.

Neither obviously wants to hurts Hoseok’s suddenly bold feelings. Doesn’t mean Jimin isn’t going to tease him a bit.

Grinning at the drunk man, he rests his chin on his hand on the table and wiggles his brows. “She’s perfect huh? Tell us more Hoseok.” His eyes are dark in the crappy lighting of the bar, but you’re scowling at him immediately at the mischievous look on his face.

There’s silence from Hoseok for a few moments; the only sounds the eager buzz of conversations from everyone around you along with the music blasting out of the speakers strategically placed around the room.

But you can see Jimin’s question working its way through his mind slowly and you wonder what he’s going to answer with. After it seems like perhaps he didn’t hear, or maybe he even just forgot the question halfway through thinking of an answer, you lean forward to tell him that he doesn’t need to talk if he doesn’t want to.

Only he practically shouts out his answer. And it makes you recoil in response, not only because he was loud as fuck but also just because of what he said.

“She’s beautiful,” He nods happily, eyes closing while he brilliantly stunning smile of his own spreads over his face until it feels like his entire expression has been lightened with invisible rays of a sun you can’t see. “And pretty and smart and funny. She’s...nice. I like you. A lot.”

It’s like you’re suddenly underwater with how your body feels like it’s been dunked underneath, the bizarre sensation of static rolling through you while your hearing vanishes as you sit there in shock. He can’t mean that, he’s just drunk. That’s all it is. He’ll probably start regaling Jimin with how much he likes him too soon.

Only that doesn’t happen, and before you can say anything further Hoseok grabs your hand clumsily. Giving you the sweetest smile that makes your heart thump and your breath shorten because of how god damn beautiful it makes him look. It’s just not fair that he can make you feel like this.

“I’m a coward. I should’ve...should’ve said yes.” The two look a little confused at Hoseok’s answer, but you know damn well what he means and it makes your breath stutter as you press a hand to your chest. Is he...is he really talking about that day in the office?

“Okay Hoseok, I think we should get you home. Sober you up a bit before you say something you’re going to regret.” You said with a forced smile, looking at the other two with a glare that tells them to shut the fuck up if they want to live. They take your advice by miming zipping their lips.

Lightly pushing at Hoseok’s waist, and boy do you try to ignore the fact his waist is just as firm as his thigh, you slowly manage to get him standing. Well..he’s heavily leaning against you and swaying like he’s on the Titanic while he struggles to keep his head upright. But he’s up at least.

“I’m going to take him home, it’s been nice tonight guys and please don’t re-enact Fight Club again. Jimin...you whined about that black eye for a week and despite your pleadings, it was in fact a pole that you face planted and not Brad Pitt’s fist. Stay safe.” You say to everyone, waving at them while you wrap an arm around Hoseok’s waist and grab his jacket.

He hiccups in your arms before giving a ridiculously bright and happy goodbye to everyone and waving his arms stupidly in the arm. “Bye bye! I love you.”

Almost immediately he has everyone cooing and laughing over him, while Jimin snorts out a laugh and almost chokes on his vodka shot. “Hey Hoseok! Remember to tell her how you feel!”

Glaring at him, you mime your finger cutting over your throat at him as you try to usher Hoseok away while praying that the drunk man in your arms had been too busy trying to catch invisible butterflies to listen to his shit stirring colleague.

It takes you a good few minutes to direct him out of the bar and even longer to get him to your car. You’d pushed away most of the drinks tonight and nursed your one with the knowledge that you’d driven Hoseok here, and so would have to drive home.

Though, if you’d known Hoseok would be this much of a handful then you would have suggested taking a taxi instead. As it is, you’d had to chase after him when he’d gone drunkenly skipping down the road singing loudly to the Catchy Song from LEGO Movie 2 after you’d unlocked and opened the car for him.

And that was nothing compared to actually driving him back, in which he proceeded to sing Bohemian Rhapsody as loud as he possibly could get. All the parts of it as well; both high and low notes along with the guitar solo too.

You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact he was simply charming with his eyes closed and face straining even redder than it had been as he put in maximum effort. The good news, thankfully, was that Hoseok had a surprisingly good singing voice; light enough to hit the high notes with ease but with an astounding huskiness when dropping low.

It was kind of captivating, and you half wanted to encourage him to sing more when he was sober. Though you definitely had a feeling that singing was something only drunk Hobi did...or alone at home Hoseok.

He spends the whole trip back trying to get you involved, slurring out your name repeatedly in the most delightful whine while his hands insistently pat at your arm. You finally give in when Bang Bang Bang comes on because that’s your true bop and how on earth are you meant to resist Hoseok bouncing in the car?

Ideally you would, because it’s dangerous, but you discover that singing for him makes him get an absolutely enchanting smile as he just watches you with big, glassy eyes that shine brightly beneath his glasses with every street light that passes by.

He quietens down as you get nearer to his apartment complex, going a little melancholy again and you frown in worry as he plays with a piece of fluff on his jeans. When you park your car in the spot he’d told you was good before leaving, you turn to look at him in the dim light of the nearby lamp post.

Hoseok’s lips do the sweetest thing when he’s pouting, whether it’s because he’s concentrating or upset about something. Every time, he’ll purse them together and they’ll almost meet up in the middle, creating a heart wrenchingly cute triangle of lips that you often get the biggest urge to kiss.

Like right now, when his long eyelashes are creating feathery shadows on his rounded cheeks, still red from his alcohol intake.

Switching the engine off, you pull out your keys and shift to face him. He carefully avoids your gaze and all hints of the extroverted drunk he’d been for the last fifteen minutes has vanished into thin air. What’s left is an even more shy version of his normal self.

Smiling softly, you reach out and take his hand before shaking it a few times playfully. “Come on Hoseok, we’re at your place now. I need to get you to your apartment okay?”

Hoseok watches you for a moment, his eyes scanning you all over before he nods slowly. You can practically see his thoughts running, perhaps not a million miles a minute given his inebriated state but fast enough that they’re running at least.

Finally, he nods in an over exaggerated fashion and you smile at him before getting out. It’s a bit of effort to get him out of the car without smashing the car next to yours, as apparently he’s forgotten how to walk or something and you end up half dragging him along to the door.

There’s a moment of panic when you wonder if you’re going to have to bring him back to your place when he just stares at the keypad for the longest time with narrowed eyes. As if the keypad had done something to personally offend him.

But then he’s practically stabbing the buttons with his finger, inputting his code while his tongue sticks out adorably from the corner of his mouth. Seriously, how on earth is a 30-year-old man this precious and cute?

He finally gets the code right and looks at you with such a bright smile of happiness, giggling to himself as you direct him inside with both hands on his waist as you push him from behind. “I like you.”

“I like you too Hoseok, now come on. We’re almost there.” You knew what apartment number he lived at thankfully, not only because his name was next to the list of occupants just inside the door but also because he’d told you once. And you remembered the little things he told you because you were completely whipped for this teddy bear of a man.

“No. No, I like you.” He over-enunciates too much with his head rolling on his shoulders as he tries to look back at you, causing you to chuckle and direct him finally to his door. It takes a few minutes of semi-quiet arguing over which gummy bear tastes best, why on earth he suddenly got that in his head you don’t know, before he finally inputs his door code.

And then promptly falls flat on his face when he trips over the entrance way while trying to slide off his shoes, causing you to snort attractively as you try to prevent your laughter at him. He lays there for a moment before a quiet whining leaves him, causing you to frown immediately and wonder if he’s hurt himself.

His wooden floor looks hard, and you’ll be damned if you let Hoseok break his pretty nose on your watch.

“Hey, are you okay? Is something hurting? Have you hurt yourself?” Concern laces your words as you toe off your shoes and kneel down next to him, resting a hand on his lower back while your other slowly pushes at his shoulder.

Hoseok groans quietly before bringing his arms up and resting his head on them, blinking up at your blearily before he lets out a deep sigh. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles, lips pursing in a pout once more.

Sighing at his rapidly changing moods, you gently tug on his arm as you finally manage to get him back to his feet. “What are you sorry for exactly? You’ve not done anything wrong.”

Even drunk, he knows the way to his bedroom and you keep him steady until he finally flops back onto his bed. You ponder for a moment if you should try and undress him, get him into the shirt and sweatpants that are folded neatly on the chair nearby but he’s already getting droopy eyes as his body relaxes into his bed.

“Okay, come on. Move over a bit, I need to get the covers over you.” He’ll be uncomfortable in the morning in his jeans but...well you’re definitely not close enough to be taking those off yet. Hoseok huffs and puffs as you maneuver him around the bed until finally he’s snuggled up underneath his covers, the sheets pressed against his chin.

“I’m sorry.” He says once more and you frown, kneeling down at the side of his bed and resting your head on your arms. Up close, you can see the softness to his beautiful mahogany eyes in the light from his lamp, his skin golden and clear.

Lips tugging up into a smile, you observe the way his cheeks are even softer and rounder, his left side squished into the pillow and causing his lip to pucker slightly. You were already head over heels for him, despite your best intentions, and you definitely didn’t need this adorable sight either.

“Why do you keep apologising Hoseok?” A hand reaches up to run through his soft locks without your permission, but your loathe to stop when he lets out a contented hum, eyes falling closed while his lips press together into a tiny smile that causes his dimples to appear.

“Cos I’m a coward.”

“And why are you a coward? You’re shy, yes, but brave when you need to be.” The words of consolation fall from your lips easily, unwilling to hear Hoseok put himself down like this. He shakes his head beneath your hand almost petulantly.

Yes, you quite like drunk Hoseok.

“I wasn’t brave that...that day. S’was a coward.” You freeze subtly at his words, a tiny crease in your brow if you wonder if he really is talking about the day you’d made a fool of yourself. Or had you? Was he saying that you hadn’t taken everything the wrong way? That you were right and he’d just chickened out?

“I love you,” The words are slow and filled with sleep, his eyes blinking tiredly at you as he curls into a tighter ball under the covers. Your own eyes must be as wide as dinner plates right now, with your mouth doing a grand impression of the opera singer in The Fifth Element as your brain struggles to process what he just said. “But you’re too good.”

Part of you wants to shake him back into alertness and pour a litre of water down his neck to sober him up, but the other part of you is just in shock. Are these drunken ramblings, or are they nuggets of truth that he’s blurting out now he has no filter attached?

“Okay Hoseok, I think you need to go to sleep sweetheart. We can talk about this when you’re sober if you want, this is a serious topic.” He frowns immediately as you move to get up, hand moving surprisingly fast to grip your wrist with a light touch.

You feel warm where his hand touches, obscenely warm and you’re sure that your cheeks are just as warm too.

“Don’t go. Stay. Please.” His voice is slightly whining, strangely high pitched yet hoarse and deep at the same time. It makes your heart clench and your stomach flip as your breath stutters with the way he looks at you intensely, strong brows coming together.

“Hoseok...I can’t-” You go to deny him only to sigh at the puppy dog eyes he starts to give you, squinting slightly as he probably can’t see you properly without his glasses on. “Okay. I’ll stay on the couch. Just because I don’t want you to like...vomit and choke in your sleep or something, yeah?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, just nodding slowly and watching as you stand up and look down at him. Hoseok is taller than you, something that always makes you feel small yet his calming and pleasing presence always makes that height feel safe.

But now...now he looks vulnerable and tiny in front of you and your heart swells three sizes in only a second. Sunmi was right dammit, you really were Marvel Cinematic Universe level of fucked when it came to him.

Your heart being the MCU and Hoseok being Thanos with a 50/50 chance of causing your metaphorical death.

Because, as you leave him to doze off and root around his cupboards to find spare blankets and a pillow, you realise that Jung Hoseok can either make your heart soar and bring excitement and joy into your life. Or he can crush you like an ant under his shoe.

But, as you begin to drift off yourself on his surprisingly comfortable couch, a strange thought runs through your head that causes you to feel a little bit of hope. He might be drunk, but maybe his comments mean that you hold the same power over him.

You just hope that sober Hoseok can find some of drunk Hoseok’s bravery to broach the topic again, because you don’t want to push him when he’s not ready. That had happened before, and it hadn’t worked. He had to come to you, on his own terms. Even if you were about ready to get on your knees and beg him.

-

Anyone else who had got as drunk as Hoseok would probably have spent the entire morning passed out in bed; mouth open, drool everywhere and unattractive snores leaving them. But Jung Hoseok was one of the most unique people you’d ever met, and that apparently applied to his morning after the night before habits.

Which was why you were woken up at 9am by the smell of crisp bacon and rich coffee along with the generic sounds of someone in the kitchen. Something you haven’t woken up to in a long time if you were being honest, and it made your stomach feel funny.

Particularly when you blink blearily, groaning softly through the pain of yesterday’s mascara clumping your lashes together. You’d have remembered to take your make off...if you’d actually remembered. Or if Hoseok had make up remover, and you were pretty positive he didn’t.

But what really makes it feel like Ant-Man himself is running around your insides is the cup of coffee steaming on the table in front of you. It’s in a Shaun of the Dead mug, his favourite movie, and you can’t help but smile as you rub at your face before taking it and sipping.

Whatever brand of coffee he uses tastes amazing, which is surprising given he prefers to drink tea in the office. In fact, you’re perhaps more than surprised as he’s managed to make it perfectly frothy and you swear you can taste vanilla and caramel in it.

You must have been deep in your coffee feels because you don’t notice when Hoseok quietly creeps into the living room until he’s handing you a plate filled with bacon and eggs. Eggs done exactly the way you like them, just as you always ask when you go to the crappy diner near work for a grease filled lunch.

“Oh...thank you.” You manage to get out, taking another swallow of coffee before putting the mug down on his Yoshi placemat and placing the plate on your lap. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and just nods before spearing a piece of bacon with his own fork.

Yet again, another hum of satisfaction leaves you as you chew the bacon before taking a scooping of eggs. “Did you add something to this?” You gestured with the tines of your fork before taking another mouthful and watching him.

His cheeks are stuffed full of food, causing him to give you wide eyes from beneath his glasses as he gives you the perfect impression of a hamster. Another forkful of bacon helps you to keep control of your face to prevent yourself from grinning at him.

He’d obviously taken a shower before cooking as his hair is inky black with the strands wet and sleek while his face has the fresh glow of someone who’s scrubbed hard. A faded Queen shirt adorns his torso and you snort lightly at the memory of him singing last night. His casual look is completed with the pair of grey sweatpants.

“Err...I cooked the bacon with maple syrup...and added pepper to the eggs. I know you like that.” Hoseok’s words are soft and light, like he’s not sure he wants to raise his voice higher and you nod happily.

“It’s delicious. You’ve never told me you can cook.”

“You never asked.” Snorting, you nod your head slowly and point your utensil at him in acknowledgement. He was right there, you hadn’t. Because you’d never had a reason to ask before.

There’s a silence that should be awkward between you both after that, and yet you feel at complete ease with him. It’s during this that you take the time to look around his apartment to get a feel for who Jung Hoseok is as a person. Homes are where people feel safe and comfortable and they often end up being reflections of their inner selves.

It’s perhaps unsurprising then that Hoseok’s apartment is small, yet unbelievably cosy and just...Hoseok.

There’s a huge, top-of-the-range television screen that takes up the wall in front of you with a Playstation 4, Xbox One and Nintendo Switch set-up underneath it. The wall to your right is taken up with big glass doors that lead out to a small balcony, a few potted plants dotted around with cute video game characters sitting in amongst the flowers such as Link and Mario.

The wall to the left is just three bookshelves in a row that fill the whole space with plenty of storage. The top two rows of each are filled to the brim with books of various authors, from classics such as Homer’s Odyssey to Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. The shelf below that on all three shelving units contains a range of games for his consoles while the remaining three shelves are dedicated to Blu-Ray’s and DVDs.

It’s the collection of an introverted geek, and it tells you so much.

Placing your now empty plate down on his coffee table, carefully avoiding the small stack of books he’s obviously in the process of reading, you stand and move over to his shelves. His artwork around the room is minimal, with two matching framed retro style Star Wars posters adorning either side of his television.

On the one wall behind his sofa there’s a cool looking wood print that’s split into three blocks, depicting the futuristic world of Blade Runner. Combined with the fascinating array of toys that are dotted around the room, from the Funko collection of Game of Thrones characters to his Marvel Hot Toys, it’s like getting to see the Hoseok he keeps hidden from the world.

And it’s wonderful.

“I love your decorating, and all your nerd memorabilia. It’s so cool.” You say quietly, moving over to the bookshelves to run your fingers along the spines of his books and taking in the toys. He’s got so many, yet they’re artfully displayed in the exact right ways so that it doesn’t feel that there are too many.

Interspersed are a few pictures of Hoseok and what you presume to be his family; an older man with Hoseok’s smile, a beautiful older woman with Hoseok’s eyes and an astonishingly pretty girl that you presume to be his sister that he’s mentioned before. There’s a few others from what you guess is college, with his face looking more youthful than it does now and you smile at seeing Namjoon and Seokjin in some of them.

“You don’t think it’s too dumb?”

Frowning at him, you shake your head and crouch down to inspect his film collection. “Hell no. You’re talking to the person who nerds out over films all the time. This is totally awesome and I wish that I’d made mine more like this. Instead, I thought I’d try and be all ‘Instagram’ cool and now it looks like the inside of an IKEA catalogue.”

“I like your Instagram.” He mutters and you laugh softly.

“Yeah? It’s the fairy lights right? They sure do give a good aesthetic to stuff. You should try putting some in here, I bet you could get some beautiful shots with those as well.” Hoseok lets out a chuff of laughter as he stands and takes your plate before heading into the kitchen.

When he comes out, you’re sat cross legged on the floor and admiring his collection of steelbook Steven Spielberg films, each one portraying a beautiful work of art. He sits next to you and smiles before handing you a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, causing you to flush as you suddenly remember your appearance.

“Is this your subtle hint to tell me that I need to clean up?” His lips part in a beautiful smile as he ducks his head, cheeks reddening.

“Well...as charming as I find the Quiet look, I think you probably want to feel a little fresher. It’s a new toothbrush, don’t worry. I wouldn’t make you use mine, that’s...so gross.” He looks disturbed at the thought and you smile, leaning forward to peck his cheek without even thinking.

“Was that a Metal Gear Solid 5 reference?” You tease before you’re up and bounding to where you’d seen his bathroom was last night.

Partly because you really need to pee, but also to get away from the mortification of the fact that you just kissed him and he’d looked like Hercules the first time he sees Megara. You’re sure that one day you’ll stop dropping yourself into it like this, but you’re not sure when that day will be because it’s certainly not now.

It’s only as you’re frantically scrubbing at your face with his peach facial scrub, which was surprising that he owned that but it is the 21st century and men like nice skin too, that you wonder what the hell you’re doing. You would have left last night if you hadn’t been worried he might vomit and die...or that he’d asked you so cutely to stay.

Scowling into the mirror as you brush your teeth, you wonder if Hoseok knows just how jumbled up he’s got you feeling. Sometimes it’s like you can tell he likes you as far more than a friend but then other times he recoils into himself and you’re left wondering if maybe you’d just imagined it all. If he wasn’t so sweet then you’d be even more frustrated with him.

Honestly, if he wasn’t just...himself then you’d have given up on him long ago.

But you’d been loathe to give up on your feelings for someone who was evidently struggling to come to terms with their own.

By the time you feel somewhat human after scrubbing your body with a clean towel you’d grabbed on the way in, you head back out to find him sat quietly on the couch. For a few seconds, you think that he’s just sat doing nothing and waiting for you to finish but you then catch sight of the Nintendo 3DS in his hands and chuckle loudly.

The noise makes him start, jumping with a bewildered expression on his face before he’s blinking up at you owlishly. His hair has dried by now and looks so unbelievably fluffy and soft that you have to physically clench your hands to prevent the urge to run your fingers through it till he’s purring.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no. I-it’s okay. I was just...p-playing Pokémon.” He stutters out and you wonder why he’s doing that all of a sudden. Hoseok has become pretty comfortable with you lately, to the point his nerves triggered stutter has almost vanished so why he’s nervous now you don’t know.

In an effort to calm him, you give him a warm smile and shift until you’re facing him on the couch, foot underneath you while your knee gently presses into his thigh. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t hyper-aware of that contact, and from the way his leg tenses and his eyes keep darting down, you think he is too.

“Oh yeah? Which one? Pokémon Silver is one of my favourite games ever.” His eyes flick back up to you before a hesitant smile winds its way across his face prettily.

“Yellow. I downloaded it a few months ago a-and forgot about it until recently. It’s hard.” You nod understandingly, a hand moving of its own accord to rest on the warm skin of his forearm. Almost immediately, you can both see and feel the muscles of his arm moving underneath your fingertips and your breath hitches.

There’s nothing between you both for a moment before Hoseok suddenly takes a ridiculously deep breath, almost as if he’s getting ready for something and you frown at him both concern and amusement.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Ilikeyou.” The words come out fast and thick, to the point that you can’t even really understand what he’d just said. It was some unintelligible syllables, causing your brows to dip in at him. He’s looking at you so earnestly as well, like a puppy who just wants to be praised and loved. You’d totally do it if you knew what he’d said.

“What? I didn’t understand that.” Hoseok’s face falls and that cute pout appears once more and you finally give in to your instincts. Gently poking at his cheeks, you slowly encourage him to smile and give him a grin in response.

“I...I l-like you.”

Oh boy, you want to start doing Spider-Man flips around the room but you control yourself. Admirably well you think, as you place your hand back in your lap. Taking your own breath, that’s oddly shaking with your nerves, you nod slowly.

“Okay. Yeah, you told me this many times last night while drunk. Is this...I like you as a friend or...I like you as more than a friend? Because I don’t want to get the wrong idea again.” You were beyond proud of yourself for how stable your voice sounded when all you wanted was to scream and then Exorcist-style vomit.

Hoseok looks pained for a moment as he closes his 3DS and places it on the small side table next to his couch. “Y-you didn’t have the w-wrong idea the first t-time. I was just...a coward. Who panicked.”

As much as you’d like to scream in frustration at Hoseok’s miscommunication over the months with you, because honestly you could have been dating for months now then, you take a calming breath and centre yourself. You cannot get mad at Hoseok right now, because you know damn well it’ll just send him scurrying off with his fragile feelings.

Not that you’re trying to baby him, but it’s taken him over a year to get to the point that he can feel comfortable to admit this to you. And dear god, you were not going to wait another year.

“So...I was reading the signs right then? You do like me as more than a friend? Because I like you as more than a friend, even if I’ve tried to stop that after you rejected me,” He cringes at that before nodding. “I have to ask then...why did you tell me no? You could have told me yes but that you weren’t ready and I’d have backed off. Have I given the impression that I’m pushy or something?”

Immediately Hoseok is shaking his head and he shifts slightly until he’s almost facing you as well. His own hands come out to grab yours suddenly and you pause, surprised at how forward he’s being but also at how nice his hands feel in your own.

“No! No, god no. In fact, you’ve been amazing. Too amazing. In fact, you probably encouraged my bad habits and I really regret that. I-I’ve spent months agonising over the fact I turned you down and I didn’t even want to. It was like my mouth was suddenly moving and my brain was screaming no. And then you looked so hurt and I felt like the biggest idiot and the worst villain in the world.” He looks heartbroken at that, and you flip his hands until you can cup them in your own with an encouraging smile.

“And then you apologised to me and I wanted to tell you that it was okay and you weren’t wrong. But I chickened out again because I thought you might have gotten over whatever you felt and I liked you too much to not talk to you anymore. And these last few months have been...amazing. Honestly.” He gives you a sweet smile then and your heart flips a few times in response.

Looking down shyly at the sheer affection in his eyes, you bite your lip as you trace over the veins and tendons in his delicate hands. He always has such pretty hands, it’s not fair really.

“Why did you say no then? Besides you apparently being an idiot.” You’re not sure why you want the pain, but you know that the two of you need to get everything out in the open and clear before anything further can happen. Miscommunication detonated your chances months ago, you would be damned if you let it happen again.

Hoseok pauses though, eyes flickering around the room as he obviously carefully chooses his words. Though maybe he should’ve chosen more carefully when you hear what comes out of his mouth next.

“You're intimidating-”

“I'm intimidating?!” You can't help but cut him off, eyes wide while a hint of incredulity threads through your voice. A hand to your chest tried to check whether you feel bizarrely flattered, offended or hurt at his adjective.

Immediately his own eyes widen in horror behind his circular lenses, hair going wild as he shakes his head viciously with his hands out.

“N-no. That's not what I meant! Well I mean, it kind of is. But you're not intimidating like Cara Delevigne's Enchantress where she was just creepy but more like Gal Gadot's Wonder Woman. You're intimidating but b-beautiful and c-competent and you make me feel safe.”

While your mind tries to compute that, it snags on one unimportant thing. “Really? Suicide Squad? What is with you and the love for shit DC film's?”

Hoseok scowl immediately. “Wonder Woman is great, don't insult that. You're just a Marvel fangirl.”

“Maybe so. But that's because Marvel doesn't feel the need to make every film's colour palette look like it was filmed in the dark under the sea, or insist that every character has the personality of a walking cardboard box with money and a voice modulator. And I do like DC! I like Wonder Woman and I maintain that The Dark Knight is a cinematic masterpiece.”

The purse to Hoseok's lips tells you he wants to argue but he decides against it, getting the conversation back onto topic. It was his fault for his bizarre DC metaphor though.

“Intimidating to me, because as cliché as it sounds...girls like you don’t fall for guys like me. And I don’t fall for women like you either. I-I...my normal type is like...well...me. I usually date online, where it’s safe. My last girlfriend I actually met was three years ago, and it took four months before I met her. You...you are bold and loud and funny and kind and everyone loves you. You’re everything I’m not.”

Almost immediately you’re shaking your head while rubbing at his hands reassuringly. “Nope, nope. We’re not doing that Hoseok, we’re not putting ourselves down like that. That’s not happening. You’re not bold or loud but you’re sweet and quiet, a reassuring presence to have. You are just as funny as everyone else, it’s just your jokes aren’t as crass as others. You are so unbelievably kind and giving Hoseok. Everyone loves to be near you because you give off an aura of competence and calm. People love you, you just don’t see it.”

It’s possible you could fry an egg on Hoseok’s cheeks now, but you don’t care. You’ll compliment the man till the day you die if it means he’ll look at himself better.

Letting go of his hands, you cup his face sweetly and let your thumbs stroke the soft roundness of his cheeks. “We’re nothing alike and yet we’re so similar. And that’s what I like about you. You bring me peace when I’m nervous and anxious. You make me smile when I’m sad. You give me encouragement when I think I can’t do something. You are honestly, the best part of work because I know every morning that I get to wake up and see your sweet smile. I know you won’t judge me, and you even defend me on occasion with my crappy tastes-”

“They’re not crappy...just...unique.”

“And you’re diplomatic,” You chuckle at him, patting his cheeks happily. “You are so much more than you think you are, and I’m so happy that sober Hoseok has taken some of drunk Hoseok’s bravery for you to finally tell me this. Because I think...I think we could be pretty great together. I mean...if you wanted that.”

There’s an internal war going on in Hoseok right now. You can see the hundreds of micro-emotions flitting across his face as his mind tries to compute what’s going on. That he’s getting what he wanted this whole time.

“Are you sure? I mean...people might laugh at you in the office.”

That gets a deep sigh and an eye roll from you. “Hoseok, if anyone in the office has anything negative to say then I will tell them where to stick it. And I’m pretty sure most of the people in the office ship us together. There’s no way that Jimin hasn’t made a dumb ship name for us yet.”

He lets out a tiny puff of laughter at that and you just know, some part of you just knows that this is going well. It makes you want to be sick with the bees of excitement that buzz in your stomach.

“Please don’t think of yourself like that. You’re not something to be laughed at. Even in your own head. I would be honoured to date you, seriously.”

There’s nothing for a moment and it almost feels like the universe itself is waiting with bated breath for his response. And when it comes, you can’t stop the grin that spreads on your face.

“Okay. Okay...yeah. I..err...will you be my g-girlfriend?” He sounds so shy and yet you can practically feel the hope he’s radiating when he finally gets it out.

“I would love to.” You manage to get out, throat closing in on itself in the effort you give to not shriek out loud in joy and happiness. Instead, you settle for throwing your arms around his shoulders in a tight hug that has him laughing sweetly.

“I feel like a fourteen-year-old.” He mutters into your ear and you snort, shifting yourself closer until you can rest your face in the crook of his neck. He’s warm, and he smells so nice that your stomach squeezes on itself in happiness as it feels like your veins are literally sparkling.

“Me too.” You whisper, almost as if you’re telling him a secret. It must make him happy because his arms tighten around you. It’s amazing sometimes how the right person can make you feel youthful again. Neither of you say anything for a minute or so after that, just enjoying the strange new reality that you’ve both apparently wanted for months, and now suddenly have.

When you pull away, Hoseok’s gaze keeps darting around the room before flicking back to you bashfully. Taking his hand in your own, you carefully twine your fingers together and give his hand a squeeze that has his lips kicking up again. God, you never want to stop seeing those dimples.

“Hey...don’t worry if this feels weird. All new relationships feel weird and we’ll get used to it. Just...you can ask me or tell me anything okay? I’m your friend first.” He nods slowly, letting his other hand trace unseen patterns into the back of your hand before he gives you another smile.

“Can I...I mean...I’d like to…” You wait to see if he can get the words out but he loses his neve halfway through, going quiet while his cheeks turn apple red once more. But you’d seen the way his gaze dropped to your lips beneath the lenses of his glasses and you know what he was asking.

And you were glad he did, because you’ve wanted to do this to him for such a long time. It would have been painful to wait even longer.

Without saying a word, you keep eye contact with him and are beyond surprised when he maintains it firmly. Even when you get closer and closer to him,until finally your lips meet his in a brief and chaste kiss.

It’s over in a second, something that couples give to each other all the time without a second thought. And yet it felt far more intimate than you expected because of the sustained eye contact. Something that made it feel far more personal, and that’s to say nothing of the sensation of his petal soft lips against your own.

Neither of you move, until Hoseok’s hands disengage from yours to cup your face gently. They’re a tiny bit sweaty, yet you can’t find it in yourself to care when he leans forward again and kisses you once more. Only now it’s deeper, the pressure stronger and filled with far more emotion.

His head tilts to the side slightly and you feel the tip of elegant nose bump against your own cheek while his velvet soft lips move against your own. For once, you feel no shyness from Hoseok while he kisses you with far more passion and experience than you’d expected. Which is silly, as you know he’s had girlfriends.

And yet, you don’t care a single bit as he kisses with a year’s worth of pent up emotions that he’d kept hidden. All the frustrations of your miscommunications and his inability to be bold seep through and you soothe them with each movement, each touch of your hands on his waist that tell him silently that it’s okay.

By the time he pulls away, the kiss never deepening further than that, you can already tell that this was going to be one of the best decisions you’d ever made. Hoseok is smiling happily, pressing tiny pecks to your lips as if he can’t stop now that he’s begun. And you’re more than content to let him, wanting perhaps more of him than he’s willing to give right now.

But that’s fine; you’ll wait forever for this man if you have to. Because as you just discovered...he may take a while but when he commits, he commits with so much passion that you can’t even breathe properly.

“Let’s play Mario Kart.” You blurt out, perhaps ruining the intense moment but you had to do it someway. There’s no way that you can cope with the feelings you have for him right now, feelings that are far too strong and intense for a relationship that’s barely five minutes old with someone who’s taken a year to come to terms with himself and his feelings.

And maybe...maybe you’re not ready for that yet either. This thing, this bond you have with Hoseok is special and precious, and you don’t want to rush it.

Your comment throws him for a loop though. The way his brows crease together in confusion before he’s letting out a deep breath slowly, nodding as he lets go of your face. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to just how stunning he is.

“Yeah...okay. If you want. I’m playing Peach though.” Letting go of his waist, you watch as he shuffles to the end of the couch before stopping suddenly and looking back at you with a look of complete awe that morphs into a shy smile. It’s like he wants to say something, but he shakes his head and instead just leans back to kiss your nose endearingly.

He gets up then and begins to sort out the Switch, leaving you to watch him with what is possibly the sappiest expression you’ve ever had.

Yeah, you think you could get used to this. Easily. Because if there’s something you’ve discovered over your time knowing him, it was that Jung Hoseok was hard to understand at first, but so unbelievably easy to love.

[cryptidkieren]

come around (1/6)

ayy waddup its ya boy back at it again with good omens fic

i wrote literally the entire outline and the first couple chapters before my power randomly went out????? so i had to start from scratch rip

heres the ao3 link if you want it :)

edit: so i adjusted the tags a bit and it completely erased the body of the post???? i love being on tungle.com :)

-----

It first began, as these things were wont to do, on a quiet winter morning. This one happened to be in Aziraphale’s bookshop.

The angel had been enjoying his morning, flipping the sign on the door to ‘Open!’ somewhere around 10. The warm light of his gas lamps combined with the smell of old books still put him at ease, even after all these years. Snow was falling softly outside, muffling the chaotic noise of London a bit and bringing with it that impatient sense of the incoming holidays that December promised. He still hadn’t heard anything from the Head Office, not since Adam Young ordered both Heaven and Hell to leave them alone over 6 months before.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise, tea cup resting against his bottom lip.

There stood Crowley, wrapped in too many layers to be comfortable, snow and malice swirling around his feet as he clomped- yes, clomped into the shop. The heavy black boots he wore were packed with already melting snow, making small puddles on the hardwood under him.

“Do shut the door, Crowley, or are you trying to heat all of London?” Aziraphale set his cup back down on the tray beside him, lips twitching as he tried to fight off a grin.

“Anything to end this bloody weather, angel!” The demon waved a gloved hand carelessly at the heavy door, forcing it to close if it knew what was good for it. “I am sick to death of the cold! I might actually be sick! Can demons even get sick? If not, then I am definitely one of a kind!”

Aziraphale chuckled as he got up from his comfortable spot, allowing Crowley to rant and shuck his numerous layers onto the floor. “I swear, you get more prickly every winter, my dear.” The angel snapped his fingers and the scattered outerwear was miraculous hung up on the coat peg by the door.

Crowley glared at him, his dark shades slightly fogged and fiery hair a right state from his designer beanie. “I swear this is my punishment from the bust Armageddon. God is torturing me with this cold front, knowing I’m going to freeze my bollocks off and die!”

The angel snorted, cheeks heating slightly, and covered his mouth. How dramatic. He stepped up to unwind the crimson knit scarf hanging around the demon’s neck. “It’s only the first snowfall of the year, dear. I have no idea why you don’t retire to the south during winter at this point, to be honest. Greece is wonderful this time of year, and I know how you love to make fun of tourists at the Parthenon.” Aziraphale smiled at him, turning to hook the scarf on the coat peg with the demon’s jacket.

It was quiet for a moment. Aziraphale turned back to the other, an eyebrow raised in question. He willed it back down to a normal elevation; he had been spending too much time with Crowley.

The demon in question just stared at him, lips pursed and brows drawn behind his glasses. “You haven’t left your bookshop for that long since you opened it.”

“Um,” Aziraphale blinked, quite confused with the sudden topic change. “I-I suppose that’s true. How is it relevant, though?”

The angel could only as Crowley opened his mouth, paused, and let out a rush of air as he raked a hand through his already messy hair, turning to look out the frosted window. “I guess it isn’t.” He seemed… Dejected?

Oh!

“Crowley-”

Something in Aziraphale’s voice must have caught his attention, for he whipped back around to stare at the other, back ramrod straight and shoulders tight. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

It broke the angel’s heart.

“Crowley, darling,” he said, catching the way the occult being twitched at the endearment. He frowned, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable. “I-I mean, my boy, this isn’t like Alpha Centauri. If you wanted to go on holiday during the winter, you can always ask. I could never imagine having a problem following you across the world.”

Aziraphale caught up with his own words only moments after they escaped, causing his face to flame and panic to set his heart racing. After 6,000 years, he finally let the cat out of the bag and now Crowley was going to hate him or be disgusted by him or quietly pretend it hadn’t happened and he didn’t know which one would be worse-

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as he watched Crowley open his mouth, obviously about to deliver Aziraphale’s death sentence, when the bell above the door rang out and broke the moment.

They both turned to watch as an elderly woman hobbled in from the cold, snow melting in her silver curly hair. Her lilac colored coat was promptly hung up next to one of Crowley’s, standing out against the all the black. She looked around for a moment, leaning a bit on her wooden cane, before spotting them and smiling politely.

“Good morning, gentlemen! Are one of you the proprietor of this shop?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale choked, clearing his throat slightly as he took a step away from the demon. He valiantly swallowed his terror and slapped on his customer service smile. “That would be me, madam. How may I help you?”

“Oh, I was looking for a book,” she said, hobbling over to him on her cane. Crowley politely moved away from them, towards the counter with the old fashioned register that was barely used.

“Obviously,” the demon muttered, though not very quietly.

The customer narrowed her eyes in his direction, as if she were thinking of hitting him with her cane.

“What kind of book?” Aziraphale jumped in. After all, he didn’t want violence to break out in his shop. He had a feeling Crowley wouldn’t come away unscathed.

The woman turned to him again, making the demon let out a breath audible from across the room. She smirked. “It’s an old book, of course. My great grandmother used to read it to me when I was little, and I wanted to start that tradition up with my newborn grandson.”

The angel smiled warmly, feeling the love pouring out of the elderly woman. One of the perks to being an angel was the ability to feel good things everywhere, like love, which this woman seemed to have an abundance of. “Of course, madam. Would you happen to have the title or the author?”

Here, the woman sighed mournfully. “‘Fraid not, dearie. My memory isn’t what it used to be. I can remember bits and pieces, though, would that help?”

Even a demon couldn’t say no to her hopeful, pleading face. Good thing he wasn’t, as the angel jumped at the chance to help.

“Worth a shot, right?” Aziraphale smiled widely, ushering her over to his chair with the untouched tea service. A little twitch of his fingers and the pot was steaming once more. He sat on the small floor pouf decorated with little bow ties tucked under the chair, something Crowley once got him as a gag gift. “Please, make yourself comfortable and tell me what you remember.”

He listened as the elderly woman described her book and sipped her tea, smiling as he made notes on a little notepad from his pocket. He admired the woman’s dedication to details, such as the texture of the pages and the style of the front cover.

Of course, he also noticed how Crowley leaned against the counter behind her, watching them with his chin in his hand. His eyes were unreadable behind his spectacles, but the small smile on his lips was easier to define.

Aziraphale ducked his head again, hiding his own smile.

When the woman finished her description, the angel straightened up and checked his notes. It sounded familiar enough…

“Oh!” he grinned, swiftly rising from his own seat before helping the old woman to her feet. “I think I know where that is!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, apparently, as even Crowley grinned and moved out of the way when the angel came bustling around the counter. He headed towards a case in the North wing, already picturing where the novel would be housed.

Aziraphale grinned as he looked up at the top shelf of the case. There it was, sitting amongst its brethren, just as he thought it would be! As he reached up, he immediately encountered a problem: it was inches out of reach.

The angel frowned, straining and stretching his arm, trying to make up the distance. He contemplated performing a miracle to get it down, but the woman was watching him with barely contained amusement.

He dropped back to his heels, toes and side aching a bit, as he stared up at the offending novel. The angel heard a huff of laughter behind him before a darkly clad arm suddenly invaded his eyesight. “Honestly, angel, I’m going to buy you a step ladder one of these days.”

The heavy book was dropped into Aziraphale’s hands. He blinked at it for a moment before his felt his entire face grow warm. Wrinkling his nose at the smirking demon, he thanked him primly before turning back to his customer.

Before he could even start, the woman chuckled, deepening her wrinkles. “My wife used to do things like that for me too, bless her soul.” Her bittersweet expression only touched on the sudden feeling of melancholic love she pushed out from her soul, causing Aziraphale’s breath to stutter in his lungs.

It also didn’t help that her insinuation made his cooling face reignite with embarrassment.

“Oh! He’s not- We’re not- I mean-”

Crowley fled then, heading towards the back room with bright red ears . Aziraphale caught a glimpse of his hand over his mouth before he disappeared and the angel felt his stomach drop out.

Oh. Alright. Disgust was the answer to that question, then.

“Don’t worry, love,” Aziraphale’s quiet breakdown was interrupted by the elderly woman, whom he had quite forgotten about as his heart was breaking. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Your young man seems to love you very much.”

The angel smiled tightly at the woman, feeling his face flush further against his will. He quickly brought the book to the register, intent on getting her out as soon as possible. As he was writing out the necessary information for his records, the older woman placed a hand on his own, effectively capturing his attention.

“Listen, my dear, if you two really aren't together, then you're both blind.” The woman raised an eyebrow at the angel, a kind smile on her lips. “It’s obvious to just about anyone with eyes that you love each other, and time isn't forever. If I could go back and be with my wife sooner, I would, because there was already so much wasted time before we both had to buck up and have a little faith.”

She patted his hand, then, grinning mischievously. Hers was dark and soft against his own, heavily lined though he had lived so much longer than her. “Have courage, my dear. As the kids say, you only live once.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aziraphale bit his lip, ducking his head as the customer withdrew her hand. He finished cashing her out (at an extraordinarily discounted price, to boot) and helped her back into her coat. As she left the shop, the bell ringing happily above her, the angel sighed deeply as his earlier panic reared its ugly head again. He would rather face all of Heaven alone than go find Crowley at that moment.

Aziraphale steeled himself and determinedly made his way to the back room. It was cramped, the space not really made for what he used it for, but it was comfortable. The small kitchenette shoved in the corner was rarely used, while the tattered sofa and threadbare armchair dominated most of the space.

Crowley himself was lounging on the sofa, a glass of something amber in his hands despite the early hour.

“What a lovely woman,” Aziraphale said with a smile and a shake of his head. He moved to the kitchenette, determined to make himself a cup of tea the human way to soothe his simmering anxiety.

“Sure, lovely, right,” he muttered, draining his glass in one go. The angel tutted reproachfully.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that, Crowley?” He sat in the armchair with a contented sigh, sipping delicately on his too hot tea.

He didn’t have to see the demon’s eyes to know he was rolling them. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, etcetera etcetera.” He then reached for the crystal bottle on the table between them to refill his glass.

It grew quiet then, Aziraphale occasionally sipping from his cup while Crowley stared into his as if it held answers he was searching for. The old clock on the wall ticked away, the only noise in the room.

The angel took the time to ponder on what the old woman said. ‘Have courage.’ He felt his heart ache something fierce, a well of yearning opening up in him. He wished he had courage.

But courage couldn’t make Crowley love him. His expression as he made a break for it earlier was proof enough of that.

His mounting inner turmoil was then interrupted by the being who caused it.

“Tempt you to a spot of lunch, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled at him, feeling brittle, as he set down his cup. “It’s barely gone half past ten, Crowley. They’re not serving lunch anywhere at the moment.”

The demon huffed, sitting forward to set his own glass down next to the angel’s. He looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses, golden eyes sparkling in the lamp light, as a mischievous smirk settled on his face. “Brunch, then. I know how you adore those little pie things in that café in Athens.”

“Oh, their spinach and feta pites are to die for,” Aziraphale moaned, already craving the dish. A sudden choking noise made him turn back to the demon.

Crowley’s glasses had slid down his pointy nose, allowing him to stare openly at the angel. Two spots of color sat high on his cheeks. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley? Are you alright, my dear?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance held him then, jerking back as he roughly pushed his dark glasses back up. The color on his cheeks seemed to be spreading.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Crowley said roughly. He jumped up from the sofa then, giving the angel a start. “Race you to Greece!”

And he was gone, the bell at the front tinkling behind him.

Aziraphale shook his head with a small chuckle. He rose from his own seat at a more leisurely pace, snapping his fingers to clean the glasses and send them back to their cupboard.

“What a cheat.”

Then he chased after his demon, feeling content enough.

-----

[next chapter]

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Hurts to be Human Chapter 3

Hey guys!! I have internet!! It’s a miracle!! But because I don’t have it long, I am not having this edited. Just going for it and hoping for the best. o.o But here is chapter 3 of Hurts to be Human!! Thank you for being patient!!!

Warnings: I mean, I don’t really think there are any? I think it’s all good this time around!! 

Please don’t post this anywhere without my permission o.o

No gif because I suck..I’m sorry :(

Chapter Three — Walk Me Home

“Life isn’t picking and choosing where you left off and where you can begin again, Bucky.”

Bucky shifted his gaze from the ground to the man sitting across from him. He was older, fought in Vietnam. He was someone he could relate to. A vet with a rough past, someone who did things they weren’t exactly proud of. It was why Sam recommended him. Hell, it was why he worked as his therapist. And seeing him, the man reminded Bucky of when he and Steve had seen Snow White. He was shorter, on the rounder side with constantly flushed cheeks, a big nose, and glasses.

Thus the nickname “Doc” was born.

It helped that he was also a doctor, but the nickname definitely had nothing to do with that and had everything to do with the Disney classic.

“I know, I know,” Bucky agreed, unclasping his hands and leaning back on the couch. He slouched, still not as short as Doc was in his chair. No, still the man managed to be shorter than him. It was incredible really. Bucky couldn’t help, but wonder — how short was the guy’s torso? It was a thought that crossed his mind at least once every session.

“Bucky, are you listening?” Bucky jerked, blinking when he realized he’d zoned out. It happened only when Doc tried telling him something he didn’t like. They both knew it and Doc wasn’t fond of it. “You do know that you pay me for my honesty and help, right?”

Bucky chuckled, smiling as he ran a hand through his short hair. Still, he wasn’t used to the length. He was used to the mane he had for sixty years. Give or take a few. It was a shield, a barrier to protect him from the outside world. Doc and him had several sessions over cutting it and how that would open Bucky up, provide him with a new level of vulnerability. And now that vulnerability meant a different sort of relationship with Y/N.

Y.N. That damn woman. She had been at the compound for two weeks, constantly working on damage control with the media while Sharon took on the government. They finally took the time to explain to Sam and Bucky what was going on and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like that she had to clean up his mess. She was back. Shouldn’t he be taking the time to learn about the woman she had become? Especially after their last conversation? It seemed playing pretend provided new opportunities to frustrate Bucky. He wanted to go back, not to the way they left things, but back to when things were good. 

And Doc was reminding him that that was not a good idea.

“Believe me, it’s hard to forget,” he snarked back, earning an amused chuckle from the old man. Old man. Bucky chuckled to himself. He was still older than Doc, but he looked far from it. “And I do understand, but…”

“You miss her.”

Bucky frowned, looking away. He wasn’t ready to admit that — not aloud, not to anyone else. If he did, that meant there was a whole new level of admitting, of facing the thing he had walked away from.

“It’s okay to miss her. She was your closest friend after Steve left. And when she did —“

“Thin ice, Doc.”

He quieted and Bucky managed to breath a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing in the slightest sort of way. The phrase was a warning, something they had come up with when Doc pried too fast. At first it was something used every week. The initial wall Bucky had, required Doc earning his trust, earning his thoughts and concerns so that they could make progress. He hadn’t actually used the phrase in almost a year. Then again, they hadn’t talked about Y/N in almost a year. 

Drumming his pen on his fingers, Doc tried to tread carefully on the sensitive topic. Silence fell between them in those moments. What about Y/N was safe to discuss and yet would bring about an opportunity for Bucky to open up more? Finally, Doc asked, “You said she has a pet now? Was that something she was initially against?”

Bucky nodded. “H.D. I…when we were together, I always talked about getting a pet. Something to take care of.”

“And something that could also take care of you.” Doc smiled knowingly as Bucky looked up.  Clearly the super soldier hadn’t expected that to be so blatantly clear. “Pets have a way of bringing out a person’s softer side. They’re good for us. It’s why we train them to be service animals. It’s no surprise to hear that was something you were considering.”

Bucky was bitter as he muttered, “She was so against it.”

“Why?”

Frustrated. “Hell if I know. She told me it was because they’re too needy.”

“You sound like you don’t believe that.” 

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. The feeling was a distraction from the topic at hand. At one point in his life, he rarely touched his hair. When he became the Winter Soldier, it was simply to get it out of his sight when lining up a target. Once he reunited with Steve, it became a nervous habit, something he used to bring him back to his reality. The habit, something Y/N often teased him about, was something he still couldn’t break. It was comforting in an odd sort of way. 

“Bucky?”

He looked up, blinking before he finally answered, “No, of course I don’t. This is the same girl that would run up to dogs in the park. She’d beg the owners to let her pet them, Doc. At shelters, she would have as many cats as possible just curled up on her as if she were wearing a ‘welcome home’ sign. Hell, Finding Nemo was one of her favorite movies and she bought a mug with that dog from Up on it. Someone like that doesn’t think pets are too needy.”

“No?”

Bucky hesitated, knowing why Doc was questioning him. He wanted Bucky to think past the rashness of his initial thoughts and assumptions. Though his process was always quick and calculating, it was more often right when he was the Winter Soldier. Now? He was just Bucky.

Even so, he felt he was right. He knew he was right.

“No. Y/N wasn’t avoiding the idea of a pet because they’re needy. It…” He hesitated as the realization finally sunk in, heavy like a hunk of lead on his heart. “She felt broken. Feeling like that, knowing you’re broken, you don’t feel like you deserve to have anything good in your life. Not even something as small as a pet because they…well, they need you, they rely on you.”

“Some people seem to believe they might not be fully capable of taking care of a pet to the extent the animal deserves.”

“Fuck, I’m an ass,” Bucky groaned, running a hand over his face.

Doc laughed, shaking his head. “Far from it, Bucky. You’re human and you’re one of those in the world that has been put through a great deal.”

“But shouldn’t I have realized or noticed? Something?” Doc didn’t say anything, only looking at him. It was frustrating to say the least. “Come on, Doc.”

Doc adjusted his glasses and wrote something down before explaining, “I don’t think so. While we haven’t talked much about Y/N in the past, what you have told me has provided me enough clarity on the subject. The two of you were working through a great deal and relying on each other in a way that eventually became unhealthy. It lacked stability, communication, and openness. Instead, the two of you became lost in yourselves and your own trauma. With that in mind, it’s only understandable that you’d grow oblivious in each other’s needs while sorting through your own.”

Bucky stared at the ground, unable to let go of the guilt that twisted in his gut. They were supposed to be a team and yet he had grown completely oblivious to her and her needs. She had felt broken, shattered, and he never even realized.

—

Bucky’s session had ended not long after his realization. It seemed he always had the best timing when it came to his time with Doc. A miraculous breakthrough followed by the last five minutes and Doc doing his best to work with the time he had. Stepping outside, he quickly took a step back when he saw the downpour that greeted him. 

He truly did have the best timing, didn’t he?

Staring up at the darkened sky, Bucky huffed a frustrated sigh and watched as the cold air tinted his breath. Adjusting his leather jacket, he allowed the rough material to protect him from the chill. Then came tugging at his gloves, keeping his metal arm hidden from onlookers. Always careful, always checking. It was part of his routine. 

As he searched for what he hoped would be a much needed pause in the weather, he noticed the art gallery across the street. It was something new and edgy that Shuri had told him to look into. Apparently it was one of her favorite places to visit when she stopped by. He never did look into it, of course. The only art he really looked at was Steve’s and that stopped a long time ago. No, now he looked not because of the art, but because of who was finishing with a purchase just inside. He smiled, leaning against the brick wall as he watched her. This wasn’t weird, right? Watching her? As a curious and concerned friend?

No, certainly not weird at all.

Today she had worn one of those slouchy beanies he’d often seen this time of year. It was a maroon sort of color, the shade complimenting her skin as if it was made for her. She turned and stepped outside and his eyebrows shot up. Over the leggings and boots, over the t-shirt, barely peeking through, was the leather jacket he’d given her all those years ago. 

It could be a new one.

He brushed aside the voice in his head, searching for the key to knowing whether his hopes were true. She turned, facing his direction, and immediately he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. There, on the corner of the collar, was a red star that matched the one from his old arm. She’d insisted on getting it to symbolize that she wasn’t scared of that part of his past. Everyone teased her about it, but she never seemed to care.

And she kept it.

That had to mean something, right?

“Y/N!” 

She looked at him, that familiar surprise flashing across her features for only a brief moment before she smiled. They had been making progress in their friendship, but it never seemed to go farther than morning coffee or running into each other in the hall. They were friendly, but he wouldn’t exactly call them friends. Now? He had a chance to spend time with her. He had a chance to actually be her friend.

Glancing from one side of the street to the other, he quickly jogged across and joined her side. He noticed the canvas tucked under her arm, neatly packaged away so as to protect it from the weather. A part of him wanted to ask, but he knew better. Y/N was still painfully private, still guarded. He had to show her that she could trust him again.

“What are you doing here?” She was curious, brow furrowed and a breathy laugh escaping her. The last person either of them expected to run into was obviously the person standing before them. 

Bucky gestured to the building he had just left, shrugging. “Therapy. What about you? Since when are you an art fanatic?” He grinned, unable to help himself as he gestured to the rather large piece she held close to her side.

She glanced down at the package, her ears turning a light pink. Looking at him, a sheepish smile and small shrug were her only form of explanation before she finally elaborated. “I was sick of looking at blank walls. Tony didn’t exactly pick the prettiest shade of white to paint the whole damn place. I swear, I was starting to feel like I was in some sort of mental ward.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” 

Joining her side, the two started walking down the street. Neither seemed to be entirely sure where they were headed or aware of the fact that the rain was giving its best attempts at soaking them to the bone. Instead, they simply enjoyed each other’s presence, as if it were a gift. 

“I can carry that for you,” he offered, finally breaking the silence that had seemingly settled between them. He’d noticed her shift the awkward thing a few times, trying to find a way to carry it. It seemed there was no way.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s not heavy. Just awkward, you know?”

“I figured, but I really don’t mind helping. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and begrudgingly let him take the canvas. He tucked it under his metal arm, his free hand brushing against hers as it dropped back to his side. Every instinct in him wanted to reach out, to touch her. Even when they were friends, she always let him touch her. It was his way of staying grounded when he first went through losing Steve. He had relied on it, rarely ever letting her stray far because he craved the physical contact. The feeling, that connection, was what bonded them for so long.

But that was then and this is now.

Now, that urge didn’t feel quite the same. He wanted to touch her, but it wasn’t so desperate. There wasn’t a need or desperation to touch her, to drink her in as if she was the very water he needed to live. Instead, the feeling was subtle, reminding him of the small breeze that would come in when summer transitioned to fall. It was cool, calming — something to be appreciated. When did that feeling change? When did that carnal, overwhelming craving shift into something far sweeter?

“Bucky?”

He looked up, surprised to see Y/N waving a hand in his face. She laughed at the doe-eyed look of bewilderment that came with those bright blue eyes and parted lips. He looked like a child hearing their mother call their name for the fifth time, middle name and all creating that look of a deer caught in the headlights. 

“You alright?”

Clearing his throat, Bucky nodded and the two kept walking. “Yeah, just —“

“Thinking? Was it about your session?”

No. “Yeah.” Really, is lying the best way to get their friendship going? He hesitated. “No,” he corrected.

“So which is it?”

Bucky laughed at the way she raised her eyebrow, knowing if she drew it up any further it would get lost in her hairline. “No, I wasn’t thinking about my session.”

“Then…penny for your thoughts?”

He looked away from her, shrugging. How could he voice how he was feeling? The thoughts in his head? How could he tell her that a part of him missed what they were, but understood her wishes?

Just tell her, Buck. You won’t get very far with someone like Y/N if you aren’t honest. The familiar sound of Sam’s voice reminded him that the birdbrain was basically the angel on his shoulder. He might drive Bucky crazy, but his intentions were true and good, always looking out for Bucky’s best interests. 

You lost her once. Tell her that bullshit in your head and she won’t be sticking around much longer. There it was. The Winter Soldier, a reminder of what he had been. Working with Doc had muddled that voice for the most part, but he and Doc both knew they could never fully rid him of the devil in his head.

It seemed he was always fighting, always trying to figure who was best to listen to. Why couldn’t he ever listen to himself? 

His silence left an impression that perhaps Y/N had overstepped. She ducked her head, rubbing the back of her head as she told him, “You don’t have to share. Sorry for —“

“No!” His panicked voice came out a little higher, a little squeakier, and left a bright pink hue on his cheeks. She looked up, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing. “I — You don’t have to apologize, Y/N.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He nudged her gently and was happy to see her shoulders relax. She even knocked into him playfully, something he hadn’t expected. That was a good sign, right? He bit the inside of his cheek before finally telling her, “I was thinking about how much I missed this.”

Confusion. That was the look that greeted him.

Genius. Fuck that birdbrain. Fuck the fact that he could hear the damn guy in his head all the time.

 “Missed what?”

Bucky gestured between them as he elaborated. “This. Us. I missed having my best friend around. I mean, the ‘why’ you’re here sucks, that’s for sure, but I’m really glad you’re back. Does that make sense?”

She smiled. It was brilliant and as bright as the one she offered to everyone else. Slowly, she was letting him back in. Slowly, but just as surely as he was letting her. They needed baby steps and time. Moments like this would certainly help. “I am too. Don’t tell Fury I said this, but I’m glad he found me.”

“Knowing Fury, I think it’s safe to say it was never a matter of finding. He always knew where you were.”

She snorted and he grinned. Y/N never let herself laugh so openly. Not before. Not with him. “Fair enough. You’re probably right.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, you’re completely and utterly right. Is that what you want to hear?”

Bucky laughed, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “Was that so hard?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shoving her shivering hands in her pockets. It was the only thing keeping her from holding his hand, borrowing his warmth. She didn’t want to repeat history. In fact, she refused to. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. “You’re utterly ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but then again, you’re the one letting me walk you home.”

She gaped at him. “We live in the same compound, Barnes!”

—

The sound of the door opening and closing caught the attention of one SHIELD agent and one superhero, pulling their focus from the news on the television. The squelch of a pair of shoes and soft thud of a pair of heels signaled exactly who had come back. When did they even run into each other?

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, earning a look from Sharon. He didn’t seem to notice, instead watching through the doorway as Bucky and Y/N passed through the kitchen. They were laughing and smiling, a level of ease around one another that hadn’t been there before. Neither stopped to check if anyone was home, instead continuing on their way to the dorms. It was then he noticed a particular detail that left him more than a little curious. Both were utterly drenched. “Did they walk the whole way?” he asked, looking back at Sharon. When he noticed her look, he raised his hands in defense. “What, what’d I do?”

“You’re worried.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh, I am. I’m just curious what it is you’re worried about.”

Sam frowned, looking away. The arm that was propped on the couch held the weight of his cheek as he tried to find a way to explain this. He didn’t want to come off like an ass after all. “He’s doing good, Sharon. He’s better than he was the last time she was here.”

“She’s better too.”

“I know! And I’m happy for both of them.”

“But?”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m concerned that they’ll take steps back.”

“What, now that they’re around each other again?”

“It happened before. They were doing good, going strong, then everything got worse.”

“They’ve grown a lot since then,” Sharon reminded him. She shifted, turning her body to face him as she tucked a leg into her chest. “Fury debated bringing her in for a long time because he knew they were doing so good. He doesn’t want anyone backtracking. Especially not Y/N. She means as much to him as Nat did.”

“I know, I know.”

“You’re going soft for Barnes,” she teased, grinning and earning a glare from her teammate.

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not, Carter.”

“Prove it, Wilson.”

Sam groaned, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. The woman was utterly infuriating and usually right. He knew he’d developed a friendship with Bucky after Steve left. And after Y/N left, that friendship grew stronger. He helped Bucky with a lot of his PTSD, brought him to VA meetings, and helped him find a therapist. Everything he could possibly do to help Bucky in the right direction, he was there for. The last thing he wanted was to see his friend spiral again. To lose all that progress over one girl? It didn’t make sense to him. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

“Your smugness is not appreciated.”

“Look,” Sharon told him, earning his attention and pulling it away from the bland ceiling. “They don’t need each other anymore, Sam. Both of them have grown on their own. They aren’t the same people they were and maybe…maybe they just want each other now.”

“They were wrong for each other then. Why not now?”

“The right person at the wrong time is still the wrong person, Sam. Maybe that’s all it was. The wrong time.”

Sam huffed, shaking his head. “I don’t like when you’re right.”

“But I’m always right.” He smacked her with a pillow, earning a squeal and laugh from her. She grabbed the popcorn bowl from the table, tossing it in his lap. “For that, you get to grab the popcorn while I pick a movie!”

He groaned, loud enough for anyone in the compound to hear his clear irritation. “Oh, come on!”

[bangtan-insfired]

Whalien 52 | Taehyung (2)

genre: fluff & light angst

summary: Of all the fish in the sea, Taehyung was so glad you swam to him.

pairing:  mermaid!reader x Taehyung

A/N: i’m so sorry for it taking so long to update this. this part may be familiar (since I did delete it a couple weeks ago to edit.) I've added an extra scene so it’s not 100% the same as it was before.

read part one here

You returned to the rock the next day and the day after and the day after that…until it became a bad habit of yours. You couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t care how much you were risking every night as long as it filled that void in your heart, even if only for a short amount of time.

You were relieved, a smile spreading on your face as the human boy always returned to the rock, blessing your ears with his beautiful voice. Some nights, he’d change the song he’d sing. Some nights, he wouldn’t sing at all and stare at the sea instead, which made you wonder what it was that would make him so sad.

But tonight, he seemed different.

He stumbled over his own feet and almost fell into the rocky sea below him. A glass bottle was in his grasp and your nose scrunched as he reeked of whatever it was that glass bottle contained. It was a strong scent and anything but pleasant. You also noticed eyes were glossy and glazed over.

The smile left your face and you watched wide-eyed as something leaked out of his eyes. Is that…water? You thought. You’ve never seen such a thing. Was he okay? Was this his way of bleeding out? All that registered in your mind was that he is in some sort of pain.

“In the middle of this ocean, one lonely whale cries…”

Something was wrong. Something had always been wrong, you sensed. He was leaking out of his eyes and you wish there was something you could do to take his sorrow away. Were humans always this sad and lonely?

“An endless signal will reach someday…an endless signal…” The human boy trailed off, his voice wavering. He slapped his hand to his face, eyebrows knitting together. “Gah, what’s the next part? An endless signal will reach someday…”

“Everywhere, even to the other side of the Earth.”

You surprised yourself with your own voice. You hadn’t heard it in years as you communicated with your fellow sea creatures telepathically, leaving you with no reason to speak out loud.

The shock of hearing your own voice didn’t last long as the shock of revealing your presence to a human was stronger and much more severe. You were too blinded by trying to help the human boy to think rationally. Your hands flew to your mouth as if that would repair the damage you’ve just done. But it was already too late.

His mouth shut and head turned, searching for the voice he had heard.

You held your breath in fear that he could hear you. Holy carp…

He moved forward, crouching over the rock and you dipped your head lower as you saw him lean over. You didn’t dare to look up. You knew if you did, you worried he’d be able to spot you. Glancing down at your tail, you willed it to change to a darker color so that it blended with the dark waters around you and closed your eyes, praying to Poseidon he wouldn’t see you.

You remained that way for seconds but those seconds felt like an eternity to you as you waited…and waited…and waited.

A splash had all your senses on alert and your eyes snapped opened just in time to see the human boy falling into the water right in front of you. Judging by the awkward angle he fell in, he must’ve slipped, his body missing your own only by a few inches. A million thoughts cursed through your mind but among them, there was a prominent one: Did he know how to swim?

You waited a few seconds but when he had not come up, you wasted no more time in diving in straight after him. Him seeing you was now the least of your worries and him falling in was your fault. As you swam toward him, you saw that he was desperately trying to reach the surface.

You urged your tail to push you further as you approached him from behind. You hooked your arms under his shoulders and made sure your grip was stable before pulling him up to the surface along with you. His body relaxed in your arms and fear began to ensue. How long could humans endure under water?

You didn’t trust the human boy enough to place him onto the rock anymore so you dragged him all the way onto shore. His eyes were closed and you poked at his chest, wondering if he was alive for a second. Relief washed over you as you felt him twitch beneath you.

You didn’t know what came over you. It was instinct the way you pressed both hands against his chest and pushed until you finally got a better reaction from him. “Please, don’t be dead.” You whispered in a desperate manner. “Please, don’t be dead.”

With one more push, his eyes flew open and he sat up, leaning over to the side as he gasped for air, his drenched hair hiding you from his face. You lifted your hand to rest it on his shoulder but let it drop back to your side instead. Should I leave? You asked yourself and although the voice in the back of your head screamed “yes,” you found yourself rooted to your spot.

And before you knew it, the boy in front of you stopped wheezing and lifted his head, turning his gaze in your direction. He blinked...once...twice. He even shook his head, his brain denying what his eyes were seeing.

“Hello.” You greeted with a nervous smile, ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head. While there was no one to enforce it on you, you knew you were breaking the laws of merkind. You’ve been breaking them since you came across this human boy.

Hearing your voice, confirmed that you were real and not a figment of his imagination. His eyes widened by a fraction. “You have…you have a…tail?” He breathed in bewilderment.

“Yes.” You replied, looking down at your tail as well. It glimmered under the moonlight in hues of purple and blue. You waved it at the human boy in a playful manner. Maybe, this is okay, you thought. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Somebody pinch me.”

You were confused by his strange request but did it anyway and you jumped startled by his immediate reaction and glare. “Ow!”

Your lips sunk down into a pout, shrinking under his cold gaze as he rubbed his sensitive arm. “But…but you said…”

The human boy’s eyes softened at the naive look on your face. He had indeed asked for it, therefore he couldn’t really blame you for it. Then, the reality of this situation finally sunk in…

You were a mermaid. A mermaid who saved him. A mermaid who saved him and is now staring at him with strange curiosity. This had to be some sort of hallucination, if not a dream.

“You’re a mermaid.”

“Yes.” You replied with a frown. Why is he looking at me like that? Your tail fell flat against the sand and out of his line of view.

The human boy ran his hand through his dripping hair. He kept his hand on his head, palm pressed against his forehead and fingers threaded in his hair as he looked away.  “How?”

“Well,” You began, your voice uncertain and body tensed up. “It’s not like I had a choice...I was born like this just as you were born as...you.”

“No,” the boy shook his head, his gaze landing back on you. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just….I thought you were a myth but clearly you’re not! You’re sitting right in front of me. A part of me still wants to believe I’m dreaming or hallucinating, even though you pinched me and that felt very real. I did drink tonight but I’ve drank much more before and--oh gosh, I’m rambling and you look very confused. I’m sorry.”

“You seem troubled.”

“Troubled?” The human boy slapped his hands to his face.  He sat up straight and brought his knees to his chest, fixing his gaze on the slight changing patterns of the tides. The water was cold as it met his shoes, easily seeping into them but he paid no mind to that. “I guess you can say that.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully, allowing your body to relax and turning your head so you could admire the sea as well. The warning bells in your head faded out into a dull murmur and allowed for your curiosity to fully take over. “I thought all humans should be happy but you’re not.”

The corner of his lips tilted up into a half smile at your childlike innocence. “Humans can be sad, too.”

Not liking the silence that came after, the human boy decided to change the topic and extended his hand out to you. “I just realized I haven’t properly introduced myself.”

You stared at his hand, eyebrows knitting in confusion. What am I supposed to do with it? As if he read your mind, he edged his hand toward yours ever so slightly. He was careful to watch your reaction, not wanting to scare you away so he did it slowly until you felt his fingertips brush your hand. You lifted your gaze to meet his questioningly and when he gave you a slight nod, you unfurled your fingers and watched as his hand gently closed around your own. His hand was warm compared to your own and comforting.

“Humans like to shake hands when we meet each other while we say our names...so nice to meet you. My name is Taehyung.”

“My name is [Y/N.]” You replied, letting your hand fall back to your lap. I like the way humans greet each other, you thought, feeling your interest in humans grow more and more by the minute.

“What’s it like being human?”

Out of the blue, just like your question, the waves picked up and crashed furiously against the rocks, spraying both of you with sea mist before retreating back to the calm rhythm it had before. It appeared to you that the sea was not fond of your question and doubt began to settle in. What if I’m going too far?

Taehyung’s sigh pulled you out of your concern. “It’s complicated.”

He struggled for a moment, trying to figure out where and how to begin but once he did, there was no stopping him. He began with the basics of humanity, on how they all needed food and water to survive like other species but unlike most species who ate for survival, they also ate for fun. He called the latter a luxury for humans. He explained why humans couldn’t stay underwater for long yet some trained for it. Humans weren’t so different from you, you noticed. Besides, the whole living on land and having two legs, of course.

He briefly mentioned the many objects they use. You were familiar with some due to your exploring of shipwrecks but you were shocked to find out their actual names. Who would’ve thought that a piece of silver utensil was called a fork and not a dinglehopper? Not to mention the fact that they were used for eating rather than brushing your hair, as you had previously thought…

There was so much more to the human world than you thought and you didn’t hesitate to ask further questions, especially when he touched on the subject of his family and friends. The stories he’d tell you about his bonding experiences with his family made your heart yearn for a taste and the adventures with his friends both fascinated you and brought you to laughter. You found yourself craving for more.

It’d be nice to be human for a day or two--to be able to walk on two feet and see everything with my own eyes. You sighed with longing, raising your tail and lightly splashing it against the shallow waters the tides provided.

“It’s not as great as it seems.” You hadn’t realized you were thinking out loud and noting the slight downwards curve of your lips, Taehyung added: “But if you really want to experience it, I can show you around. The human world is too dangerous of a place to be on your own.”

This is crazy, Taehyung thought. Here he was, telling you, a mermaid, about the human world. His world. And now, he was offering to show you around. He didn’t know why he did it, why he made the offer. Maybe, it was the look in your eyes. They were so hopeful and innocent, enamored with the idea of being a part of the human world. It made him hesitant to tell you just how cruel humans can be. He knew the light in your eyes would dull at the prospect of the human world not being as you’re imagining it so he decided to protect you from it the best he could.

Or maybe it was the same reason why he didn’t run away at the sight of you. There was just something about your presence that was comforting to him and judging by the way you remained by his side, he liked to think you felt it,too.

“The ocean is a dangerous place, too.” You replied solemnly. “But at least you have others. Your family. Your friends. You’re not alone.”

“But I still feel lonely.” Taehyung confessed.

You tilted your head, eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“Loneliness isn’t always about being physically alone. Sometimes, you see everyone around you laughing and being happy and even though you don’t feel the same way, you pretend to.For their sake. You’re too scared to reach out because you don’t want to burden them so then you’re left alone with your own thoughts and feelings…”

“Because even if I cry, no one would know.” You said softly. “I’m a whalien.”

There was a quiet pause...and then recognition flashed in Taehyung’s eyes as he remembered what had happened right before he ungraciously fell into the ocean. “How do you know that song?”

“You sing it almost every night.” You answered simply without thinking of the consequences. Taehyung turned his head to you and the blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Have you been stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking!” You exclaimed in defense, startling him. “I just--it’s just that this huge storm came out of nowhere and I didn’t have time to seek shelter so I got carried away and now I don’t know where I am and the fish here are so mean and the sharks just keep to themselves so when I heard you singing one night, I thought you were a merman but turns out you’re a human, which should’ve been a signal to run away--”

“Wow,” Taehyung breathed, a bit overwhelmed with trying to keep up with your rambling and although every thing that came out of your mouth was shocking yet adorable in its own strange way, there was one that was more prominent than the others. “Is my singing that good?”

You nodded. “You do have a beautiful voice.”

“Never thought I’d live to see the day where a mermaid compliments my voice…,” Taehyung muttered. The crazed look in his eyes made your stomach feel uneasy and heart race. “Are you sure this is not a dream?”

You were always the trusting type but the fact that he had a habit of bringing up what you are…what if he wasn’t as different as you thought? The last time a friend of yours was too trusting of a human was the last time you ever saw her…

Negative thoughts and images of you dead on display to humans who poked and probed your body began to consume your mind. You didn’t want to end up like your old friend. All you knew of the human in front of you was how sweet he sounded when singing. That wasn’t enough to ease your worries. You had to fix this situation and you had to fix it fast.

“It will be. I’m sorry.” You spoke hurriedly, barely even giving him a chance to process your words as you violently crashed your lips to his.

Images of you and your tail flooded your mind and you soaked them all in, draining any and all memories of you from his mind. When you pulled away, you watched as his eyes closed and he fell back onto the sand.

“A mermaid’s kiss can make a man go amiss.” You sighed as you brushed his hair away from his face--the exact way you had been yearning to earlier.

**

“TAEHYUNG! KIM TAEHYUNG! YAH, I’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK!”

Taehyung slowly came to his senses as he felt a harsh slap to his cheek. The ground beneath him was soft and he felt the tides kiss his legs. With a groan, he pried his eyes open to confirm that he was on shore. An angry Soomi came into his line of vision and before he could even process it, another harsh slap came to his cheek.

“YAH!”

“Damn, that one hurt me, too.”

“Soomi, I think your oppa needs one more.”

In an instant, Taehyung sat himself up, his hands flying to his cheeks in a protective manner as he scowled at his little sister who was still set on glaring at him. He then turned his attention to the other two voices and confusion settled in as he recognized them. It was two of his close friends: Jimin and Jungkook. They both held flashlights in their hands and taking advantage of the situation, they pointed them directly at Taehyung.

“Gah!”

“Just how much have you had to drink tonight, hyung?” Jungkook asked as he took in his friend’s red eyes. He tried to act stern and mad because Taehyung had him worrying so much but now that he know he was okay, he was finding it hard not to laugh at Taehyung’s state. He’s so lucky we found him and not his mother, Jungkook thought.

Jimin, on the other hand, didn’t find the situation as amusing. Not when he caught a whiff of his friend. He sighed as he outstretched his hand toward him. Taehyung took it and stumbled over his own feet but Jimin was there to steady him.

“What did I say about getting wasted without me?”

“What are you two doing here?” Taehyung asked, ignoring the question asked. He didn’t find the need to answer it as him drinking by himself was an action that was too late to take back. Besides, the hour drive to the city where Jimin and Jungkook lived was always a hassle.

“They came because I called them.” Soomi answered. Her hands were at her hips and she looked pretty proud of herself.

Taehyung resisted the urge to groan. She resembled their mother so much and he knew, he was in for a scolding once he got home. If Jimin and Jungkook were called to go out and search for him, then that meant his parents were aware of his disappearance. Or else Soomi wouldn’t have been able to call them.

“We’re just glad you’re okay.” Jimin said, mouthing at Soomi to ‘tone it down.’

“I just texted your mom that we found you. We should head back.” Jungkook suggested. “It looks like the sun is about to rise.”

“Why do you even have my mom’s number?”

“I don’t even have her number.” Jimin grumbled under his breath with a pout.

“She must like me so much because she’s the one who gave me her number.”

“Jungkook-oppa, my mother is happily married! Don’t you dare!”

Jungkook and Jimin laughed as an annoyed Soomi stomped her way to the front of them with her arms crossed. Taehyung’s head was pounding and all this yelling from his little sister was only making it worse. He could only muster a small smile as he watched his two friends follow after her.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. Goosebumps were forming on his arms and the wind grew colder. Something in him was telling him to look back. So he did.

The sky was a beautiful arrangement of blues, oranges, and yellows as it slowly welcomed the rising sun. Waves crashed lightly against the surrounding rocks. If it wasn’t for his terrible hangover, he would’ve found the sight peaceful. He stayed there for a moment longer, his eyes searching for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

His head was pounding but something was telling Taehyung that it wasn’t all due to the alcohol he had consumed. Something was missing.

“Tae!” Jimin called out.

Taehyung snapped out of his trance. His head ached over the thoughts swimming in his mind. He felt as if a part of him was lost to the vast sea. But as he spared one last glance to the sea, he saw that everything was in its place.

Maybe, I’m just going crazy.

Despite his uneasiness, Taehyung didn’t return to that rock the next night or the night after that. Not even to feed his curiosity when certain dreams started plaguing his nights. They were often pitch black and he’d hear this female voice, singing the song he’d sing. Sometimes, he’d dream that he was back on shore and this shadow came over him. He knew it was someone but every time he was about to open his eyes in his dream, he woke up.

And the feeling that something was missing never went away.

[bazzledazzled]

Fuel For Disaster- Chapter 2

Summary: Simon Snow only wanted to Be Baz’s fake boyfriend to get back at his extremely homophobic father. That was the only reason (and to find out what he was plotting.)

It wasn’t like he was actually going to fall in love with him. 

Comments: Sorry this took so long to come out! I've been really busy lately and I'm going to get busier in the coming weeks but I'll try to update whenever I can! I really like this chapter though and I hope you guys do too!

Once again thank you to @dragonsandgayvampires and @abbie-the-unicorn for editing this!!

Trigger Warning: Homophobia  Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

read it on ao3

“Okay ground rules,” Simon says. They’re on the train now, on the way to Baz’s. As the ride went on, Simon felt himself getting antsy, feeling increasingly more worried about this whole situation.

When Baz put on his clothes that morning for the trip home, Simon desperately wished he owned something other than trackie bottoms and a Watford jumper. Compared to him, Simon looked like a disaster, and that was not the impression he wanted to leave on Baz’s family.

Not that he cared….

“What?” Baz says. Simon huffs.

“I don’t know! If we’re in a fake relationship maybe we should just figure out what we’re comfortable with.” Baz frowns at Simon.

“Ok, first of all you need to stop doing that?”

“Doing what?” Simon swears that bastard glares harder.

“That! We can’t really convince your father we’re dating if you keep giving me the death glare.”

“This is my normal face, Snow.” Simon runs his hands through his curls. Baz was impossible. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this anymore. He should get out while he still can.

“Of course it is. Crowley, would it kill you to smile once in a while?” Baz sneers and Simon decides to leave the topic alone.

“What else?” Baz says. He’s tapping his fingers against his pants in a steady beat.

“I dunno. I don’t really care.”

“Then why are you setting up ground rules!”

“I don’t know!” Simon huffs, turning away from Baz. There’s a tense silence between them before Baz sighs.

“Just… I guess do what normal couples do, right? Like hand-holding? Cuddling?” Baz gulps. His fingers tap even more rapidly.

“What about kissing?” Simon asks more tentatively. Baz doesn’t look at him.

“I’d prefer… if we don’t do that.” Baz says timidly. Simon doesn’t think he’s ever heard Baz say anything timidly before.

“Ok,” Simon says with a shrug. “What about pet names?” Baz snorts.

“Crowley, Snow you want to come up with pet names?”

“I mean it couldn’t hurt. Plus, you know you’re dying to hear me call you ‘sugar’?” Simon says, a small smirk on his face. Baz makes a sound and for a moment, Simon isn’t sure what it is. Then he realizes. Baz is laughing.

It’s so genuine and true that it catches Simon off guard for a second. They’re small giggles at first as a smile takes over Baz’s face, his eyes crinkling with a smile. Then, Crowley, he snorts.

For a moment, Baz stops, looking at Simon. But the moment passes and suddenly both of them are bursting out into giggles, snorting and cackling as they lean against each other slightly.

Simon has to admit, he kind of likes Baz’s laugh. It’s imperfect in a way that completely contradicts his normal behavior. He looks so different when he’s happy and honestly it makes Simon feel like the world was spinning.

Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Baz should’ve never agreed to this. He should’ve never fallen for Simon’s dull blue eyes and he should’ve never thought that this could work out.

Simon smiles at him. He laughs and it’s the most amazing thing Baz has ever heard.

Baz already knew he was a goner, but this might just kill him.

Simon was beginning to have his doubts when he reached the front step of Baz’s house. Baz’s maid or something picked them up from the train station and it was a long and quiet ride back to Baz’s. Simon was used to silence between him and Baz, but now it seemed even worse. He was anxious and desperately wanted someone to talk to, but Baz didn’t say anything, so he didn’t either.

Baz opens the door, his expression holding no emotion. He didn’t look happy or scared, not one bit. Simon was dead jealous.

Simon follows Baz’s lead as they step into the foyer of the Grimm-Pitch mansion. Simon tried not to stare, he really did, but he’s never seen a place so grand. The outside made it look big, but it was HUGE on the inside. There were two statues of gargoyles at the bottom of a spiral staircase that led up to Merlin knows where. It was adorned with dark red velvet carpet and elegant wooden rails polished to perfection. On the floor beneath them there was a rug that was probably worth more than Simon as a person and a huge crystal chandelier hung above them.

He felt like he was in the Queen’s castle, which is, to say the least, he was out of place. He was very out of place.

“Stop gawking, Snow,” Baz whispers-hisses at Simon. Simon tries to close his mouth, flushing slightly.

“Basil,” a voice says. Simon and Baz turn to it, Baz doing it cooly and Simon doing it in a panicky way that made it seem like he was up to something.

Standing there is a woman. She looks nothing like Baz, but she has long brown hair and brown eyes. Next to her is Baz’s father.

Just seeing his cool expression made Simon want to bolt out the door and never come back. But he gave a sidelong glance at Baz and knew he had to stay. He was going to stay.

“Mother, father,” Baz says, his voice holding no emotion. Baz’s dad looks Baz up and down, then his eyes settle on Simon. Simon feels his anxiety build up even more.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Snow?” He says, sounding like it definitely is not a pleasure.

Simon opens his mouth to say something, but all words escape him. He stutters, trying to come up with something. He was never good with words, and this time was no exception.

Suddenly, Simon feels a cold hand on the small of his back. He gasps slightly at the touch, not quite expecting it. He looked over to find Baz standing next to him.

“Mother, father. I believe I discussed the arrangement to have my boyfriend over for Christmas.” Baz’s dad looks angry and it begins to dawn on Simon that this probably wasn’t the best idea. Who would believe that Baz would date him? They’re on complete opposite sides of a war. Baz and his lot probably hated Simon just as much as they hated the Mage.

“Ah. Of course,” Baz’s dad says cooly, smiling with a pained expression.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Simon and I are going to bring our bags to our rooms.” What happened next was a blur. Baz led him up the stairs, moving his hand from Simon’s back to his hand. He seemed angry, but Simon couldn’t really think about that.

Baz called him Simon.

To be fair, Simon probably wasn’t the best choice if Baz was on a mission to find a fake boyfriend to convince his father it was completely and utterly possible for two boys to be in love. He stuttered a lot, dressed like a slob, and had atrocious table manners. Earlier was a disaster, but dinner was an even bigger disaster. Baz isn’t even sure how they managed to get through it.

And after it all, his father had the audacity to ask if Simon knew about his “condition.”

Baz missed Watford. Anything was better than this.

Simon and Baz were forced to sleep in separate rooms, but apparently Simon didn’t get the memo.

“What are you doing in my room, Snow?” Baz says, ignoring how cute he looked sitting on Baz’s couch holding a pillow close to his chest. His bottom lip was bright red and raw, as if he’s been biting it. A bad habit that he used to do more often, but stopped after Bunce kept telling him off for it.

Simon shoots up, his face turning red as he tries to come up with an excuse. He’s wringing the pillow in his hands, making it all wrinkled.

“Something keeps making noises in my room,” Simon says finally. Baz rolls his eyes.

“That’s the wraiths, Snow.” Simon scowls.

“Am I supposed to know what those are?”

“Of course you should. Mages grow up learning about them from the age of three. But, of course, you’re hardly a mage,” Baz says with a sneer. Simon huffs.

“Can I just, sleep in here?” Baz glares at him for a long moment before giving in. Simon is scared of wraiths because he’s an idiot and Baz is completely and utterly in love with him and can’t say no. Crowley, this was already a disaster.

“Fine. But you’re sleeping on the couch.” Simon snorts and Baz glares.

“What?”

“Nothing you just completely vaporized the whole ‘one bed’ trope.” Baz glared at him, but inwardly he was screaming like a teenage schoolgirl who’s crush just looked at them.

“That trope is stupid and overused.” Simon snorts again.

“Your search history says otherwise.” If Baz was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh come on Baz. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Baz glares.

“No, Snow. I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Tell that to your search history of thousands of Klance and Drarry bed-sharing AUs.” Someone should straight up just bury Baz. Let Snow lay him down in his grave so he can be let down one last time.

“You’re half-numpty, Snow, you barely understand the words coming out of your mouth.”

“You know you seem to be particularly fond of the enemies to lovers fics…” Baz huffs, walking over to his bed and pulling the covers back.

“Stop touching my stuff Snow.” And with that, Baz turns off the light with his wand. He crawls into his bed, pulling the covers up so they covered every part of him except his head. He heard Simon toss and turn on the couch, trying to get comfortable. Simon huffs before settling in a position.

The silence in the air is thick and suffocating. Baz never liked his room in Hampshire, and this was no exception. But soon Simon’s snores started to fill the room and Baz started to feel at ease.

He fell asleep to the familiar sound of the supernova that was Simon Snow.

“There’s the bugger,” a familiar voice says. It was way too early and Baz was hoping the kitchen would be empty, but this was the kind of surprise that can be forgiven. Baz wipes the sleep from his eyes, grinning widely.

“Hey Fiona.” Fiona grins back at him, sliding him a plate of eggs and sausage as he sits down. Baz doesn’t bother to tell her that he doesn’t like to eat in front of people.

“When did you get in? I thought you weren’t coming for another three days.” Fiona taps her black nails against the table.

“Well I had to come immediately when I found out you found yourself a bloke.” Despite himself, Baz feels a blush creep up his face. Thankfully, he hasn’t fed yet so it’s not that noticeable.

“It’s just a bloke,” Baz says, trying to sound uninterested as he pushes his eggs around his plate, even though his heart’s pounding. Fiona snorts.

“Jesus Christ, Basil, you’re blushing.” This only causes Baz to blush even more.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Fi,” Baz says, because it really isn’t. Baz wishes it were. Or maybe it is, at least to Baz.

“Well come on then, who is it? Someone from a respectable family I’m sure.” As if prompted, there is a crash from behind them as something falls to the floor. Both Baz and Fiona turn to it, their eyes landing on none other than the Chosen One, who looks properly mortified. On the floor is the toaster for some ungodly reason.

“Snow,” Baz says cooly. Simon’s face goes even redder as he picks up the toaster, obviously still half awake, although Simon is always clumsy even if he didn’t just wake up.

“S-Sorry I’ll leave,” Simon mumbles, his eyes trained on the ground. Baz sighs.

“Come sit down, Snow. We have eggs.” Simon sits down beside Baz awkwardly, shifting in his seat. They definitely were going to have to work on this more.

Baz sides his plate to Simon, brushing his arm in the process. He finishes it off by whispering “here you go, love” into Simon’s ear. Simon looks as red as a tomato as he digs in.

When Baz turns back to Fiona, her expression is a mix of horror, awe, and suspicion. But mostly she just looks amused.

“Care to explain why the Chosen One is in our kitchen, Basilton? In your pajamas, mind you.” Baz almost rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure you know that my boyfriend is staying with me for the holidays,” Baz says, emphasizing “boyfriend.” He enjoyed the sound of that way more than he should for a fake relationship.

Fiona raises an eyebrow at Baz and he knows all the questions she’s dying to ask from that glance. Is this a plot? When did this start? Is it really a good idea to date the Chosen One?

Baz didn’t really have a good answer for any of her questions.

“Well, Chosen One, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Fiona says with a wicked grin as she holds a hand out to Simon.

Baz does not have a good feeling about this.

[roman-writing]

WIP tagging game

I got tagged by @mkandas who wanted to know what I’m working on and the answer is: A Lot. So much that I’m putting a snippet from a handful of my WIPs below the cut.

1) a scene from an original work called “Miss Grace’s Guide to Household Governance:

He stared at the far wall, his expression as blank as his tone. “I've been cursed by the devil himself.”

“I assure you, the devil had nothing to do with it,” Miss Grace said. She reached out and patted his sleeve as if trying to calm him. “Lycanthropy is an any man’s affliction.”

Albert stared at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means any man can turn beast and lose himself to savagery. Believe me when I say this, Albert: the devil is unconcerned with the condition of just any man.”

After a moment’s shocked silence, Albert said slowly, “Miss Grace, you are an exemplary aide -”

Miss Grace nodded in acceptance of her due. “Yes, thank you.”

“- but you are absolute shite at consolation.”

She seemed to mull this over, before announcing, “I shall take this under advisement, and adjust my behaviour accordingly.”

2) a scene from chapter 3 of “and sink to human shape”

Fareeha pushed her aviators back up the bridge of her nose, and kept on walking. “You couldn’t wait to light up until we got outside?” she asked, though her words lacked any real bite.

Angela shrugged. The tip of the cigarette burned bright as a distant star in the night-swept sky. She exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’m the primordial manifestation of mercy, not temperance.”

“Which mercy is that?” Fareeha asked.

She had not meant for her query to sound so serious, but Angela’s answering silence was inscrutable. For a few steps, Angela said nothing. Ash flaked at her fingertips. Finally, she answered, “The compassionate kind.”

She did not specify if it was the compassion borne from a desire to relieve suffering, or the compassion wielded in an executioner’s hands. Perhaps she could not tell the difference. ‘Mercy’ a cry on the lips of the desperate and dying, of the fearful masses trembling beneath their impending fate, as though Angela were a vision that appeared to those war-wounded soldiers choking upon smoke-strewn battlefields, a being of bounded light come to spirit them from this mortal coil.

3) a scene from chapter 2 of “the trick of singularity”

“What?” Miranda narrowed her eyes.

“Nothing!” Andy said. “I just - You’re -”

Miranda raised her eyebrows, as if daring Andy to set her thoughts to stone with speech.

“You -” Andy searched Miranda’s face in a blind panic. They stood close enough that she could see the fine layer of make-up applied to her skin, the smoky eye-shadow and perfect eye-liner. And beneath it all a scar. Barely discernible. From a distance it would all but vanish, but now that Andy could see it, she couldn’t not see it. A narrow cut deep in her skin, slicing from upper lip to cheek in a crooked line. Pointing dumbly, Andy said, “You have a scar.”

Miranda’s jaw tightened, and though she toyed absently with the measuring tape in her hands, her eyes never left Andy’s, never erred; they remained ice-cold. When she spoke it was in that soft whisper of hers that meant Andy was treading dangerous waters. “Your powers of observation are unimpeachable.”

4) the opening scene from “The Modern Iphigenia” a sequel to “In Search of Dead Time”

Caroline’s mother wants her to be an opera singer. From the ages of six to fourteen, Caroline is made to attend private classes four times a week. Caroline only goes without a fuss because she manages to bargain for extra time at the local library in exchange for not screaming on the ride across the city. Instead, she ignores the passing scenery through the car window in favour of pulling one of the books from her bag -- Linear Algebra, 3rd edition -- and thumbing open the page she’d last been reading.

“Caroline.”

She doesn't respond

Her mother reaches over and shuts the book. “Come on. We’re here.”

5) a scene from chapter 2 of “a wound that shall not close”

“How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” Kassandra said, her eyes narrowing. “All roads lead back to you. They always do.”

Something very much like indignation flashed across Aspasia’s face, and she sat up straight in her seat, chin lifted and brows lowered. “You think I wanted Alcibiades dead? He is Perikles’ nephew. He lived with us. I practically raised him.”

“I take back what I said earlier about you never changing,” Kassandra drawled. “Motherly sentiment is very new for you.”

At that, Aspasia’s face darkened. Her lips pursed.

Kassandra bared her teeth in grim satisfaction. “Have I struck a nerve?”

“You speak of things about which you know very little,” Aspasia replied coolly, and though her tone was calm and even, her eyes glittered dangerously. It sent a thrill of satisfaction racing down Kassandra’s spine.

6) a scene from a yet unnamed prequel to “Among the Hollow”

Iustina steepled her fingers and fixed Aelia with a hard look. "Have you ever seen a god before?"

Aelia shook her head.

Tapping her fingertips together in what would have been a nervous tick for anyone else, but which Iustina made appear merely thoughtful, she said, "I have. When I was a girl. There was nothing glamorous or holy about it. I shit myself. Most people do, you know." Though Iustina continued looking at Aelia, she seemed to peer right through her, as if off into the distance. "My father had just completed construction of the Temple of Wisdom in Faros as part of his contract -- he was one of the rare fools who sought out a contract with the gods and actually achieved one. Though perhaps 'achieve' isn't the proper word for it. Unless it is an achievement to shackle yourself to a higher power in order to obtain your own petty ends. Some might think so. Some might even dream of it. Meanwhile the memory alone of my encounter is enough to revisit me in my nightmares even today. They're not -"

Iustina paused, clearing her throat to collect herself before she continued. "They're not what you think. They are not beautiful or just or grand. Divinity manifests itself in horror. To describe them is to transcend language. Standing in the presence of a god overwhelms you the way the sky overwhelms the very earth: naturally and uniformly all-encompassing. They cannot be reasoned with, they cannot be tricked, or ransomed, or threatened. We are less to them than the most insignificant insect that crawls among the ribs of desert carrion. The empires of men mean nothing to them."

"They can appear to us in human form, but it is as if they are wearing a loose animal skin over their shoulders, as if they have only a vague idea of what humanity should look like. It had a face -- I'm sure it had a face -- but I cannot for the life of me remember it. I used to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night to find that I had drawn it in blood across the floor of my room. A face with eyes like smears of torchlight. It spoke in starlight, in colour, and cold distant silence." With a chest-deep shudder, Iustina grimaced. "In exchange for a temple and the bodies of those fallen in battle, it gave my father the power to defeat his enemies, ending a civil war that had waged for decades since the fall of Proban. At the end of every fight, my father’s forces were ordered to quench all their torches and lamps, and all through the night they heard strange, gristly noises from the battlefield. The next morning, all the bodies were gone. I stopped practicing necromancy despite my father's insistence. No gain, however great, could match the demands of such a contract."

Leaning forward, Iustina grabbed her cup of tea and sipped. "The gods have mysteriously vanished these last few years, and good fucking riddance, I say. Could you ask for another pot of tea? This one's gone cold and it tastes like cat piss."

Aelia blinked at the abrupt shift in topic. "Of - Of course, Your Majesty."

[noirlevity]

Mismatch Chapter 2

Pairing: HiroAki

Fandom: Kyoukai no Kanata 

Part 1 |  Ao3

“Akkey, the pain still won’t go away.”

Akkey covered Hiroomi’s wound with his cupped hands. It hovered a little bit above the scraped flesh. As if summoning every power inside of him, Akihito made a whisking action to make the pain go away.

“Pain, pain go away!” He almost screamed.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“It will!”

When Hiroomi still looked pained, Akihito dragged him inside the house. They went inside Hiroomi’s room and sat on the bed. Akihito thought it would be better to be inside in order to throw the pain away. He cupped Hiroomi’s knees again and then made a whisking action.

“Pain, pain go away!”

“What now Akkey? It still hurts.”

Giving up after a lot of tries, Akihito lay down on the bed, arms spread and face looking up at the ceiling. He thought purposely, then turned to Hiroomi’s side and smiled brightly. Hiroomi sighed and lay down beside him.

“Here let me hold your hand until the pain goes away!”

Without waiting for an answer, Akihito twined their fingers together. It made Hiroomi fluster. Even though it was embarassing, he still held Akkey’s hand tightly.

Silence settled between the two. It made the sound of Akkey’s breathing too loud in Hiroomi’s ears. It made Hiroomi think about Akkey’s predicament, being half-human half youmo, and the fact that many didn’t want him to exist.

“Akkey. I’ll protect you. We’ll be together forever wouldn’t we?”

“Mm.”

Akihito held Hiroomi’s hand tightly in assent. After a while, both fell asleep holding each other’s hand.

—-

Hiroomi woke up exhausted. He didn’t know why of all things, he dreamt of the past again. Shrugging these thoughts off, he prepared for school and decided that he would attend club activities. He didn’t really have that much things to do, and it’s not like he has friends to hang out with after school either. Attending club activities after being absent for a long time would be a change of pace for him.

Sauntering towards their club room, Hiroomi observed that it was rather lively. He opened the door and was surprised to see someone unfamiliar.

“Oh Hiroomi!” Akihito greeted him nonchalantly. Hiroomi flitted his eyes towards the girl and stared at her closely.

“A new recruit?”

“Yes, she’s a transferee. It looks like she’s also a spirit world warrior.”

“Eh? Isn’t that nice! And she’s so your type Akkey. Glasses and all. Ah! She also has the little sister vibe. Lucky!”

Mitsuki made a face.

“Gross,”

“Mitsuki!!!” While Hiroomi was about to attempt to embrace his sister, he caught a glimpse of a two shiny things coming from Akkey and Mirai’s palm, as if both of them were holding a packet of light. Hiroomi turned to it; eyes wide with surprise. Mitsuki noticed the change in his behavior.

“Nii-san, this is..”

“Soulmates huh? Good for them then,”

Mitsuki could see pain in her brother’s face even though he was smiling.

“Akkey, you didn’t tell me you already found your soulmate! That is unfair.” Hiroomi whined.

Akihito frooze.

“You look so cute together! It’s like a dream come true Akkey. Who would have thought you’d actually get a cute girl in glasses as your soulmate!” Hiroomi patted Akihito hard on the shoulder.

“Lucky you!”

Akihito smiled painfully.

“Hiroomi..”

“Ah, it’s getting hot in here. Be right back, I’ll go get us all some refreshment!”

Hiroomi went outside in a rush, leaving Mirai and everyone else in the room quite surprised. Mirai noticed the sudden change in the mood.

“What’s wrong senpai?”

Mitsuki stole glances at Akihito. She sighed.

“Akihito, why don’t you go help nii-san buy refreshments? We need to decide which stories to include in the anthology, make sure that wasn’t an excuse to escape club activities.”

“Okay.”

—-

Akihito searched for Hiroomi at the nearest vending machine but he didn’t find him. He went to look for him near the gym and finally found him carrying their drinks. There were a lot so he ran towards him.

“Here let me carry some of it. Why did you buy a lot? There are only four of us in the clubroom you idiot!”

“Ah yes, I forgot.”

“What’s wrong Hiroomi?”

“Nothing. I’m just quite surprised.”

“I know. It surprised me too. The person who’s supposed to be my soulmate just tried to kill me. Isn’t that funny?”

“She tried to kill you?” Hiroomi burst out laughing.

“Why would she? That’s quite mental.”

“I know right? It is.”

Akihito stared at Hiroomi as they walked. It was as if he wanted to say something that he couldn’t say. He looked so troubled that Hiroomi wondered why he made such a face.

“What is it Akkey? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

They went back to the clubroom in silence.

——

“I saw Hiroomi-senpai with some first year boy.” Mirai said nervously while they were at the club room.

“What?” Mitsuki replied, her eyes narrowing in diression.

“Is he bullying someone?”

“No. NO.. The air between the two’s like.. It’s unpleasant.” Mirai imagined pink fluffy things hovering around Hiroomi and the first year student and made a disgusted face.

Akihito, who was sitting at the corner of the room, pretended that he was engrossed in the book he was reading.

“I always thought Hiroomi-senpai was into…”

Mirai stole a glance at Akkey. Mitsuki frowned, noticing Mirai’s glance.

“That idiot Onii-san. He’s just playing around probably. Maybe he’s extorting that first year.”

Unable to take the others’ conversation, Akkey excused himself and went out of the room.

---

The afternoon sun was about to set when Akihito went out. He was walking in the hallway thinking about what Mirai said.

Hiroomi with a first year? Well He is popular.

Akkey’s eyes drifted towards the window. There he saw Hiroomi chatting with a boy. It made him curious why Hiroomi was serious as he was talking to the person. Before he knew it, he rushed just to follow the two.

“Please go out with me Senpai.”

Akihito hid near a bush, trying hard to cover himself up so that he won’t be caught eavesdropping. When he heard what the first year student said, he was shocked.

“Eeeeh? So you like me.”

“Yes, I like you very much senpai.”

“You won’t get anything from me though. I don’t like you. Nor am I interested in going with uncool dates with someone younger than me. And a guy at that.”

“I’ll try my best. So please, if you’d like, please try going out with me.”

Akihito wanted to see what face Hiroomi made, but he couldn’t move.

“Ma, alright~

The response surprised Akkey. Dumbfounded, he poked his head out to see what happened to the two to be quiet all of a sudden. Then he saw Hiroomi pull the first year by the lapel to kiss him on the mouth.

Akihito’s eyes grew wide. He felt something sting in his chest at the sight that he saw.

—

Inside the clubroom, everyone was busy reading through early editions of their anthology. Mirai was distracted. She thought about what she saw. Unable to stop herself, she finally had the courage to say something.

“Hiroomi-senpai! I… I saw you with a first year student earlier today.” Mirai stuttered, adjusting her glasses, all stiff and lovably awkward.

Hiroomi just stared at her dumbfounded. He never knew that this could be a hot topic to the others.

“Why don’t you invite him over to our club room niisan?” Mitsuki said, testing her brother; testing Akihito who looked troubled. Haughty, she was expecting Akkey to pick up what she was trying to say.

“Nah, I don’t wanna~”

Hiroomi pouted. He glanced at Akkey who was beside him, silent. He edged closer to him and elbowed him on the side.

“What’s wrong Akkey? Why do you look like you just ate something bitter?”

Akihito didn’t feel like retorting something.

Mitsuki and Mirai looked at the two as they talked. Somehow, it looked like they had a world on their own. It made Mirai feel like an outsider. She bit her lip and bowed her head. Mitsuki, noticing the change in Mirai, tried to talk to her about random things.

—-

Akihito lay in bed unable to sleep.

He stared at the ceiling to figure things out. It was the only thing he could do. Whenever he closed his eyes, he would see the kiss again. It made his heart ache. What did it mean?

Why hurt in the first place? It was bothersome.

There was a sound that came from his window. He sighed, stood up, and went to it to check. Opening the window, he saw Hiroomi outside wrapped up in his indoor clothes—just a jacket and jogging pants with a scarf around his neck to keep him from the cold—enthusiastically waving up at him. For some reason, seeing him made Akihito feel quite happy. It felt like the questions that had been bugging him didn’t matter; that the answer to them was just simple. And it was Hiroomi coming to him like this. It was them finally fixing their relationship. He hid a smile, and went downstairs to welcome Hiroomi. It was hard holding himself back from rushing to the raven haired boy.

—

“Why are you here again?”

“I ran away from home.” Hiroomi said as he was taking off his jacket, as though running away from home was something normal.

“What?!”

“I was just kidding, silly.”

“You sure it’s alright to take off your jacket? Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah, you’re here. I won’t get cold.” Hiroomi winked and flashed a playful smile.

“Oh, I bought food. Stop eating omurice.”

That made Akihito smile. It was just like they went back to how they were before. Before he hurt Hiroomi.

Pleased, Akihito gazed at Hiroomi. He stared at him like a love struck fool as the other hanged his jacket and put away his shoes on the shoe rack.

---

The clinking sound of the utensils was the only thing that made noise. Both were quietly eating the food that Hiroomi brought. He brought take out ramen. The smell of the ramen wafted in the air making Akihito feel like he was in heaven. The taste of the warm broth in his mouth and the noodle pleased his stomach. He ate heartily. He didn’t notice Hiroomi stealing glances at him. The raven-haired boy was flustered and happy at his enthusiasm.

“Akkey~ slow down or else you're gonna choke you know.”

Akihito pouted and mumbled something. Hiroomi smiled at him as he sipped on his ramen. His stomach clenched at the thought that both of them were alone in this moment together. He clenched his toes and concentrated on his food. It had been so long since they were together like this. It’s been a long time since they were alone. Friends. Happy.

If it was possible, he didn’t want this to end.

---

Akihito just finished using the bath. They were about to go to sleep. He was nervous. Maybe being with someone you hold dear felt this awkward and exciting. Maybe he was excited because finally he was able to have a normal conversation with Hiroomi. They were finally able to talk like how they used to, or at least like how they used to. Everything just forced him to think of the past and how it all changed and got mended.

When they were young, he often slept with Hiroomi like this. Thinking of it always made Akihito smile. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of rushing water. The sound was a reminder that Hiroomi was going to spend the night at his house. They were going to be alone together for the first time in a long time. Even though he was happy, it made him feel conflicted. His thoughts settled on Mirai and the soulmarks. He thought about how sometimes destiny made things more complicated rather than easier. If the effect of the soulmarks are a physical thing, can it be escaped? Were they bound to follow it just because fate dictated it?

Thinking of such things, he fell asleep.

----

Hiroomi felt quite excited like a high school girl staying at his boyfriend’s house for the first time. In the past, it was always Akihito spending the night in Hiroomi’s room, not the other way around. He stared at Akkey’s bath and thought that it was just plain and ordinary. It was the typical bath for an apartment. Since he didn’t bring a towel with him, Akihito let him borrow a towel. When he was done bathing, rather than wipe himself, instead, he buried his face on the towel and inhaled its scent.

It was a nostalgic smell. Hiroomi crumpled the towel in his hands and breathed the scent in. Again and again. He chanted sorry in his head as he continued to smell the towel.

Remembering the first year kid, he wondered whether Akkey knew about their relationship, and if he did, what did he thought? Thinking made Hiroomi nervous so he decided to get a hold of himself and went out of the bath.

A sleeping Akihito greeted Hiroomi when he entered the room. He almost giggled at the sight. Hiroomi had forgotten how Akihito looked when he slept. Seeing him fast asleep, mouth parted a bit, he blushed as he stared. Hiroomi tiptoed and crouched at the foot of the bed and gazed at Akkey’s sleeping face. He leaned in, crossed his arms on the bed and perched his head on his arms. Gazing at Akkey’s sleeping face was a treat. It made him want to say the things he really wanted to say to him because he wouldn’t be able to hear them after all. Confessing to a person who is asleep maybe be liberating. At least you’ve said what you wanted to say, but it is not liberation in its true sense. It is not confronting what one really feels, rather, it is no different from running away.

There is fear in a feeling such as this. Hiroomi knew this very well. He wasn’t experienced with relationships and love. Falling in love with someone of the same sex is not really something he thought seriously about. Because to him, the gender didn’t matter. The truth was, he was just afraid of falling in love with his friend. And so, he is stuck in this hesitation.

“Akkey.” Hiroomi whispered as he gazed at Akkey’s face.

When he realized he had feelings for Akihito, he stopped staring at him, afraid that he would know that he had so much power over him. Now, he was free to look as much as he could. There was no fear of being judged. There was no fear of being rejected. There was no guilt whatsoever.

It’s just him faced with his feelings.

More than four hundred days of not talking made him quite sad. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he had always enjoyed Akihito’s company. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it hurt him when he knew he and Akkey didn’t match; that they were not soulmates; that they were not for each other.

He tried to hold back whatever he felt ever since his soulmark appeared. Yes, he was excited for the possibility that they would match. He looked forward to the time when they meet again and their soulmarks would glow as they recognize that indeed they were meant to be. That’s why when he knew they didn’t match, he was disappointed, frustrated. When you have been expecting something so much, the pain caused by its frustration is a physical torment. Hiroomi did not yet accept this fact. But he has too or he will never be happy again. He thought of a lot of things to move on. But it only got him to where he started--being with Akihito, longing for him no matter how lost a cause it is. Being close to Akihito like this made his longing stronger. The emotions he bottled up inside just spilled out. It drove him to rise from where he sat and kiss Akkey on the mouth.

Kissing Akihito was unlike kissing the first year student he went out with. When he kissed the other, he wasn’t as nervous as he was with Akkey. He didn’t feel this hotness in his body. There was no weakness in the legs and breathlessness.

So this was how it felt to finally kiss the one you truly love.

Akihito’s lips were soft against his own. It was warm and it made Hiroomi feel like he was in heaven. When he withdrew he was shy. He wanted to touch him more. He wanted to be touched and be kissed deeply just like the kiss that he shared with the first year boy. Feeling embarrassed, Hiroomi creased his eyebrows and woke Akihito up so that he could sleep properly.

Half-asleep, Akihito sat up in bed, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. He was about to stand up and sleep on the sofa. Hiroomi, eyes wide pulled him and pushed him down on the bed.

“Idiot just sleep here. You’re too sleepy to function.”

Akihito’s sight was blurry. He didn’t see Hiroomi’s flustered face clearly. When his vision cleared, and his mind sobered, he was surprised. He rose and bumped his head against Hiroomi’s. Hiroomi curled up, and cried from the pain.

“Idiot! It hurts.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it Hiroomi.”

Akihito went to get something to put on Hiroomi’s forehead.

—-

“Does it still hurt?”

“Of course you idiot! Why’d you have to do that, stupid. Now I can’t go to school with this face.”

“Stop whining, and who told you to be on top of me?”

At that Hiroomi blushed even redder. Feeling embarrassed, the two went silent. Unable to take the silence, Akihito sighed. He lied down beside Hiroomi and stared at the ceiling. Their hands were close on the bed. Akihito felt their closeness. It made him feel nervous and afraid of what this could mean. Of what his feelings could mean.

Hiroomi on the other hand, was breathless beside him. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say to him. All he knew was Akkey was too close for comfort. Akkey was a warm body next to him, and he was cold. He closed his eyes and scooted closer to Akkey. Hiroomi can never resist Akkey’s warmth. He wrapped his arm around Akkey’s arm and leaned on his shoulders.

Akihito turned his head to the side.

“You’re so warm Akkey.” Hiroomi melted.

“So very warm.”

They both looked like lovers spending their last night together. This part was the part where Akihito would pull away from Hiroomi. Hiroomi waited for the rejection, but it never came. Akkey leaned in, turned to his side and scooted closer to him. He pulled the blankets and tucked the two of them together. And just like that they both fell asleep holding each other.

----

The night they spent together felt distant, so remote, like a dream. Beautiful things don’t last, as do things that make one happy. Happiness is a constant search. Akihito knew this well. As he stared into the distance, with book in hand, he realized that maybe he should give up. The universe has spoken. What is not meant to be will never be meant to be.

Mitsuki noticed that Akihito’s thoughts drifted far away.

The two were alone in the club room. Mirai had something to do, so it was just the two of them. The fact that Hiroomi and Akihito cared for each had always been on Mitsuki’s mind. Today too, she thought of it. She thought that maybe sometimes love is not enough to bring two people together. But she could still try.

“That guy nii-san is seeing is not his soulmate.” She blurted out.

Akihito was surprised.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Embarrassed, Mitsuki couldn't help but feel stupid. Akihito had no idea that she always thought about this. Acting like her efforts were irrelevant hurt. She clenched her fists and bit her lip. She wished that Akkey wouldn’t hear how loudly her heart was beating inside her chest.

She knew all to well the pain of loving someone who doesn’t love you back and the happiness of the slight possibility of an “us”.

If things were different would he still feel the same? Mitsuki wondered about Akihito’s feelings.

“Akihito..”

“What will you do if ...”

“What?”

“What if we didn’t have this soul mark thing? Would you..” Her voice came out desperate.

“Silly. Why are you asking me things like this? This is so unlike you.”

“It’s not like I’m interested in whatever you’re gonna say, so..” Mitsuki retorted defensively; trying to find a way out from showing how she felt.

Akkey responded with a sad smile.

Angry, Mitsuki continued,

“What if this is just to make sure we each have pairs? What if this does not really mean we have to be with our soulmates?”

When Akihito only smiled at her awkwardly, as if he was saying, “It wouldn’t matter” she grimaced.

“Akihito,.. You are an idiot.”

And just like that, she left.

---

Hiroomi lied on his bed. Panels of light cut through his window, dapling on his figure. He turned to his side and saw that there was no one beside him. There was no Akihito. It reminded him that it had been weeks since the night they spent with each other. Now his feelings for him only got worse. And he didn’t have any idea what to do. He didn’t try to see Akihito, fearing that he won’t be able to keep his heart from being so loud when they meet. To keep thoughts of Akkey away, he was busying himself learning things about his boyfriend. He learned that he liked being in control. Every time they kissed it was always a prelude to love making.

The first time Hiroomi had sex, he thought that his heart was going to explode. He never thought it was like that: the union of the bodies and the union of the souls. Yet, Everytime he kissed the boy, he would imagine that it was Akkey who was kissing him. Everytime they do it, he would fantasize that it was Akihito that held him.

As time went by, Hiroomi realized that It was difficult being with someone who you don’t love. And so, he ended his relationship with the boy, thinking that it was for the best.

----

Akihito overdid himself.

Hiroomi had to stop him again from going berserk. He had to force himself to be cold hearted as he subdued him. Mirai freaked out as Akihito turned into a monster right before her very eyes. She blamed herself for what happened. She thought it was her fault that Akihito turned into a monster.

----

The first thing Akihito felt when he regained consciousness was body pain. He groaned, sat up in bed and looked at his hands. What happened before everything went black all came back to him.

He creased his eyebrows and slumped back on the bed. Hearing the sound of footsteps getting close to his room, he didn’t want to think about who it was. The pattering made him nervous. To fend off his anxiety, he turned his back, pulled his blanket and wrapped his whole body with it. He was afraid to know about the consequences of his actions.

A click on the door made his thoughts disappear.

“What’s wrong?”

The voice was Hiroomi’s. Instead of replying, he bit his lip. He curled up. Hiroomi quirked his eyebrows, sauntered towards the bed and sat near Akihito’s side. Hiroomi wanted to touch him, but he stopped himself from doing so. He knew the blond was hurting. He partly blamed himself for not being able to protect him.

Hiroomi didn't like it when Akkey hurt.

“Why the long face? It’s such a wonderful night for a festival isn’t it? Come let’s go.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Akkey~ stop feeling sorry for yourself and let’s just enjoy the night shall we? I bought you some clothes.”

“I don’t want to go Hiroomi. If you want, you can go by yourself.”

“Nah, it won’t be the same without you. Let’s go? There’ll be fireworks and stuff.

“If you don’t go, then I won’t go and you’ll suffer trying to keep me company.” Hiroomi slumped on the bed, slipped his hands on Akkey’s waists and moaned.

“Ah, so warm. Akkey~ you’re a treasure!”

Akihito realized that it was better to appease Hiroomi than be stuck with him. And so, he agreed to go with him to the festival. They saw Mitsuki and Mirai there.

He paused. It felt like he just saw something heavenly. Mirai wore a cute yukata. Her hair was styled with a braid. Seeing her made Akkey’s heart skip a beat. Their soulmarks glowed as Akihito tried to stop Hiroomi from wiggling his hands on his waist. Relief enveloped his heart just gazing at her. She was cute, innocent, and looked good in glasses. He was thankful that despite his flaws he still had someone that was meant for him in this world. Akihito smiled and went to Mirai, leaving Hiroomi.

Hiroomi just stared at both of them pretending he wasn’t bothered by Akkey’s leaving.

----

The night sky was beautiful with all the stars spread out in its expanse. Mirai and Akihito were standing alone together gazing at it as the light from the lanterns dappled on them. Akkey felt awkward. He thought about what happened. He thought about what Mirai might think about him going berserk; about her finally finding out what he truly was--a monster. Akkey clenched his hands into fists. It always made him feel like all he brings to those around him is just pain and suffering. All he brings them are sadness and danger.

“Senpai?” Mirai asked, noticing how troubled he was.

Akkey only smiled awkwardly.

“I’m sorry earlier. You didn't have to see that.”

“It's fine senpai.”

What happened made Mirai realized why Akkey couldn't leave her alone. They were alike. And that made her feel closer to him. She felt calm beside Akihito. For the first time, she felt like there was some place where she belonged, and that there was someone who truly cared for her. They watched the lanterns together and waited for the fireworks display when Mirai remembered something.

“Senpai, excuse me. I need to go somewhere.” She didn't actually want to leave. But it couldn't be helped. She bid him goodbye wryly. Akkey smiled at her and waved goodbye.

—

Being alone never bothered Akkey. Instead of lamenting about how he’s alone, he went to find a spot where he could watch the fireworks by himself. When he finally found a spot near a block of stone, he sat on the bench and waited. Mitsuki saw him. Blushing, she was about to approach him when she saw her brother standing far away, looking hesitant to approach Akkey. She looked down at her feet, quirked her eyebrows in frustration. She bit her lip, clenched her hands, and then turned around.

She understood even if it hurts.

—

“Why are you alone?” Hiroomi asked Akihito, surprised that he wasn’t with Mirai.

“She went to see someone. She told me it was important.”

Hiroomi sat beside Akihito.

“Really? The fireworks display is going to start.”

“Yeah. It can’t be helped though.”

“Ne Akkey,”

“What?”

Hiroomi gazed into Akihito’s face dappled by yellow light from the lanterns. Akkey turned to him, and gazed into his eyes. It surprised him so he looked away and scooted away from Akihito. He needed to put some distance between the two of them. It was for his own good.

In response to Hiroomi’s odd behavior, Akihito moved closer. One of Akihito’s quirks was sometimes he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t aware that Hiroomi was nervous around him. As their hands brushed, Hiroomi trembled. Anticipating something more to the touch, Hiroomi wanted to lean on his shoulder, but when he saw Akihito’s sad expression, softness spread in his heart. He pulled him in and allowed him to lean on his shoulder instead.

“I am your senpai, stop making strange facial expressions! You can tell me whatever you want. Even your love problems. I’ll listen to it all Akkey~” Hiroomi said pleased with himself when actually he was very nervous that his fingers held little earthquakes at their tips.

Hiroomi knew Akihito felt guilty about what happened.

“It’s not your fault Akkey.”

“What if I hurt someone again?

“I don’t want to hurt anyone again.”

“It’s fine. You did it to save her.”

“But..”

“You know I’ll always have your back, so don’t worry! I told you I would be the best spirit world warrior for you.” Hiroomi smiled playfully.

“Hiroomi…” Akkey held his hand affectionately for the first time in years. Hiroomi was surprised that he almost slapped his hand away. He couldn’t move. When Akkey raised his head to him, it felt like an arrow just shot right through his heart.

“Thank you.”

Akkey squeezed his hand. He squeezed it like he didn’t want to let go; that he was glad Hiroomi was there for him. Hiroomi smiled knowing that nothing was behind the touch, merely gratitude. Hiroomi squeezed his hand back. It felt like they returned to the past. It felt like they were kids again, alone together holding each other’s hand.

---

When Akkey held Hiroomi’s hand, nostalgia gave him a surge of emotions. He was reminded that after everything, he still wanted Hiroomi to be his soulmate. After everything he still wanted them to be together. He knew that he was with someone now. The jealousy he tried so hard to stop, and the love he tried to hard to forget all came rushing back to him.

He gazed at him. As the breeze brushed his skin, he wanted so much to embrace Hiroomi.  He wanted to say something to Hiroomi. He wanted to tell him, “Do you still want to be with me?” but rather say anything, without thinking, he leaned in.

Both didn’t hear the wail of the firecracker from a distance. They didn’t hear the burst nor see the fireworks bloom in the night sky. They were only conscious of the warm thing on their mouths.

—-

Akihito never kissed anyone in his entire life. He didn’t know that sometimes, there is an urge to just kiss someone. When he looked at Hiroomi and felt everything all at once, his body acted on its own.

He kissed him.

As he sloshed his lips against Hiroomi’s, he felt as if he was blazing from the inside. It was a new sensation to him.

It made him think that maybe there is a heaven in someone’s mouth.

----

Hiroomi was too shaken to move because of the kiss. Akkey left him wide eyed and unable to breathe. The kiss was abrupt, just like the kiss that he stole when Akkey was asleep. It had a tenderness to it, like a goodbye kiss, as if Akkey was saying sorry to him. When Akkey withdrew, he wanted to hold him, pull him again to kiss him once more. What was a kiss when it was not long enough to make the person realize what you really feel?

He felt like he was about to cry. At the moment their lips meet everything just settled in its place and there was room for two mismatched people in love. Yet he couldn’t do anything to maintain it. As he froze in shock, Akihito felt guilty. He excused himself and left Hiroomi wide eyed with a question hanging from his lips.

--

Mirai realized that if there was something that she didn’t want, it was killing Akkey. She began to like him, not because he was her soulmate, but because he was kind.

If it was Akkey, she didn’t mind whatever consequence that await her. Because of him, she began opening up to others; she began being friends with them. Akihito made her learn a lot of things. She was grateful for Mitsuki too, and the others. So far she was enjoying her stay with them. She enjoyed the idol performance that they made just to capture the youmo. Being with them felt like she finally had a place where she belonged. For someone who felt like she was a burden, she had a hard time processing this. She didn't want to lose someone she held dear again. That’s why, she decided, that this time around she wouldn’t make the same mistake. this time, She would protect what was important to her.

—-

Hiroomi didn’t know what to do.

The calm came, and as a consequence, Akkey was in a coma. Hiroomi was starting to lose it. The feelings that he buried inside of him swelled and made itself present now that Akkey is on the verge of death. He regreted the fact that he couldn’t say “I love you” to him properly. He regreted holding back. Now that it’s too late, he realized that despite everything he still loved Akkey. Mitsuki could only observe how much he freaked out. How much, if he’d like, to beg God to keep Akkey alive.

---

Akkey woke up after months of being unconscious. The first thought that came to him was Mirai.

Where was she? He wanted to see her.

Hiroomi and Mitsuki accompanied him to eat at AI’s, but Akihito insisted on wanting to see Mirai. He wanted to go to the raging portal above their town to find her. Hiroomi was pissed off.

Akkey was selfish. Akkey never truly cared about his feelings. He never considered how Hiroomi felt waiting for him to wake up without any guarantee of him actually waking.

It pained Hiroomi but he couldn’t do anything to stop Akihito. Of course he would like to be with Mirai because they were soulmates. It was only natural.

When everything was said and done, when their powers were no more, and the calm was no longer a threat, Hiroomi left, leaving only the trundle of the train in his wake as a form of goodbye.

[parkersanders]

Not Just You (Submission)

This story sways more platonic princiety due to my wanting to write based off of a text post I saw a while back. With Roman. And Virgil. I really hope you don’t mind me submitting this!! But edit/tag it as you will, andimsorry. I just. Don’t??? know where else to post this. Or the tags to use.

I would put a read more in this. It’s a little over 2k words.

Despite the common belief, Roman Sanders, the Prince and Hero to Thomas, did indeed have doubts. Doubts and anxieties which crept up in little ways through his actions and his words. Not that many of the sides seemed to notice –the Prince wasn’t called upon very often, after all—often leaving Roman seeming out of place in their colourful group.

 Or, so Roman noticed. The opening of his mouth to be met with a side-glance, from the others, a glare, lips pulling downward in a frown getting Roman’s teeth to click shut and lips to press firm together. The scattered looks left and right, waiting to say just the right thing until he couldn’t hold it in and blustered through anyway.

This often led to discrepancies, Patton’s tense smiles or awkward shifting, Logan’s narrowed eyes or bewildered stares, even Thomas’ lifting of hands, attempting to mediate between all of their extremes to ease up into his one personality.

However, this was leaving out one crucial part of Thomas’ personality.

One the befuddled Prince had only recently realized how similar the two of them were in reality.

Anxiety.

Anxiety, otherwise now known as Virgil, (a name he had never anticipated. It was such a cultured sounding name, a tad dorkier than he had anticipated for Hot TopicTM) who discredited Roman so often, who pointed out the flaws in every little thing he did. Anxiety, the nagging voice who would hang by his shoulder and sneer at Roman’s attempted contributions to Thomas’ day …

Anxiety, the one who could push Thomas to work a great deal faster than he could.

Anxiety, the one who got Thomas to go into the shower and wash himself as a form of procrastination, ending up helping Thomas take care of himself.

Anxiety, the one who encouraged sleeping, helped with the emotional stress through the day, understood when enough was enough and kicked in to get Thomas out of a conversation quicker, who –

Anxiety … the one who was more accepted as an asset to Thomas’ creativity, morality, and … self-care than Roman himself was.

Could one blame him for being excited once Virgil had seemed to disappear? One of the first instances Thomas had even spoken to Roman in the longest times had been trying to help him get rid of his anxiety. It was a foe to face, a fear to quell, a person to save! And, while unbeknownst to Thomas at the time, an adversary (one threatening his place) to overcome.

Roman would never call it jealousy! No, jealousy was too foul a word for such vicious feelings, too abhorrent. No, it was a mild dislike, distrust, and unsettling irritation that rested in the pit of his stomach whenever he was around Anxiety.

That was all. Nothing else. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Nothing.

His own looks to the other halves of Thomas’ personalities, silently begging for their encouragement. Their agreement with him … and yet, when it came to Anxiety, Roman was slowly torn further and further down.

Not until their escapades into Anxiety’s mind space did Roman realize his importance. The frustrating helplessness. A knot twisting in his chest, the quickening breath, flem in his throat he simply could not swallow past. Roman tried, as hard as he could to ignore it. Using colorful words, quick dismissing what he obviously felt. A feeling he did not wish to admit, but one he knew a bit more well than the others.

Once Anxiety helped Thomas, again, Prince felt proud.

But, with pride came the fall. The silent wondering. The shut downs that not only Logic, but Patton and Thomas had also gone through with. Silencing Roman and getting him to back off.

So, with shuffling feet, and in a time Roman was certain there would be no spotlight on them, did he go back into the dank cave.

“I’m not giving you my dank posters.”

Virgil’s voice rang clear as he was sitting on the elongated leather couch, headphones resting around his neck, My Chemical Romance blaring just loud enough to hear through the poor, abused speaker system. An iPad rested in his lap, a book, the dark, night-font used for the environment around him (as well as aesthetic purposes) pulled up that he was reading.

Prince took a moment’s pause. He needed … to not be antagonistic here. “That is not why I’m here.” A glance upwards, dark eyeliner framing a deathly pale skin complexion seemed disbelieving, “Really! Though I do find it lovely decorum and would be more than charmed to take it from you at some point, I am currently on a more … amiable mission.”

Looking back down to his iPad, Virgil flicked a finger across the screen. Dark brown eyes scanning text haphazardly. “Oh really? Well I wouldn’t stay in here then if you want to stay amiable.”

“Then perhaps you would like to accompany me to my lodgings instead!”

“…what?”

Prince took a deep breath.

“My mind space. Since coming here heightens my … er … feelings, then I figure coming to my mind space might make you more wanting to hear out my ideas!” Roman’s voice was chipper. He could feel the anxiety seeping in his skin already, however. A tight knot building in his chest and in his throat.

Why did he have phrase it like that?

It was all wrong, wasn’t it?

Virgil was staring at Roman with a puzzled, quizzical look. Uncertain if he really ought to believe what he heard. Flicking up on the iPad, turning the volume down as his headphones quieted. “You,” Anxiety spoke slowly, enunciating clearly so the Prince could hear this absurd idea, “Want me to go into your mind space. As-in, the most private place you have that you have only let logic into to help collaborate on videos.”

Saying it like that made Roman’s heart stop. Stupid, it was stupid, so stupid. He should have known better than to assume, of course he should have just ignored this. Not tried to sympathize or pushed past these thoughts of –

“Yes.”

Pulling his headphones out of the iPad, Anxiety gave a small groan, but stood anyway. “Fine, okay, whatever. I don’t have anything better to do today.”

It took almost everything Roman had to not let out a sigh of blissful relief. Acceptance …

Funny … It felt like forever since he had full heartedly earned it

No. No. Do not go down that rabbit hole. He knew where it was going, and they were still in Anxieties room. If he kept thinking this way, he might end up sinking Thomas into a pit of self-loathing depression by accident himself. “Ah! Yes … er-hm.” He didn’t need to be more ‘helpful’, did he?

Holding out a hand to Virgil, the goth took it. Cold and clammy –like that of a dead hag—Prince’s mind wandered a tad aimlessly, before they reached it.

The place looked like Thomas’ bedroom, but there were several pieces of Disney memorabilia and a much warmer décor. Rich reds, warm golds, and soft browns lit the room. Anxiety didn’t seem much impressed. “I thought you’d make it that forest outside of the house.” Was the idle comment, dull and nearly monotone.

Roman could not help the huff that followed such a statement. “And I expected your room to the be the attic filled with cobwebs, spiders, and nothing but a cot and some water, befitting someone of your … well. You.”

“Thanks so much. Really making me not regret coming here.”

“Ugh. It’s just. Creativity requires a clean space, a warm environment, and –occasionally yes—some adventure. The bed is comfortable, relaxing, and the easiest to concentrate …”  The prince had turned to rambling at that point. Virgil deciding to crawl onto the bed and make himself comfortable.

Freeing sheets from their tucked in stature, he wrapped himself up tightly into a cocoon before going back to listening to the romantics continued speech. “… And further more you also need a clean work space to feel healthy! Combined with the fact that the outdoors are only a step away I really do not feel as if I am too far off from what my room ought to be!”

“Sure, Princey, sure. Now, why am I here again?”

Swallowing thickly, Roman swayed on his feet for a moment, before walking over. “I have been thinking on what you said about a week back.”

“Oh god no.”

“About … retiring your position.”

“Listen, I’m already back and one of you guys so you don’t have to—“

“I just wanted to say I understand.”

The silence that followed Roman’s words was deafening. Sitting down besides Virgil, Roman didn’t dare look up to meet his eyes. Hands settled uncomfortably at his arms, a finger trailing the insides of his arm uncertainly before settling more on his wrist. Rubbing at his pulse.

After a while of silence, Anxiety finally spoke up.

“You’re joking right?”

It took a lot for Roman to not snap at Virgil. Why would he joke about this? Honey eyes stare down at his hands quietly.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Virgil insisted, “Princey. The shining light of creativity and egotism that Thomas has understands me. Understands not belonging in that little three-man-show of yours that keeps away from all the other sides generally.”

Each biting statement made the creative’s shoulders want to tense, his hackles raise in defense, but he couldn’t get himself to snap. Instead he let out a breathy sigh.

It was likely the lingering effects of Anxieties room.

“No.” Prince answered, “I am not joking.”

A barked, bitter laugh fell from Virgil’s lips. A grin from ear to ear as he leaned back. “Oooh, this is rich! His ego gets bunt one degree and he’s telling me he understands.”

“Anxiety…“

“He thinks he gets it. Being demonized and told he’s wrong every chance he gets. That he’s the bad guy. Argued to the point of supposed non-existence, attempting to help and ignored,”

“… Anxiety …”

“And then, when it’s only convienent for the rest of the group, do they come crawling back, wishing for good ol’ Anxiet—“

“Virgil!” Virgil’s teeth automatically click shut in silence.

Roman’s fingers are gripping the cloth of his pants so tightly they’re turning white. He’s shaking now and it hurts. Dammit it has to be from going into Anxieties mind space. He should have known that was a stupid idea! He’s back where he belongs, but it feels alien to him now. Everything doesn’t seem right, nothing was correct, everything was feeling farther and farther away.

And he was just so … stupid.

“Since we first met. I did not like you. It is unsurprising, you are, in essence, a being made to cause fears and insecurities, you also help contribute towards his procrastination which puts a stickler to anything I want to do. No creative energies, draining emotions, negativity, snide commentary that results in hurting other people’s feelings—“

“—I feel so loved, now—“

“—but it’s not just that. You did things better than me. Thomas always had you. Always. I’m fleeting, even when I attempt to be there, he often dismisses me for Patton or Logan or … well, you. You drive him towards goals, and ideals from, well, sure fear of the unknown and failure, but it motivates him! And I …”

He had to wonder.

If Thomas’ creativity vanished … would it really make that much of a difference?

The other sides could most certainly step in, and then, of course, was Anxiety pushing Thomas to keep performing and working, and Logan and Morality along with him.

From what Roman could understand and see. His disappearance … wouldn’t make a difference.

“… I do not seem to make half the dent you all do. Thomas has spoken to me a handful of times, but the majority have been about you. Working beyond you. I could not think of a single entirely unique idea, and then, on top of that, when I speak my opinions, the others just discredit me.” As if they knew exactly what he should or should not believe. Roman didn’t even know what he should or should not believe.

“…Princey, I …”

“I still don’t like you! Because I do not get you, or Logan, or Patton, or any of the others! There is a reason we three made this little ‘circle’ in the first place, after all. Then you come in and push your way forward and it just. I am not … useful anymore.”

Another silence, more tense than the last settled around them both. Virgil staring at Roman. What could he say? Part of him feared speaking at all. Roman had just admitted a lot of things on the table right there, and Virgil wasn’t … too good with this whole, admitting thing.

He much preferred getting seen as ‘the villain’ of the story and being picked on by Roman to this.

Even while Virgil would admit the soft encouragement now and again would be nice. This was a whole new ball game with its own set of rules. One Virgil wasn’t used to playing quite yet.

So he’d default after an uncomfortably long silence.

“Guess you could say, the Prince has got Anxiety, huh?”

A bristling followed.

Roman was trying to be earnest. To be taken seriously.

“Out.”

Virgil blanks from his little pile under the blanket. “Wait, what?”

“Get out of my room.” Roman is now standing and pointing at the floor. He looks deadly serious.

“I was just trying to make a joke …”

“And I am not. Be gone from me, now.”

Virgil doesn’t take much time more to sink down, disappearing from Roman’s room and land on a soft, cloth couch and groan loudly. Back in Thomas’ world, away from his comfy staircase, Anxiety rubs a hand over his forehead and through his bangs with a grimace. Uncertain where he went wrong, and not understanding why Roman had reacted so badly.

“It was just a joke …” Virgil grumbled.

“What was a joke, kiddo?” Patton piped brightly, a surprising tray of cookies being pulled from the oven. “Oh, did I miss something big? You’ve got to tell me, there’s nothing I want to miss from this big ol’ kooky family!”

[hogwarts-is-frozen]

The Serpent and The Lion Chapter 9 - Hogwarts High Inquisitor

Synopsis: After meeting her boggart two years ago Elsa has all but locked herself away from the world. Now in her 5th year, Elsa is more cold and distant then ever and Anna fears she may never get her back. But will Elsa still be able to keep her wandless magic a secret now that Hogwarts has been taken over by possibly the most horrible woman ever to walk the halls. Harry Potter X Frozen crossover.

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 /

Chapter 6 / Chapter 7/ Chapter 8

Rating: T

Words: 2,157

Pairing(s): Snow Sisters & Kristanna

Also available on FFN

Hi everyone! I know you have wondering if this is going to become one of those stories that ever gets done, but I promise it isn't. Been really busy so here is the 'mostly' finished chapter. I hope to have the rest of it up... at some point.

I am not sure about the quality of the editing.. but i hope you enjoy either way.

Elsa yawned loudly and stretched her arms wide until she felt her spine give a satisfying 'pop'. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes the girl rose from bed feeling better than she had all term. The last two weeks had flown by without any more mishaps, for which Elsa could not be more grateful. Due to their fast approaching O.W.L.s, her teachers were throwing as much information at them as possible in order to make sure all topics with the potential to show up in their examinations were covered. Elsa's days were now spent hunched over assignments and essays, facts buzzing around in her head and ink stains on her gloves. Naturally, since she was being kept busy with her studies Elsa had no time to dwell on the way Anna had looked at her or the things people still whispered about her behind her back like the incessant hum of a beehive.

As she dressed, Elsa recalled that she would be finding out how she had done on her potions assignment today and, hopefully, would get a better idea of how she might perform on her exams.

'I worked on it for 5 days straight, that should at least get me an Acceptable,' she thought as she made her way to the Slytherin common room. The young witch was interrupted from her thoughts however when she noticed a crowd of students standing next to the common room noticeboard. Elsa wondered what they were all looking at, as she didn't recall putting anything up in the last few days.

"Do you think that means Quidditch teams too?" she heard a student ask as she walked up behind them.

"Well if it does, the Slytherin team will get approved straight away," Elsa heard Draco sneer from somewhere near the head of the group. "My father works closely with the Minister, so Professor Umbridge already knows his influence." Elsa rolled her eyes magnificently.

Most of the students dispersed as Elsa approached and she pointedly ignored the wary looks some of them gave her as they did. When Draco caught sight of her his lip curled.

"See the new notice yet, Arendelle? I guess this means you and those other swots won't be able to meet up and draw your little pictures for a while, hmm?"

"What?"

"Take a look," Draco said cryptically, gesturing his head toward the large sign that practically took up the entire noticeboard.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henseforth disbanded. An organization, society, team, group or club is herby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Permission to reform may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge). No student organization, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor. Any student found to have formed, or belong to, an organization, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

Elsa frowned in confusion as she read and re-read the sign. Why was Umbridge banning all clubs? Was there one in particular she was targeting or was she just doing this to flaunt her new power over the students. Either way, it made Elsa's fingers itch.

"I hope she is okay with the four of us studying together in the library," Amish chuckled as he walked up behind her. "Or are we going to split our group into pairs and pass notes back and forth like we did in first year?" His hand shot up into the air, "I call Elsa!"

Elsa brought her hand up to conceal her laughter. Draco scowled, making a small noise of exasperation before walking away in a huff, Crabbe and Goyle following in his wake like two well trained hounds.

Once Draco was out of earshot Amish frowned. "She is doing this for a reason," he said grimly. "And I have a feeling it's not a good one."

Elsa nodded before leaving with Amish to go find Selena and Tabitha. She pushed the ominous feeling this new decree woke inside her and instead focused on her stomach's rumbling request for breakfast.

As Elsa hurried through the dungeon hallways toward Professor Snape's classroom the young witch heard shouting. Rounding the corner, Elsa was met with a scene that was more than a little shocking. Both Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were restraining a scarlet-faced Neville who was waving his fists frantically in the direction of a group of Slytherins. Unsurprisingly, the boy seemed to be aiming his fury toward Draco who was smirking at the irate Gryffindor from behind his two bodyguards.

Before Elsa had time to react, the door next to the group of students flew open, revealing a less than impressed Professor Snape. Immediately his gaze swept over to the two boys still struggling to calm their friend. "Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" he sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

Elsa located her friends who all shared a collective look of disbelief and practically ran over. " What on earth happened?" Elsa whispered as she took her seat. "I've never seen Neville act like that before."

Tabitha looked blankly at her for a few seconds before collecting herself. "I… I have no idea. One second, Draco was bragging about getting the Slytherin Quidditch team approved, the next, Longbottom just… lost it."

Elsa gave her friends a confused look. "Wait, he can't have become that angry for no reason."

Selena looked thoughtful. "Well Malfoy did have a go at Weasley's father again and said something about the ministry wanting to cart Potter off to the loony bin at St. Mungos, but nothing actually about Longbottom," she replied with a shrug.

Elsa risked a glance at Neville who was still rather red in the face and breathing heavily through his nose. The boy was staring forward at nothing and resolutely refused to look at anyone, especially the friends who had restrained him. Deciding it was none of her business Elsa pulled out her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and some parchment. When Professor Snape let the classroom door slam shut, anyone still whispering about the incident immediately fell silent. It was then that Elsa noticed the familiar figure in the corner and her stomach dropped. It seemed Selena's wish had come true.

"You will notice," Snape drawled, "that we have a guest with us today." He gestured toward the lump of pink in the dimly lit corner, sitting primly and clipboard in hand. Umbridge flashed the class her signature fabricated smile.

Elsa cast a sideways look at Tabitha. She wasn't sure how she felt about this interesting development. On one hand, Elsa dreaded being once again trapped in a room with the one teacher that truly disliked her, but on the other she wondered if Umbridge might be the one to knock Professor Snape down a few pegs.

"We are continuing our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend," he waved his wand at the chalkboard, "instructions on the board. Carry on."

For the first half hour of the lesson Umbridge stayed in her seat taking notes and Elsa did her best to ignore the woman while she worked.

"Ha." Elsa looked up at the sound to find Harry staring in rapt attention at Umbridge who was now speaking to a ramrod straight Snape. His expression was unreadable. Elsa whipped her gaze back to her potion and the salamander blood she had been meticulously adding to it, but no matter how hard she tried to tune them out the girl found herself distracted by their conversation. She had a feeling that she wasn't the only one.

"Now… how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, raising her clipboard.

Snape blinked down his hooked nose at her. "Fourteen years," he replied.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe? Umbridge continued, writing something down as she did so.

"Yes," Snape said softly.

Elsa looked down and slowly stirred her potion counterclockwise.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

The man paused and Elsa could almost hear his lip curling. "Obviously." Elsa tensed when she heard someone at the back of the room snicker.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" Umbridge asked, the scratching of her quill filling the stretch of silence that followed.

"I suggest you ask him," Snape growled.

"Oh I shall," Umbridge said sweetly.

"I supposed this is relevant?"

Umbridge paused in her note taking. "Oh yes. The Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er – backgrounds."

Elsa felt her shoulders relax somewhat when she heard Umbridge move from the Potions Master to question Pansy Parkinson. Elsa flicked her eyes in Professor Snape's direction, he looked very angry. Suddenly his attention shifted and his eyes narrowed. Harry Potter quickly lowered his head just as the Potions Master started striding towards him. Elsa winced.

xxx

Anna scratched out yet another line in her essay on crystal gazing and rubbed her eyes in order wake herself up a bit. She had been going at the Divination assignment for over two hours now and she was still only half way done, the steady ache at her elbow was definitely not helping matters. She'd made the mistake of taking a nap after lunch and had tripped over her own robes while running full tilt to her charms lesson. Naturally, she'd fallen right on top of her bad arm, aggravating her previous injury. Hermione had lent her some muggle pain medicine so that she wouldn't have to go back to the hospital wing but Anna could feel it starting to wear off. Maybe I could use a freezing charm on my sleeve.

Anna was pulled from her thoughts when a group of very gloomy, very sodden, students came trudging through the portrait hole looking like they'd just taken an leisurely stroll through a hurricane.

"Still raining?" Anna asked sympathetically as Ginny flopped down on the couch next to her, throwing her soaked Quidditch uniform on the floor, which landed next to the fireplace with a loud slap.

The girl pushed a clump of damp hair out of her face and let her head fall back. "Just misting," she said sarcastically.

Anna snorted as she watched the rest of her defeated teammates trudge off to bed. "Bless Angelina for making me stay back. How did it go?"

"Couldn't see a bloody thing past my nose, even with the water repelling charm Angelina used," Ginny groused. "And I almost fell off my broom when Fred hit a Bludger right at my head. He says he didn't see me over the rain but I'm not so sure."

Anna snorted again but quieted when she noticed something was off. "Where are Harry and Ron?"

Ginny lifted her head and shrugged. "Dunno. They hung back when we left." She looked thoughtful. "Now that I think about it, they were both acting strange." She glanced down at the pile of parchment in Anna's lap and the stack of books at her feet. She winced. "Which one are you doing?"

Anna made a face like she'd just bitten into a lemon and lifted the book closest to her so that Ginny could read the title.

"Trelawney's essay, still!? You were working on that when I left!" Ginny groaned loudly and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyelids. "You know the only reason Trelawney even gave us that stupid paper is because she is mad about what Umbridge said. Why does she have to take it out on us?" the girl grumbled.

Anna nodded in agreement. Everyone knew about the Divination professor's evaluation and how she'd been put on probation, it had left the woman – somewhat understandably - in a near constant state of ill temper. She nearly went into hysterics when Colin Creevey admitted to not finishing the assigned reading.

"It's really not that bad," Anna said in a tone that was not at all convincing. "Just… long." Ginny gave her a sour look. "Okay it's awful, but I'll help you."

The Weasley girl gave a weak smile before breaking out into the longest, most dramatic yawn Anna had ever seen. "I don't think I'm going to be able to get much done tonight," she said over Anna's snort of laughter. "You coming?"

Still giggling, Anna nodded. "I just got to get all this," she gestured vaguely to the mess in front of her, "stuff, packed up."

"Alright. See you tomorrow," Ginny said, jumping up from her seat and heading up to the girl's dormitories.

Just as Anna had finished gathering up all her homework, shoving it all back into her bag, she heard the portrait swing open.

Both Harry and Ron stumbled into the common room, neither of them looking particularly cheerful. Harry seemed to be very deep in thought while Ron watched him anxiously.

"Hey guys," Anna called warily, not liking then uneasy feeling the boys had brought in with them.

"Hey, Anna." They replied in unison.

"Is everything ok?" she asked. "Ginny told me about practice, hope you're not too waterlogged.

"Yeah," Harry said absentmindedly. Ron continued to look distressed.

Anna narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep," Harry replied, his tone clipped as he pulled out his books and sat down forcefully in his favourite armchair, refusing to look up at her.

Anna glanced over at Ron, sending him a questioning look.

When it was clear Harry wasn't paying the other two Gryffindor's any attention, Ron touched his forehead. When Anna shook her head in confusion he traced something on his forehead that looked a lot like a lightening bolt.

Anna finally nodded in understanding and the uneasy feeling twisted into a knot in her stomach. Harry's scar was hurting him again.

The girl frowned and desperately wanted to say something but decided to let the matter rest for now, since it was very obvious that Harry didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay, well… Goodnight then," Anna said as she left the boys to their homework. Throwing one last anxious look over her shoulder before climbing the staircase to her dormitory.