#so what do you guys do when you want to pull a fairly harmless prank on a friend?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fandomsonrequests · 4 years ago

Text

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary: fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

#ficscafe #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #ateez san #ateez headcanons

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trulymadlysydney · 4 years ago

Text

Scorpio Season: One

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It had started with a simple knock on her bedroom door.

Misty Garland was sitting and reading on her bed the first time she’d heard it. It was a windy fall day, the slightest bit of sun poking through the clouds every so often. Her sorority sisters had thought it was the perfect weather to go day-drink over at the Kappa house. Misty thought she would rather die.

Her knee-jerk reaction had been to call out a soft “Come in!” to the knocking visitor. But it wasn’t until after the words left her lips that it hit her-- she was home alone.

It wasn’t something that could be passed off as the creaking of the walls of the old house, or the knocking of a branch against the window. No, it was a clear, distinct knock, as if someone were trying to get her attention.

Intrigued, she’d set her book down and padded barefoot across the floor. “Hello?” She’d called out half-heartedly, knowing perfectly well that it was in vain. Cautiously, she’d turned the gold knob and pushed her squeaking door open, only to be met with an empty hallway. Just as she’d expected.

It should have worried her. She should’ve been frightened or at the very least, slightly alarmed. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t any of those things.

If anything, she was intrigued.

A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped out into the hallway. One half of her brain reminded her that this could very well be one of her sisters who’d chosen to stay home instead of blacking out on Strawberitas and Jungle Juice with creepy guys. If that were the case, however annoying it would be, she decided she’d laugh it off. Chalk it up to a harmless, albeit immature prank. She’d get whoever it was back, in tenfold.

However, that was not the case.

After searching the entire house top to bottom, (even going so far as to enter all of her sister’s rooms uninvited) Misty came to the equally exciting and somewhat disconcerting conclusion that she was, in fact, home alone.

For the rest of the evening, she waited for a second knock that never came. She spoke, whispered, even shouted into the void, calling upon whatever dark spirit that had seemingly taken up temporary residence in her sorority home.

When only half of her sisters returned home that evening (with the other half apparently electing to stay with their respective boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, etc) she’d gone back and forth debating if she should mention it to anyone. Ultimately, however, she’d decided that explaining it was not a good use of her time. So she’d gone to bed early, hoping to hear another knock.

Another knock never came.

It was about a week later that her attention was caught again. It wasn’t from a knocking, but from a gentle thud against the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

Misty had been in the kitchen, washing the dishes that had been slowly accumulating in her room for the past few nights of mid study-sesh snacks. The house was fairly quiet that evening, save for the television in the living room and the chattering of gigging girls in the dining room-- obviously doing more chit-chatting than studying.

She’d been zoned out, lost deep in her thoughts when she’d heard it. Something in the pantry had fallen. Assuming it was a clumsy sister, she’d turned around to help clean up-- only to find that no one had been there at all.

There it was, though-- a loaf of bread that had fallen from the top shelf and landed in a spot that, according to physics, it wouldn’t have logically been able to land.

Misty glanced around the kitchen nervously, unsure of whether or not she should even dare touch the bread. She cleared her throat, becoming more and more aware of the lump growing there. She willed her brain to come up with something to say, anything, but all she could force out of her mouth was, “I… who…?”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what type of response she was expecting, so she wasn’t surprised when she was met with none at all. Her eyes had darted between the bread and the sink, which she’d left running, as her brain tried with all of its might to explain this situation in a logical manner.

She held her breath, waiting to see if it would move again while her heart pounded loudly in her ears. There was no way she could have imagined this, because there it sat, plain as the nose on her face. With a deep breath and another hurried glance around the room, Misty took a step forward, slower than she’d ever moved in her life. She craned her neck to see if there was anyone in the pantry (of course there wasn’t) and willed her heart to stop thumping so loudly. Surely there had to be an explanation for this. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe she had left a window open and it was windy outside.

A loud laugh came from the dining room then, nearly startling Misty out of her skin. She gasped, whirling around only to quickly realize that the sound was no more than a sister, laughing at a joke presented by another sister. Because of course.

Misty sighed, shaking her head at herself and rolling her eyes at how jumpy she was. For heaven’s sake, it was just a loaf of bread.

She walked to the bread, picking it up to return it to its rightful home in the pantry and allowing herself no further thoughts about the incident. Whatever it was, there was no logical explanation. And some things, Misty thought, were just better off that way. She was comfortable not knowing what had caused the bread to fall. Maybe she would never know. And she was okay with that.

Or so she thought.

The final time Misty had heard it had been the most prominent sign, and the one thing that had tipped her over the edge. It was a night not unlike any other, and Misty was tucked up into bed. She’d elected to keep the window open while she slept, because the weather that day had been perfect-- not hot, but not too chilly either. The perfect weather to cuddle up under a blanket. Misty loved it.

So there she was, nightlight on and covers pulled up to her ears. The sheets smelled like the lavender spray she spritzed all over her bed each night, and although it was familiar and comforting, she couldn’t help but notice that tonight smelled slightly different. The sheets smelled almost spicy, like cinnamon, and although it seemed a bit odd, Misty didn’t spare much more of a thought about it as she yawned most ungracefully.

In the spot between sleep and consciousness, Misty’s ears buzzed. She could feel herself slipping into fully numbed relaxation, her thoughts coming in and out of focus like waves. She knew she was about to be pulled completely under and slip into a dream that was already beginning to form in her brain… and then she heard it.

“Misty.”

Loud and clear.

Immediately, her eyes shot open. As her full consciousness came quickly back to her, she sat up in her bed, eyes scanning the dimly lit room for the source of the voice. Her blood ran cold as she waited in anticipation to see something-- a shadow, a full figure, anything-- but as she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t tell whether she was terrified, relieved, or annoyed to be met with absolutely nothing.

“Is someone there?”

The only sound she was met with was her own breathing, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Look, I know you’re here,” she said slowly, absentmindedly fidgeting with the sheets as she waited for a response. “And I’m… not scared of you.”

It wasn’t really a lie, of course; she wasn’t scared so much as intrigued. Truthfully, even as a little girl this sort of thing had always fascinated her. She’d always felt she had a special and strange connection to the other side. But it had been ages since she’d really tapped into it, and now that she was practically face to face (so to speak) with what she assumed--and hoped-- was a spirit, she was feeling, at the very least, overwhelmed.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, voice a bit louder than before. “I’m not scared.” Nothing. “You’ve been messing with me for like, a while now. And I want you to know I hear you.” Nothing. “You don’t have to hide yourself.”

And still, nothing.

Misty sighed. “You know, I think it’s pretty rude of you to not introduce yourself. You just show up and wake me up when I’m almost asleep and then ignore me? You throw stuff around, you knock on the walls and the doors and stuff, and for what? Just so you can get a laugh?”

When she was met once again with the deafening sound of silence, she rolled her eyes. Misty reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes with a finger and gave her room one last scan before speaking again. “I’ll get you to talk,” she says, “one way or another. Don’t think I won’t.”

Nothing.

“This is a threat.”

Nothing.

Misty shook her head, laying back down in her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. It really was a threat. She had read about ways to contact spirits her entire life, but she’d never actually been brave enough to try any of them. In fact, in all honesty, the thought of doing it now still scared her a bit. Nevertheless, this spirit intrigued her. And as Misty drifted somewhat uneasily into sleep once again, she went over the different ways she was going to try and contact them to know once and for all what it was they had to say.

Which is how Misty finds herself where she is now.

Currently, Misty sits alone in the attic of the old sorority house, setting up for a ritual that she’s never been brave enough to try. The attic is old and a bit stuffy, and Misty coughs as she crawls along the dusty floor into the center of a circle of unlit candles. In hindsight, Misty realizes that the ritual doesn’t really need to be performed up here, considering that she does have the entire house to herself this evening. Still, it seems fitting-- the perfect amount of spooky while still being in a somewhat well- lit and cozy area.

The sky outside is a dark blue, bright enough for her to be able to see her surroundings just barely; and as she glances around in the darkness, she notices that one of the candles in her circle is slightly out of place. She reaches forward to adjust the candle, then takes a deep breath in through her nose to steady and ground herself before reaching into her pocket for a small green lighter.

“Alright,” she says, reaching forward to begin lighting the candles one by one. “It’s just you and me here. And you will show yourself to me one way or another, alright? Nice and easy.”

As she works her way around the circle, lighting each and every candle, Misty prays that the spirit is a kind one. Maybe a sister from the very beginning of her sorority’s chapter. Maybe a lost child trying to find their way to the other side. Maybe--

“OW, fuck!” Misty yelps when she accidentally burns her finger lighting one of the last candles in the circle. She sticks the finger in her mouth to wet it, then pulls it out and shakes it violently, trying desperately to ease the pain.

Misty sighs in frustration at the slight inconvenience of her throbbing finger, then finishes lighting the final candle in the circle. She glances around, pleased with her work, before settling herself in the direct center of the candles, cross legged and as relaxed as she can possibly be.

She tries her hardest to calm her pounding heart. Everything she’d read online about this process had highly recommended getting a professional medium-- one who wasn’t going to get anxious and mess up the process. Misty, of course, did not have access to that. So here she is.

Taking another deep, slow breath-- in through her nose and out through her mouth-- Misty allows herself to sit in the stillness for a few beats. She feels her heart rate slow down, and she takes another breath. Reaching beside her quietly, so as not to disturb the peace that is washing over the room, she picks up one of the stones she’s brought up here for protection.

The small stone feels rough and cold in her hand, and she squints down at it to make sure it’s the stone she wanted. It’s light purple color tells her that it’s an amethyst, and she focuses intently on it for a few moments before taking another long breath-- in through her nose, out through her mouth.

Misty holds the amethyst in her palm, allowing herself to really observe the feeling of it. She focuses on the weight of the stone in her hand, and the way the cool, rocky underside feels against her sweaty palm. She tries to focus on the energy she can feel from the rock, envisioning it surrounded in a glowing white light. She stays like this for a while, and when she’s certain she can actually feel the warm light that she’s envisioning, she clears her throat gently and speaks.

“I dedicate this crystal to the highest good of all. May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lets her words hang in the air for a few moments before repeating them, three more times. After she’s certain her words have stuck, she slowly brings the stone up to her chest. She allows herself to pause, to really feel the faint thump of her heart and the jaggedness of the stone against her chest. She takes in another deep breath and closes her eyes.

“I program this crystal for clarity. For heightened intuition, for protection from evil. I program this crystal for open communication, and unclouded thoughts. I program this crystal for calmness.” With one last breath, she speaks her final words-- a repeat of an earlier sentence. “May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lowers the crystal then, placing it in front of her in a spot where she can always see it out of the corner of her eye. Programming the crystal did help to ease her nerves, yes, but not entirely. Seeing it sitting in front of her in her little circle of candles does wonders, however, to remind her to stay calm, stay focused, and stay present.

So, shit, she thinks, she’s done everything she can at this point. Now it’s time for her to act.

Shot in the dark, she opens her mouth.

“If there is someone in here with me tonight,” she begins slowly, eyeing the room, “will you please show yourself?”

When she is met with silence, she sighs. “It’s just me here,” she says softly. “Just me. We have the whole house to ourselves. I just want to know who you are. If there’s something I can help you with.”

Misty pauses, and goes to open her mouth to speak again when she sees it. The gentle flutter of only one of the flames. If she’d have blinked, she would’ve missed it-- but there it is. A little wiggle of the flame that deviates from the gentle flicker of the others. Misty smiles, and lets out a little surprised breath.

“Was that you?” she asks, then pauses. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath as she watches the flame intently, and when it flickers abnormally again she lets out a pleased laugh.

“I see,” she says, unable to hide the smile on her face and the pounding of her heart. “That was easier than i thought it was going to be. Are you the spirit that’s been messing with me?”

There’s a brief pause, and then the candle flickers again. Misty can hardly believe her eyes. “I knew it,” she says, more to herself than to the spirit. She scrambles to think of the next question she’s going to ask, because she wants to hold the spirit’s attention as long as she possibly can.

“Can you do something else to show me you’re here? Maybe like… move two flames instead of just the one?”

There are a few moments of silence, and Misty almost worries that she’s asked too much of the spirit. She’s about to say a few words of encouragement, to remind the spirit that it’s only her and them in this room, when she sees it.

Every single flame flickers chaotically, in all different directions. Misty can hardly believe her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Holy shit.”

Misty swallows thickly as she ponders what exactly is happening. “Okay,” she says slowly. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

There is no response, but Misty thinks nothing of it. “Who are you?” she asks, then immediately rolls her eyes at herself. How is she expecting the spirit to identify themselves to her?

“Okay, don’t answer that,” she quickly adds. “Umm… how can I ask this?”

There’s a creak in the floor, as if someone were stepping closer to her, and it makes the hair on her arms stand up. She licks her lips as she tries to keep herself calm.

“Okay… um… are you a ghost? One flame for yes, two for no.”

She feels stupid for asking that, but she isn’t really sure how else to ask. She stares at the candles almost a little too intently, and scoffs when one of the flames flickers.

“Should’ve figured that,” she mutters, “sorry.”

Misty notices that one of the candles is slightly out of place, and she reaches forward to adjust it. Just as she does, however, she is overcome with the sense of feeling insanely cold. She gasps, retracting her hand quickly, and the air in the room becomes tense.

She clears her throat as she processes what she just felt. “Was that you?”

There is no response, but the thickness of the air does resolve a bit. Misty settles appprehensively back down into her comfortable position before changing the subject.

“How long have you been dead?” she tries.

There’s a brief moment, and she considers rewording her question, when she notices that four different flames flicker in succession, one right after the other. “I see…” she says, “So four years then?”

There is no response, and Misty thinks about their answer. “That’s not very long,” she says, frowning. “This must be a pretty fresh death, no? I’m sorry.”

One of the flames wiggles, almost sympathetically, and it makes Misty giggle. In all honesty, she’s feeling completely comfortable with this spirit.

“Look,” she says, relaxing her posture a bit. “I wish I was better at this. Truth be told, I’ve never really…. talked to a ghost before? So like, I hope I’m doing this right. I wish I had a better communication system though.”

The flame that wiggled gently before suddenly begins to shake with more vigor, burning brighter and somewhat bigger than it had before. This catches Misty’s attention.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” She asks, and the flame grows slightly larger.

“You’re free to say it,” she says, moving to tuck her knees under her butt. “Like I said, it’s just you and me in here.” She watches the flame dance, enthralled and fascinated by its movement.

“Why me?” she asks, and another flame begins wiggling violently as well. “I mean… why have you contacted me? Surely you have something to say.”

A third flame begins shaking, and Misty is growing a bit anxious. “I know you have a voice,” she says, her own voice a bit louder now. “I’ve heard it. You woke me up the other night.”

Misty’s eyes dart from one flame to the next, willing herself not to panic at the way the flames seem rather large. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the reflection of the flames on the glassy edges of her amethyst, and she thinks perhaps she should reach for it to remind her to stay grounded, stay calm, stay focused.

Just as she raises her hand to reach for it, however, a fourth flame grows larger in size.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she asks, growing a bit frustrated. “I don’t know how else to help you other than--”

Misty is cut off when she sees the amethyst move, ever so slightly. She freezes in her tracks.

She wants to pass that off as a trick of the lights, but there’s no way she can. She saw it move, plain and simple. Not to mention she’d heard the soft scratching of the stone moving against the wooden floor.

When Misty looks up, almost all of the candles are flickering aggressively. She gasps, completely panicked now.

“Show yourself!” she blurts out. “I know you’re here, I know you have something to say!”

She watches the flames intensify, and she almost considers abandoning this entire mission and blowing them all out right here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Just… say something!”

In somewhat of a trance by the way the candle lights flicker, Misty feels her heart rate increase as she stays stuck, frozen against the wooden floor. That same smell of cinnamon as before fills her nose, and she swallows thickly around a dry throat. “I--” she nearly chokes on her words. “Why are you trying to scare me?” she shouts. “I said, say something!”

Still nothing. Now she’s growing increasingly more impatient.

And then it happens.

With a sudden gust of air Misty is shoved, and all of the air in her lungs is let out with a forceful grunt. The candles are extinguished all at once, and the room instantly grows a stuffy sort of dark. The moon shining brightly in the window somehow fills Misty’s stomach with anxiety and dread, not relief. She swallows thickly, taking a few moments to gather her wits and straining her eyes against the thick blackness surrounding her.

The stillness of the room is alarming, and Misty’s heart pounds aggressively against her rib cage. It isn’t until her lungs start burning that she realizes she’s been holding her breath for fear of breaking the silence, and she lets it out slowly and cautiously.

With a shaky hand she reaches forward until she feels her lighter once again, and she flicks it on. She can hardly see in the dimly lit room, but her eyes begin to adjust, and she glances around herself nervously. “Who are you?”

“It’s about time, sunshine.”

The voice comes from behind her and startles her so much that she jumps, flinging the lighter halfway across the floor and bathing the room in darkness once again. Shit.

“Ohh,” coos the voice, deep but unthreatening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here.”

Misty feels a brush of cold air that causes the hairs on her arms to stand up before, one by one, each candle in the room flickers alive once again. Her jaw trembles as she tries to find the source of the voice in the now illuminated room.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” the voice says again, now coming from a different direction.

“I wasn’t,” she says, then swallows around the dryness of her throat. “I’m not.” It’s a complete lie, but she doesn’t want to let her guard down now.

The voice is raspy and deep, but friendly, and a thick, honey drip of a british accent coats the noise sweetly. “That’s a lie,” it says, and it sounds like a man. A pouty man at that. “You weren’t so afraid of me before. Now you’re shaking.”

“You just startled me, that’s all. Where are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to show you if you’re going to be scared.”

Somehow, his words aren’t comforting. Still, Misty isn’t a quitter. “What is there to be scared of? Are you a ghost?”

“I am.”

She smirks. “Are you an ugly ghost?”

This time, he scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Well!” Misty says. “Someone’s full of himself, isn’t he?”

“I’m not!” he insists, and he sounds closer now. “It’s just that you spoke a big game before. Now I’m not so sure you’re ready for this after all.”

Misty sighs, growing increasingly more irritated by the second. “If I wasn’t ready for this, I wouldn’t have summoned you. I thought you were intriguing before. Now you’re just annoying.” She moves like she’s going to stand, and suddenly feels another gust of cold air on her arm.

“Wait!” He sounds as though he’s right in front of her now, and she’s overwhelmed by his cinnamon scent. “I’m not trying to be annoying. I just… want to make sure you’re ready for this.”

“I told you I am,” Misty huffs. She gestures vaguely around the room. “Your words are scaring me more than any of this did. Why wouldn’t I be ready to see you?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “Just… sometimes people don’t know how to respond when they see their first manifestation.”

“I’ve seen a ghost before, dude.”

Now, it’s his turn to sound intrigued. “Have you?”

“M-hm. I’ve always been able to sense these kinds of things.”

“But have you seen one?”

“Shadows mostly. Or I heard voices.”

“But a physical manifestation--”

“You don’t count shadows?”

“Of course I do.” There’s a noise, and it sounds as if the spirit has just sat down. “But I’m not a shadow.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a different type of ghost. Did you know there are several types?”

Misty leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I mean yeah, of course, but I had always just assumed you all showed yourselves as shadows.”

“Not all of us. I mean, we can-- but it isn’t natural for me. I’m not sure we’ve got an actual name for me, but there are many out there like me. We’re a certain type of intelligent ghost that can physically interact with the linear time and space around us. Usually we’re harmless.”

“Are you harmless?”

Once again, she can practically hear the spirit’s smile. “Usually.”

“So… when I see you, you’ll look like, what, just a regular dude?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Why are you hyping this up so much?”

“I don’t know! It’s been a long time since I’ve manifested in front of someone!”

“Ah.” Misty grins. “So you’re the one who isn’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s why you’ve been stalling for so long. You wanted my attention so badly, and now you’ve got it. So show yourself.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “There’s no need to be pushy.”

Silence follows his words, and Misty stares blankly ahead-- waiting for something to happen. She shakes her head slowly and shrugs. “I don’t…. Get it....”

“Turn around.”

Once again, Misty jumps out of pure surprise when the spirit’s voice comes from behind her. She whirls around almost too quickly, nearly losing her balance despite being seated. The minute she sees him standing calmly behind her, she rises.

She takes a moment to really just look at him. She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting; maybe a glowing transparent blob of a young man from the early 1900s, or, worst case scenario, a perfectly normal looking guy who just happened to have a very visible axe lodged into his brain (or some other indication of his death)-- but in any case, he doesn’t look like anything she’d been anticipating. He looks like any other guy she’d see walking around on campus, and if it weren’t for the hardly visible glow outlining his body, she’d assume this was a new Kappa pledge pulling a prank on her as part of his hazing.

He’s got shaggy brown hair that hangs from his head in curls that frame his face and his ears. His eyes are blue-- or are they green? Misty isn’t close enough to be able to tell, and truthfully she’s still a bit apprehensive about befriending a dead guy, so she stays put. Whatever color they are though, they’re beautiful. He’s not floating-- she doesn’t know why she’d been expecting him to-- but standing flat on his feet he’s still taller than her. He’s one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen, and it makes her feel faint (although she blames that on the fact that she’s face to face with someone who’s died).

“I’m Harry,” he says slowly. He’s calm, but he’s unsure. He watches her as if waiting for some type of earth-shattering reaction. The less she moves, the more nervous he becomes. When she doesn’t say anything, he speaks again. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

For someone who isn’t alive-- Misty can’t seem to get over that fact-- he dresses remarkably well. He honestly does look like a Kappa brother, and it weirds her out.

“How did you do that?” She frowns at herself. That was the first thing she could think to say?

Harry laughs, relieved that she’s seemingly so calm. He shrugs. “Dunno. Just something I can do.” He takes a step towards her and, instinctively, Misty takes half a step back.

This time, Harry smirks, but he doesn’t move closer. “Are you still scared?”

“I was never scared!” Misty groans.

“Just startled then.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and now Misty can see that they’re clearly green.

Misty rolls her eyes. It’s impossible to stay annoyed at him when he’s looking at her like this. “Fine!” she sighs. “I’m a little scared.”

“Ha!” Harry beams jubilantly. The smile fades just as quickly as it came, however, and he frowns. “Why are you still scared?”

“I don’t know! I’ve just never done this before.”

The bright smile returns to his face, softer this time, and Misty-- though still apprehensive-- relaxes a bit. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently.

“I didn’t think you were,” Misty replies. “But I also don’t know why you wanted my attention so badly.”

Harry shrugs. “Because. I think you’re pretty.”

It’s so straightforward that Misty is taken aback, and she scoffs. “What, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Harry blinks back at her, standing by his words completely and keeping that air of smugness about him.

Misty waits for a further explanation, but when Harry only stares back at her and raises his eyebrows, she realizes that she isn’t getting one. She laughs in disbelief. “So you went through all this trouble…. Just to tell me I’m pretty?”

“Suppose so.” Harry’s head cocks a bit to the left, and it’s the first time that Misty notices the endearing little dimple on his cheek. She doesn’t know why he flusters her so badly, but she feels her cheeks heating up when she realizes that yes, he’s telling the truth. He really did just want to tell her she was pretty.

Misty’s hand comes up to comb through her hair and she swallows thickly. “Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but it’s tense. The air is thick with tension, in fact, and Misty wonders if it’s possible to flirt with a ghost.

Harry clears his throat. “Anyway. If you want me to leave you alone--”

“No!” Misty responds, almost too quickly. “I don’t. Not at all.”

“You don’t?” Harry beams back at her, and Misty realizes that he really is just as nervous as she is.

“I don’t,” she replies. “But, I mean-- are you just gonna live here from now on? In the attic?”

Harry laughs, a tinkling noise that sends butterflies straight to the pit of Misty’s belly. “I live in this house one way or another. Have for several years. It’s just that I can only show myself at a certain time of year.”

“But why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Harry laughs, taking another cautious step towards Misty. When she doesn’t retreat, he relaxes and fully closes the gap between them. Once again, the smell of cinnamon fills Misty’s nose. Slowly and decidedly, Harry reaches forward to touch her arm and the instant his hand comes in contact with her skin, she is flooded with goosebumps.

His skin is cold, but not as cold as she was expecting. Although honestly, she wasn’t expecting to be able to make tangible contact with him at all. But she can feel it so clearly-- five fingertips trailing comfortingly along the skin of her arm with the gentleness and intention of a lover. Five perfectly groomed fingernails that show no indication of death. Standing this close to him, she can make out the details of his face; a little scar on his neck, a small freckle on his lip, soft smile lines around his eyes. Misty shivers-- partly because of the coldness of his touch, but mostly because it’s been ages since she’s stood this close to someone so beautiful.

His fingers trail down to her hand, and then more specifically, the one finger she burned. She’s almost in a trance as he brushes his cold fingers against the stinging patch of skin, and in an instant any pain she felt in the throbbing finger is now gone.

Misty glances from her finger, then back to Harry, who’s smiling the most tender smile she’s ever seen. “How…?” She begins slowly.

Harry lets out a sigh, and Misty realizes they’ve just been staring at one another. “Don’t worry about it, sunshine.”

Misty practically melts into his touch, and she isn’t sure if he’s got a spell on her or what, but she has the overwhelming urge to kiss him now. She swallows, then opens her mouth to speak before Harry cuts her off. “Your sisters are home.”

“What?”

She doesn’t have time for answers, however, when through the attic window she sees the blue mini cooper of one of her sorority sisters pull up to the curb. She watches the car for a moment. “How did you--”

But when she turns to finish her question, Harry is gone.

------

The following day, Misty finds herself bundled up and sitting in her favorite spot on campus, despite the chill in the air. She’s sitting on the cold grass against a large rock, overlooking a tiny stream that runs throughout the entire small town. She knows it won’t be long before the stream freezes over, so, despite the cold weather, she’s brought herself here to read and listen to the babbling water while she still can.

Harry hadn’t showed up for the rest of the night last night, which had led Misty to wonder if she’d dreamt the entire thing. It had kept her up most of the night, and when he still hadn’t appeared this morning, she knew she had to do something to get her mind off of him.

Which is how she’s found herself here now. Most of her homework for the week is done, so she’s decided to spoil herself by grabbing her favorite coffee at the shop she frequents and a new book at the library before heading to her spot.

It’s a brisk October day, and the Halloween decorations hanging from the campus houses flutter in the chilly wind. Misty wraps her scarf a little tighter around her neck and snuggles further into her coat as she turns the page of her book.

“There you are.”

Misty jumps, nearly spilling her coffee, when she hears it. The thick, British drawl she’s been so desperately craving to hear all morning comes from behind her, and she whirls around to see Harry, in the exact same outfit he’d been in last night, smirking at her.

“Stop doing that!” she hisses. Despite her grumpy tone, she scoots over when Harry makes his way to sit beside her. She feels immediately comforted when she smells the cinnamon that comes with his presence.

Harry chuckles, plopping into the grass. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” Misty huffs, putting her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place.

The smirk on Harry’s face is so smug that Misty wants to slap it off of him. “You’ve been expecting me?”

This throws Misty off guard, and her cheeks go hot. “Well, yeah,” she says, trying to maintain her attitude. “I mean, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Harry laughs. “No, I don’t.”

“Seriously?” Misty rolls her eyes. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Not a person,” Harry states. “I’m a ghost.”

“Well whatever you are, you’re annoying.”

“Thank you.” Harry nods towards the book in her hands. “What are you reading?”

Misty doesn’t answer him, suddenly far more self-conscious than she’d been before. He reaches out to take the book and pulls it closer to himself to read the title aloud.

“‘When Ghosts Speak: Understanding the World of Earthbound Spirits.’” He snorts. “Seriously?”

“Well if you won’t tell me anything, I have to figure it out myself.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” Harry says, relaxing against the rock and stretching his feet out in front of him. “Fire away.”

Misty eyes him for a moment. “You’re not kidding?”

“I’m an open book.”

She takes his sudden burst of confident vulnerability and considers the questions she wants to ask. There had been so many in her head since he’d disappeared last night, but now that she’s on the spot, she’s blanking.

Misty clears her throat. “Alright. I’ll start off easy. How are you here?”

Harry smiles. “I can go anywhere I want to. Just like you.”

“Can anyone else see you?”

“If I wanted them to. But I don’t.”

Misty looks around, suddenly nervous that anyone nearby might hear her speaking and think she’s talking to herself. Luckily, she seems to be the only person crazy enough to willingly subject herself to this weather. So she turns back to Harry.

“So then why did you wait for me to summon you? Why didn’t you just show yourself?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Harry responds. “I can only manifest during a certain time period every year. But in order to manifest at all, I have to be invited first. After I accept the invitation, I’m free to come and go as I please until the end of the season.”

“So you’re going to be a pest for this entire fall then?” Despite her words, Misty smirks.

Harry matches her wit and chuckles. “No, not that kind of season. Scorpio season.”

“Oh god,” Misty groans. “You’re an astrology freak, aren’t you?”

Harry snorts. “Look, I didn’t make the rules. That’s just the way it is. When Scorpio season starts, I can show myself. When it ends, I leave.”

“Where do you go? When it ends, I mean.”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. Nowhere bad. It’s just kinda… nothing. I can’t explain it.”

“Is it scary?”

Harry considers her words, then shakes his head. “I… really can’t explain it. It’s not scary. It goes by fast. I just kind of… sleep, I guess. Nothingness.” A sudden thought dawns on him, like he’s remembering something. “But! I can pop into people’s dreams while I’m there.”

“You can?”

“Yup. I don’t do it too often, just because it takes a lot of my energy, but I’ve seen some pretty interesting things, I’ll tell you that.”

Misty doesn’t say anything, and Harry lets her sit in silence while she processes his words. He knows it’s a lot, and he knows he would be weirded out if he were in her shoes. So he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Finally, she turns to him. She doesn’t look nervous, but something is on her mind. “Can I ask you something… a little more personal?”

“Anything.”

“Okay.” Misty takes a deep breath, focusing her attention on the birds hopping around nearby. “How did you… die?”

“How did I die?” Harry repeats her question, then blows out all of his air in a puff. “It’s not anything exciting.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just--”

“No, no!” Harry holds up his hand. “I don’t mind. It’s just… anticlimactic I suppose. And you’re probably going to laugh.”

Misty leans closer, a serious look spreading across her face. “I wouldn’t dare laugh about someone’s death.”

“No, you will,” Harry says, smiling to himself. “It’s kinda funny.” He takes a deep breath, preparing to tell the story. “I fell off the roof of your house.”

Harry laughs, but Misty doesn’t find it funny at all. “That’s horrible, Harry. How did you--”

“While having sex.”

Misty stops her sentence dead in its tracks, and a new look of pure surprise blossoms on her face. “You…”

Harry sighs, launching into the story. “A few years ago, your sorority was throwing a Halloween party. I wasn’t into Greek life but a few of my mates dragged me along. I was already pretty drunk by the time we got there, right, so all bets were off. Well, I met this girl, right? Never even learned her bloody name, but I guess she was a sister. Made eyes at me from across the room and it was over. Drank some more, chatted her up, and then we decided ‘hey, might as well.’ Only, all of the bedrooms were taken. So then, she had the brilliant idea to go up on the roof. It was raining so, you know, in hindsight we should’ve known better. But we were drunk and horny and stupid. So we went up, started going at it, slipped, and uh… splat. So to speak.”

Misty doesn’t know how to respond, and Harry doesn’t expect her to. He just chuckles. “Found me with my pants around my bloody ankles,” he continues. “ Not a very dignified way to go is it?”

“That’s awful.” Misty frowns.

“Eh. What can you do? Apparently the girl lived but she felt so guilty that she dropped out of school and moved away. I guess no one’s heard from her since.”

“You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”

“Oh, nah. No way. It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry to make you talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Harry replies. “All I can do is laugh about it at this point.”

“Well,” Misty says, shifting her position against the rock. “I still don’t think it’s funny.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Mm?”

“Why me? Like, what was it about me that made you decide ‘Ah, yeah, she’s the one I’m gonna haunt?’”

Harry smiles, crossing his foot over his opposite leg and resting his ankle to his knee. He gives her question a moment of thought before responding. “Told you. Think you’re pretty.”

Misty rolls her eyes but the smile that forms on her lips is undeniable. “That’s seriously it?”

“I mean,” Harry says slowly, absentmindedly shaking his foot back and forth. “Yeah. Been stuck at that house for the past, what, four Scorpio seasons now? You’re the first girl I’ve seen who’s caught my attention.”

“Ew, so you like, spy on us?”

Harry snorts. “No, god, I’m not a perv. But, you know, I live there, too, so. Sometimes I’ll join in for movie night. Or game night. I also pop in to the occasional party. But I don’t spy.”

“Good,” Misty says. “Although I don’t even think you’d find anything juicy anyway. They’re a bunch of duds.”

“Can I ask you something now?” Harry’s got an intrigued smile on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you join a sorority? You seem to hate everything about it.”

Misty sighs. “I don’t hate it,” she says slowly. “I mean, it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice for like, extra-curricular activities.”

“So why then?”

“I’m a legacy,” she replies. “My mom and my grandma were both Beta Sigmas. They would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

“Is it really that serious to them?”

Misty smirks. “For someone who lives in a sorority house, you sure know nothing about sorority girls.”

Harry’s laugh is sudden and it makes Misty’s heart warm despite the coldness of his presence. “It would appear so. Jeez.”

The two fall silent for the next few moments, residual giggles dying off into happy sighs. It’s obvious that they both enjoy one another’s company, and Misty is ridiculously glad that he’s come back to check up on her today.

After about a minute of silence, however, another question pops into her head. “So. You’re a Scorpio then?”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not, no. Or, I wasn’t, when I was alive.”

“Why Scorpio season then?”

“Because it coincides with spooky season, I guess. Or maybe because I died at a Halloween party? I don’t know. I didn’t make it up.”

“What are you then? What’s your sign or whatever?”

Harry smirks. “Guess.”

“Taurus.”

He shakes his head. “Guess again.”

“Leo.”

Harry makes a face now. “No. God, a Leo? Who do you think I am?”

Misty giggles. “I don’t know! I don’t know shit about astrology!”

“Obviously.” Harry snorts. “I’m an Aquarius.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s the best.”

“Great.”

Harry giggles, letting the conversation naturally fizzle out before starting his next sentence. “Misty?”

It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name to her face, not just in her ear late at night while she’s trying to sleep, and it fills her with butterflies yet again. “Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re not, like, scared of me. Really glad.”

Misty giggles. “I am, too, honestly.”

“Even though you were scared in the beginning.”

Misty’s smile turns into a scowl, but there is still a playfulness in her eyes and in her tone that makes Harry laugh. “I wasn’t. I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Harry scoots the tiniest bit closer to Misty and nods at her book. “So. Tell me what’s going on in your book.”

-----

Harry just might be the most annoying person-- or rather, entity-- that Misty has ever come across in her entire life.

And she can’t get enough of him.

They’d spent a good portion of their days together throughout the past week, with Harry lingering around longer and longer each day. Misty didn’t mind, of course, and she welcomed his company. By the fourth day of spending time together, they were chatting as if they were the best of friends. Misty had learned about Harry’s life prior to coming to this school, about his mom and his sister and how he checked in on them via their dreams whenever he could. She learned about what he’d been studying prior to his death, and what he wanted to do with that degree. And Harry answered each and every one of her questions with patience (and usually a snarky remark), which Misty loved.

In turn, Harry had learned much of the same information about Misty’s life, and he found her fascinating. He asked her just as many questions as she asked him, and whenever she called for him, he showed up. He loved it every time.

He’d manifested in the kitchen this morning as she was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and he’d followed her around like a child while she tried to find something decent for breakfast. She hadn’t acknowledged him much, for fear of any of the other girls noticing, but she did manage to sneak him a few sleepy grins that he found himself melting for every time.

He’d then followed her up to her room, where he chatted with her while she crunched away at a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. They’d discussed her plans for the day and he’d asked her if he could stay with her (although truth be told, he didn’t really have to ask; he knew she’d say yes anyway).

It hadn’t been a very busy day by any means. Misty had had a few errands to run (which Harry had found unbelievably boring and dipped out of, promising her he’d be waiting for her at home). Presently, Misty finds herself sitting on her bed, laptop resting comfortably on her thighs, while she types away at a book report that she has due at midnight.

Harry had offered her his help, which she’d taken him up on, but Misty soon came to find out that the word ‘help’ in his case was used very loosely. Harry had elected instead to continuously chat and distract Misty, and each distraction was met with a protest from her… as well as her deepest insight on whatever topic Harry had decided to bring up. Truth be told, Misty welcomed the distraction. She loved picking his brain, and he hers.

Currently, Misty types away mindlessly, while Harry sits quietly at the foot of her bed flipping through one of Misty’s old yearbooks. Every now and again he’ll marvel at something in the yearbook, or he’ll tease Misty about her braces or tell her she looked cute during spirit week. “‘Nerd Day’ huh? Suits you.”

After Harry has been particularly quiet for a while, however, Misty starts to get suspicious.

She glances up from her work to find Harry staring at her, a mischievous grin that she hates to love tugging at his cheeks.

“What?” she says, subconsciously squirming under his gaze.

He only blinks, hardly bothering to look away or wipe the smirk from his face. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Don’t know if I should say…”

This makes Misty’s cheeks grow hot, though she tries her hardest to cover it up. “Harry don’t be an idiot.”

Harry chuckles, using his finger to mark the page of Misty’s yearbook that he’s currently on. “It’s nothing bad,” he says casually. “It’s fine.”

“Then stop staring at me,” Misty says with a smile. “Creep. If you have something to say then say it.”

Harry grins, reaching down to wiggle his fingers against the underside of her foot. “I do, actually. I have an idea.”

Misty lowers her laptop screen just a tad so she can see him better before speaking. “What kind of idea?”

The smile on her face and the narrowing of her eyes tells Harry that she’s in before she even knows his idea, and he has to contain his giggles as he speaks.

“You wanna play a prank on your sisters?” He asks. “Just to spook them a bit. ‘Tis the season and all that.”

“What kind of a prank?” Misty sits up, leaning closer to Harry and lowering her voice excitedly.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, “maybe like… I could throw some stuff around. Make a few noises. Pretend to possess you.”

Immediately, Misty is intrigued. She gently tosses the laptop to the side and beams. “Shit, you think we should?”

“I do,” Harry says, a twinkle already forming in his eye. “Obviously we’ll have to work out the details, but yeah. Something like that.”

“Pretend to possess me,” Misty says, “do it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Someone’s a bit eager, aren’t they?”

Misty rolls her eyes, but the embarrassed little smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. “Not like that,” she says, then tacks on a mumbled and affectionate “stupid.”

“Not like what?” Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, purposely making Misty squirm. She laughs and tosses a pillow at his face.

“Nevermind,” she says through a grin, “I don’t even want to do this anymore.”

“Liar,” Harry says.

“Brat,” Misty replies.

Harry’s eyes twinkle. “I take it that you’re in, then.”

“I guess,” Misty says. “Don’t look so smug.”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me,” Harry says casually, and it takes Misty a moment to even register what he’s said.

Misty feels the heat rising in her cheeks at his words, and as flustered as he’s made her, she bounces back quickly. “I must be adorable all the time then.”

Harry shrugs. “You said it, not me.”

“Anyway,” Misty says, desperately trying to change the subject to cover up how giddy he’s making her, “what did you actually have in mind?”

Harry smirks. “How good are your acting skills?”

---

Coincidentally, tonight is movie night among a few of the girls and their boyfriends. Which, Misty and Harry had quickly realized, was the perfect setting to execute their plan.

It’s 8:30pm, and Misty is sitting on the couch under a blanket, snuggled between a few other sisters. There are sisters scattered around the entire living room, some cuddled up with their respective partners and some without. Everyone has alcohol of some sort; Misty herself is about a glass and a half of wine in, and she’s actively trying to ignore the thoughts about how badly she wishes Harry were sitting beside her on the couch.

Especially since she’s the only one who can see him right now, sitting so casually in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the screen like everyone else’s, and looking so, so handsome.

If Misty didn’t know any better she would think he was just another one of the guys, and for a moment she allows herself to indulge in the make-believe world in which Harry is her boyfriend who has come over to join the girls for movie night. In her mind, he’s just gotten up to get Misty a bottle of water, but got so interested in the film that he ended up just sitting down to finish the scene.

It’s selfish, Misty knows. But seeing him like this, so casually cute, makes her heart hurt. Obviously she’s got things way easier than Harry, considering she is the only one between them with a beating heart. But she has to wonder if it gets lonely in his world. He can only visit his loved ones through dreams. He can only show himself for a month out of the year. Even now, he sits alone in the corner of the room, far from everyone else.

He had joked about it earlier, saying the reason he sat so far away from everyone was because the spot he was in gave him the best seat of the house every time. However, a few moments later he’d admitted that the actual reason was because he didn’t want to make anyone cold and ruin the fun. He’d given her a soft smile and brushed that statement off with yet another joke, but it had broken Misty’s heart.

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry turns just in time to catch Misty staring at him, and he grins immediately.

“Stop staring at me, creep.” He winks at her.

For a full five seconds, Misty is terrified that Harry’s just blown his own cover. She tenses up, glancing around the room in shock just waiting for someone to say something about hearing a voice. When she realizes, with confusion, that not a single person has moved, Harry speaks again.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear me. Only you.”

Misty glances back at Harry, wanting to say something back but knowing she can’t, and he grins. “God, I bet it’s killing you, not being able to talk back to me. I could have some fun with this.”

When Misty shoots a subtle glare in Harry’s direction, he gasps. “If looks could kill,” he says, shaking his head.

Misty wants to laugh and throw something at him and fight back but she knows she can’t, and he’s right, it is killing her. She cracks her neck gently from side to side, in an attempt to relax herself, and Harry laughs.

“Alright, I’ll have mercy. Are you ready to get started? Or are you super into the movie?”

Misty’s face goes into a completely deadpan expression as she glances at Harry, as if to say “really?” How on earth is she supposed to answer that?

“Oh,” Harry chuckles. “Uh, blink once if you want me to start.”

Misty blinks as subtly as she can while still trying to make her answer clear to Harry. He beams.

“Blink once if you think I’m hot.”

This time, Misty can’t control herself. She lets out an exasperated sigh that does, unfortunately, catch the attention of a few of her friends.

“You good?” The girl sitting beside her on the couch-- Kennedy-- laughs.

Before Misty even has time to respond, however, Harry swoops in and saves the day. He knocks hard, twice, on the wooden floor, and every head in the room turns.

There is an intense shift of energy once everyone realizes that there is nothing that could have possibly made that noise.

“Uhhh…???” Another sister, Rosie, speaks up, curling even further into her boyfriend.

“What the fuck was that dude?” Greg, one of the most unbearably fratty boys Misty has ever known, sits up.

And there sits Harry, smirking in the corner, obviously pleased with his work.

Misty realizes quickly that she can’t blow her own cover, so her face changes to one of apprehension and terror, mirroring everyone else’s. “Uhh… everyone heard that, right?”

“That was like, distinct!” Rosie says. “Like two deliberate knocks.”

All at once everyone starts talking over one another.

“What the fuck, dude--”

“Was it over in that corner?”

“Go check it out--”

“No you go check it out!”

“Was it one knock or two?”

“You guys, what the fuck was that?’

Misty glances at Harry, who is staring back at her expectantly, as if to ask if it’s okay if he makes the next move. Misty gives him a subtle nod, and Harry rises to his feet.

He walks gently along the wooden floor, making sure to get as close as possible to the people sitting scattered along it. He wants them to feel his presence, and each person has a different reaction.

It’s Luca, Rosie’s boyfriend, who says something first. “Wait, I’m not even kidding you, I’m cold as shit right now.”

Harry grins down at Luca, shooting Misty a wink. “Uh ohhhh,” Harry says softly. He reaches down to lightly tickle his fingers against the back of Luca’s neck, and Luca instantly shoots up onto his feet.

“Swear to GOD dude, something just fucking touched me!”

Rosie shoots to her feet as well, taking a step away from Luca. “Luca you better not be fucking around--”

“Why would I fuck around about that shit?” he asks, voice raising.

“Guys there has to be a logical explanation for this.” Kennedy speaks up, reaching for her drink on the table. “Like, it’s getting colder outside. Maybe there was a draft.”

Rosie sniffs the air a few times, then swallows. Misty has never seen anyone look so worried before in her life, and it makes her want to laugh. “Guys, I smell cinnamon.”

“Oops,” Harry says, turning to Misty. “Might’ve gotten a bit too close there.”

In an instant, Harry is out of Misty’s sight. But he manifests again in the back corner of the room and steps on a particularly creaky floor board, causing everyone’s heads to turn.

Harry observes the shocked looks on all of their faces, then gives Misty a shit eating grin. “I do that a lot, actually,” he says.

As if backing up his words, another sister, Angie, speaks up. “That’s the noise!” she says. “Lindsey and I were in here the other night and we heard it!”

“I’ve heard it too,” Kennedy says. “It happens like, all the time.”

“So you’re just like, not even scared?” Rosie asks, panic in her voice now. “You’re like, completely fine with it? Like it’s normal to you?”

“Misty.” Harry’s voice is now right in Misty’s ear, and it makes her jump. She can feel his cold presence against her skin, and his all too delicious spicy scent engulfs her. She shivers, but turns her head as if to let him know he’s got her attention.

“You ever seen the movie Beetlejuice?”

Misty giggles and nods subtly, glad that no one in the room is really paying attention to her right now.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckles against Misty’s skin. “Thinkin’ we could do somethin’ like that one scene.”

Misty doesn’t even have time to question what scene he’s even referring to, his coldness is gone just as quickly as it came. She turns around again, eyes scanning the room of her panicked classmates and sisters, before she finds him in the corner of the room, messing with an iphone that’s charging. He doesn’t pick it up, instead he just taps the screen. Luckily, the phone is unlocked.

“It’s 2020,” he mumbles, “Who doesn’t have a bloody passcode on their phone?”

The unlocking of the phone, however, does not go unnoticed.

It’s Rosie who points it out, because of course it is. “Guys,” she shrieks, “look at Greg’s phone!”

All eyes are on Harry-- or rather, the phone, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Shit,” he mutters, then looks up at Misty. “Ask them if they hear something.”

Misty wastes no time. “Guys… holy shit do you hear that?”

The room goes quiet, save for the movie that no one had bothered to pause. Lindsey scrambles for the remote and quickly mutes the television, and everyone is stock still.

“I don’t hear anything,” Rosie whispers, and Misty quickly cuts her off with a sharp “Shhh!”

She glances back over at Harry, hoping he has a plan. He doesn’t even look at her, he just continues scrolling through the phone with a concentrated frown on his face.

Greg rises to his feet and takes a cautious step towards his phone. “What the fuck--” he mumbles.

And then Harry nods, pushes a button, and everyone jumps as the opening bars of Tainted Love fill the room via the bluetooth speakers in the corner.

A small smirk begins growing on Harry’s face as he slowly rises from his squatted position beside the phone. “Ahh,” he says slowly. “An absolute classic.”

Everyone seems to be in shock at what’s happening, so no one moves or reaches for the phone to stop the music. Harry is beaming at Misty, and now she can’t even try to hide the smile on her face as he begins bopping towards her.

His shoulders are grooving along with the beat, and he does a silly side step type of jig in Greg’s direction that makes Misty almost lose her composure completely. He punches the air with each prominent beat, wiggling his hips closer to Greg.

“Get his phone, Misty,” Harry says quietly, continuing his slow dancing movements. “Don’t let anyone turn the song off.”

Just as Greg takes a step forward to get to his phone, Harry swoops in, taking both of Greg’s hands in his and dancing with him-- a very poor version of a ballroom dance.

Nearly everyone in the room shrieks. “Greg this isn’t funny!” Rosie squeals. “Knock it off!”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this!” Greg calls over his shoulder, as Harry spins him around the room.

Misty seizes this opportunity and makes a beeline for the phone, glad that everyone is too preoccupied watching Greg dance with a seemingly invisible partner. Harry, although focused on the dancing, keeps his eyes on her the entire time. When he sees her pick up the phone and subtly slip it into the pocket of her sweat pants, he grins. “Good girl.”

Misty tries to ignore how those words make her feel.

Harry ends his dance with Greg by dramatically turning Greg away. He glances at Misty with the most mischievous look she’s ever seen. “Who’s next?”

He doesn’t give her time to even think of an answer, he’s already shimmying his way over to Rosie. He stops briefly to deliberately knock a pillow off of the couch and giggles, “oops!” when it startles the daylights out of Lindsey. Everyone in the room has begun to frantically look for the phone, including Misty-- who is just trying to play her part. The scream that Rosie lets out when Harry grabs onto her though, is something Misty can’t even ignore. She bursts out laughing, earning a few shocked looks from her friends..

“Help!” Rosie screams. “It’s not fucking funny Misty!”

Misty immediately tries to compose herself, forcing her face into as serious an expression as she can muster. “Sorry,” she says, “It’s just--”

“Rosie if this is a prank, I swear,” Angie cuts Misty off and lunges towards Rosie, feeling the air around her.

“It’s not!” Rosie wails. “I don’t know how I’m doing this!’

Harry twirls away from Rosie and right into the arms of Angie, who gasps as she’s led clumsily, around the room. “Oh my god!’

“Oh my god!” Misty repeats, trying her best to seem as shocked as everyone else. “What the fuck is happening?”

“That’s good,” Harry says over his shoulder, “But I’m gonna need more feeling from you.”

Misty lets out a horrified shriek that puts Rosie’s own shriek to shame. “We have to find the phone!” she cries. “We have to turn this stupid song off!”

Harry frowns now. “Hey. Tainted Love isn’t stupid. Watch your mouth.’

Misty ignores him as she joins in on the frantic search for the phone that she knows damn well is deep in her pocket. Every now and then she and Harry share a knowing glance, as he switches from partner to partner.

Misty stands in the furthest corner of the room, pretending to busy herself looking for the item, when suddenly Kennedy laughs. Misty doesn’t even bother looking up, assuming simply that Harry has switched to her. It’s when Rosie speaks that Misty’s attention is caught.

“Kennedy what are you laughing at?!” Rosie wails, tears in her eyes.

“It’s kind of funny!” Kennedy says, taking a sip from her drink before setting it back down. “Like, whoever is doing this-- a ghost or a demon or like, whatever-- has a sense of humor. They know a good classic when they hear it.”

Harry, who’s currently spinning Luca into dizzy oblivion, grins. “Kennedy’s got the spirit!”

“It’s not funny!” Rosie cries. “How can you laugh?!”

Kennedy shrugs, already beginning a bop of her own. “I dunno, I think it’s funny. I don’t think whatever’s doing this is like, evil.”

“I don’t think it is either,” Misty chimes in, although she’s brushed off by everyone’s talking. Some people try to stop whatever force is making them dance, others are too scared to go near the dancer for fear of being next. Kennedy, however, just continues to groove on her own.

Misty reaches discreetly into her pocket to turn the music up a bit more, and Harry laughs gleefully. “Louder!” He calls to Misty, finally releasing his hold on Luca and scanning the room for his next victim.

As Misty watches him, cheerfully prancing around the room and trying to catch Linsdey-- who’s darting around the room like a chicken with her head cut off-- she tries her hardest to ignore the twitching of her heart. There’s no way she likes him, absolutely not. He’s dead, for fucks sake. But he looks so full of life, so full of happiness, and she realizes that this is probably the most fun he’s had in years.

“Misty what are you doing?” Kennedy calls. “You’re not even looking for the phone, come dance with me!’

“Yeah Misty, come dance!” Harry adds, shimmying his way up to Kennedy and taking her hand.

Kennedy shrieks, but she isn’t scared. She laughs immediately, as Harry pulls out his best dance moves for her.

“Someone is fucking with us,” Angie says, “They have to be.”

“Misty, why are you just standing there?” Greg asks. “You’re not even trying to help us!”

“Because,” Misty replies, her brain running a million miles an hour to come up with an excuse. She’s distracted by how much fun Harry’s having, beaming at his one willing participant as he twirls her around. She smiles. “Because I agree with Kennedy. Whatever kind of spirit is doing this is obviously having fun. I think we should let him--” Misty quickly realizes what she’s said and corrects herself “-- or it, whatever it is, just keep vibing with us. This is probably the most fun it’s had in years.”

“You’re right,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he dips Kennedy, “It is.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Rosie sobs, practically throwing herself into Luca’s arms.

“Misty is the only person this spirit hasn’t fucked with!” Lindsey points out. “She has to be up to something!”

Harry makes a face. “That’s a good point,” he muses. He gives Kennedy one last twirl before disappearing completely out of Misty’s sight-- only to reappear right beside her seconds later.

“Care to dance, ma’am?”

Misty lets her guard down completely and laughs as Harry takes hold of her. For a moment, she seems to forget all the eyes in the room. She forgets that she is the only one who can see Harry. Kennedy cheers her on as Harry moves her body-- far more dramatically than he’d moved anyone else’s.

“Miss Misty!” Harry says, making a face as if he’s beyond impressed with her moves. “You can dance!” He dips her aggressively and she squeals, reaching up to hold onto him for stability.

Kennedy starts to jokingly dance around with the other sisters, but Misty hardly notices because she’s so distracted by the silly faces Harry’s pulling as he flings her around. He goes to dip her again, nearly bashing her head accidentally on a lamp. “Whoops,” he says through a giggle.

Misty laughs so hard she snorts, and Harry brings her upright again with the biggest smile on his face. “Never heard you laugh this hard before,” he muses, “it’s cute.”

Instantly, Misty’s cheeks grow hot, and her insides twist as hard as Harry’s spinning her. As if sensing how flustered she is, Harry laughs, reaching down to pinch playfully at her side.

“I know it’s killing you,” he mumbles. “It’s kinda killing me, too.” Harry lifts Misty off the ground, spinning her around ungracefully and making her shriek “Although I know if you could talk to me, you’d probably yell at me. Or make some smartass remark.” Harry spins Misty out, then in, his face now unbearably close to hers. He grins. “So I am liking this a bit.”

Misty catches herself staring at Harry’s lips, and she subconsciously licks her own. She wants to say something so bad, and she knows he’s teasing her because he can. She hears Kennedy’s laughter mixed with another (maybe Angie’s?), and she sees the commotion occuring around her in the room, but it doesn’t feel real. The only thing she can focus on is Harry, and his scent, and the icy feeling of his breath against her skin.

Maybe everyone is too distracted, and she can lean in and kiss him. Can she kiss a ghost? Obviously she’s never tried before but he’s so close, he’s right in front of her… surely--

Misty’s thoughts are interrupted with the sudden sound of silence. She turns quickly, completely broken from her trance with Harry, to see Luca holding the wireless speaker in his hand, one thumb on the power button, mouth wide open in fear.

After a few more beats, Luca speaks. “Does anyone still feel anything?”

Misty turns to find that Harry is gone, completely out of her sight, and she tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“It’s gone,” Rosie says. “I think it’s gone. No one is moving anymore.”

Misty scans the room, trying to find Harry somewhere blending into his surroundings, but much to her dismay she finds him nowhere.

Greg slaps Luca’s arm dramatically before taking a step into the middle of the room. “Bro, what happened?”

“What the fuck was that?!” Rosie’s mascara is running slightly down her face, but her voice is at a much lower and less panicked level than before. “What the fuck just happened?”

“That was fucked,” Luca says, moving closer to Rosie. “Like, fucked.”

Misty tries her hardest to play her part, trying to act as shocked as everyone else, but she can’t stop her hand from flying to the cold spot on her chin-- where she’d felt Harry’s own mouth brush. She can’t stop herself from thinking about his words, wondering how lovely it would’ve felt to kiss him.

“And Kennedy and Misty didn’t do shit to try and fix it!” Rosie cries, reaching up to wipe at her now completely wet eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kennedy says, “What should we have done? Begged nicely for this invisible fucking force to leave us alone? I’m sure it would’ve totally listened to us.” She chuckles almost bitterly, reaching for her abandoned drink on the table. “You guys don’t know how to have fun,” she finishes, punctuating her sentence by chugging the rest of her beverage, “And it shows.”

The evening is cut short and it passes by quickly and in a blur, with everyone checking around the room multiple times for whatever the source of the music was-- to no luck. At some point, Misty discards the phone subtly onto the couch for Greg to find. Everyone around the room discusses their perspective of what had occurred, and Misty tries her best to participate-- although she is mostly spoken over by a crying Rosie and an overly anxious Linsdey.

It takes nearly an hour for Misty to find herself in her own room, after reassuring her nervous sisters that they would be fine sleeping in their rooms alone. She’s tried her hardest to brush Harry’s words about her laugh off, to stop thinking about them, and about him in general but she can’t. As she slips out of her clothes and into her pajamas, she finds herself thinking deeply about his smile.

Misty hears the most gentle knock on her door, pulling her from her thoughts. She finishes pulling her pajama t-shirt over her head before calling out a soft, “Come in.”

Harry manifests himself in her room without even opening the door, and Misty jumps when she sees him in the corner by her dresser. She rolls her eyes as she speaks. “You didn’t even need to knock.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Harry states, a smirk on his lips. “I didn’t know if you were changing.”

“You’re fine,” Misty says, plopping onto her bed. “I mean, I was changing, but like, you’re a ghost. You can walk through walls.”

“I am,” Harry says, “and I can. But I’m still respectful. What kind of a ghost do you take me for?”

Misty giggles, tossing a pillow at Harry. He dodges it-- not that he needs to-- and he snorts.

“Anyway, I just came in to say goodnight,” he says, his smile still wide on his face. “And to make sure I didn’t like… overstep tonight.”

Misty smiles back, ungracefully untucking the covers beneath her. “You didn’t overstep,” she says. “And anyway--” she doesn’t dare look at him as she continues her words, “I liked it.”

“Did you?” Harry seems completely unfazed, and Misty can hear the smirk on his face. It’s infuriatingly sexy.

“I did,” Misty says, finally turning to face him. She rolls her eyes when Harry is, of course, nowhere to be found, but she’s not even worried about it. She knows he’s still here. Her confidence grows in his absence. “I liked it a lot.”

“Did you?” He asks again, his voice lower and coming from behind her now. He’s close enough that he sends shivers down her spine, which don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs.

She turns around to catch his smile as he sits directly behind her on her bed, close enough that she can feel the crisp chill of his skin.

“Yes,” she says quietly, “I did. Told you I did.”

Once again, Misty feels hypnotized by his beautiful face. Harry knows this, and he hesitantly raises his hand to trail along her arm. She shivers again. Without meaning to, she leans into him. His smile tells her she’s not alone in the way she’s feeling right now.

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper.

Misty lifts her head, lips ghosting along the icy feel of his chin. “Did you?” she breathes.

“Did I what, sunshine?” Harry’s mouth seems to follow Misty’s own without kissing her, and it absolutely drives her crazy.

Misty gulps, gathering as much courage as she can muster. “Did you like it?”

With a cheeky grin, Harry removes his hand from Misty’s arm-- much to her dismay. She is knocked back to reality just as quickly as she’d left it, but his words make her insides flutter. “I fucking loved it.”

Misty giggles nervously, deciding to change the subject. “Everyone’s going to think I’m fucking crazy from here on out.”

Harry snorts. “No they won’t. They’ll forget. They’ll continue to think it was a weird occurrence, but they’ll forget that you were one of the only ones who didn’t.”

Misty frowns, jokingly. “So I’m forgettable then?’

Harry rolls his eyes, his smile deepening wider. “Hardly.”

Now Misty beams, ignoring the twisting in her stomach. “In all seriousness,” she replies, “You’re right. It was a weird night. I doubt my quick compliance to you was very memorable to them.”

“I liked your compliance.”

Harry says these words so softly that Misty has to look at him twice to make sure she’s even heard him correctly. He’s no longer looking at her, but the smile on his face makes Misty’s insides go weak, and she notices her own breath hitching in her throat.

“I--” she begins, not knowing where to even begin with a response to him. “I liked--”

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” Harry says. “You don’t have to say anything at all.” He smiles sheepishly at her after a moment. “I just want to tell you that you were right. That was the most fun I’ve had in years. And I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to!” Misty adjusts herself on the bed so she’s facing Harry more. “I had so much fun. You deserved it. And honestly--”

Mist trails off, licking her lips and preparing herself for what she’s about to say,

“I liked being the only one who could see you. And hear you.” Her voice grows quieter. “I liked you… Telling me what to do.”

Harry’s smirk deepens as he leans closer into Misty once again. His lips look so delicious, so inviting, Misty isn’t even sure what she’s looking at anymore.

Moments pass, with Harry and Misty both so close to one another that it’s overwhelming. Misty wants to kiss him more than anything else in her entire life, but she’s scared, and she pretends she doesn’t notice the way he melts when she sighs against his skin.

“Harry,” she breathes slowly, “I don’t know if it’s possible… but I--”

Harry stands suddenly, catching Misty off guard. “You should go to bed,” he says, quickly but sadly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to cut off the--”

“No you’re right,” Misty says, suddenly feeling completely self-conscious. She retracts into herself, crossing her arms along her lower body. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!”

“No, I know!” she lies. “But I… you know, I mean, it’s weird!”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists. “Misty--”

“I have to go to bed,” she says, scrambling ungracefully to get under the covers. “It’s time.”

Harry looks at her for a few more moments before blowing all of his air out in a loud puff. “It’s time,” he repeats. He steps cautiously towards her, then softens himself as he reaches for her hand.

Misty eyes his movements, then smiles as she gently takes his hand in her own.

There are a few more moments of charged silence, before Misty speaks

“Don’t end tonight on a weird note,” Misty jokes, smiling up at Harry. “I had so much fun with you.”

Harry gives her hand a squeeze. “I did too, sunshine. Promise.”

“And you’ll come back tomorrow?’ Misty asks. “And it won’t be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Harry laughs, and Misty, once again, grows flustered.

“I don’t know!” she whines. “I just feel weird!”

“Don’t feel weird,” Harry says, leaning forward. He kisses her head without thinking about it, and he ignores the slight shiver of her body when he does so. “Promise it’s not weird.’

She smiles up at him. “I liked tonight,” she says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I did too,” Harry reassures her, fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips so he can kiss it. “So fucking much.”

Misty stares at him for just a tick too long, then smiles to herself-- clearly happy with their conversation. She snuggles down under the covers and Harry, without hesitation, pulls them up further to tuck her in.

“You didn’t promise me you’d come tomorrow,” she says softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

Harry reaches across her and flicks off her lamp, allowing his eyes to focus in the darkness before speaking. “Of course I’ll come tomorrow,” he says. “I’ve come every other day, haven’t I?”

“I just hate the idea of waking up and you not being here, you know?” Misty opens her eyes, blinking softly up at Harry. ‘I want to have you while I still can.”

Something about Misty’s words breaks Harry’s heart, and he leans in impossibly closer to her. ‘You may have me whenever you like, pretty girl. I will be here whenever you call.”

“Promise?”

Harry can feel tears welling in his eyes and he absolutely hates it. He tries desperately to blink them away. “Promise.”

“Good.” Misty settles herself further under the covers with a content sigh.

“Get some sleep,” Harry mumbles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes as subtly as he can. God, he wishes he were human. More than anything in the world, he wishes he could give Misty the love she deserves-- fully.

“Okay,” Misty sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Tomorrow.”

Misty smiles. “Goodnight. Don’t watch me sleep, weird ass.”

Harry snorts at her words. Of course she’d end the night on that note. With a gentle “goodnight,” He rises to his feet and takes a few steps away from her bed, just so that she can’t detect his presence by his scent. He makes himself invisible to her while still watching her for at least another full two minutes.

The way he’s truly starting to fall for this girl is completely alarming, especially considering their circumstances. If he’d still had a beating heart, it would be breaking, and he hates the isolated yet heavy feeling in his chest as he watches her drift gently into unconsciousness. He wants her, plain and simple.

And as Misty’s thoughts turn into dreams, she can’t seem to get the ghostly boy out of her mind. She wants him, just as badly as he wants her. It’s something she fears she’ll never tell him, for obvious reasons, but she still allows herself to indulge in the visions of them experiencing a somewhat normal relationship together as she drifts into sleep.

And as the moon rises over the old, creaky house, both Harry and Misty find themselves imagining, if only for the night, that they can love one another the way they know they were meant to. Surely it won’t be enough to sustain their longing for one another. But for tonight, Harry knows that he’ll subtly pop into Misty’s dream. And he knows Misty will never mention it to him, but it will sustain them both for the time being. It will make them both happy.

And Misty’s happiness, Harry thinks, is the most important thing of all.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

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thelemoncoffee · 4 years ago

Text

An au where the characters swap personalities, but not completely; they keep some part of them from their original personality as well as keeping their own talents. Like- a 80% personality swap

This is a fairly old Au that I did a shit job at describing when i made it, but I had the doc with what i wrote on it, so I just copy-pasted what was on there. I had no clue how to rewrite this in a way that made more sense

I'm sorry- this is all over the place- here's the swaps

[Kokichi - Shuichi]

Kokichi is basically an emo leader who has bad anxiety issues and doesn't fully believe in himself. He's still hyperactive and childish, but does get serious when the time calls for it. He tends to use his childish nature as a coping mechanism for his anxiety, trying to play his worries away.

Shuichi is a confusing, theatrical liar of a detective; tending to make himself seem alot bigger and better than he is. He's shy but due to his evil theatrics he comes off as eerily quiet at times, as a result people get really anxious near him. he finds it kinda funny that people are scared of him, considering he's completely harmless and just wants to pull pranks

[Kaito - Maki]

While Maki's tamer, she's got some serious determination and spunk, and because she's still an assassin, she's more dangerous when you piss her off than Kaito ever was. She tends to protect her sidekicks (Kaito and Kokichi) with her talent rather than feel bad about having it

Kaito's serious and spits out threats alot, often coming off as snarky in arguments, but the worst harm he can do is basic hand to hand fighting he learned for self defence. Just because he's not as dangerous as Maki, doesn't mean he hasn't tried to kick shuichi's ass a few times for some of his stunts

[Rantaro - Miu]

normal Miu and Rantaro; everyone knows that Miu is a slut, and everyone thinks despite what he says that Rantaro is a fuckboy

Now it's reversed, now we know Rantaro is a fuckboy, and everyone thinks that Miu is a slut despite her not actually being one. Rantaro is a fucking massive bi flirt (male leaning), and Miu is just trying to work on her inventions in some sort of peace

[Tenko - Himiko]

Tenko is a great Akido Master as always, but, she's lazy as fuck, and lounges around more than practices her skill. She tends to run out of energy quickly, making up excuses to not do much such as "i need to save my energy for fighting". She still hates boys, but she isn't as vicious about it, just voices that she wants them to keep their distance

Himiko is high strung and tends to make a fool of herself as a result, she tries to bring magic into everything. She herself doesn't believe her magic is real, but tells kids it is to make it that much better for them. She saw how lacking in spunk Tenko was, and decided to try and get her to be more assertive and active, making herself Tenko's bodyguard despite her not needing it. Himiko is usually the one to snap at boys for getting too close to her, Tenko tries to stop her but it usually doesn't work

[Kirumi - Angie]

While ever the loyal maid, abiding by directions, Kirumi is more laid back than a usual maid. She tends to enjoy herself as she serves, joking around with everyone both in and out of work. Although she can get a bit too ahead of herself at times, stumbling off track, she acknowledges when she gets too much, and reels herself in before it's too late

Cold and analytical, Angie is; while her mind is buzzing with beautiful creative thoughts, she nearly never shows it, preferring to keep her voice down and her aura calm. Being more so spiritual than religious, she wants to have a relaxed and peaceful aura, believing it helps her create better quality art if she isn't buzzing with energy as much on the exterior as she is on the interior

[Gonta - Ryoma]

Gonta's a pretty terrifying guy, he's buff, looks mean, has gone to prison and back, but he isn't all that bad. While he's become a jaded hull of who was once a happy guy, he's alot more peaceful since he returned from jail. He spends his time studying the one thing that seems to always bring his mood up, bugs; they fascinate him, a beautiful distraction from his own internal woes.

Ryoma on the other hand, is alot of sunshine packed into a pint sized man. He tends to enjoy the world around him alot more than most; eyes sparkling at the shiny things, and his odd amount of energy being poured into either playing tennis, or trying to get up onto something so he can see whatever snagged his attention this time better.

[Tsumugi- Kiibo]

Tsumugi's very overzealous about her talent, wanting desperately for Cosplay to become a much more mainstream artform, and pushing for it to be so. She claims often that it isn't just a hobby, and more so a lifestyle, going off on people who such as hum poorly of cosplay for one second. She wants to be seen as an equal to tailors, and fashionistas, rather than a member of a lowly halloween knock off kink.

Kiibo's…. A dork- to say the least. He loves humans and has found himself hyper fixated on them to an unhealthy extent: often using his views on their greatness to degrade himself, saying things along the lines of "i'm just a plain old robot, I'm nothing compared to people". He tries to behave more human-like to make up for his lack of flesh, getting into the internet culture and practically becoming a meme parrot; trust me, if you don't know memes, half the stuff he says will not make sense.

[Korekiyo - Kaede]

Korekiyo's a pretty confident guy, often finding himself proud of the work he does; he likes to encourage others to do their best, but his odd addiction to learning about human habits leaves people's personal space feeling a tad invaded.

Kaede on the other hand, is a whole 'nother bag of what the fuck; her eerie demeanor often throws people off, considering at first glance she doesn't look all that weird. She considers the dark and twisted beautiful, and takes pride in her ability to offset people with her array of dark and haunting songs she knows how to play by heart.

They do have different designs, but I never actually finished the design descriptions, nor did I save them to the doc. The only things I remembered were shuichi weards his hat backwards, kokichi has emo bangs, Kaito keeps his hair down, and Kaede wears a really pretty black dress that fades to a deep pink at the bottom.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #all characters #too lazy to tag everyone #au prompt #au idea #au #personality swap au #kai prompts

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ialwayscomewhenyoucall · 4 years ago

Text

On Me...or on You?

destiel au

rated t

~2.2k

“Dean! Table six has been waiting for almost ten minutes. And I can’t see that guy’s face, but his posture is very tense.”

“You know I suck at this, Charlie.” Dean checks all his pockets for his pen, comes up empty, then sighs thankfully when Charlie hands him one from behind the bar.

Nodding, Charlie says, “You really do. But you’re stuck. We all are, really. So go take care of the guys at table six and then go see if the rowdies in the corner need refills.”

Dean grimaces. “Do I have to?”

Charlie grins. “They’ll probably be obnoxious, but they’ll be good tippers. Trust me.”

“I can’t believe I’m working for tips,” he grumbles, pulling out his notebook.

“Just show ‘em that smile, Dean. You can’t lose!” she teases.

Dean wishes it worked that way. He really is terrible at this job. Sam–his brother–is lucky they’re close, and he doesn’t hold all those childhood pranks against him. If he was one to hold a grudge about the shaving cream in his shoes, or the saran wrap on the toilet (although really Dean feels like he deserved that one, since it was April Fool’s Day and he wasn’t smart enough to look) he’d be out of here in a heartbeat. But he loves his brother, dorky guy that he is. Despite his fascination with computers and his propensity to spend most of his free time with his nose in a book, he’s a fantastic chef, and he’s worked hard to build this place into what it is.

It’s not Sam’s fault he has one waitress out on maternity leave and had another ask for sudden time off to visit her sick mom in Idaho. It is Sam’s fault he’s got irresistible puppy dog eyes, but that’s really Dean’s problem, not Sam’s.

Two men sit at table six, and Charlie’s right, the dark haired one looks...tense. The other one, smaller, with longish, light brown hair, seems in a fine mood, though. Actually, he looks like not much could get him down. He’s–Dean blinks, then looks again. Yeah, he’d seen right the first time. The guy is sucking on a bright red lollipop.

Huh. Something new every day, right?

Dean pastes a smile onto his face and steps up to the table. “Hi, welcome to The Bunker. I’m Dean, I’ll be your server tonight. Can…”

And then his thoughts fall out of his head, because the dark haired guy looks up at him, and it doesn’t even matter that he’s glaring. He’s the most beautiful man Dean’s ever seen. Sexy hair, right on the line between black and brown, standing out in all directions like someone’s been running her–his?–fingers through it. Piercing blue eyes. And he’s not smiling now, but somehow Dean can tell he’s got a showstopper. There are faint lines at the corners of his eyes that show that they’ll just crinkle up when he smiles.

Dean wants to feel the weight of that smile.

“Do you think we could possibly have something to drink? We’ve been waiting for awhile,” the man says, and Dean’s nearly struck dumb again by his voice, low and rough and mesmerizing, even when it’s speaking somewhat angrily at him.

Unfortunately, Dean’s mouth chooses this moment to speak without permission from his brain.

“Oh, you can have whatever you’d like, darlin’.” The words pop out, dripping with innuendo, followed by that smile Charlie’d mentioned.

And then his ears hear what he’d said, and he feels the blush taking over his face.

“I mean–uh–oh fuck,” Dean says, and then he realizes he probably shouldn’t swear in front of customers either. Sam’s going to murder him.

The light haired man slurps his lollipop and then cackles. “I like this one, Cassie. You should keep him.”

“Gabriel. I did not ask for your opinion. And I didn’t even want to come here with you. If you can’t keep your...your comments...to yourself, I’m leaving now. And you can find your own way home.”

“I’ll be good,” Gabriel says, and he looks almost chastised. “You have to stay, Castiel. Trust me, the food here is excellent. And the desserts..” He looks up at Dean. “Is Eileen here tonight?”

Dean, surprised, just nods.

“I don’t know where she was trained, but Eileen makes the best desserts around.”

Finally finding his voice again, Dean says, “She got her start in New York City. She worked in some pretty high class places there, actually.”

The dark haired man–Cassie? Castiel?–tilts his head and asks, “What’s she doing in Kansas?”

Dean smiles at this, a secret kind of smile. “She fell in love.”

Neither of them has a response to this, and an awkward silence falls over the table. Finally Dean remembers that, oh yeah, he’s supposed to be working here, and he manages to take their drink orders without incident. He brings them to Charlie, slumping down on one of the barstools and repeatedly hitting his forehead on the worn wood of the bar.

Charlie, her usual buoyant self, snatches his notepad from his hand and goes about mixing the drinks. After about a minute he sits up and looks at her, and she grins. “Well, that seems promising.”

“Were you watching some alternate version of Dean Winchester? One who didn’t act like an idiot in front of a customer–twice–and ruin any chance he could possibly have with the most attractive guy he’s ever seen?”

Shrugging, Charlie says, “He didn’t slap you. And he didn’t leave. And his brother seems to like you.”

“I guess he–wait, his brother? Charlie, do you know more than you’re saying here?”

Charlie doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but of course she doesn’t really have an embarrassed face. “Maybe,” she says, smiling sweetly. “But it’s nothing nefarious. Just a little harmless...hope.”

“Charlie,” Dean says, and there’s warning in his voice.

“Gabriel comes in here a lot, okay? He loves Eileen’s desserts, I’m pretty sure he’s had all of them at least twice, and he’s pretty fond of Sam’s cooking too. He saw you one day, and we got to chatting, and he mentioned his brother, and…” She shrugs. Then she leans across the bar, grinning. “He’s dreamy, right? Just your type. And did you see his arms? I mean, he’s certainly not my type, but those are nice arms. I’m pretty sure about that.”

“Yeah, they really–” Dean starts, then he glares at her. “Charlie! You know how I feel about being set up. Not like it matters, since I already blew it.”

Waving her hand dismissively, Charlie says, “Oh, you did not. Here. Take them their drinks and tell them–while you look at Cas–that they’re on you. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

“Cas,” he says. He likes the way the name feels in his mouth. Charlie grins.

Dean takes the tray of drinks uncertainly, but as he’s walking to the table his confidence grows. Sure, it means buying drinks for the two men, but it’ll be worth it means he’s still got a shot with Cas.

“Hey,” he says as he walks up to the table. “Sorry about earlier. I’m not–well, anyway. Let me make it up to you. Drinks are on me, okay?”

Gabriel’s smiling, and Cas seems to be softening, but then something goes horribly wrong. Just as Dean says “okay” his foot finds a spot in the carpet or a chair leg that shouldn’t be there or something; whatever it is, it causes Dean to stumble forward, and the drinks slide off the end of the tray and right into Cas’s face. He looks up at Dean, hair plastered to his head, the skewer of pineapple and cherries from Gabriel’s drink sticking out of his collar. He looks less than pleased.

“Oh,” Dean says, a horrified tone in his voice. “Oh fuck. Oh dammit I said fuck again. Oh...Ah, I’m so, so sorry. Can I...can I help?”

Cas’s gaze is almost painful. “I’m fairly certain you’ve helped enough, Dean.”

The words sting. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Look, I’ll send Charlie over to help you clean up, she’ll take care of you. I’m really–” But he looks at Cas, and his heart breaks a little at a connection missed, or lost, and he doesn’t apologize again. Once was enough. Instead he says, “I hope you’ll come back again. Sam’s cooking, Eileen’s baking, even Charlie’s drinks. They’re all worth it. The Bunker is a good place.”

He nods his head a little, waves Charlie over and goes to check on the booth in the corner. He smiles his charming smile, brings the rowdy, celebrating girls all the drinks and desserts they want, and by the time he’s finished taking care of them, Cas and Gabriel are gone.

Charlie’s right though. The girls are great tippers.

Dean’s warming up the next night when there’s a knock on his door. He looks up from his bench to see Charlie leaning against the doorframe, an odd smile on her face.

“There’s someone here to see you, Dean,” she says. He can’t quite get a read on her voice. She sounds like she’s hiding something, but he can’t figure out what.

He glances at the clock on the wall. “I’ll be out in ten minutes, same as always.

“You can’t come out now?”

He’s annoyed, but only slightly. “I never come out early, Charlie. It breaks the routine. Ten minutes.” He looks at the clock again. “Actually, nine now. Now get out of here so I can get ready.”

“But Dean–”

“Out, Charlie.”

She leaves.

Dean spends a moment or two thinking about the oddness of the encounter; Charlie knows his routines, and knows not to disrupt them. But then he gets back to getting into the mindset he needs, pushing Charlie from his thoughts. He’ll figure her out later.

When Dean steps out onto the small stage wedged into the corner of the dining room there’s a smattering of applause. He smiles and waves then sits down at the baby grand piano that fills the stage. “Hey Baby,” he murmurs, running a hand along the smooth wood. The piano’s been his as long as he can remember; he started taking lessons when he was five and he’s been enchanted by her ever since. He started singing along when he was seven, and started writing his own songs when he was ten. When Sam bought the space for The Bunker he made sure there was a place big enough for Dean to play–because that was what they did. Sam played with food and Dean played with music. This was a way for them to work together.

There are lights in his eyes, so Dean can’t really see into the dining room unless he squints, and it’s usually not all that important to him. He just lives with the music, sometimes doing covers, sometimes doing his own stuff. And everyone seems to like what he does, so he just keeps on doing it his way.

He can’t really see, so he’s surprised when just before he starts the first song, he hears a voice say, “Dean?” It’s a voice he recognizes, a voice that sends a spark down his spine.

His hands slip onto the keys, discordant notes ringing out through the dining room. “Sorry,” he says, flashing his charming grin at the room. “Just a little startled. Can you all give me just a moment?” He keeps up the smile, then steps to the edge of the stage.

“Cas?” And there he is, dark hair disheveled, blue eyes confused, sitting alone at the table nearest the stage.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says. “I thought you…”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck, an embarrassed grin on his face. “Nah, I was just helping out last night. Trust me, I’m not meant to be a server. I’m the talent. I also happen to be the owner’s brother, which is how I got wrangled into helping when two of his waitresses were out. Trust me, he doesn’t ask me often, I’m horrible at the job.”

“I noticed,” Cas says dryly.

Dean only laughs.

Cas looks at the piano on the stage, then back at Dean. “So you...play?”

“And sing. Which I should be doing now. Stick around until my break?” He doesn’t know why, he has no right to even hope, but he thinks Cas might agree.

He does.

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Thanks everyone, you’ve been great,” Dean says, stepping off the stage and meandering through the dining room towards the bar. He accepts compliments from several diners, offering smiles and the occasional handshake. He’s at ease among the crowd, but he’s got a destination in mind, and it’s not until he climbs onto a barstool that he feels truly happy.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says, turning to smile at him.

Dean had been right. That smile, it knocks him out every time.

He slips an arm around Cas’s waist and drops a kiss on his shoulder. “Hey Cas. Missed you.”

“You saw me two hours ago,” Cas says.

“It was a long and difficult two hours,” Dean pouts.

Cas huffs a laugh. “You were at a piano, Dean. You probably didn’t even notice time passing.”

Dean smiles into Cas’s shoulder. “Alright, it felt like a few minutes. But I still missed you.” He looks up into Cas’s eyes, says, “I’m on my break. Let me buy you a drink?”

Cas’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Nah,” he says, waving Charlie over. “That’s dangerous. This time the drinks are on me.”

#lirael writes #destiel fic #destiel au #fluff #fluff and nonsense #chef!sam #waiter!dean #charlie bradbury #musician!dean #first meeting #dean can't always control his mouth okay?#and it's adorable

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bunwritesstuff · 3 years ago

Text

Creepy Crawlies

hello !! this is my first official writing piece for this blog :0 exciting. this is kinda like a test piece to see how i feel posting on here, but i hope yall read it and enjoy either way! fic is under the banner :]

fandom: omori

word count: 1,317

content warning(s): brief mentions of a bug, nothing graphic

characters included: mari, sunny, and aubrey (kel and hero are mentioned but not present)

synopsis: mari, sunny and aubrey are walking to school, and sunny gets distracted by a bug. it gives mari a silly little idea. (small spoiler ->) this is a fic based off when mari admits that she used to put bugs in hero's desk! this is just the first part, i might publish the second part in a post after this !! also i got like halfway through writing this and realized basil is just not there, so say this takes place during a time before basil was properly introduced to the group :]

“Sunny, be careful! You shouldn't touch an icky thing like that!”

Mari was torn from her thoughts at the sound of Aubrey’s distressed squeals a few feet ahead. Pulling her attention to her brother and their friend, Mari noted how Sunny was crouched to the ground, facing her. He must’ve turned back around to get a better look at whatever caught his attention. His expression was drawn into one of interest, mouth slightly agape and eyes widened in awe. There, almost directly under his gaze, was a bug. That's what Mari assumed anyways, it was hard to tell given how far away he and Aubrey were. Aubrey was standing even further back, nose scrunched up in disgust with hands balled into small fists at her sides. It was almost like she was ready for the bug to lunge at Sunny, that way she’d have an excuse to stomp on it. Or something to that degree, anyways.

The older girl quickened her pace a bit to catch up with the kids. Hero and Kel would have normally been walking with them, but when Mari and Sunny showed up at their house to get them, Hero had to inform them that Kel was having stomach issues. He reassured them that they'd catch up later, and that he was going to try and talk his parents into letting Kel just stay home for today. Hero didn't want to risk making everyone late by having them all wait, so he ushered them off. Today it was just Mari, Sunny, and Aubrey.

It didn’t take long for Mari to slow down in front of Sunny and his newfound fascination, which was in fact, a bug: a beetle of some kind, walking around in almost dizzying circles. It was pretty amusing how interested Sunny was in the creature, as if bugs like this weren’t fairly common. Sunny wasn't a very expressive kid, so moments where he managed to convey clearly how he was feeling were wonderful, whether it was intentional or not.

“Is everything okay?” Mari asked, her tone gentle as she brought her gaze up from Sunny and the beetle to the shorter girl in pink.

“It… it's so big and ugly! Sunny’s sitting so close to it, what if it bites him or something? He could get hurt!” Aubrey immediately expressed, bouncing on her toes to get some of her concerned and worked up energy out. The brunette was never one to really hold back how she was feeling, it was honestly pretty admirable of her to be able to get it all out. Then again, It would be pretty easy to envy an elementary schooler for their lack of filter, wouldn’t it?

“You make some very compelling points, Aubrey,” Mari started, shooting the younger a soft smile as she knelt down across from Sunny. “However, I don’t think this bug is very big, ugly, or aggressive. If it was an aggressive bug, surely it would’ve tried to attack us by now, don’t you think?”

The silence that followed was enough to answer that question.

“While you may think this bug is big and scary, could you imagine being this little guy? We must be even bigger, louder creatures.”

“Well, yeah! But…”

“But?”

“I…” Aubrey brought her bouncing to a slow stop as she took in Mari’s words. With some hesitance, she took a few steps forward, peeking over Sunny’s shoulder to get a better look at the beetle. Just as Mari said, it was much smaller than she initially made it out to be, and it hadn’t made any moves to attack. It was just a little guy taking a buggy stroll. Aubrey felt her fists begin to unclench as she relaxed, and eventually let out a quiet sigh. “I guess it isn’t so bad… it’s kinda cute, actually.”

The other girls in her class would’ve screamed and made a fuss like she did, so she wondered why Mari didn’t react that way. Mari always knew just the right things to say, always so calm and collected. It was something Aubrey really liked about her. With her and Sunny both more curious about the bug rather than fearing it, it helped sway Aubrey’s opinion on it to be a more positive one. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mari starting to stand up, brushing off her skirt.

“I agree! It is pretty cute. But if this is settled, what do you say we finish making our way to school, okay? If you guys make it in time, you might be able to have a few minutes of free time before class starts.”

At the idea of having some extra free time, Aubrey perked back up and nodded eagerly. “Okay, Mari!” Leaning down a little, she put her hand on Sunny’s shoulder to get his attention. “C’mon, Sunny! We’ve gotta get going!”

It took a moment, but Sunny quietly stood up at the second reminder. He took one last moment to watch the beetle before stepping back from it and looked up at Mari and Aubrey. Aubrey took her hand off of his shoulder and instead reached down to take his hand, hoping he didn’t mind. He didn't offer much of a reaction, so she decided she was in the clear. “C’mon!” She giggled again, turning around and starting to pull him along with her down the sidewalk.

“Don’t go too far ahead without me,” Mari reminded the kids as they started to wander off, but the request fell upon ears that were not listening anymore. Ah, well… at least she could still see them. Not that Mari didn’t trust them, Aubrey knew better than to go too far, and if Sunny felt unsafe he’d turn around and come back to Mari. Everything would be okay. Despite this, Mari still wished that Hero were here. He always knew how to keep everyone in the group together. He could get through to Aubrey in a way that not even Mari seemed to be able to, even if he doubted that he could.

Mari adjusted the straps of her backpack and was about to start walking again when that silly beetle caught her attention once again. With Hero on her mind, she was reminded of how bugs made him squeamish. If he and Kel were here, and the group got sidetracked by this beetle, Hero would be quite a ways ahead of the group, not wanting to give the little guy a second glance. The association bridging this bug to Hero did leave Mari to wonder: would it be mean to play a small, harmless prank on him?

Was it cruel of her to even consider pulling a prank on her friend? To lean back down, quickly scoop up the beetle, and tuck it away in her sweatshirt pocket? Was it cruel that she was kind of looking forward to Hero’s expression going from confusion, to processing, to fear all within the same moment? Well, maybe it was! He didn’t have to know it was her who did it, after all. It’ll just be her little secret. She wouldn’t do it every day, that’d be too sudden and suspicious! But every now and then wouldn’t hurt, right?

His fear of bugs was understandable, but surely he’d grow out of it eventually. They were already in middle school after all! Most kids grew out of their bug fearing phase by then, didn't they? Mari decided that having to face an occasional bug would help him overcome his fear… right? Well, she wasn’t sure it would definitely work, but until it either worked or she got bored of doing it, his reactions would surely be priceless.

With that in mind, and her hand still in her pocket to keep the beetle from escaping, she hurried along to try and catch up with Aubrey and Sunny. This morning would surely be an interesting one.

part 1/2 (end)

#omori #sunny omori #kel omori #hero omori #mari omori #aubrey omori #basil omori #heromari #writing #fluff #everyone is happy #slice of life?

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sonicgetsrawed · 5 years ago

Text

The Dead Will Rise Again

No context, just I’m sorry. Enjoy!

Varian stared at the mess in front of him, unblinking, unmoving. He couldn’t comprehend how they had gotten here, what went wrong, what had he missed? Nothing. He hadn’t done anything, this was all her fault. He was not responsible for the red that covered the area. His fist clenched at his side, he’d make her pay. She would answer for her mistakes.

Earlier that day…

“Are you sure you’re supposed to put that much salt?” Hugo asked, unhelpfully tossing an egg between his hands.

“Yes. Cakes need salt too.” Varian answered, rolling his eyes. He reached for the egg, dropping it to the ground as soon as his clumsier hands touched it.

“I thought you needed that?” Hugo’s lips pulled up into a lopsided smirk as he pointed to the shattered egg.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping?” Varian shot back, grabbing another egg and cracking it against the edge of the counter. He expertly emptied its contents into the bowl.

“I am helping, just not with the cake.” Hugo responded, wrapping his arms around Varian and placing a kiss to his cheek.

Varian wiggled out of his grip. “If you’re not going to help you can leave. I need to finish this in time for the picnic later.” Varian took a step to the side, hand grabbing the flour bag. He took another step forward, falling backwards as he slipped on the broken egg. Hugo caught the younger alchemist before he could hit the floor, a plume of flour raining down around them.

“See? I am helping.” Hugo laughed, despite the flour that coated his hair. Varian was about to respond when Rapunzel entered the room.

“Oh, what are you guys doing?” She asked, trotting up to the table.

“Baking a cake.” Hugo answered, pointing to the bowl on the table.

“I’m baking a cake. Hugo’s being-“

“Helpful.” Hugo finished, shooting Rapunzel a wink.

“Aw, I wish Eugene would do stuff like this with me! You’re so lucky, Varian!” Rapunzel cooed, clasping her hands together over her chest.

“The luckiest.” Varian responded, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Rapunzel hummed, making her way around the table, eyes lighting up at the red batter. “Is this strawberry?” She asked, grabbing a spoon and bringing it into the bowl.

“Yes, but you can’t have any!” Varian grabbed the spoon out of her hand, pushing her towards the door. “It’s a surprise for the picnic!”

“But-“

“Goodbye, Rapunzel!” Varian sing songed, closing the door behind her. He turned his attention back to the kitchen, ready to finish the cake. Neither him nor Hugo noticed when the princess snuck back in, adding something to the batter when their backs were turned, laughing to herself.

Present

Varian’s hands shook at his side, all his hard work gone in a matter of seconds. Both him and Hugo covered in the red remnants of the cake.

Hugo seemed a lot less bothered, wiping some off Varian’s cheek and popping the finger in his mouth. He gave a satisfied hum. “Gotta hand it to you, Goggles, this is pretty good.”

“It’s ruined. She did this and now she must pay.”

Hugo laughed awkwardly, the intense look in Varian’s blue eyes scaring him slightly. “It’s just a harmless prank.”

“Exactly. This is war. A prank war.” Varian’s eyes twinkled mischievously, a sinister smile taking over his features, the red batter making him look absolutely insane. “Are you ready to destroy a princess?”

Hugo’s eyes were blown wide, his own smile forming. “I have never been more attracted to you.” He tackled Varian to the ground, lips locked on his, relishing in the new strawberry taste that coated their lips.

********************

“Okay, Pascal, the picnic is in three hours that gives enough time to do a painting or two. What do you think, should we start with red or blue?” Rapunzel waited for her chameleon friend to pick one before opening the bottle. The paint promptly exploded in her face. She blinked rapidly, turning to face the door as it swung open, her husband appearing in the doorway.

“Whoa, what happened to you, Sunshine?” Eugene asked, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“How attached are you to Varian?” She asked, smiling innocently.

“I would say pretty attached? I think?” He responded, taking a small step backwards. Rapunzel raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. Eugene cleared his throat. “I mean not attached at all. Why?”

“We’re going to war.” She responded, laughing maniacally, well as maniacally as Rapunzel could.

************

Varian was exhausted after cleaning up the mess in the kitchen amongst other activities. It had been fairly easy to set up the exploding paints now all they could do was wait until Rapunzel retaliated. He pushed the door to his bedroom door open, Hugo pulling him back just before a bucket of water landed in his head.

Hugo laughed as he stepped over the bucket. “Amateurs.”

As soon as he stepped into the bedroom another bucket swung down from the ceiling, coating Hugo in a layer of neon pink paint. Rapunzel and Eugene laughing from their hiding spot around the corner.

“You just got Rapunzel’d!”

“Boom, bitch! Who’s the amateurs now?!”

This time it was Hugo who saw seething, turning quickly and rolling up his sleeves. Varian grabbed him around the waist, pulling the other inside the room. “Nope. We are not committing murder today.”

****************

“This is so nice of you two to help set up!” Rapunzel said, placing the blanket down on the grass.

“Of course. We did call a truce and since you destroyed the cake I was making for Cass it’s only fair we contribute somehow.” Varian responded, placing the basket on the grass.

“The cake we worked all day on.” Hugo added, earning an elbow to the gut, as Varian plastered a very fake smile on his face.

“Right. Sorry about that, but it was pretty funny. My first successful prank, I think.” Rapunzel laughed.

“Hilarious.” Hugo deadpanned with an eye roll, setting his own basket down.

“Don’t worry about grumpy pants, Sunshine, it was great.” Eugene said, placing a kiss to her cheek and setting the plates down.

“You know, I think we forgot the lemonade.” Varian cut in, Rapunzel grimacing at the mention of her least favorite drink. He pulled Hugo away as Rapunzel and Eugene opened their respective baskets, food exploding from within and covering the two.

“You have two seconds to run.” Eugene warned, grabbing a handful of food off his face.

“Babe, run.” Varian instructed, pushing Hugo before taking off in a sprint, the married couple falling close behind, throwing food.

*************

Cassandra was exhausted. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed after having a shower and a nice hot meal. Knowing Rapunzel she had something big planned for her return. She almost regretted telling her about her scheduled return to Corona, almost. A small smile spread across her lips as she thought about her friend. She made her way to the castle, following the instructions given to her by Stan and Pete to meet Rapunzel in the garden, shaking her head fondly. Of course Rapunzel had a welcome surprise planned. She opened the door to the garden, freezing at the sight before her. Rapunzel was straddling Varian, both covered in food as she tried to shove more in his face. Eugene was fairing no better, Hugo on his back and smearing what looked to be some kind of condiment in his hair. Eugene of course was screaming about his hair.

Cassandra closed the door, turning her attention to Stan. “If Rapunzel asks, tell her I got delayed by a day.” She shook her head as she left, maybe the local inn would have a room for the night.

Y’all just got Rapunzel’d!!!!!

#tangled the series #varian #hugo #Rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #varigo #im sorry #varian and the seven kingdoms

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clownhara · 4 years ago

Note

I've been following you for a while but I dont know all that much about your OCs so how about a big resume of them all?? :DDD

I haven't really posted much about them on this account until recently so that doesn't really suprise me 😅 but yeah I absolutely can! Warning though this is going to be unbelievably long

I guess I should start off with Zensuke because he is THE gay purple cat. I named this blog after this guy. I made him when I was probably like 12-13 or around there so he had all the things you'd expect a repressed edgy kid's of to have. He was basically a demon who managed to get out of thier world's equivalent of hell and instead of doing anything evil he just made cake and got married to the guard who was supposed to kill him. I don't really do much with him anymore but I still love him very much.

Corbinian is probably the character I talk most about and he's the one I edit to fit into different worlds the most. He was a normal doctor but he got his memory wiped by robots and ended up working as an executioner for the robotic mafia, but eventually got caught and had to hide out in Lobotomy (he was originally a Lobotomy Corp oc) where he discovered he can extract abnormality dna and with some altering the dna can be injected into humans causing a variety of different mutations and effects. He's usually very heartless and manipulative, but does have a soft spot, usually for anxious, soft spoken people, who subconsciously remind him of his brother (who is a friends if so I can't really get into him). He also was given a variety of nicknames by the higher ups, like Corb, Corn chip, Corb on the Orb, or just Corn. Je

Corble is the result of Corb trying out human cloning. He has the same general appearance as Corbinian, but with purple hair (hence the name, because he's porble corb) that's styled differently. Since the experiment was technically a failure Corb was going to kill him, but Corble was really sweet and innocent and Corb basically went "well great guess I adopted my clone then". Corb stopped messing with cloning but adores Corble.

Might as well get all of my Lobotomy ocs out of the way. Oliver is the first Lobotomy oc I ever made, which is funny because I may or may not constantly forget that he exists. Oliver is basically a five year old kid in an adults body, and I mean that literally, because his parents basically locked him in a room and ignored him so his mental age is basically that of a kids. He's very mischievous and loves pulling pranks on people, most of which are harmless. Unless it's Corb, whom Oliver gates with a passion. Then it's thinly veiled murder attempts disgusted as pranks. He loves Fairy tales, and only works with fairy tale abnormalities because he panics with any other kind. Only one person in the entire facility can even put up with him, and that's Mabel.

Mabel is trans lesbian who can find the good in almost anyone. She's optimistic, bubbly, and has a great sense of humor. She tends to get really flustered around women though. Is it obvious I kinda projected onto her a bit? Because I did. If she wasn't in Lobotomy she'd definitely be a streamer. I'm just now realizing I basically made snapcube before I knew who that was. Whoops.

Up next is Adam! Adam is quiet, nervous, and honestly just prefers to not be noticed. Their ability to almost seamlessly blend into thier surroundings is astounding. Most people (me included) tend to just forget they exist. Which honestly is funny because they end up dating the loudest, most cocky person in the entire facility. Adam loves horror movies and spicy food.

Kieth is the loudest, most cocky person in the entire facility. He's the adopted son of a sephirah and the leader of the Rabbit team so that much is unavoidable. He's quick to anger, blunt, and tends to underestimate other people. However, he's also loyal to a fault, and willing to back his friends up no matter what. He feels like his mom's are expecting him to live up to expectations that he can't (and that they don't have but he doesn't realize that), so he's constantly throwing himself in harm's way to desperately try to prove to them that they made a good investment by adopting him or die trying. His two passions in life are collecting weapons and tending to rabbits, two of which he managed to train to sit on his shoulders and attack people. Despite being total opposites he loves Adam very much and will endure any horror movie with them, even if he's a huge scaredy cat.

Damien doesn't gave that much development, unfortunately. He came from a very religious household, moved out, and frequently gets possessed by an abnormality who makes him act like a cryptid. Totally normal stuff. He also went to law school.

Zephyr is a very, very serious individual. They've got a completely monotone color palette, speak either in short, blunt sentences or long, fanciful paragraphs with no in between, and tend to come off as cold and stiff. They're completely devoted to work, which is how they managed to become a captain. Despite this, they're very kind and caring, but unfortunately rarely get to show that side of themselves unless it's with Jamison, thier partner, both in crime and in the romantic sense. They also have a love/hate relationship with Owen, basically openly hating his guts but also enjoys thier banter and would hate if anything genuinely awful happened to them or his family.

Jamison is the complete opposite of Zephyr. He's an open book, very colorful, and tends to slack of when Zephyr isn't looking. Not on purpose, he just tends to get distracted most of the time. He's quite popular because he's very cheerful, which is rare in the higher ranks of Lobotomy. He'd absolutely die for Zephyr, and us usually the one who patches thier wounds. He really doesn't like Owen and thinks thier a pain in the ass, but keeps that to himself most of the time.

Owen is..... Interesting. I kinda went buck wild with him not gonna lie. He's one of the oldest son's of the God of Nightmares and Fire, an absolute agent of choas, and a campy fashion nightmare. But... I love them. They're both unbelievably obnoxious and also very caring. He's the kind of character you'd love but also hate at the same time. He also ended up becoming the God of Death in one timeline. If he wasn't God they'd probably run makeup guru/cursed amsr YouTube channel. Honestly he'd still run those as a God though. Also gender is a toy store and Owen is a kid who broke in after dark and is running along pushing all of the assorted genders into a cart while laughing maniacally (they use any pronouns but I stuck to just he/him they/them for this little snippet)

Alright, Lobotomy ocs done. Up next is.... Ugh... Octavious. He's originally a Danganronpa oc, the shsl gossip, and he was made to be a villian and by God does it show. He's the most fake, back stabbing, two faced character I've ever made. He's also the most one dimensional, which was actually intensional. He has no personality beyond being a petty, lying bitch, so when he runs out of lies and rumors to spread he goes into an existential crisis about how he has virtually no identity until he makes some new lie up about some random person. He's also abusive towards his younger sibling Aspyn, whom he has both physically and emotionally scarred. And, the icing on the "fuck this guy" cake, he's incredibly obsessive over his "wife" Melissa, who wants nothing to do with him and never even dated him, let alone married him. Basically he's a horrible, lying, abusive stalker. He also dresses exclusively in eye burn pink since the most poisonous bugs are usually brightly colored. Fuck Octavious, all my homies hate Octavious.

Next is Melissa, who honestly wasn't much better before her arc. She was raised to believe that in order to truely succeed in life, you have to ensure others fail. She, unfortunately, took that advice to heart. Get arc consisted of learning that we all can succeed together and that actively fucking other people over just made her an awful person, so she changed her behavior and tried to help people from then on out. She's incredibly meticulous, organized, and really smart. She still has issues trusting, but she's getting better. She has a crush on Octavious's younger sibling, but absolutely despises Octavious.

Aspyn is a quiet, caring individual who has no confidence both due to Octavious and just how they were raised. They are an incredibly skilled doctor, however, managing to perform amazingly in several different fields. They are, however, very defensive about thier passions, quick to insult anyone who questions them, mainly due to Octavious. They have a huge crush Melissa, but is to afraid to ask her out. Also they wear an eye patch because Octavious messed up one of thier eyes.

Hooo boy where to start with Edward. He's really inconsistent between universes, but the main constants are his power (he can trade bodies with people), him and Max getting together, him being a huge bookworm, and somehow he usually ends up being my self inserts dad???? Hos other aspects tend to change. Sometimes he's a power hungry megalomaniac who's trying to take over the world and will crush anyone and everyone who gets in his way or isn't useful to him, using his power evily to stay young forever by trading bodies with his kids and killing them when they're in his body. Other times, he's a fairly calm, if not a little cold, man whos biggest crime is the occasional tax evasion, who's power is more of a curse, causing him to stay alive forever through a series of unfortunate coincidences. Either way he's fun to write

Max is one of my favorite characters. He loves baking, his friends and family, he isn't too bright but no one holds that against him. Unfortunately, no matter which side of Edward it is, he's hopelessly in love with him, which can lead to his downfall. He's very protective of his cousin Heron, and tries to protect the innocent, which he usually doesn't end up doing thanks to evil Edwards manipulation. I also somehow failed to mention he's a plant man and flowers sprout wherever he walks and he can control plants but I couldn't find a good way to fit that in naturally.

Heron is half a plant man, in the worst possible way. He has rose vines instead of blood, which feels exactly how you think it would. Magic keeps his alive luckily, but it's unbelievably painful. Most of him and Max's family died when they were young, and unlike Mac who ended up on the streets, Heron ended up in an orphanage, where he learned at a young age that he shouldn't get close to anyone because if he does, they'd die. He genuinely believes that, and the only person he thinks is immune, is his cousin Max, who he even still expects to drop dead. Heron mainly fights by breaking his skin so his vines will grow rapidly and trap and kill his attacker, which looking back is uh. Kinda symbolic. I didn't do that on purpose but it fits

Eden is an angel, who was outcasted from heaven after being framed for a crime they didn't commit. They don't understand how humans work, but is trying thier best to fit in. He's one of the few beings Heron trusts, and even still Heron doesn't trust them much because of Eden's ability, being able to control holy flames. Eden is stoic and aloof, with an odd sense of humor. He insists that him baking using his holy flames is a form of training. Despite them claiming to be above human emotions, they very much are not above them and he is actually quite emotional.

Avocado is one of Herons old friends, who fell victim to Herons "luck" (aka they died). They are a drider (basically spider centaur) who came from a large family of drider thieves. They are very quiet and kind, which they use to thier advantage, since one would thing they'd steal small objects from people's houses or pickpocket them, which Avocado very much does. While they're fairly weak in combat thier thieving skills are not to be underestimated.

Grape is Avocados older sibling, and they are very serious and quite rude. Grape wants to kill Heron to avenge thier sibling, but ends up getting caught robbing the wrong person and ends up having to join the person's kids adventuring party.

Apple is the oldest drider sibling, and ends up taking a motherly role for all of the younger kids. They had to grow up incredibly fast, and has to make all of the hard decisions in place of thier dying father. Desperately needs a break.

There's more spider siblings but there isn't much info on them

Both Sherry and Theodore Poser are mainly just there because I have them really fun designs and don't really have a personality. Sherry's kinda hard to draw though

#this took forever but oh well #im also not tagging every individual oc lol #asks #aki no nyo #gay purple ocs #gay purple posts #long post

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mageicalwishes · 5 years ago

Text

A Smashing Summer - Chapter 1

Read on AO3: here

Summary: "I'm egging your house for a dare, but you're parent is a cop and now they're yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you're coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don't want to go to jail" AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho's house, he never thought he'd find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 1/?

Words: 3,811

Based off of this post!

Simon

“Okay ... Dare,” I huff, my voice flat with boredom. “But I swear to God, if you guys make me eat any more vile shit, I’m leaving.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t have a hissy fit,” Josh mocks, holding his hands up in a false surrender. “We won’t make you eat anything else. Just lemme think.”

I wait, glancing between the two of them - Both of their faces knotted with concentration. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure why I agreed to play. I’ve always hated Truth or Dare. It’s juvenile, and boring, and it only ever leads to me embarrassing myself. But, with Penny and Agatha both on holiday, I don’t exactly have many other options. Unless I want to go downstairs and play Mario Kart with the younger kids - Which I definitely don’t (I always win. It gets pretty boring).

“Okay then,” Nathan says, a wicked grin breaking across his face. God. I’m going to regret picking dare, aren’t I? “I dare you to egg one of those posho houses on Church Lane.”

“Nathan. No,” I groan. “What if I get caught? I could be in serious trouble. Come on! The worst I made you do was steal a bloody biscuit. Egging somebody’s house is hardly the same!”

“Come on, Simon,” Josh drawls. “It’ll be a laugh. Don’t be a chicken.”

I roll my eyes, throwing my head back in frustration.

“Christ. Fine. But you two are coming with me. There is no way I’m going alone.”

“Sure thing. We’ll be right with you - Don’t you worry,” Josh assures, his voice dripping with mischief.

————————————————————————————

I regret every single decision that has led me here - Trudging down some posh twat’s drive, egg carton in hand, with my idiot friends hidden behind a tree a few metres back. I mean, what kind of imbecile agrees to egging a strangers house, just because of a stupid dare. Well, apparently me. But I am definitely regretting it now. This was an undoubtedly terrible idea.

My eyes scan the area nervously, checking for signs of life. There are no cars parked out front, and none of the windows are open (Even though it’s a stupidly hot day) - So, I figure I’m in the clear.

I come to a stop a few metres in front of the house’s porch. Although, thinking about it, it’s not really a house at all - It’s a bloody ginormous, gothic mansion. It’s incredibly intimidating. I mean, it’s got gargoyles and everything, for Christ’s sake! Looking at it up close, I can hardly believe that somebody actually lives here - It's probably some musty, old vampire or something. I swallow anxiously, trying to push that thought to the back of my mind. Not the vampire thing, obviously. I know vampires aren’t real - I’m not scared of that. But, I am scared of whoever does own the property. What are they gonna do when they realise that their precious mansion (Which probably cost them, like, a billion pounds) has been egged. I’d be livid.

Do houses like these have CCTV? Probably. Fuck. Is it illegal to egg someone’s house? Also probably. But it’s definitely illegal to trespass. Although, I don’t know if standing in somebody’s driveway really counts. But if it does, and they do have CCTV, then they’ve already caught me doing that. I really should’ve worn some sort of mask (Even if Josh and Nathan laughed at me) - But, it’s a little late for that now. So, Screw it. I’m already here. And, I’m probably already on tape. So, I may as well do what I came here to do. At least it’ll get Josh and Nathan off of my back.

Hesitantly, I open the carton and pick up an egg. Pulling my hand behind my head, I steal a quick glance backwards to ensure that I haven’t been ditched, and launch it straight into the heavy oak of the front door. A laugh bubbles up inside me, adrenaline surging within my chest. I’m probably a terrible person for finding something that is most-likely an actual, legitimate crime fun - But, the scandal of it all is providing me with an intoxicating rush.

Grinning, I load the final egg into my hand, hurling it towards the front door carelessly. A mere millisecond later, the door swings open, revealing a red-faced, white-haired man, all dressed up in a posh suit. Oh fuck. Powerless to stop the imminent disaster, I watch, horrified, as the egg smashes against his brow bone, splattering yolk across his face. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” He yells, his voice booming.

Petrified, I let out a high-pitched, girlish squeal - Dropping the empty carton on to the floor. I’m completely frozen - My muscles seizing up uselessly, as I stand gawping at him. I whip my head around, watching as Josh and Nathan dash away, leaving me trapped, all alone. Desperately, I turn to run, be he claps a hand around my wrist - Pulling me back into place. Mega fuck. Panicked, I shake my arm wildly, desperately trying to loosen his vice-like grip.

“Do you know who I am?” he shouts, the veins in his neck bulging. Unable to find my voice, I shake my head. “I’m the Chief Constable!” Mega, mega fuck. Of course, I'd be stupid enough to pick a cop's house. I've really fucked it up this time. “And this,” he continues, gesturing vaguely behind him. “Is vandalism!”

I gulp, trying to shake myself free again, to no avail. He scowls, grabbing onto my shoulder, and tightening his grip further (My wrist will probably be bruised tomorrow, although that’s the least of my worries right now).

“I’m really, really sorry, Mister,” I whimper, my voice wavering pathetically. “This is a huge misunderstanding. I’ll fix it - I swear. Please just - Please don’t arrest me.”

His jawline tenses as he grits his teeth. “Pray tell me, how this is a 'misunderstanding',” he spits.

“Uhhh,” I stall, completely stumped. I definitely shouldn’t have said that. How the hell can egging somebody’s house be a misunderstanding? I dart my eyes around, desperately hoping to spot something that can help me out. And that's when I see him. A tall boy, roughly my own age, leaning against the door-frame nonchalantly, his arms crossed against his chest, and an amused smirk plastered on his face. “My ex lives here,” I sputter out. Stupid moron. Why the fuck would I say that? The boy raises an eyebrow, flashing me a quick toothy grin. “Really shitty breakup, yeah,” I ramble on. “Sent me loads of rude notes, wouldn’t give me back my stuff, kept threatening to spill my secrets. You know how it is.”

The man shakes his head, clearly taken aback. “What on earth are you blathering on about, boy? There is no girl your age living here.”

I chuckle sheepishly, looking down at my trainers, my face flushing with heat. Right, Yeah - I didn't really think that one through.

“It’s alright, Father,” A deep, velvety voice interjects. “He’s one of mine.”

I risk glancing upwards. The boy from the doorway is standing beside us now - His grey eyes assessing me coldly. I meet his gaze, furrowing my brow in question. What is he on about? His lips quirk upwards into a knowing smirk, as he runs a hand through his hair (It’s fairly long for a bloke, just brushing the tops of his shoulders. But, unlike mine, it looks really silky - So, I understand why he wouldn’t want to cut it).

“Basilton,” the man whispers, his tone warning. “I’m not in the mood for your games. Just look at what he did!”

“It’s no game, Father,” the boy (Basilton) replies, airily. “I left him a particularly scathing voicemail the other day. You know how I can be. I believe ... I likened him to a Neanderthal, actually - Which, as you can see, was clearly an astute judgement. It must've got him all riled up.”

“Either way - That does not excuse the vandalism of our home, Basilton.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m not saying that it does. Just … Let me handle it. I shattered the poor little lout’s heart - He just wanted a little bit of revenge, that’s all. It's a harmless prank. There is really no need for all this drama. You’re being excessive, Father. Getting so riled up over a petty, little crime is unbecoming of a man of your status, you know.”

I can practically see the tension vibrating between them - The man’s face flushing a violent shade of red. I don’t think it’s embarrassment, though - I think it’s rage. And, to be fair to him, I think that’s understandable. Basilton is awfully cheeky - Adopting a daringly condescending tone. He sounded like he was chastising a toddler, not speaking to his Father.

For a moment, I think there is going to be a scrap, but, to my shock, it actually bloody works! Reluctantly, the man pulls his hands back, finally freeing me from his grasp. I puff out a relieved breath. Thank God for Basilton!

“I will deal with you later,” he hisses, jabbing a finger into the centre of the boy’s chest. “But if you insist on bringing people like that into our lives, then it’s only fair that you be the one to clean up their messes.”

“Perfectly fine with me, Father,” he deadpans.

And wiith that, he turns - Storming over to the door, and slamming it closed behind himself. Leaving me and my merciful stranger alone.

“Thank you so, so, so much,” I gasp out, turning to face him properly. “I am so sorry. My mates dared me to do it, and I’m a complete idiot, so I agreed. I don’t really know why. And I’m just - I’m just so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin things between you and your Dad. And, I’ll clean it up, I swear! And … I’ll make it up to you. I mean - I don’t know how. But, I will.”

“Stop bumbling,” he says, gazing down at his nails, bored. “We can agree on the fact that you’re clearly a moron. But, don’t fret about ruining 'things' me and my Father - That was done long before you arrived. Just … Clean up the mess and we can forget that this ever happened.”

“Right. Okay,” I say, wearily. “But I mean, seriously thank you. For going along with my lie, I mean. Sorry if it - I mean like, sorry if it made you uncomfortable. Or you - You know, felt like you had to. Cause I mean … You didn’t have to”

“Don’t mention it - It’s perfectly fine. It didn’t make me uncomfortable, and I’m well aware that I didn’t have to do anything. I actually rather enjoyed the opportunity to rile my Father up - So, no need to apologise.”

“Right, well … Brilliant,” I say, smiling up at him. “You’re the best, Basilton.”

His face twists into a grimace. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh shit, Sorry,” I mumble, embarrassed. “I thought that’s what your Dad said.”

“It is. I just … Don’t really like being called that,” he murmurs.

“Oh. Well. Um. What should I call you then?”

“Well you shouldn’t really call me anything. You’re the guy that just egged my house - Not my friend.”

“Yeah. I know that. But, I mean - Can’t you just say, anyway?”

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated. “If you insist. Just call me Baz.”

“Baz,” I echo, the smile audible in my voice. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, noncommittally. “I’ll be sure to tell my Father you said so. I’m sure he will appreciate your approval.”

“I’m Simon Snow,” I say, ignoring his remark, and sticking my hand out towards him. “And, I promise, I don’t normally vandalise people’s houses. I’m good. I’ve never even got a detention, Honest. Well no, I mean, I got one in Year Seven - But it wasn’t my fault.”

Unimpressed, he glances down at my hand as if it were a personal affront. For a brief moment, I think he’s going to leave me hanging (Which would be totally mortifying. I’ve already made enough of a tit of myself, I don't need him to reject me as well), but then he reaches out, gingerly taking my hand in his, and giving it a curt shake.

“Charmed,” he deadpans. “Now that all the pleasantries are over, I really think you should get a move on with the whole cleaning thing. I won’t be able to hold Father off forever, you know.”

“Oh right, yeah. Course. I’ll get right on it. Uh … I don’t really have any … Cleaning stuff, though. Sorry. Do you have, like, a bucket or something?”

He glares down at me. “You’re a disaster,” he sighs, rubbing his hands against his temple exaggeratedly. “Vera probably has what you need. Let me go and ask.”

“Okay sure. Brilliant. Thanks,” I chirp. I have no idea who Vera is, but I don’t think Baz would like me asking, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Wait here,” he says, his voice threatening. “If you run away, I will be very angry. I know your name now, Simon Snow. If it comes to it, I can and will hunt you down. So stay put.”

“Aye Aye, Captain,” I tease. He tries to suppress it, but a small, half-smile breaks across his face. It only lasts a second, Baz quickly schooling his face back into a scowl, but it’s enough to calm the anxiety flurrying within my chest slightly. “I won’t move a muscle, promise.”

————————————————————————————

Baz

Snow looks nervous. He’s bouncing his leg anxiously, his face curled into an adorable little pout, and a hand tugging at his unkempt curls roughly.

“What’s wrong with you?” I tease, placing the bucket down besides his scuffed trainers.

“Baz!” He breathes. “I have to go. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What? No!” I protest, outraged. “You said you’d clean it up. That was the whole agreement. I go along with your little hair-brained scheme, and lower myself to fulfilling the role of your ex-boyfriend, and you clean up the mess you made!”

“I know, I know. And I will, I swear! Cross my heart,” he says, tracing an 'X' against his breast. “But, I have to be home by eight.”

“Eight? Really, Snow? How old are you?”

“Uh ... Seventeen. Why?”

“You’re seventeen years old, and your parents still won’t let you out after eight?” I ask, disbelieving.

“Uh yeah. Well, sort of.”

“Why? What happens if you miss your curfew? Do mummy and daddy not read you your bedtime story?” I goad, puffing my lips out into a faux, sympathetic pout. “I’m sorry, but you have to clean this mess up.”

“I know. But I just … I’m already late. And I seriously can’t be late. Look,” he says, digging around in his back pockets, and pulling out a crumpled receipt. “Uh … Do you have a pen?”

I roll my eyes, pulling out a fountain pen, and thrusting it towards him.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, flashing me a quick smile, and scribbling onto the paper. “Here. This is my number,” he says, holding the receipt out to me. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to clean it. I promise. If I don’t show up, you can just keep calling me till I do. Or … You’ve got my name, too - I’m sure that’s more than enough information to take a hit out on me.”

“Hmmm,” I hum, unimpressed, snatching the paper from his hand. “Be here eight A.M sharp. Capishe?”

“Uh yeah … Capishe?” He drones, clearly confused.

“Very well then. Run on back home. I’d hate for you to get into any trouble.”

“Okay. Yeah. Uh ... Cheers” he huffs. “You’re the best, Baz. I’ll make this up to you, I swear!”

“Whatever,” I chide, keeping my tone flat.

“Later then, Lover,” he calls.

“Don’t call me that,” I spit, aggressively.

“Okay. Okay,” He chuckles, warm laughter transforming his face - His eyes crinkling up slightly, as a small dimple pops besides his lips. “Later, Ex-Lover, then. That better?”

“I think you know that it’s not,” I groan, shaking my head. “Just get out of here. Before I change my mind!”

With a beaming grin, he turns, jogging down the driveway and back out onto the street - Leaving me alone. I glance down at the receipt - His number scratched onto the paper in barely intelligible handwriting, and a small, crude smiley face drawn next to it. Bloody nightmare. Despite myself, I chuckle lightly at the absurdity of it all. Simon Snow … What the hell have I gotten myself into?

————————————————————————————

This Summer has ticked by unbearably slowly. At first it was fun - A welcome change from the monotony of term time. But the novelty quickly wore off. Every day is the same - I wake up, I read, I play FIFA with Dev, I study, I eat, and I play with Mordelia. That’s it. Same old, same old. But today - Today was far from usual. As pathetic as it may be, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in weeks.

Which is why, I find myself here - Sat on the end of my bed, phone in hand, deliberating with myself over whether or not to text him. My calamitous little criminal.

I mean, he did give me his number. I doubt he'd be surprised to hear from me. I could message him under the guise of confirming that he hadn't given me a fake one. That would be believable … Surely? I inhale deeply, regaining my composure. It’s just a silly, inconsequential text - Nothing to get worked up about. If he doesn’t answer - So what? It’ll make no difference to my life.

With my mind made up, I hammer out my message quickly - Hitting send before I have the opportunity to change my mind.

ME (21:42): Committed any crimes since we last spoke?

I stare down at the screen, anxious. This is definitely weird. Why did I think this was a good idea? What sort of person decides to have a friendly chat with the guy that egged their house, for Christ’s sake? Father would be bitterly disappointed, if he knew.

Just as I’m starting to spiral, my phone screen flashes up with a reply. And then another. And then another. And then another. It’s him - It has to be him. Nobody I else know texts like such a lunatic (I'd have blocked their number ages ago if they did).

SS (21:43): Nah. Not yet.

SS (21:43): Maybe l8r.

SS (21:43): And again … Sorry bout that.

SS (21:43): And thnx for covering for me. That was really nice of you :)

I grin, relieved.

ME (21:45): Yes, well. While I appreciate your gratitude, if you don’t show up tomorrow there will be hell to pay.

ME (21:45): And do you really have to type like that?

SS (21:46): Aha yep :D That’s how everyone texts. Not my fault.

SS (21:46): And I know. I know.

SS (21:46): Trust me. I’ll be there.

SS (21:46): You can count on me :)

ME (21:47): Whatever you say, Snow.

SS (21:47): Yeh :)

ME (21:51): I have a question for you.

SS (21:52): Oh yeh, really? Shoot.

ME (21:53): I was having a little look at the receipt you gave me, and I was just wondering why on earth ONE PERSON would need to purchase SEVEN packets of scones, all in one go? Is one of your friends getting out of juvie, or something? Having a little party?

SS (21:54): Oh nah lol.

SS (21:54): Those are for me.

SS (21:54): Whenever I get given my pocket money I always go and get a few packs.

SS (21:54): They’re delicious. Trust.

SS (21:54): I’ll bring you one tomorrow :)

ME (21:55): Right, I see. Fair enough, I suppose.

SS (21:55): Aha yeh :)

I pause, unsure of how to reply. I guess, I could ask him what he’s doing - Although, that would probably be a little strange. It’s almost certainly best to just leave it. I’ll see him tomorrow, anyway - I’d rather not embarrass myself before then.

But, just as I’m about to put my phone down, it buzzes again.

SS (22:01): What’s ur full name?

I furrow my brow in confusion.

ME (22:03): Why?

SS (22:03): Cause I wanna add you as a contact.

SS (22:03): And my phone wants a surname.

SS (22:04): And also I’m just curious.

SS (22:04): Based on “Basilton” it’s probs well posh!

SS (22:04): I bet your name is double-barreled. You seem like a double-barreled kinda guy.

SS (22:05): Come onnnnnnnn Baz. Spill.

SS (22:05): I wanna knowwwww. Plz.

SS (22:06): You know mine. It's only fair!

SS (22:07): Don’t ignore meeeeeeeeee. Plzzzzz.

ME (22:09): You’re an imbecile.

SS (22:09): Ahaha. Whatever you say.

SS (22:09): Seriously, tho. What’s your name?

ME (22:10): Will telling you shut you up?

SS (22:10): Oh yeh. For sure.

SS (22:11): For a bit anyways ;)

ME (22:12): Fine.

ME (22:12): My full name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. Happy now?

SS (22:13): HOLY SHIT!

SS (22:13): Yep! I’m very happy now!

SS (22:13): I knew it would be posh.

SS (22:13): Haha that’s wicked.

SS (22:14): Tyrannus. Really? Like the dinosaur?

SS (22:14): I’ve never even HEARD of that!

ME (22:14): No, Snow. Not like the dinosaur. My parents aren’t morons.

SS (22:15): Oh lol. Fairs.

SS (22:15): Speaking of your parents, your dad is well scary! I thought I was gonna have a heart attack earlier.

ME (22:17): I’m aware. I grew up with him.

ME (22:17): Anyway, I thought you said if I told you, you’d shut up for a bit. You don’t appear to have shut up at all.

SS (22:18): Oh yeh lol. Sorry.

SS (22:18): I just got excited.

SS (22:18): Your name is wicked tho! Seriously.

ME (22:18): Whatever you say.

SS (22:19): Aha yeh.

SS (22:19): Anyways … Imma head off to bed now. No more talking from me!

SS (22:19): Lucky you!

SS (22:19): Early start tomorrow!

SS (22:19): Cleaning some posho’s house.

SS (22:19): Lol.

SS (22:20): G’night Baz.

SS (22:20): See you tomorrow :)

ME (22:20): Good night, Snow. See you then. Don’t be late!

SS (22:21): Wouldn’t dream of it ;)

With that, I shift - Putting my phone on to charge, and laying myself down onto the bed. Helplessly charmed, I find myself smiling up towards the velvet canopy of my bed goofily (Despite my best efforts to suppress it).

Tomorrow is going to be a good day.

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch

18 notes · View notes

longassr1de · 5 years ago

Text

Heaven

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: Smut/fluff

Work count: 4.2k

Summary: In which pretending to get laid actually ends with a good lay. or In which you spend more than just seven minutes in heaven with your crush.

Warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, riding/cowgirl. can’t think of much else tbh, it’s pretty tame. not yet proofread, i apologize.

A/N: This turned out a lot fluffier than originally intended ..but hey, that’s what happens when you write while you’re in your feels :,) side note, I think I finally wrote smth that isn’t a pwp so..yay! though i was sleep deprived when i wrote this & it’s like 6am as i’m posting-

Ah, the sweet stench of sweat, alcohol and vomit. Typical traits of a college party, and if you were being honest, you weren’t all too sure how you allowed yourself to be persuaded into attendance. It could have been the fact that you really needed to let off some steam after finals, it could have been that you were bored at home and needed a change of scenery, or perhaps it was because a little birdie had informed you that your crush was likely to show up tonight. But surely, it was because of the free booze, no?

Lying aside, it wasn’t as large as a typical frat party; a fairly average one as far as you could gather from your experience, given that it was being held in someone’s home. Your friends had split in all directions almost as soon as you’d arrived, looking to find drinks or companions or old friends, of which you weren’t very concerned with. Jelly shots and heavy bass EDM wasn’t your ideal Friday night, but it would have to do for now.

After your fair share of drinks (a beer, some jello shots, and a supposed margarita that tasted more like tap water than alcohol), you decide to venture inwards, trying your hand at a spot on the makeshift dance floor. You’re having fun in your own little world until you accidentally bump into someone while trying to break free for some fresh air, almost spilling your drink over the unfortunate passerby. Turning to apologize for your inebriated clumsiness, you’re greeted by none other than your classmate, Mark.

“Oh hey,” Mark calls out to you, smiling at a familiar face, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did I, until tonight,” you joke, but there’s a hint of truth behind your words.

“Did you also happen to be abandoned by the people you came with, or are you lone wolfing it?” You chuckle at the way he words his question, not missing the way he tries (and fails) to subtly check you out in your gorgeous emerald dress.

“Lone wolfing it after my abandonment, if they left me, they can stay gone.” A smug grin plasters itself on your face as you take a sip of your drink.

“Ahh, I feel you. The guys ditched me the second they found the cheerleaders and beer pong.” Mark rolls his eyes, following suit and taking a swig from his beer. Leaning closer to him, you find yourself having to speak up due to the music.

“In all honesty, this conversation is great, but I can barely hear you,” Mark’s eyes crinkle as his telltale laugh lines form, “so if you’d like to continue, can we move somewhere quieter? Unless you were just saying hi, that’s fine too.”

“Someplace quieter sounds great right now, after you,” he gestures vaguely, insinuating that he would simply follow your lead. You try your best not to let yourself linger over his appearance, but you know damn well that in the back of your mind, the image of Mark in a button down and jeans will be embroidered there for the better part of the next month. Minimum.

Conversation flows smoothly as you both enjoy the breeze on the balcony, catching up on life events, intermittent with preposterous tales and the silliest of jokes. That’s how it always felt when you were around Mark though, like you could be yourself without a care in the world, his free spirit and funny personality letting conversation flow through so easily you’d hardly noticed how long you’d been missing.

The balcony door suddenly swings open, making you pray it wasn’t some horny couple trying to get it on in the fresh air. Instead, you’re met with one of the friends you came with, claiming she’d frantically been searching for you everywhere. When you ask why, all she answers with is that they need people for truth or dare, to which you roll your eyes at but begrudgingly accept your fate. As you’re dragged by the wrist, you shoot an apologetic glance at your companion; he only shrugs in response, opting to tag along due to his unwavering curiosity.

The game commenced after the first person volunteered, and whoever was seated clockwise from them had to go next. So far: someone had revealed they were secretly a porn actor, someone had to lick the bottom of someone else’s boot, someone had confessed they once had a wet dream with a clown, and someone was dared to prank call the local pizza joint asking if it was the krusty krab. Not too far out of a game, but also not exactly anything normal, as far as you were concerned. You find your heart starting to pound, hand sweating as your friend goes, watching as she does a belly shot off one of Mark’s friends; perhaps his name was Johnny, but you’re not too certain. All you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, immediately regretting picking dare when you see the way your friend’s eyes light up with malicious intent.

“I dare you... to a round of seven minutes in heaven,” she pauses for dramatic effect, effectively jamming your heart into your throat when you notice where her eyes land... to the boy sitting right next to you. “With Mark Lee.” Everyone in the circle cheers, having only witnessed a reluctant make-out earlier, they were ready for some fresh blood, and it would appear you were the sacrificial lamb.

You swallow hard, the way Mark stills in his spot going entirely unnoticed. He stands up first, trying to act unfazed as he holds out his hand to help you up, walking over to the closet with you in tow, hanging your head low. You damned the drinks for starting to wear off, knowing you were much shier without the alcoholic assistance, and much better off with it.

“And the timer starts... now!”

your friend yells as she locks the closet door, leaving you both in a relatively dark, cramped space. You swear to get your vengeance on your friend for tonight, she knew damn well about your crush on Mark, and she was going to force it out of you one way or another, it would appear.

“God, I’m so sorry you got dragged into this,” you run your hands through your hair, once again failing to notice as Mark’s throat runs dry, eyes raking over your appearance with heavy gaze.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says after clearing his throat, “it’s not like any of this is your fault, anyway.” Even in the pale glow of the light through the lines of the closet door you can make out his beautiful smile; it’s a smile that you would know anywhere.

“So... seven minutes locked in a closet. Hope neither of us are claustrophobic,” you try to make light of the situation, pretending that you can’t feel the heat radiating off his body. You try to raise your hand to find the wall, instead finding Mark’s chest, apologizing as you pull your hand back as if it had just touched a hot iron. He laughs at your reaction, finding it adorable how opposite your actions were to your appearance tonight. A tight emerald dress paired with black heels and smoky-eyed makeup to complete your ensemble had you looking like you’d devour the first person to speak to you, but instead, here you were blushing at every slight action. The boy had no idea that was all his effect on you, thinking you were just very shy all the while.

“Hey, I just got an idea,” Mark grins deviously, causing you to furrow your brows in concern. “Hear me out, ok? Have you ever seem Easy A?” You nod, wondering where this was going. “Do you remember how she would pretend that she slept with someone, just faking the noise?” Your eyes widen as what he’s hinting at registers in your brain, elevating your nerves and skyrocketing your pulse. The mere thought of it had you feeling a little damp, wondering what pretty little noises would be leaving his mouth.

“I’m... not too sure about this,” you start off, chewing on your lip. He assures you that he won’t force you into anything, just found it to be a fun, harmless prank to play. “Yeah sure, let’s get on with this, then,” and you pray that for the second time tonight, you don’t regret your decision.

It’s a lot harder than you initially thought, you ponder, trying not to laugh as you both slap the walls and make the most absurd of noises. If that was really how he sounded, you don’t think you could ever sleep with Mark without laughing your ass off; but then again, you certainly weren’t true to form with your overly exaggerated fake moaning either.

It’s when he suggests that you both make it sound more real that things take a turn. You suddenly find yourself all too close, drowning in his scent, tempted by his presence and tainted by desire. You’re all too tempted to just lean up and kiss Mark’s beautiful pouted lips when he catches you staring, stopping dead in his tracks mid-fake moan.

“Something tells me that look on your face definitely isn’t fake,” he whispers, voice a hushed whisper lulling past the dull thudding in your eardrums. “Please tell me it isn’t fake, that I’m not imagining the way your eyes are just eating me up.” Mark sounds breathless, almost as if incredulous at your attraction towards him. You can’t help but think he must be dense to not have noticed by now... but so must you if you never caught his shy glances or lustful staring.

“Oh it’s real alright, and so could these noises if we just stopped playing these games already,” you hadn’t noticed you’d said the second part aloud until you saw firsthand the shift in his demeanor. Mark’s entire face screamed want as he brought a hand up to cup your face, the other landing on your waist.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, searching deep into your eyes as if to find out that this was a bad joke all along.

“About as sure as the fact that I’m glad my underwear is matching tonight,” you tease, unknowing of where this sudden urge of confidence was coming from, entirely grateful nonetheless. Mark leans in softly, slowly, as if worried he might scare you away, and it takes everything in you not to drag him to you by the collar in one hurried tug.

His plush lips feel wet, likely from running his tongue over it one too many times, and slightly cracked, probably due to chapping. But that’s the least of your worries as it feels like he’s sucking the air out from your very lungs, pausing to nip or suckle on your bottom lip before losing it entirely when your fingers tug at his hair, slipping his tongue past your lips. You’re startled by the sudden noise, followed by more light than your eyes could properly get used to on such short notice. There stands your friend on the other side, the room mostly empty now, with just a few stragglers.

“So did you two fuck all that tension away yet or was that all just for show?” She quirks a brow at your bruised lip, wondering if you’d been kissed anywhere else tonight.

“Was working on it, til you showed up, actually.” Mark’s brazenness leaves you floored, but surprisingly only serves to fuel the fire he’d ignited deep in your belly.

“By all means then, don’t let me stop you,” she leaves you with a wink, mimicking a phone with her hand as she tells you to call her tomorrow with the details. After she disappears from view, you feel Mark’s hand slip though your tresses, bringing you back to reality.

“Hey, I was totally joking to get her to bug off, but... the offer stands,” he lets out hurriedly, almost as if he was scared you’d shut him down.

“Well, what did you have in mind?”

“We can either go grab a late dinner and pretend this never happened or we can go back to my place? And I’ll treat you to breakfast. It’s all in your hands though,” he smiles nervously at you, eyes pleading what his heart is too scared to show.

“You must be confident,” to which Mark quirks a brow in response, “assuming I’d stay until morning come.” You jest, watching as his mouth gapes but fails to come up with an actual reply. “I’m just kidding, lover boy. Let’s get back to your place then, I’m sure you’d like more than just an answer in my hands.” He audibly groans at that, feeling his pants tighten as he follows you out the front door of the party residence, calling for an uber as you trail a line of teasing kisses across his jaw.

The ride back to his apartment is filled with mindless conversation, neither of you daring to go farther than sneaking kisses or placing a hand on each other’s thighs. The moment of arrival, you swear you could’ve kissed the pavement from how relieved you were. You both made out for the duration of the elevator ride, with your hands in his back pockets as his find purchase at the base of your thighs, just under the hem of your dress. When the door opens, he walks backwards with you in tow, stopping to suck a lovely bruise into your collarbone before slotting the key into the lock.

No sooner than the door shuts behind you are you being pressed up against it, jumping up to wrap your legs around Mark’s waist. It’s the first time you come into heavy contact with the stiffness in his jeans, letting out a muffled noise into the heated kiss. He’s stumbling to carry you as he blindly makes his way around, nearly tripping over a cord as he opts to set you down until you’ve reached the safety of the bedroom. Laughing it off, you follow Mark to his quarters, taking in the sights of his room as you wrap yourself into his backside.

“Time for you to put your money where your mouth is,” you tease, spurring him on to turn around and run his hands down your sides.

“Oh, there will be plenty of time for me to put things in my mouth, baby. But for right now, as gorgeous as you look in it,” he stops to stare at the way it hugs your curves, “I just want you out of this damned dress.” You chuckle at his impatience, turning around so he can tug the zipper down, feeling Mark place kisses down your spine as the dress pools around your legs at the floor. He pulls back only to be pleasantly surprised by your earlier statement, you actually were wearing matching underwear, and white lace at that.

“I can’t tell if you’re an angel who’s come to me or the devil who’s luring me,” he sighs, breathless, “but either way I’m worshipping you tonight.”

“Does that mean you’ll be on your knees for me?” your tone flirty and light, taking note of the way your words have such a hold on him, the way his face gives away every one of his emotions.

“If that’s what you want, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” And so you find yourself sitting up against the headrest, Mark’s button down joining your dress on the floor as he tweaks your nipples, kissing his way down your stomach. His hands slide to part your thighs, taking in a deep breath at the scent of your arousal as your underwear joins the heap. He spends countless minutes pulling sounds from you with his tongue and fingers, not failing to let you know how mesmerizing he found you (and your moans); all the while not so subtly humping the bed to help give some friction where he needed it most. You’ve already come once and feel yourself starting to build up to a second when Mark pulls away, drawing out a whine from you as you tug at his hair.

There’s an almost sleepy smile on his face, no doubt tired from a long week of finals as well. “Tell me to stop at any time and I will, ok?” he says as he places multiple kisses on your lips, still in disbelief as to how he managed to get you to come home with him after weeks of being unable to work up the courage to just ask you out. He’d have to thank liquid courage for that one, actually.

You lean up on your elbows to watch as Mark undresses, then produces a condom from his nightstand, pinching the tip and rolling it onto his length.

“You ready, sweetness?” Unable to help crinkle in your nose, or the giggle that bubbles in your throat at the name, you lean up to tug him down to you; taking the time to enjoy his slow, deep kisses before moving on to the main event, uncaring if you could taste yourself on his lips. As you two part, a trail of saliva follows, which he wipes at with his thumb, rubbing it across your bottom lip gently.

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“I’m sure, Mark. No regrets,” you mutter more to yourself than to him, wondering how the human brain can choose to psych itself out at the worst of times. He flips you both over, having you straddle his lap as he places both of his hands on your sides, pausing briefly to litter your neck and chest with butterfly kisses, half of which you’re sure will blossom into a constellation of love bites.

“Feeling lazy now, are we?” you attempt to tease him once again to help settle your oncoming nerves.

“I’d rather you take it at your own pace, babygirl,” one of his hands moves up to run across your jaw, “I wanna learn what you like, what you don’t like, what makes you tick. If tonight’s the only shot I have at impressing you, so be it, but I’d love to take you out sometime... maybe do this all again someday.” Mark’s confession flows out naturally, but it’s obvious you’re not the only one feeling like you’re in over your head here, which makes you feel much more at ease.

“Look at you, Lee, I didn’t peg you to be someone to do things so out of order,” you tsk. “Isn’t it supposed to be a date first and then sex?” He unconsciously pouts at your teasing, bringing you to press another kiss to his lips, this time with the sole intention of pulling his jutting lower lip with your teeth.

“We’ll go out on a date wherever you want tomorrow, I promise,” he slurs into the crook of your neck, almost shy in his words now. It’s as if the admittance of feelings has made the night much more personal than either one of you intended, and yet, neither of you can find it in you to complain.

You slowly lower yourself onto his cock, shutting your eyes at the sheer pleasure beginning to build up again. Mark lets out the softest of whines despite his deep voice, absolutely enamored by the way your warm walls seem to just trap him right in, making him never wish to leave the paradise between your legs.

You start to find your rhythm the more you bounce yourself in his lap, shifting from grinding down slowly to humping into him with fervor. Mark tries desperately to quiet his moans by meeting your lips with his, only for it to not work out quite as intended when your noses bump into one another. You two simply laugh it off, his hands sliding down to your thighs and back, head falling back as it resonates with the headboard.

“Fuuckk,” the word escapes Mark’s lips in a drawn-out drawl. “You feel so good baby, so.. so fucking good,” he grunts as he thrusts up into you, checking for your reaction until you nod, giving him the green light. Mark doesn’t hold back anymore after that, meeting your hips with his own, hitting even harder now, much deeper than before.

“Looks like I might be staying until breakfast after all,” you pant, dropping yourself into his lap, exhausted. Mark chuckles into the break he’d been sucking at, nudging at your chest with his nose to get your attention.

“Want me to take over if you’re too tired?” His voice was far too sweet for the way he was still shallowly thrusting into your heat, too needy to think straight but still focusing as much of his attention as possible on your own needs. You nod before leaning to place your forehead on his shoulder. Duly noted, don’t skip leg day.

Mark picks up speed with renewed fervor, holding your hips in place as he thrusts upwards at an angle that fills you up deliciously. He thumbs at your clit, eager to get you off before he cums, already racing you towards your orgasm whether he wanted to or not.

“Ok this is going to sound kind of embarrassing but you’re so fucking hot and you feel amazing, I don’t think I can last much longer,” Mark admits openly, honestly.

“That’s fine by me, I’m fucking exhausted,” you two stop to laugh at the double entendre before rutting yourselves into one another in search of release. You’re only allowed a quick warning before you feel him cum into the condom, the pulsing of his cock being the final trigger to your orgasm.

You whimper and whine in his lap as Mark keeps rubbing your clit, eventually stopping him when it gets too much, feeling too sensitive for any more. He tilts his head to press a kiss onto your forehead, cradling the back of your head with one arm as the other encircles your waist. Both of you start to slip from your current position as Mark slowly slides down, pulling out with a hiss and parting from your entanglement of limbs to dispose of the used condom.

“Man, that was lame,” Mark breaks the silence, almost making you worry before adding, “I wasn’t supposed to come before you did.” He drapes an arm over his head after his statement, rejoining you on the mattress now. It’s adorable how he’s beating himself up over something you found so trivial. After all, it wasn’t like you didn’t come, in fact, you’d come twice tonight.

“Mark, please don’t worry about that. It’s fine, baby,” you coo at him, leaning up on an elbow to play with his hair. “You did wonderful, and it’s not like I was dissatisfied, so please, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Mark, ever the perfectionist, opts not to answer, but rather vows to do better next time. Oh, how he hopes there’s a next time.

“So, about that date tomorrow...” he changes the subject, falling hard for the twinkle in your eyes as you two discuss your plans for the following day. He’s almost shocked at himself with how domestic he was already acting around you, how gentle he was and how carefully he wanted to treasure you. You stop halfway into your rambling when you notice the silly grin plastered on Mark’s face.

“You haven’t heard a damn thing I said, have you?” You stop stroking his hair, nose huffing as you realize you were wasting your breath. Mark simply pulls you down into his chest, wrapping you tight into his embrace, too bashful to say things like these to your face.

“I was just busy thanking all the divine beings for shoving us into that raggedy closet tonight,” he muses, mulling over his words carefully. “You know, I’m not so sure I would have had the courage to finally ask you out if it wasn’t for that little stunt tonight.” You’re almost shocked at his confession, but find you can only nod as you’d been in the same predicament just hours prior.

“My friend is never going to let me heat the end of this,” you groan as Mark laughs at your pathetic struggle. He brings his hand under your chin, tilting it until you’re looking up at him.

“Those were definitely more than seven minutes in heaven,” Mark purrs, “and these moans were definitely not fake,” he smirks at the light rose color dusting on your cheeks. You slap weakly at his bicep, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from spontaneously combusting.

“And I’d like for nothing more than several years in heaven with you,” Mark thinks to himself as you snore softly in his arms, blissfully ignorant of the lovesick look in his eyes yet again.

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xathia-89 · 5 years ago

Text

Long Lost Sibling - Mitsuhide

I was frowning at the bowl full of dark paste in front of me. The staff reckoned that it would help cover up my roots after I’d had to break down and ask for help in this era. All of the warlords had been highly suspicious about not seeing me apparently, but since my hair was growing quicker than I could cover it with scraps of fabric and I’d now run out of contact lenses, my appearance was changing swiftly. The maids had known from the start and had been very accepting of the tale I spun about being from the future. It was a game to keep the warlords from finding out.

Playing Princess was never something I was comfortable with, so I had argued back with Nobunaga and also been given the role of Chatelaine. Not that Hideyoshi trusted me to do anything except murder Nobunaga. I wasn’t sure who he was more suspicious of, Mitsuhide or me. He was brutally open about the lack of trust at least, both of us always knew that he was waiting for one of us to betray the great Lord Oda.

The staff revelled in it when I was bored. Since the job was to freak out the warlords as much as possible. Swords would never stay still, and Shogetsu was always pouncing out of cupboards and mostly onto Hideyoshi and Ieyasu. Then it was a case of minute adjustments to clothing, very mean I had to admit, so I tended to stick to doing it on the haoris rather than their actual clothes. Make something just the tiniest bit too short so it wasn’t that comfortable to wear when it had been perfectly fine last week. Then I started using bamboo cages to drop onto Mitsuhide, something that everyone was looking forward to being tripped.

“You really are a pain in the behind when you’re bored,” a silky voice interrupted me, as I couldn’t help but smile. Mitsuhide had figured it out, unfortunately.

“Are you going to tell on me then?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes down on the floor so that he wouldn’t see the differences.

His head was resting now on my shoulder, breath hot on my ear. It almost felt familiar, a flash of an impression in my mind before it slipped away again.

“Maybe not about the pranking, but I do have some questions about this lovely hair of yours,” he eventually said. I kept my panic internal, it was something I was trained to do, regardless of the situation you never let anyone see any kind of emotions except those you want them to. He tilted my head up and then paused. “Just where did you grow up little girl?” He frowned.

“I think your better question would be as to how I managed to hide my true appearance for so long,” I scoffed, removing his fingers from my chin.

“You seemed to have gotten all the staff onto your side, judging from the state of things around you,” he commented.

“Well, a chance to have something over on you guys, they were eager to take part as long as it was harmless. Brought amusement to them in their work,” I replied casually. It was haunting me to look straight into Akechi’s eyes. It felt like looking into a mirror, and the eyes were meant to be the window to the soul. If I listened to Hideyoshi, then it would be believed that Mitsuhide had no soul. He was happy as anything to lump us together, and this new uncovering of mine would sign me to it.

“Why change your appearance? I heard your long tale of being from the future,” he swiftly stepped away, putting a small distance between us as I went to make some tea. “I have no taste buds, I am sure you’ve been told.”

“You still need hydration,” I replied. “And it’s impossible to hide if you look like you do. You have aides to sneak around and hide as the spider setting the trap, I prefer to do the dirty work myself,” I smiled, pouring out the tea into cups. “If you would take a seat, then I am certain we could have a civil conversation about my past, and answer that question you have in your eyes,” I gestured.

He was wearing a neutral mask to cover his emotions. I could only glean the smallest pieces of what he was thinking by the motions in his eyes.

“My past starts when I am seven years old,” I smiled.

“What about before that?” I had never heard such a tone before from the snake and recoiled slightly at it.

“I have no memory before that. I was found in some woods near Kyotanba, not far from here. I was taken in by a couple who took in kids as a way of money. They constantly made fun of me for my hair and eyes, so I took to hiding my hair early on, then when I became of legal age, I left. I had good enough grades and credentials to get myself taken on by the specialist governmental department,” I paused and smiled. “I say credentials. I broke in when I was 15 and exposed all of their weak spots. They were so impressed that I could be brazen enough to turn up the following day and talk them through everything that was wrong with their current system, that they said if I had the grades to match my practical knowledge, they’d take me on.”

“What sort of specialist department?” His voice was coming out strangled, and something was clearly bothering Mitsuhide, but he didn’t want to discuss it directly.

“Much like what you do for Nobunaga,” I replied. “I was working to eliminate any problems for Japan’s safety. Chasing down unsavoury individuals that were working to undermine the government. Our form of Lord is a unified Japan, and everyone selects their leaders, and they all come together to form a government. You always get those pushing for their own agendas though, so accidents happen, I’m sure you know that,” I smiled. “Anyway, I had lenses to cover the colours of my eyes up and then coloured my hair. You’d never know I was there,” I shrugged.

“This is some fanciful tale Natsuki,” Mitsuhide took a sip of the tea, and paused. He was staring into the cup. “I had a little sister. Whenever she was bored, it was lethal to the rest of us. We could never find our prized possessions, and she always charmed the staff to her side without a problem. She disappeared suddenly when she was about seven. It devastated our parents, and I remember that I was constantly searching for her. Then you turn up, with the same name as her, the same traits, the same hair and eye colour, and give me a long spiel about coming from the future, and I am meant just to believe it?” His voice was a thread in the air. “My Imoto was the prize jewel of our family, her smile would light up the whole of Tanba.”

“I don’t understand you,” I shook my head, a little afraid of the man.

“Ah, excuse the intrusion,” Hideyoshi burst the door open, and then froze as he got a good look at us both. My hair was white from the roots to where the brown hair dye started, and my eyes that had always been brown up to this point were now a shade of amber, and I was pointing a .44 calibre handgun at the addition to the room. “What?”

“We were just discussing my sister who disappeared all those years ago, and then how this lovely young woman turns up with exactly the same name and traits,” Mitsuhide was back in his shell, no emotions on his face. “And I find out we have the same eye and hair colours, so I was asking about her past.”

“Are you sure it’s Natsuki this?” Toyotomi was more than a little broken as I sighed and rolled my eyes. My gun was tucked back away in my obi where I liked to keep it, as I could see the slightest changes in both of the men from their stances. It made me smirk on the inside for them to realise I was never unarmed.

“Seeing as you keep threatening me all the time about your precious Lord Nobunaga and making sure I’m still not a threat after all this time, then yes I’m fairly certain I am the same woman who pulled Nobunaga out of the flames,” I sharply replied. “Now, got tottering back to your war council, and leave me to sort out my hair please,” I ordered, glowering at them both.

The paste hadn’t worked. I was frustrated as I sat at the teahouse in Azuchi. The only person who had changed was Hideyoshi, he was struggling to decide who to follow around the castle when we were both present. Otherwise, he was constantly trailing me. Sasuke had nearly been caught on a couple of occasions as I played with my white and brown braid that was trailed over my shoulder. The ninja had told me that he had a theory on the wormholes that he wanted to discuss with me, but it was going to have to be a time when we could make sure we had some privacy.

“Have you considered my offer yet, princess?” I grimaced at the sound of Shingen’s voice.

“And my response still stands,” I replied, not looking happy as I turned around. His whole posture froze up as the hair and eye colours sunk in. “Have you seen a rogue ninja? He wanted to talk magic with me?” I smiled sweetly.

“Wait, what’s happened?” Takeda took a seat and most of my patience.

“We’re from a special little place that allows for you to change your appearance. Natsuki has run out of things by her appearance,” the aforementioned Sasuke appeared from nowhere, slotting between us. “I had heard the rumours. And it’s science, not magic.”

“Mitsuhide thinks I’m his long lost sister, trust me there, there’s magic involved somewhere,” I snorted.

“Given your change in appearance, I am suddenly quite inclined to believe him,” Shingen surprised me with his opinion, the flirtatious tone long gone as he peered closely at my hair.

“I take it the pastes and things didn’t work then?” Sasuke asked, trying to ignore the warlord.

“The maids were lovely, but my hair is just too much to colour sadly,” I sighed. “And my lenses are going to give me eye infections if I’m not careful. I’ve run out of cleaner and clean sets.”

“It would be awkward to deal with,” Sasuke nodded. I could see him subtly admiring the new hair colour, and trying to hide that he liked it. “I was looking at the wormhole patterns and where you were in the weeks leading up to our meeting at Kyoto, and I think it was following you around,” he frowned, producing a map for me of the pattern of wormholes.

“Do you think it was trying to do something then?” I asked, tilting my head to the side as I shifted a little closer to the ninja.

Shingen was watching us with avid interest. I figured from the start that there was definitely something that I hadn’t been told about these two, and the merchant, Yuki. But it wasn’t hurting anyone from what I could see, especially since they never asked me about anything aside from my daily life. Though how quickly they both disappeared when Hideyoshi came to find me was a puzzle.

The vassal didn’t want to make me jump after the display a few days beforehand, and he was exceptionally polite. I would likely need to produce my gun again once Nobunaga had heard about it. He led me back to Azuchi, the atmosphere tense between us. Friendship was never going to happen, he simply didn’t trust me on a subconscious level as I realised he was taking me to the main hall.

All of the warlords were looking at me with a renewed interest, the sole exception of Mitsuhide. Oda had a glimmer in his eyes that I didn’t like at all. All of the men had their swords, and there was an air about the room. Warfare seemed likely if I made the wrong move.

“I can definitely see the resemblance now,” Nobunaga commented with a smirk. “Hard to deny what stares you in the face Natsuki, I would say you are the missing little sister of Mitsuhide.”

“If that is the case, explain how I come from the future,” I snapped, forgetting that most of the room had no clue as to the tale I had spun to Oda just after rescuing him from the flames.

“Are you still spouting about that?” The dark haired male frowned.

“She wasn’t lying,” I was surprised that Hideyoshi stood up for me of all people, my mask slipped momentarily before I could school my expressions again. “I overheard her talking to Mitsuhide about her life, and then she pulled a weapon of sorts on me when I entered and startled her,” he was looking embarrassed about the situation at least now.

“You mean this one?” I sighed, producing my favourite handgun from the folds of my obi, and startling the entire room. “It’s a gun, just a little more advanced than your pistols,” I shrugged. Ieyasu was swift and had it out of my hands for a study, and then keeping it out of my reach. “Hey, that’s mine,” I was trying to grasp it by twisting myself around Tokugawa. Then I was fed up, kicked him in the back of his knees to make him stagger and snatched the weapon off him before anyone else could get their greasy mitts on it. It was safely tucked back away with a slight glare to the room.

“Now there’s definitely more to you than I know,” I didn’t like the sound of the tone of Oda’s voice.

“I trained as a special agent. I took out any perceived threats to the country, I would study them, stalk them and determine if they needed eliminating or just realigning,” I spoke briefly. “Much like Mitsuhide does for your rule.”

“Seems like the siblings are not that different anyway,” Masamune chuckled. “No one expects a woman.”

“In the future, you don’t expect anyone who blends in,” I corrected him.

“Now I’m just tempted to take you out onto the field,” Nobunaga’s laugh was haughty.

“If you send me out in a kimono then I’m just begging to be caught by tearing the fabric,” I shrugged.

I had spent the time with the seamstresses to perfect my outfit. It was a mimicry of the sort of thing I had seen Sasuke in when we were last on the battlefield, the only differences that I had pistols tucked into an obi sash that I liked around my waist. As annoying as it was to adjust to the era, I found that part of me liked being dressed up as a girl and a princess, not that I wanted to be in full formal dress all the time, that would drive me nuts. The other warlords just smiled when I appeared, and all the more so when I scared one of the ninjas of Nobunaga’s collateral and then stole his horse as my winnings. I pulled my mask down after completing the task and moved the horse towards Oda, who smirked at me. He had set me that preliminary assignment just to break me in for the forces I think as half of them were trying to figure out who I was while the others knew and were trying to work out how I did it.

“How are you going to hide your hair then?” Hideyoshi was a combination of paranoid and intrigued.

“I have a covering for it when I need to move in darkness,” I replied nonchalantly, the saddles of the Sengoku weren’t as comfortable as the ones in the modern era as I began to fidget a little. If this wasn’t going to be a one-off, then I would definitely need to design something to put on the saddle.

Setting up camp was a new experience, I was still being treated like a Princess despite that I was about to be used to go out on a scouting trip that night. I was made to sit with Nobunaga and Mitsuhide once the main tent was set up, and they were looking over maps in silence. It wasn’t the most thrilling of things to do to pass the time for sure.

Oda finally summoned his ninjas, and I pulled my mask back up. It kept my nose and mouth protected from anything getting into them and also from the chill of the night air. Though I was then held back until they had all gone off in one direction, and I frowned at Nobunaga.

“I figured that they would just hold you back,” he smirked, and it was the first time I recalled ever seeing Mitsuhide look like he was prepared to fight his Lord physically. “You go off in the other direction, and prove yourself,” he shrugged. “You’ve been biting for a chance to do so,” he smirked.

“You won’t be disappointed,” I laughed, pulling the material over my roots and back to cover most of my head as it formed a bandana appearance, and gave a mock salute to the two warlords before disappearing off in the opposite direction.

“She didn’t take a horse?! What’s she doing?!” I heard the panic in Hideyoshi’s voice as I dashed through the treetops. Horses made too much noise, and I had a lot of ground to cover, but needing to avoid any traps was essential.

I spied the usual pairings of scouts trying to overlook our camp, a few collections littered through the forest as the warning system to get back to our enemies, and then I spotted our scouts in the form of Masamune’s trusted aide, Kojiro and his men. I scuttled down a tree to meet up with him as part of me thought that touching base in the field would help.

“You scared me, Princess!” The aide hissed as I stole one of the favoured food supplies from the pack between them.

“Three sets of scouts slipped past you,” I stated, pausing to take a bite of the rice ball.

“We let two of them go, either one of them was ahead of us, or they’re really good,” Kojiro replied. “I take it this was a fuel stop before you keep moving?”

“Keeping in touch is never a bad thing,” I smiled and patted the man on the head as I finished eating. “I’ll let you know if I see anything else.”

I had found something of a comfortable spot, I had a decent view of the Uesugi-Takeda camp when the sound of a twig breaking alerted me that I wasn’t alone in my immediate vicinity. My movements were slow and steady, peering through the leaves as I saw that it was a guard patrolling the camp. I had been in deeper than this before and not been caught, and lifted my head back to focus on the base.

A rustle of leaves over my head sent me into a mild panic, and then the covering over my hair had gone before Sasuke showed himself and dropped onto the branch next to me. We lowered our masks and gave friendly smiles.

“Is this the point we admit we’re on opposing sides?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

“We always knew it though,” he replied.

“It was just a polite avoidance of the obvious then,” I nodded, turning my head back towards the camp, where Kenshin appeared to be looking for someone. “Your Lord is missing you.”

“I heard your brother was nearly sent into a panic when you were sent out by yourself,” Sasuke countered.

I smirked and then gave the man a kiss on his cheek before disappearing back the way I came. My ears were honed to catch any sounds of being followed before I chose to drop back in on Kojiro.

“I’m surprised to see you again,” the aide eyed me up.

“There’s only one ninja in both forces who stands a chance at catching me, and he found me,” I shrugged, “Any intel you need me to feedback?”

Mitsuhide was expressing emotions when I returned, and it was surprising to us all. He had decided that regardless of the wormhole problem, I was definitely his little sister, that we looked like mirror images were starting to push doubt into my mind that I wasn’t. Then I remembered that Sasuke had taken my bandana and I hadn’t retrieved it as every warlord was staring at me during my report to Nobunaga.

“And your head covering?” Oda asked, an unimpressed look in his eyes.

“Kenshin has a ninja that’s really close to him, and he got close enough to grab that piece of fabric. That’s all that happened in that encounter,” I replied with a casual shrug.

“If you are still doubting that you are Mitsuhide’s sister, then what just happened is a prime example of how you are,” Hideyoshi snapped.

“I can accept falling through one wormhole, not two,” I replied before going to leave.

“I won’t tolerate failure Natsuki,” Oda’s voice was that of fact.

“Who said I’d failed? I might be able to learn more about this ninja now we’ve established he’s interested in me,” I replied, a smirk over my shoulder to my boss.

I wasn’t sure who had initiated what, but each kiss was never enough as I was pinned to the floor underneath Sasuke. We had gone looking for each other and found the other in a small clearing halfway between the camps. It had been a simple small talk at first, then we’d gotten onto the topic of how I could be Mitsuhide’s sister as he continued his explanation that the wormhole that brought us to the Sengoku had been chasing to get me back here. I didn’t know just how anxious I had been about my childhood. I shared about all of the teasing I had growing up, and how I was passed from foster home to foster home because who wanted a teenage delinquent who was smart enough to break into government properties and then have the balls to go back to tell them what she’d done. He was fixing the bandana back into my hair, the moonlight kept illuminating it, and we wanted to stay hidden in our little bubble for just a bit longer. For someone who had such a stoic outside, he was bursting with passion on the inside as my fingers were tangled in his thick, shaggy brown locks.

A chuckle made us both freeze, and we found that we were facing my brother after turning our heads slowly.

“I didn’t think the interest was anything but mutual, Imoto,” he smirked. “Though hearing how you grew up exactly is nothing short of heartbreaking,” he paused and took a seat next to us. “Is the world still that cruel?”

“Not for everyone, I had no family,” I replied, reluctant to lose complete body contact with Sasuke as I entwined our fingers. “I didn’t look like anyone else, and standing out meant that I got all the anger because they could justify it to people who couldn’t care less.”

“It was terrible when you left,” Mitsuhide’s voice wavered slightly, to most people I imagine they wouldn’t have caught it as I stared at the white haired male. “Our parents spent their time scouring the country for you, every time someone came to us with news, they were hopeful. You disappeared without a trace.”

“Like I just fell through a wormhole,” I murmured, taking the time to try and push my memories.

Then I felt the weight of Mitsuhide’s head on my shoulder. “You were always up to no good,” he chuckled. “And you’d never hear me sneak up, so I’d catch you out like this. And I’ve seen the expressions on your face in reflections, you know this feels familiar and safe otherwise you would have already punched me.”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” I replied, trying to keep aloof of the whirlpool that I was skating dangerously close to.

“And ninja, I don’t care what side you’re on, I won’t mention anything unless you hurt my sister,” Akechi promised before kissing me on the forehead and disappearing back into the forest.

“This won’t be easy to keep quiet,” Sasuke spoke up. “Though I get the feeling we do have a supporter in your brother at least.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “It could be worse,” I smiled after a short silence, and a smile. “I know exactly where your fingers were going, and we could have been a lot less clothed when he found us.”

#Mitsuhide Akechi #Sasuke Sarutobi #ikesen #Ikémen Sengoku #ikemen sengoku

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